The obedience of faith

Homily: 4^th Sunday of Advent – Cycle A

Although it may not be the first thing that you think of when you think of a king/queen, every king/queen is called to be a servant.  What I mean by that is this: the authority that a king/queen possesses is given to him/her so as to govern the people of the kingdom in such a way that they might flourish.  We all know, however, the old saying that “power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely” and so we all know how often kings/queens are corrupted by the power that they wield and seek to have their people serve them, instead.  Nonetheless, this doesn’t change the fact that the role of the king/queen is to serve; and if they serve well, then they rightfully receive the honor and homage of the people.

Still further, throughout history being a king/queen almost always included a religious component.  Royal lineage was often seen to have been appointed by God and royalty have often held positions of authority in religious matters.  This continues today.  For example, the Queen of England is also the head of the Church of England.  As such, she must be not only a servant of the people, but also a model for religious piety and practice.  To do otherwise would discredit the Crown and the religion that she leads.  Sure, the Archbishop of Canterbury is the de facto head of the Church of England, but the Monarch of England still stands as the model for all.

This, of course, was true of the ancient Israelites, which gives color to our first reading today.  The brevity of this reading gives rise to the thought that the Church included it primarily to recount for us the source of the prophecy of the virgin birth (which is very important, obviously), but the broader story also provides us with some insight and so I’m going to incorporate some of it here.

Ahaz was not a good king.  I don’t know whether he was a good guy, but he wasn’t a good king.  He let being a king get to his head.  If we remember back to the prophet Samuel, when the Israelites demanded that he anoint a king for them (for they had never yet had their own king), he first rebuked them for suggesting that they didn’t already have a king (for the Lord God was their king) and then he predicted that most of the kings that they would have would be corrupt or weak (or both) and that the people would suffer because of it.  The people insisted, anyway, and God instructed Samuel to anoint a king for them.  Many hundreds of years later, Samuel’s predictions would come true and Ahaz was one of those weak kings who let being a king get to his head.

Ahaz forgot that he was king so as to serve the people for their flourishing.  He also forgot that the true King of the Israelite people was God.  And so, when God allowed the insanely powerful Assyrian army to amass themselves against the Israelites (because the Israelites had fallen away from faithfulness to God under the rule of Ahaz), Ahaz sought a worldly solution to the problem (he was brokering and alliance with the Egyptians).

Isaiah brings him God’s message that said, “The Assyrians are here as a punishment for your lack of faithfulness; but surrender to them and I won’t let them destroy the city or kill you.”  Ahaz didn’t like that answer because he didn’t trust God and thought that he needed to rely on himself.  Isaiah clapped back and said, “No, for reals: God is going to take care of you. He’ll give you a sign, anything you ask for.  Just ask him.”  Ahaz, not wanting the sign because he wanted to make his alliance with Egypt, invokes some false piety and says, “oh no, it would be improper to put the Lord to the test.”  Isaiah, frustrated for God, responds that God will give him a sign, anyway, and predicts the virgin birth of a son who will be “Emmanuel - God with us” for the people.

In the end, Ahaz would make his alliance with Egypt and the Assyrians would conquer him anyway.  He would die, Jerusalem (including the temple) would be destroyed, and the people would be exiled for 70 years.  Ahaz, as the king and religious leader of God’s people, refused to get behind God’s plan and the people suffered.  And the sign that God called for wouldn’t be seen until hundreds of years later.  By refusing to acknowledge God as the one King, and by refusing to be an example of right religion, God’s plans for his people were disrupted.

In contrast we heard of the “annunciation” to Joseph in today’s Gospel reading.  Joseph was a man with no worldly power.  He was a laborer in a small town in a seemingly inconsequential region of the world.  Yet, he was a righteous man: which means that he was just and followed God’s law closely.  We hear also that he was merciful, for although he knew that he couldn’t take Mary into his home after the discovery of her pregnancy, he decided to divorce her quietly so that she wouldn’t have to suffer any more indignation than what she would already suffer by being a single mother in that culture.  For Joseph, God was Lord; and when he heard the message of the angel that told him to do something that every righteous and merciful bone in his body told him not to do, he obeyed.  Through his obedience, God’s plan for mankind was finally fulfilled.  Joseph placed himself, in the state of life and situation that he was in, completely at God’s service, and God’s good will for mankind was fulfilled.  In this way, Joseph was a much better king than Ahaz.

My friends, I’m certain I will surprise no one here when I say that there is a lot more Ahaz than Joseph in our world today.  In other words, there’s a lot more people—especially those in authority—who refuse to acknowledge that there is an authority higher than themselves to which we owe obedience.  For this reason, the kingdom of God is disappearing among us.  Sure, there is still plenty of goodness among us, but it’s dwindling into smaller and smaller pockets of our public life.  While it is important that we recognize that and seek to put in authority persons who recognize God as the ultimate authority and seek to obey him, it is just as important to recognize that there is probably more of Ahaz than Joseph in each one of us.  I mean, isn’t it true that we each want to be Lord of our own lives and, thus, act like we know better when God asks something uncomfortable of us (for example, surrendering to forgiveness of someone who has hurt us)?  Because of this, just like king Ahaz, much of God’s will doesn’t manifest itself among us.  Friends, we do not get to lament the state of society without asking ourselves how we have each played a small or large part of it becoming as it is by our refusals to allow God to be Lord of our lives.

On this fourth Sunday of Advent, therefore, we are reminded that, as we prepare to celebrate the anniversary of Christ’s birth among us (and the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy!), we are preparing also for the coming of our King.  And so, the question comes to us, “Have I given my preparations over to Him (like Joseph)?  Or am I expecting that he will make my plans successful, in spite of what he may want (like Ahaz)?”  In other words, “Am I the king/queen and expect, thus, God to serve me?  Or do I see myself as a servant before the true King?”  My brothers and sisters, I charge you to reflect on these questions over these last days of Advent: for judgment will be merciless on those who made themselves king, but full of mercy for those who acknowledged the true King and sought to serve him.

Friends, the true King is coming.  May he find us ready to honor him with our obedience of faith so that his will for bringing forth the full flourishing of his kingdom might be known in our time.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – December 21^st & 22^nd, 2019

Don't give up on waiting

Homily: 3rd Sunday of Advent – Cycle A

Is it Christmas?  No.  There, I’ve just given you every small detail of the website whose sole purpose seems to be to answer that question.  The website’s address is isitchristmas.com and when you go to the site all that you see is a big fat NO in your face.  I’m not sure what happens on that website on Christmas, but my guess is that it’ll either say “Yes”, which is boring, or it will invade my computer with a virus, rob my identity, and cause my computer to self-destruct, which would be much more exciting, for sure, but not the kind of exciting that I’m looking for.

