Homily:
Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica – Cycle A
You know, I must not have been paying attention much over
the years, because I don’t ever remember a year in which so many feast days
that, when they fall on Sunday, replace the Sunday solemnity. Surely a year in which the feasts of Saints
Peter and Paul, the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, All Souls Day, and the
Dedication of St. John Lateran all fall on Sunday has happened at least one
other time in the nearly 37 years of my life, but for some reason I don’t
remember it. Of course it only happens
“once in a blue moon”, which makes it special for us; and this is good, because
it helps to shake us out of our routine in order to consider other aspects of
the rich tradition of the Catholic Church.
This feast, in particular, however—the feast of the
Dedication of the Lateran Basilica—may seem a little strange to us. Celebrating the saints? Sure, we get that. Celebrating the dedication of a church
building? And one that most of us have
never laid eyes on? That one’s not as
easy to understand. In order to
understand why, let’s first consider a little history.
Not long after the emperor Constantine ended the
persecution of Christians in the fourth century and made Christianity the
official religion of the empire, he gave the pope land in Rome once belonging
to the Laterani family; and the palace that was already erected there became the
Pope’s residence. The Pope built a
church there and on November 9th, in the year 324, Pope St.
Sylvester I dedicated the church to be his Cathedral—the place where his cathedra, that is, the chair from which
he governs the Church, resides. In spite
of the fact that the residence of the pope moved from the Lateran palace to the
Vatican Hill in the 14th century, the Lateran Basilica has always
remained to be the Cathedral church of the Diocese of Rome.
The church building itself has gone through many
renovations through the years, even to the point of being completely demolished
and rebuilt in the 17th century.
With the façade that was added in the 18th century, the
church building took on the look that we know it to have today. It is a huge structure (square-footage wise
we could probably fit 10-plus copies of this church within it) and the
high-renaissance art and architectural detail within it completely blows away
both the expert art critic/historian and the everyday pilgrim alike. By every right it holds a position as one of
the most visually powerful buildings on this earth. But this is not why we honor the dedication of
this church today.
No, there are many other buildings that rival St. John
Lateran both in size and beauty (St. Peter’s in Rome, for example, is both
bigger and more elaborate), but none of them contain the cathedra, the chair of the Bishop of Rome. From that chair, the Pope presides over the universal
Church. And so, in a very real way, that
chair—with the Pope sitting on it—represents the unity and continuity of the
Catholic Church.
But why such an elaborate church? I mean, with all of the people suffering in
poverty throughout the world, why build such an ostentatious structure? Couldn’t the money used to build that church—along
with the money needed to maintain such a church—be used to fund missionaries to
bring relief to the world’s poorest people?
Yes, it could, but there’s more to this than the Pope having the
biggest, fanciest church in the world as his cathedral. This big, fancy church—and our celebration of
its dedication today—says something about us, the People of God, and so this
church has a deeper, sacramental meaning.
In Saint Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, we heard him say
that “You are God’s building.” (The
“You” in this sentence referring to the whole body of believers in the city of
Corinth.) Later in this same passage we
heard him ask, “Do you not know that you are the temple of God?” (Again, “you” referring to all of the
Christians in Corinth.) What is Paul
saying here? Well, he’s saying what the
Christian community knew from a very early time after Christ’s Ascension into
heaven: that the “temple” that Jesus spoke about that would be destroyed and
raised up in three days was his body; and that his body was not just his human
body, which was physically raised from the dead after three days, but that it
was also the body of believers, of which Jesus himself is the head. Therefore, this body of believers is God’s
temple, the dwelling place of the Holy Spirit.
Now, we believe that Jesus’ human body has been glorified:
that is, that when Jesus’ human body was raised from the dead, it was
transformed into a glorious body—one no longer restricted by the limitations of
a non-glorified human body. (Remember
Easter Sunday? He passed through locked
doors to enter rooms.) And so if Jesus’
body is a glorified body, and we, the body of believers are also his body, then
we, too—as a body—must be glorious.
Take a look at the folks sitting around you. Does this look like a body sufficiently
glorious so as to proclaim to the world “we are the Body of Christ, the
glorious temple of the Holy Spirit”? Now
imagine what it was like 1000, 1500, or even 1700 years ago. There were probably only a few people who would
have even bathed before coming to Mass at the newly dedicated Lateran basilica. My guess is that they weren’t looking much
like a glorious temple of the Lord. But
when they walked into that basilica and took in all of the light, the gilded
ceiling and altar, the statues and the even the floors, they probably thought
to themselves, “Yeah, we are something special; something other worldly;
something… glorious.”
My brothers and sisters, this is why we build spectacular,
beautiful, grandiose churches all over the world. Not because we’re trying to show-off and
proclaim ourselves better than anyone else; but rather to remind ourselves of
who we are: the glorious temple of God on earth. A splendid church is a visible reminder of an
invisible reality: in other words, a sacrament.
And when we celebrate a particular church—whether that be the Pope’s
cathedral in Rome or our own bishop’s cathedral in Lafayette—what we are
celebrating is the universality of Christ’s glorious body by celebrating where
this universality is most profoundly experienced: the place where the sheep and
the shepherd unite to worship God in all His splendor.
My brothers and sisters, the world needs to see the beauty
and splendor of Christ’s glorious body here on earth. Thus, as we experience this splendor when we
come to this beautiful place to be most intimately united with Christ our head,
who offers himself to us from this altar, we must then carry forward this
splendor into the world, like the water in Ezekiel’s vision that flowed from
the ruins of the ancient Temple in Jerusalem and brought fruitful life to the
arid desert and made fresh the salt waters of the Dead Sea. For when we do, the glory of Christ’s body
will begin to be reflected outside of these walls and we will be ready to know
Christ’s true glory when he comes again.
Given at All Saints Parish:
Logansport, IN – November 9th, 2014
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