c. 2003 Religion News Service

(Tom Ehrich is a writer and a computer consultant managing large-scale database implementations. An Episcopal priest, he lives in Durham, N.C.)

CHAPEL HILL, N.C. _ We sit with other parents in a roped-off pew. Two rows ahead, our 22-year-old son stands with classmates to be honored by the Episcopal parish that has been his church home for the past four years of college.

Time is dividing. Ties are about to sever.

Classes ended last week. Exams end this week. Soon he will move out of his room and no longer be resident on this lovely college campus. After a final mission trip with his campus ministry group, he will no longer have that vibrant community. Three weeks from today, he will receive his diploma and walk away from the security of being a full-time student.

They call it “commencement,” a time of beginning, for the grand journeys of adulthood and employment are about to begin. But it is also a “goodbye” time, an ending, a watershed that can never be revisited.

It is a time of sadness and fear. As eager as he is to escape the close quarters of college and to attain independence, the world outside looms large and uncertain.

After a brief reception, we venture down fabled Franklin Street to an annual street fair known as “Apple Chill.” Here is the rest of the story: teenagers strutting their stuff, couples holding hands, young parents pushing baby strollers, older folks savoring the commotion. Plus advocates on the environment, peace and religion.

If not here, then someplace else, he, too, will connect, hold hands, make his way, create life. And join the worrying.

Halfway down the street, a handsome BMW Z4 convertible and Acura sedan draw pedestrians to a booth. There they can register to win a dream. I read the entry form’s fine print. By registering, each person agrees to an aggressive marketing campaign, including mail, e-mail and telephone calls. Each name in this upscale demographic undoubtedly will be sold a thousand times.

This is more of the story: predators seizing our dreams and turning them against us. Before he earns his first post-college dime, my son will be in play. Before experience makes him savvy, he will be skinned a few times.

How do you send someone off into the world? How do those who will start another academic cycle next fall recognize the sadness and fear of those who are commencing this spring? How does a college-town church muster enthusiasm for an event that it did a year ago and will do again next April?

Time divided on the day the risen Christ stood among his disciples and performed their “commencement,” commissioning them for ministry in a new age. He sensed their terror and their doubts. So much had been lost on Calvary, not just the one life, but their certainties, their place of residence, their community. Now they were scattering, heading into an uncertain world governed by the venal and unseeing.

They were fit for nothing and yet expected to accomplish everything. Like a liberal arts graduate, they had tried much but mastered little. They could think, but could they believe? They had learned to receive, but could they give? They had learned how to bond, but would those bonds be strong enough for a world where the darkness conquers by dividing and resolutely turns our dreams against us? They had heard wise teachings, but had they understood anything? They had learned how to follow, but could they learn to lead?

Jesus didn’t dismiss their terror or turn it into safe ritual. He showed them his wounds _ yes, it was he. He fed them a meal _ not so much a precursor of eucharist as a reminder of the wilderness where God fed his wanderers. He “opened their minds” to the Scriptures _ enabling them to see beyond the limits of sight. And he promised them an empowering Spirit _ to give them a fortitude and wisdom which hadn’t yet marked their discipleship.

Then Jesus sent them out onto the Franklin Streets of this world, to find life amid the chaos and to be bearers of light in the darkness. That was tough duty, for it is never easy to grow up.

Faith is always a watershed, as time divides and ties sever.

DEA END EHRICH