You know that we’re a little bit crazy about Christmas when there are websites whose sole purpose is to remind us that it isn’t Christmas yet.  And I think that this is a sign that, frankly, we just don’t get it.  Every year, it seems, we demonstrate that we are so impatient for our self-indulgent winter holiday celebrations that we can’t wait even the three to four weeks of Advent before we start indulging.  I intentionally use the phrase “winter holiday” here because, at least in my experience, these almost never have anything to do with Christ and his coming among us in our human nature (except, perhaps, as a “pious excuse” for having them).  The fact that “winter holiday” decorations come down on December 26^th is evidence enough that our celebrations were over long before the event itself arrived.

You may call me “Scrooge” for thinking like this, but I tell you this comes from a deep place of concern.  You see, I’ve read the Scriptures (it’s kind of a necessity of this vocation) and I’ve read about what happens to folks who give up on waiting for God.  Let’s go back to the book of Exodus.  There, in chapter 24, God calls Moses up onto Mount Sinai (the mountain of the covenant) in order to give him the Ten Commandments.  Moses goes up and spends 40 days and 40 nights on the mountain.

Then, we hear that the people got anxious waiting for Moses to return and so demand that Aaron (Moses’ brother and the guy who was left in charge while Moses was gone) build them an idol to worship.  Aaron ceded to their demands and fashioned a golden calf before which the Israelites bowed in worship and then feasted: eating and drinking in excess and otherwise celebrating with great revelry long before Moses returned with the Ten Commandments.  God alerted Moses to this and said that he would slay them right then and there.  Moses intervened, however, and God relented.  Moses then went down the mountain to find what God had described and himself became enraged.  He called forth the Israelites who had not worshiped the idol nor had engaged in revelry and had them punish those who had done those things by putting them to death.  The passage ends with this somber verse: “Thus the Lord smote the people for having had Aaron make the calf for them.”  The Israelites refused to wait and instead gave into self-indulgence: for this they were severely punished.

Advent, my brothers and sisters, reminds us that we are in a time of waiting, and that this waiting is not aimless; rather, we are waiting the return of Jesus.  And not just Jesus our friend who has been away for a while (as joyous as that homecoming would be), but Jesus, our King, who will come with judgment and to usher in the fullness of his kingdom in which right order is finally reestablished through all of creation.  Those who are found in faithful preparation will be like the sheep Jesus describes in the parable of Matthew 25, to whom he says “Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.”  To those who are found to have given up on waiting, that is, to have given up on their faithful preparation for his coming, the King will say, “Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.”  I hope now that you can see why I am so concerned that we have given up on waiting.

In the Letter from Saint James, from which we heard in the second reading, he instructs us: “Be patient, brothers and sisters, until the coming of the Lord... Make your hearts firm, because the coming of the Lord is at hand... Behold, the Judge is standing before the gates. Take as an example of hardship and patience … the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord.”  Saint James is exhorting us not to give up on waiting, because our King’s advent, that is, his coming, is closer than we think.  Friends, by dutifully waiting to celebrate until the day of the Nativity of Christ, December 25^th, we remind ourselves that we must dutifully wait and prepare for Christ our King’s imminent return.  We do this both internally, by repenting of our sins and turning again to the Way that Christ has shown us, and externally, by doing the works of mercy and, thus, producing the signs that the King who is to come has indeed already come.  Friends, everything else is secondary.

In our Gospel reading today, we heard how John the Baptist, imprisoned by King Herod, sends his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?”  Jesus, with great love for his dear relative and friend, sends them back with this instruction: “Go and tell John what you hear and see...” that is, that the signs of the Messiah of which Isaiah prophesied—blind who now see, lame who now walk, lepers who are cleansed, deaf who now hear, and the dead who now live—these were now happening through him.

If someone asked any of us today: "Is Jesus the one who was to come, or should we look for another?" what would we say?  Could we say, "Yes! Look, the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised"?  Perhaps you might say, “No, but Jesus isn’t here with us to make those things happen.”  True, but didn’t Jesus say to his disciples, “Whoever believes in me will do the works that I do, and will do greater ones than these”?  My friends, we must say "yes", that Jesus is the one who was to come, but we must also manifest the works of the kingdom, that is, the works of mercy, among us so as to declare that he is still to come again.  Otherwise, even the John the Baptists of the world—that is, persons of great faith—may give into doubt and fall away before the time of his coming.

You know, the prophet Isaiah, John the Baptist, the apostle James, and those of their time never asked the question “Is it Christmas?”  They, rather, were concerned with a greater question: “Is it Advent?”  In other words, “Is it the Coming of the one who is to come?”  For the prophet Isaiah and John the Baptist the answer would have been a single “Yes”, for they would not live to look for the second coming (in this world, anyway).  For the apostle James, however, and for every Christian for the last 2000 years, the answer is “Yes and yes”: meaning, “Yes, the one for whom we looked to come has come” and “Yes, it is he for whom we are preparing to come again”.

My brothers and sisters, the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus our King that we encounter in the form of bread and wine from this altar is the bridge between these two “yeses”.  As we encounter Him today in this Mass, let us ask for the strength to wait and to faithfully prepare for his second coming, so that we might be welcomed into the fullness of His kingdom to rejoice with Mary and the saints for all eternity.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – December 14^th & 15^th, 2019

Repent and be ready to receive the King

Homily: 2^nd Sunday of Advent – Cycle A

Friends, last week, if you were here and heard my homily, you heard me say that what we celebrate in Advent is really a continuation of our celebration of Christ the King, just from a different perspective.  I said that while the Feast of Christ the King acknowledges and celebrates that the Divine Son of God united himself with our human nature so as to establish God’s definitive kingdom here on earth, the season of Advent spurs us to remember that this very same king will one day return in all of his glory to take his kingdom back unto himself.  Jesus’ exhortation to “stay awake” because we will know neither the day nor the hour on which he will return is our urgent Advent message: for Christ himself said that on that day (the day of the coming of the Son of Man) “one will be taken, and one will be left...” meaning, “one will be lifted up into glory and one will be left to descend into eternal death.  Jesus gives no indication as to who will be lifted up and who will be left except to imply this: that those who were prepared for that day will be lifted into heaven, while those who failed to make preparations will be left behind.  I thus exhorted us to make our Christmas preparations more about preparing for and hailing the coming of Christ our King so that this day will not catch us unaware and, thus, left behind.

This Sunday we continue to focus on Christ the King.  In the reading from the book of the prophet Isaiah, we hear just what kind of king Christ will be.  The kings of the world would nearly always rely on fighting wars and making a name for themselves by great military victories and then would use their power and influence over others to take advantage of them.  And this was not just for the wicked pagan kings.  No, we need look no farther than the great Israelite king, King David, to see that this pattern holds.  On the feast of Christ the King, we heard how the Israelites acknowledged that David deserved to be king because of the great victories that he won.  Later we would see how he would use his power and influence to take advantage of his people when he committed adultery with Bathsheba and then compounded his sin by trying to cover it up: ultimately making it so that Bathsheba’s husband Uriah was killed on the battlefield so that David could take Bathsheba for his wife.  David, of course, humbled himself before God and sought forgiveness, but it nonetheless illustrates the pattern that even the best worldly kings tend to fall into.

Isaiah paints a different picture of the king who is to come.  This king will be a king upon whom the spirit of the Lord will rest, making him wise and just beyond any other king the world has seen.  He will not use force to rule over peoples; rather, the wise words that come from his mouth shall be the power by which he will slay his enemies.  Nor will he take advantage of the people; rather, he will judge the poor with justice and do right for all peoples throughout the land.  Under this king, there shall be unprecedented peace and harmony; and not just among people, but throughout nature: for the wolf shall be the guest of the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid...  In other words, this is the king who will restore right order to the universe, the king who will lead us back to the Garden of Eden.

We see that Christ, indeed, is this king by his ministry recorded for us in the Gospels.  How many times did he confound the scribes and the Pharisees by disarming the traps they had set for him by his wise responses?  And how about the Roman rulers, too?  John’s gospel records how Jesus’ words confounded Pontius Pilate and left him literally washing his hands of Jesus because he could not withstand the power of his words.  And how many times did his disciples seek to retaliate with violence only to have Jesus rebuke them for seeking to use worldly means of gaining power?  Jesus was just in his public ministry, treating everyone equally and favoring no one.  And his miracles—especially his miracles of healing—show that he came to restore right order to the universe so as to lead us back into Eden: that is, the kingdom of God.

Friends, this is the Christ—the great King—whose first coming we are preparing to celebrate and whose imminent return we are called to anticipate.  Both of these demand that we listen to John the Baptist who calls us today to prepare through repentance.  Why repentance?  Because when the King comes he will look to have his kingdom in order, with his subjects doing the work he gave them in the manner that he instructed them to do it.  Now I know that, as persons who live in a free society—one that was founded in response to throwing off the rule of a monarch—it may be difficult for us to live as subjects of a king who has absolute authority over us.  Nonetheless, that is what we are called to do and that is what Jesus expects of us when he returns.

Remember, however, that his is not the king/queen of England, but rather the great king who the prophet Isaiah foretold would come, and so we should not be afraid to make ourselves subjects of this king.  In fact, we should have a healthy fear of not submitting ourselves to this king and his order, because, as John the Baptist relates, He is coming with his winnowing fan in his hand to clear his threshing floor; gathering his wheat into his barn and throwing the chaff into an unquenchable fire.  The wheat are those who have subjected themselves to his authority and the chaff are those who haven’t.  The wheat, therefore, will be taken up into glory on the last day and the chaff will be left to descend into everlasting death.

Our task of preparation, therefore, is one in which we examine ourselves—soberly, yet seriously—and ask ourselves, “In what ways am I denying to be a faithful subject of my king?”  The answers to these questions are what we call “sins”: ways in which we have denied to act as faithful subjects of our king.  Then, having identified those things, we must make a positive decision to turn from those ways and subject ourselves to him with our whole hearts, minds, bodies, and strength once again.  This starts with a good sacramental confession and continues through changed behaviors and attitudes.  The former is simple enough to complete (there are many opportunities for one to make a confession every week).  The latter, however, will take a good amount of work.  You’ll know that you’ve done it, however, when you’ve detached yourselves from your wants and desires and seek rather to know and to do what God wants: which is to spread the good news of Jesus and to relieve suffering wherever you are able.  My friends, this is true repentance, and this is the way that we are called to prepare for the coming of Christ our King.

Last week I warned you all about a specter running around called “The Christmas Spirit” that convinces people to believe in a domesticated Christmas: a Christmas that’s all about family reunions, meals, and shared gifts.  This, I argued, is a false spirit, because the true Spirit of Christmas is the one that leads us to prepare for and to hail the coming of Christ our King.  This week, we see clearly who is this king for whom we are preparing and the way for us to prepare for him to come.  My brothers and sisters let us earnestly take up this work of repentance with great hope in our hearts: for Christ our King loves us and longs for the day when he will return to take us up into his glory.  This Eucharist, in which his advent is made present to us even now, is the guarantee of this truth.  Let us, then, not be afraid: for his kingdom of justice and peace awaits us.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – December 8^th, 2019

Preparing to hail the King

Homily: 1^st Sunday of Advent – Cycle A

Friends, hot on the heels of our celebration of Christ the King, we come to the first Sunday of Advent.  Instead of hearing readings that turn our focus to the Christ Child (perhaps as we’d prefer they’d do), we hear readings that remind us of Christ’s kingship.  And this is totally appropriate since the beginning of our new liturgical year is never a “reset”, but always a “continuation”.  Our declaration last week that Jesus Christ is Lord and King of the Universe necessarily leads us right into the truth that he is yet to come again, and our readings remind us of this.

In our first reading from the prophet Isaiah, we hear the prophecy of how the Lord will come to establish Mount Zion, the hill on which Jerusalem was built, as the “highest” mountain.  As we know, the city of Jerusalem is nowhere near the highest point of anything.  In the symbolic language of the prophets, however, the cities of the greatest prominence—from which the greatest rulers rule—are the ones built on the highest mountains and so Isaiah declares that God will come to establish Mount Zion as the highest mountain so that Jerusalem will be considered the greatest of cities from which the greatest of rulers, the Lord, will rule over all the earth.

This is an obvious allusion to Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, whom Isaiah didn’t know, but nonetheless foretold, and who would, by his death and resurrection on Mount Zion, establish himself as king.  In doing so, he will draw all nations to himself; because, in himself, he has become Mount Zion, established as the highest mountain (for we read in the Gospel of John that Jesus says, “...when I am lifted from the earth, I will draw all people to myself.” ~ John 12:32).  Then we hear Isaiah say, “Many peoples shall come and say: ‘Come, let us climb the Lord’s mountain, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may instruct us in his ways, and we may walk in his paths.’”  Is this not the embodiment of who Jesus is?  The one to whom all peoples go up to be instructed in his ways so as to walk in his paths?  And yet Isaiah continues: “For from Zion shall go forth instruction, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.”  In Jesus Christ we see this, too, happening.  Carried first by his apostles and then by the faithful throughout the generations, this instruction has gone out into the world.

Bishop Robert Barron, in a recent podcast reflecting on the feast of Christ the King, reminds us that this was the whole purpose of Christ’s coming: that is, to establish a kingdom that unifies the world.  And this is a real kingdom, with Christ as the king, and with the law of God as the universal rule for all peoples everywhere.  In other words, Christ didn’t come to teach us how to be nice people and then to sacrifice himself for our sins only to return to heaven and leave us alone—as if, as he ascended, he could be heard saying, “Now you better behave, because I’m not going to come down their again and save you!”  No, Christ came to establish the definitive kingdom of God under his own kingship.  This is what we celebrate on the feast of Christ the King.  That he will return in all of his glory to take his kingdom unto himself is what the season of Advent spurs us to remember.

This remembering, however, is never static.  In other words, we’re not meant to go “Oh yeah,” and then continue as if nothing is different.  Rather, this remembering is meant to spur us into action: for we are the ones who have gone up to Christ to receive instruction so as to walk in his paths, and we are the ones who are sent to go forth from Christ into the world with this instruction.  And why?  To prepare for the final uniting of all into the one kingdom of heaven.  And so, how do we prepare?

We prepare by first recognizing that this world is covered in darkness: a darkness that only the light of Christ can penetrate and illuminate.  It is fitting, then, that we celebrate this season at the time of year in which the days are filled with the least amount of daylight.  Advent calls us to recognize this darkness and enter into it, so that we can know what is truly the light of Christ and what is the false light that the world puts forth to distract us.

Frankly, I just don’t see how we can do this if we have already filled our lives with winter holiday lights and festivities.  At the end of the prophecy that we heard in today’s reading, Isaiah exhorts the children of Israel to “walk in the light of the Lord”, and Saint Paul, in the second reading from the Letter to the Romans, exhorts them to “throw off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light”.  Friends, I declare that this is all but impossible for us if we have already decked out our homes with false lights and festivities that have little to do with preparing for Christ’s coming.  We should, rather, be examining ourselves—going into the darkness of our inner selves—to see if we are truly prepared to meet Christ our King and to be judged by him.

Therefore, I exhort you to leave off the lights and festivities this Advent and instead “seek first the kingdom of God”.  For, as Christ himself reminded us in today’s Gospel reading, we do not know the day when Christ will come.  Rather, it will catch us unaware, going about, as it were, our daily business.  Those who are ready for the judgment will be taken up into the kingdom, and those who aren’t will be left behind.  You know, it is really unfortunate that there are so many teachers in the Church today who will argue for universal salvation: that is, that ultimately everyone will be saved.  Unfortunate because it is not biblical.  The biblical teaching is that there are many who will be lost to eternal punishment: most of whom, I would guess, will be lost because they didn’t take care to be ready for the day that the Lord called them to judgment.  And this for me is very distressing, which is why I am preaching this to you today.

You know, there’s a specter running around called “The Christmas Spirit” that convinces people to believe in a domesticated Christmas: a Christmas that’s all about family reunions, meals, and shared gifts.  This, I argue, is a false spirit.  False because Christ himself cannot be domesticated.  The true Spirit of Christmas is the one that leads us to prepare for and hail the coming of Christ the King: a king more powerful than all the rulers of this world, a king who will judge between nations and impose terms on many peoples, a king who can, once and for all, lead people to beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks, a king who can bring true and lasting peace through justice by uniting all peoples into one kingdom.  Friends, if your “Christmas Spirit” isn’t a spirit that prepares for and hails this king, then I say to you again: it is a false spirit.

The question, therefore, that this first Sunday of Advent poses to all of us is this: “Where is Christ the King in my preparations for and celebrations of Advent?”  If you struggle to find him there, then perhaps you’ll ask yourself, “What, then, am I preparing for?”  Let us all challenge ourselves to discern in prayer at least one way that we can turn this time of Advent and Christmas into a preparation for and a hailing of the coming of Christ the King.  Perhaps we’ll take up a work of mercy, or spend an hour in adoration each week, or read the scriptures a little each day (especially if that means turning off TV, steaming services, or social media), or any number of things.  Making a good and thorough examination of conscience and sacramental reconciliation is probably one of the best ways to put Christ the King into your preparations.  Whatever you discern, be intentional.  Write it down and make concrete plans to do it.  Share those plans with a friend and keep each other accountable to it.  In this way you will keep yourself awake for the day of the Lord’s coming, which may be very soon, and you will be ready to join the multitudes who sing with the Psalmist: “Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.”

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – December 1^st, 2019

Subjects of the One True King

Homily: 34^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

In anticipation of our celebration of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe this weekend, I took the opportunity to speak about this feast with our second and third graders here at Saint Mary’s School during my weekly visit.  I used that to lead into a presentation of various royal saints—that is, men and women royalty (kings and queens) who lived holy lives after the manner of Jesus Christ, the King of the Universe.  The kiddos always have a lot of questions (notice that I didn’t say great questions, because they aren’t always great questions, but they do always have a lot of them!).  I am usually equipped to answer them, but sometimes they’ll stump me, and this was one of those times.  In one of the third-grade classes, a student asked, “How does someone become a king/queen?”  We all knew part of the answer, of course, which is that the person is the son/daughter of a king/queen and so inherits the throne, but we quickly came to the conclusion that we didn’t know how the first person in that heritage becomes royalty.  Much to my credit, I didn’t immediately consult Google.  Much to my discredit, however, I threw their teachers under the bus and said that they can look that up for them and let them know. 😀

I did think about that question over these last few days and realized that, in general, there are two basic ways that one becomes a king/queen: by inheritance (as I’ve already mentioned) and by merit.  Inheritance, of course, we know very well: So-and-so is the son/daughter of King/Queen so-and-so and so will inherit the throne when the king/queen dies.  While the lines of succession can get somewhat complicated, especially when there are many generations of inheritance, this way of becoming a king/queen is still pretty straightforward.  The way of merit to become king/queen is also pretty straightforward: more so, perhaps, than we might initially think.  In this way, someone leads a grouping of people through some great challenge (overcoming and enemy, fighting through a hardship, etc.) so as to establish that people as a people of their own.  The people then turn to make that person the leader—the king/queen—of this newly established people.  This can also happen even if the people already have a king/queen as another may prove him/herself even more worthy than the current ruler.  This latter case is the example we see in our readings today.

In our first reading, we hear of the people choosing David as their king.  For many years after entering the Promised Land, the Israelites did not have a king, but rather managed their lives through recognized elders and the adjudication of priests and prophets.  At one point, however, they became jealous of other nations that had kings and so they demanded a king for their own.  The prophet Samuel was aghast at the idea, since he knew well that it was God who had established this people and so that it was God who was already their king.  The people insisted, however, and, by God’s prompting, Samuel anointed Saul—a great warrior—to be their first king.

Saul displeased God, however, and so was cut down in battle.  His direct heir, Jonathan, was also killed in battle.  That left the Israelites without a direct heir to succeed Saul.  This is when they turned to David.  David was an indirect heir to Saul, as he was married to Saul’s daughter.  Nonetheless, as we heard in today's reading, it wasn’t because of this connection that they asked David to be their king.  Rather, it was because of his merit.  “You led the Israelites out [in battle] and brought them back”, the leaders of the Israelites declared, and so they agreed with David that he would be their king.  In other words, he proved his ability to lead them and so they chose him to be their king.

This, of course, leads us right to Jesus.  Jesus, as we see, is king both by inheritance and by merit.  By inheritance because he is of the lineage of king David (you can go back to the beginning of Matthew’s gospel to read the genealogy of how Jesus came from David’s line).  Still more, Jesus is king because he is the Son of God, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity.  This inheritance is a stronger one than the first, since it was truly God the Father who was king of the Israelites all along.  Nonetheless, Jesus also earned the kingship for himself by engaging in the battle against sin and death and overcoming them.  In our Gospel reading today, we hear again the familiar story of the criminal crucified with Jesus acknowledging him as king, in spite of the others there who did nothing but mock him.  This man did not recognize Jesus’ heritage, but rather his merit.  And, in recognizing his merit, the criminal submitted himself to Jesus’ authority and asked that he would be remembered in Jesus’ kingdom.  Jesus not only promised to remember him, but rather to give him a place in that kingdom.

Friends, Jesus is the true king of the universe and we must acknowledge him as such, both because of his inheritance and because of his merit.  As Saint Paul says, “[God the Father] delivered us from the power of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.”  Jesus is King because he is the Son of the King, God the Father, who has given his Son the kingdom and made us members of it.  He is not just a spiritual king, however, but rather a human one, which can make it so much easier for us to acknowledge him as our king.  The Israelites, when they came to David to anoint him king, said, “Here we are, your bone and your flesh.”  In a similar way, we can say the same to Jesus: “Here we are, of the same bone and flesh that, in your divinity, you took on to save us.  And you did save us!  Now we implore you, rule over us: for you know us and have shown us to be worthy of the honor.”  And we must acknowledge and honor him as king if we hope, like the criminal crucified with him, to dwell in his eternal kingdom.

And so, how do we do this?  By submitting ourselves completely to his authority.  This means submitting our minds, wills, and bodies to his will.  This means that, as subjects of our King, we don’t get to pick and choose which teachings of Jesus that we will follow.  Rather, we submit to the reality that, if Jesus has revealed it and if the Church that he established teaches it, then we must submit to it and uphold it.  This means everything!  Especially the teachings on the sanctity of life, marriage, human sexuality, service to and solidarity with the poor, care for the environment, etc.  Simply stated, if Jesus is king, then he must be king of EVERY ASPECT of my life!  To live otherwise is to be a hypocrite.

Friends, as we know from elsewhere in the Gospels, Jesus ain’t got no love for hypocrites.  Let us, therefore, examine ourselves to see if there is any area in our lives in which we do not acknowledge Jesus as Lord and King.  Regardless of what we find, let us turn back to him and submit ourselves to him—particularly through the sacrament of confession.  Only Christ has saved us, and only Christ can save us now.  Therefore, let us boldly acclaim him as king in all that we think, say, and do, and thus make our hearts and this place ready to acclaim him when he comes again.  Long live Christ the King!

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – November 23^rd & 24^th, 2019

Christ the King sheds the light of truth on reality

          Last week I did not preach, so I did not have a homily to post.  This week, we enter the last week of Ordinary Time as we prepare to begin a new liturgical year with Advent.  Let us pray for each other as we "begin again" and so that we will never fail to proclaim Jesus Christ as our King!

Homily: 34^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle B

The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

For those of us of a certain generation, “reality TV” has shaped much of our television experience.  In spite of what it looks like today, reality TV began as a simple project: stick seven strangers in a house together for a certain period of time and record their lives.  To see their “real, unscripted reactions” to each other, it was thought, would be just as entertaining as any scripted story-line.  And, for the most part, they were right.  “The Real World”, which was the name of this first “reality show”, was a big hit and the concept of “reality TV” quickly blossomed and saturated our televisions with variations on the same theme.

Just as quickly, though, it moved away from the basic concept of real people in real-life situations into sensationalism.  In other words, each new show had to do more to “manufacture” drama, and its participants, it seems, had to be all the more willing to respond to it.  Instead of being an opportunity to look into the lives of other human persons, and perhaps glean an insight into the mystery of human relationships, reality TV has morphed into a voyeuristic fantasy land where the only thing connected to reality, it seems, is that these people still have to eat and sleep once in a while.  As a result, “reality TV” no more resembles real human life than do any of the Harry Potter films. ///

It shouldn’t be too hard for us to see that this notion of “manufactured reality” reflects our culture today.  The dominant culture that we experience in the media, and which is put forth in certain politics and academia, wants us to believe that truth is relative to the person and the reality that he/she experiences in which it is interpreted.  In this model, we equate experiences with truth.  One example of this is “transgenderism”.  In this a person experiences “gender dysphoria”: that is, that the gender with which one identifies him/herself does not align with his/her biological gender and thus experiences an internal conflict (or “dysphoria”).  This experience is real.  The interpretation of the experience, however—that this person must now live as if he/she is the gender opposite to his/her biological gender (possibly going to the extremes of bodily modifications in pursuit of it)—is a reality manufactured on the false notion that what this person has experienced is not just reality, but is the truth: in spite of the obvious physical data that exists to the contrary.

All of this is to highlight that to live in reality—that is, to experience the world as it really is and to flourish within it—one must interpret reality (that is, our experiences) based on what is true.  In order to do this, one must begin with the most fundamental truths.  The first and most true thing that we can say is that God is being itself.  When God appeared to Moses in the burning bush and Moses asked him, “What should I tell them is your name?” God replied, “Tell them ‘I AM who AM’ sent you”: in other words, “I am existence itself”.  If, therefore, God is existence itself, then he must also be the source of all that exists.  And because he has shown us that he is not a distant, aloof creator, but rather a creator that cares for his creation, we know that all things that exist (which come from him) are, therefore, ordered to him.  This is reality.  This is true.  When we get this idea backwards, however—that is, when we believe that things and experiences in existence are ordered towards me (or to some other reality that isn’t God)—is when we fall into trouble.

Given this, the dialogue that we heard in today’s Gospel is poignant.  This exchange between Pilate and Jesus is the stuff of which great reality TV is made: tension, drama, suspense… and real consequences for decisions that are made.  Although we didn’t hear it in today’s reading, Pilate’s next words in the Gospel—the ones that follow Christ telling him that he came to bear witness to the truth—are some of his most famous: he says “What is truth?”  As a governing officer in the Roman Army, Pilate had spent years of his life following orders without question—even if it contradicted what he thought was true—and now, in the face of Truth incarnate, this “manufactured reality” distorted his view of what was really real.  In other words, he could no longer see reality for what it was.  Thus, he was trapped in a conflict between Truth (capital “T”) that stood before him and the truth (small “t”) under which he had been living for most of his life.  He had ordered his reality to the false truth that all things are ordered to Caesar and the empire and so, in the conflict between his truth and Truth itself, he ignored what was really real and chose to live in his falsehood.

The abuse crisis that we have been suffering through in the Church has this disordering of reality as part of its cause.  The actions of individual priests were reprehensible and the result of a criminal indulgence of the temptations to sin.  The responses of some in authority over those priests was also reprehensible and betrayed, it seems, that those men had ordered their reality to the truth that the institution of the Church was the ultimate good, instead of God (and, specifically, his commands to protect the most vulnerable).  It is a sad reality from which we must now recover.

And we will recover, if we re-order our reality to the truth that we celebrate today: that Jesus Christ is King of the Universe: that is, that he is Lord—Dominus, in Latin, he who dominates—over all that exists.  If we see that all that exists comes from him who existed before all things and is, therefore, ordered to him, then we have a solid truth on which to interpret our reality (that is, all that we experience); and, thus, we can live in confidence that our reality is not a manufactured reality, but a true reality that will lead us to true happiness and peace.

Friends, it is no mere coincidence that this feast also closes our liturgical year.  Celebrating the kingship of Christ at the end of our liturgical year invites us to rejoice: in the truth that all things in the universe are created from and subject to a king who has suffered and died for us—and who now lives again forever—so that we, too, can live forever in him; and to lament and repent from the ways in which our lives have not conformed to that truth and thus strive (making a “new year’s resolution” even) to order our lives completely to this truth and to work so that the world around us might also be ordered to this truth.  This Eucharist is the foremost way in which we do this: ordering our praise, worship, and thanksgiving to God, who is its source.  Our 40 hours devotion, which begins tonight, is a privileged time to reflect on this truth, as well, and so I hope that you all will find an hour to spend with our Lord in adoration during these 40 hours.

My brothers and sisters, in a few moments we will have the opportunity to look directly at Truth Incarnate: the King who reigns over all existence.  If we have any doubt about what is true, let us not fail to ask him—not like Pilate, who asked in frustration, but in humility—“Lord, what is truth?” and then listen with open hearts for what he will reveal to us.  Friends, if we can do this, we will then be prepared for the greatest reality show of all time: the triumphant return of Christ our King.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – November 25^th, 2018

Your chance to meet the King

Homily: 34^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

          Saint Theresa of Calcutta, as most of us know, spent over 50 years serving the dying poor in the slums of Calcutta, India.  She had felt a special “call within her call” to religious life, as she would call it, to attend to those who were dying and poor that she (and the sisters that she eventually gathered around her) would find on the streets of Calcutta.  For the most part, the people for whom she and her sisters cared had no chance of recovery and survival.  That wasn’t Mother Theresa’s purpose, though.  Her call was to acknowledge their human dignity and to make them feel loved and cared for in their dying days.

          Over the years that she completed this service, many asked Mother Theresa, “How do you do it?”  In other words, “How is it possible for you to spend all of your days ministering to people who are physically filthy (because they haven’t bathed in a long time), while breathing intense body odor, dressing open sores and wounds, cleaning fecal matter and throw up, while living in a place with relatively poor sanitation and even poorer ventilation?”  Mother’s answer was always five simple words (which she would count off using the fingers of her hand): “You. Did. It. To. Me.”

          For Mother Theresa, it was her love of Jesus, and Jesus’ promise that he made to his disciples in the judgment parable that we heard in our Gospel reading today, that impelled her on.  For her, Jesus’ judgment warning wasn’t so much of a threat (that is, “look at how you will be punished if fail to do this!”), but rather an amazing opportunity promised to her.  When she read, “whatever you did for one of the least brothers of mine, you did for me”, she saw her chance to meet Jesus, for whom she had fostered and intense love, in the flesh of the poor ones whom she met in the streets of the slums of Calcutta.  In other words, in this phrase, Mother Theresa found the way to order her life rightly so as to demonstrate her love for Jesus in the most intense way.

          Friends, it is true that this passage of Matthew’s Gospel is a depiction of the final judgment.  If we view it only as a fearful thing, however—that is, as something over which we have no control—then we fail to see the beautiful instruction that Jesus gives to us within it.  You see, in telling us how we are going to be judged, Jesus is giving us a clue as to how we are to order our lives rightly.  In effect, Jesus is saying: “If you love me and you wish to serve me, here’s how you do it.”  And what is that way?  To do works of mercy to all those around you.  In doing this, that is, in instructing us in this way, Jesus is demonstrating that he is shepherding his people, just as he promised to do through the prophet Ezekiel centuries before.

          In our first reading, we heard this prophesy from the prophet Ezekiel in which God says that he, himself, will come to tend his sheep.  He is saying this because the shepherds whom he had appointed for his people—that is, the rulers who had followed in the line of King David, the original “shepherd king”—had failed to shepherd his people rightly, which led God to remove his protection from them, which then led to their being conquered by the Babylonians and forced into exile from their land.  This prophesy, then, is a promise that God himself will come and shepherd his people once again and lead them back into their land.  More importantly, however, he promises to lead them into rightly ordered lives, by which they will enjoy God’s friendship for all eternity.

          Today, therefore, as we celebrate this feast of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, we see that what we celebrate is Jesus Christ, the great Shepherd King—not just of one people at one place in time, but of the whole universe—whom God sent to save us from our exile in sin and to shepherd us into rightly ordered living so that we might enter into God’s friendship for eternity.  As King—especially as a King who has shown us such great benevolence by taking on our human nature so that he might suffer all of the effects of our sinfulness (including, and especially, death!) in order to save us from sin and death—he expects that we will serve him and offer to him works that demonstrate our gratefulness for this grace that we have been given.  Even more so, however, our King expects that our works would not be done out of duty alone, but also out of our love for him who has already demonstrated his love so generously for us.  This latter expectation is what Mother Theresa clung to so strongly in her life and in her work: She loved Jesus so much that she delighted in demonstrating her love for him by performing these extraordinary acts of mercy for those “least brothers” of his.

          My brothers and sisters, Jesus is our great Shepherd King and he longs to shepherd us into his kingdom of eternal life and peace.  And so, how do we allow him to shepherd us?  Well, it would be easy for me to say “by doing the works of mercy”.  Perhaps, however, I can offer an even more practical method: what if we simply tried to be less selfish every day?  You know, if we all tried to be a little less selfish every day (and, therefore, more giving to others), then, before we know it, we’d look a lot more like Mother Theresa.  All it takes is a choice—and it is a choice that we’ll have to make every day—but when we do, we begin to let Jesus shepherd us.  And when Jesus shepherds us, then our lives begin to become rightly re-ordered.  And when our lives begin to be rightly re-ordered, then our world will begin to be rightly re-ordered.  And when our world becomes rightly re-ordered, then what else is that but the kingdom of God among us.  And what more could we want than to have the kingdom of God among us?  Once we experience that, then we have nothing else to wait for than the coming of our Shepherd King, Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, so that death, the final enemy will be destroyed and we will be given back to God to live in the eternal joy of heaven.

          You probably didn’t think that being a little less selfish today could bring about heaven did you?  But it’s true!  Choose heaven today, therefore, by choosing to be less-selfish and you will be choosing eternal life: the shepherding of our King, Jesus Christ—the very same King who we meet here at this altar.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – November 25^th & 26^th, 2017

Your "yes" also means "no".

Homily: 34^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

          In the Gospel today, we jump right into the middle of Luke’s account of the crucifixion.  In it Jesus is being taunted by bystanders while he is in the midst of his greatest suffering.  The Jewish authorities, the Roman soldiers, and even one of the criminals crucified with him all pressure him to prove he’s the Messiah—the divinely appointed King of the Jews—by using divine power to save himself from the crucifixion.  I can only imagine what Jesus felt.  He knew that he was the king, but reviling him these men were calling him a phony, a poseur, because the real king would save himself from this disgrace.

          Jesus also knew that he had the power to save himself.  Recall what happened when, in the synagogue at Nazareth, the townspeople tried to throw Jesus over the brow of the hill on which the town was built for what he had said, but that Jesus “passed through the midst of them” and escaped.  But Jesus didn’t do that this time, did he?  And why?  Well, because he knew that he had already said “yes” to do the Father’s will, which was to be sacrificed for the redemption of all mankind.  And because of this, he could say “no” to the distractions surrounding him: the temptations to use his divine power to save himself from this incredible suffering.

          It’s a simple fact that when we say “yes” to something, it automatically says “no” to a lot of other things.  Many of these things are known to us at the time: the other options from which we chose the thing to which we said “yes”.  Sadly enough, there are whole reality shows based on this premise.  Has anyone out there watched the show “Say ‘yes’ to the dress”?  This is the whole premise to the show: saying “yes” to one and, therefore, “no” to many others.

          Still more, however, saying “yes” to something also means that we’ve said “no” to a lot of things that we haven’t yet encountered.  For example, saying “yes” to get married means that I’ve said “no” to many things: namely, to having romantic relationships with other people besides my spouse and to the relative freedom of having lived on my own.  It could also mean, however, that, perhaps without your conscious acknowledgement, you’ve already said “no” to the job promotion that would relocate you to another city because your family couldn’t move from where you are.

          Catholic author and speaker Matthew Kelly reminds us that to turn towards something is at the same time to turn away from something.  He reminds us of this because he acknowledges that too many people ignore this basic reality.  In other words, many people think that they can say “yes” to one thing without really saying “no” to the others.  But this is a lie, he says: a lie that will eventually leave us feeling lost and dissatisfied.  Again, in the midst of all of the taunting and reviling, Jesus remembered that to which he had said “yes” and, thus, could say “no” to using his power to save him from the cross.  Similarly, all those who were reviling Jesus had said “yes” to a type of Messiah that was different from the one that Jesus presented to them.  Thus, they had to say “no” to anyone purporting to be the Messiah who didn’t fit the type for which they were looking.

          Yet, there was one voice that refused to revile Jesus: the voice of the other criminal crucified with him. He, it seems could see something… let’s say… incongruent about Jesus’ crucifixion.  This criminal could see that Jesus was innocent of any capital crime and hadn’t really been any threat to the power of the Roman occupiers, and so perhaps he thought Jesus really was who he said he was: a king who has yet to come into his kingdom.  And so, in his own suffering and nearness to death, this criminal makes an incredible act of faith in Jesus—he decides to say “yes” to Jesus by acknowledging him as King—and for that “yes” he received his eternal reward.

          And so the question, of course, comes back to us.  Have we said “yes” to Jesus?  In many ways, this is what the Year of Mercy, which ends today, has been all about.  It’s been about re-discovering and renewing our “yes” to Jesus by saying “yes” to serving him by serving the bodily and spiritual needs of those around us.  And whether or not we spent this year well, today we are called to acknowledge the kingship of Jesus—that he truly does rule over us—and to renew (or, perhaps, to speak for the first time) our “yes” to follow Jesus, so that a new flourishing of faith can blossom as we begin a new liturgical year.

          You know, as Catholics, we don’t do the whole “Have you accepted Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior” thing, but the idea of it is something to which we are constantly being called.  In baptism, we receive the grace of salvation: the grace won for us by Jesus’ death and resurrection.  Yet, at some point in our lives, we all have to say “yes” to Jesus and to acknowledge him as Lord and ruler of our lives.  In other words, we have to let Jesus be our king.

          But this is dangerous, is it not?  By saying “yes” to Jesus, then we’ll have to say “no” to so many other things.  So how, then, can we say “yes” to him?  I mean, where can we find the courage to allow him to be Lord and ruler of our lives?  This courage, my brothers and sisters, comes only through an encounter with him.  And where do we encounter him?  In prayer (especially before the Blessed Sacrament here in the Church), in communal worship (especially here in the Eucharist), in the Scriptures (especially when we meditate on them and allow them to speak to us and to our lives), and in our suffering (i.e. when we are able, in our suffering, to turn, like the “good thief” in today’s Gospel, and see Jesus, crucified there with us).

          My brothers and sisters, when we encounter Jesus we can see the hopelessness of our striving in contrast with the hope contained in Jesus’ resurrection from the dead; and in this light we can find the courage to say “yes” to him (and, thus, “no” to so much else).  In this Eucharistic encounter with Jesus, let us not fear to say “yes” to him and acknowledge him as our King; and let us not fear all to which we’ll have to say “no” because of this: because, although it may cause us to suffer for a time in this world, paradise—that is, eternal happiness—awaits those who persevere in their “yes” to God.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – November 20^th, 2016

The kingship of Truth

Homily: 34^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle B

Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

          On Christmas day, in the year 1000, St. Stephen of Hungary, also known as King St. Stephen, was crowned as the first king of Hungary.  A fervently devoted Christian, Stephen was instrumental in forming Hungary as a Christian state.  During his reign as king, he strove to enact just laws, to serve the poor, and to maintain peace.  Often he would take off his royal garments, put on the clothes of a peasant, and walk the streets, giving alms to the poor.  He loved his people and the Church and he never lost sight of the fact that his kingship carried with it a responsibility to serve them both.  As a result, his people loved him greatly and the Church flourished in Hungary.  Fervent devotion to Saint Stephen continues in Hungary even today, and his feast day is yearly celebrated as a national holiday with processions and other celebrations.  He was and is an enduring sign of national unity and identity for the Hungarian people.

          In 1776, we Americans decided that we no longer wanted to be ruled by a king, and we declared our independence from England.  This historical decision is one that most of us, I dare say, are still happy with.  This fact, however, has made it difficult for us to find the meaning of kingship in our lives.  While the Hungarians find their national unity and identity in one man, the king, we Americans find our national unity and identity in the diversity of our collective spirit.  And so we have no frame of reference to help us understand what kingship means for us.

          As Catholics, however, we believe that we have a king, Jesus Christ.  And like the Hungarians who yearly celebrate and honor their king Stephen, we Catholics also yearly celebrate our king on this, the last Sunday of the liturgical year.  This is why, as American Catholics, the life of St. Stephen is such a rich story for us; because by his example we can come to understand the kingship of our Lord, Jesus Christ.

          As we hear in the first reading and in the Psalm today, Christ’s kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, where he is robed in majesty and splendor.  Yet we also know that he condescended to clothe himself in the garments of human flesh.  He walked among us, healing the sick and suffering and bringing comfort to the poor.  In spite of being a king, his concern has never been with his own glory; rather, it has always been for his people: that we would be free from sin and made “into a kingdom, priests for his God and Father.”

          As king, St. Stephen placed his entire life under the lordship of Jesus Christ.  He recognized clearly in his own kingship what our second reading tells us today, that “Jesus Christ is the … ruler of the kings of the earth.”  In placing his life under Christ’s dominion he served his people faithfully, in truthfulness and love, and thus he is honored still today as the model of earthly kingship.

          Yet, in our Gospel today we see a contrast of this model in the person of Pontius Pilate.  Jesus stands accused of trying to usurp earthly power and is being questioned by Pilate.  Pilate, however, only understands kingship from a worldly standpoint—in which a king is someone who lords his authority over his people and so forces them to conform to his will—and so Jesus’ answers confound him.  “It is your own people who have handed you over,” Pilate says.  But Jesus corrects him and tells him “No, no.  These are not my people.  They do not understand what real kingship is.  My people are those who belong to the truth, and those who belong to the truth understand who I am and why I came.”  Although we don’t read it today, Pilate’s next line is to ask Jesus, “What is truth?”  Can you believe it?  Truth himself was standing right in front of him and he had no clue.  Pilate had subjected himself to a worldly kingship and so he was blinded to seeing the truth of the kingship of Jesus.

          My sisters and brothers, we have a king in Jesus Christ!  He is not a king who lords it over us, as do the kings of the earth.  Rather, he is a “faithful witness … who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood [and] who has made us a kingdom of priests” for God our Father.  He is a king who rules in justice and in truth.  Therefore, in order to enjoy that kingship, we are called to subject ourselves to truth, like King St. Stephen did.

          This isn’t just for kings, though.  Whether you happen to be the king of a nation or the head of a household, we are all called to acknowledge the kingship of Christ and to subject every aspect of our lives to his dominion.  And this is not scary; because, as we’ve heard, Jesus is a “faithful witness … who loves us.”  And so no matter how we’ve been hurt in the past by those who love us—and all of us, I dare say, have experienced this—we can trust in Jesus’ love because he is truly faithful.

          Therefore my sisters and brothers, let us ask ourselves, “which areas of my life do I keep from the lordship of Jesus?”  And what we are really asking here is “Does truthfulness truly rule in every aspect of my life?”  At work, am I completely truthful with my boss, co-workers, and clients?  Do I truly give an honest day’s work, or do I take as much time for myself as I feel like I can get away with?  In my relationships with my spouse, my family, and my friends, am I completely truthful?  Or do I have a secret life that I hide from those closest to me?  Does truthfulness rule how I prepare my taxes and my contributions to the Church and charitable organizations?  Some of you might even be asking whether or not truthfulness rules my preaching…  Well, fair enough, and that is a question that I must ask myself daily.  Does truth rule my prayer?  In other words, do I allow myself to be open and honest with God, whether it is in private prayer, in the confessional, or here at mass?  And when I come forward to receive the Blessed Sacrament, do I truly open myself up completely to receive the Lord, or do I hold something back, ashamed to let the Lord see it?

          My sisters and brothers, Jesus Christ wants to be the Lord of every aspect of our lives.  He wants to be Lord of both the good and the beautiful—like the way we love our children or serve the poor—and he wants to be Lord of the bad and the ugly—like when we use our spouses, friends, or others to satisfy our selfish needs.  We allow him to be Lord when we submit each aspect of our lives to truthfulness.

          Now, we don’t have to do it all at once.  We can start with something basic: like giving an honest day’s work at our jobs or turning away from gossip when we are with our friends.  If one at a time we submit each aspect of our lives over to truthfulness, soon we will find that truthfulness reigns over every aspect of our lives.  And when truthfulness reigns over every aspect of our lives then we will come to know the joy of having allowed Jesus, who is truth, to be our king.

          And so, let us begin even now, here in this Eucharist, by submitting ourselves truthfully, flaws and all, to Jesus as we present our gifts of bread and wine to be offered on this altar.  Then, with the choirs of angels we can truthfully cry out in joy and say “Holy, Holy, Holy!  Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!  Hosanna in the highest to Christ our King!”

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – November 22^nd, 2015