Sermons

Last Sunday, we celebrated Christ the King – what do we associate with this title “King”? Most of us do not live in monarchies, kings and queens in constitutional monarchies do not have the power their predecessors had centuries ago. So for us today this feast maybe less about “kings”, but it is about authority.

A king, a queen in biblical times represented authority. We often argue about authority in the Church, it is a kind of monarchy – just look at the way a pope is elected and then governs without being controlled. There are a lot of texts in the Christian Scriptures which deal with authority; were they written by people who ignored or who disrespected the leadership in their various communities, who were authors against leadership, against authority?

No - it is interesting to see that the vast majority of these texts were triggered by something else: by the abusive ways in which leadership was often exercised. Almost always, the leaders of the communities - not the people - created the problems. And the authors of our scripture texts encountered these problems and they were forced to address them.

That's why today's feast of Christ the King is significant. And it is also touchy and a bit awkward. Since all Christian leadership should mirror the leadership of Jesus, once we label Jesus a king, we have to be extremely careful how we define the title “king”. It's the title “King of the Jews” above the cross of Jesus which prompts the attack of the Jewish rulers in today's gospel passage (Luke 23:35-43). There was a common idea of royalty: if Jesus is a king, he should be looking out primarily for himself; he should immediately come down from the cross. Yet, Luke's Jesus is more concerned with the fate of the person crucified next to him than he is with his own fate. Throughout Luke’s story of Jesus walking up to Jerusalem, Jesus is always focusing on the needs of others. Only in Luke’s gospel does Jesus heal the man's cut off ear in the garden.; does he speak sympathetically to the women mourning his death; does he look at Peter after his denial, and only here he forgives those who crucify him.

Let us come to a different king – David (II Samuel 5:1-3) had already been king of the southern half of Palestine – Judah. How he became this – well this is a very different story. So, he was king in the South when the elders of the northern tribes – of Israel - came to him in Hebron asking David to unite all twelve tribes into one nation under his leadership. David's ability to bring people together was one of his best personality traits, a trait all good leaders should possess: think of political, economic, and Church leaders – do they bring people together or do they stir, create and maintain conflicts?

Now let us have a look at the letter to the community in Colossae (Colossians 1:12-20). The disciple of Paul responsible for the letter to the Colossians finds that same characteristic in the risen Jesus. Quoting an early Christian hymn, he reminds his community: “God himself was pleased to live fully in his Son, God wanted all perfection to be found in him…. So that all beings in heaven and on earth would be brought back to God.” There's no doubt the writer is familiar with the insight of his mentor Paul into the Body of Christ: we can't be more one than to be part of the body of the person who unites us. Christian leaders are unique. The only leader they can compare themselves to is Jesus.

I remember when we celebrated this feast for the first time with Francis as pope. My hope was, that - just as in the gospel Jesus redefined the notion of “king” - so Francis might redefine the papacy day by day. Francis was elected in March 2013 – until today, my hopes that he redefines papacy are not yet gone – I pray that he is able to make a good step forward. It is true, though the title remains, the reality behind “king” and “pope” is constantly changing. Let us pray that we all be strong enough to sustain all those in our hierarchy who open the Church; let us pray for all those who try to take Jesus as a model for their way of exercising power.

cf. http://www.dignityusa.org/breath/november-24-2013-christ-king

Fr. Wolfgang Felber SJ

G&P 951

A consoling sentence from the First Reading for Sunday (Malachi 3, 19-20a): “You who fear my name, for you there will arise the sun of justice with its healing rays.”

Healing rays…. Justice... All of us hopefully wished such things for a long time, we would really welcome them. But what about the fear part: “You who fear my name”. We are supposed to take in God’s majesty in its awesome and fear-invoking greatness. The scripture is not talking about the fear we get in horror films: not that strange noise when you are alone in the house. Instead it is “fear of God”, a reasonable, settled concern, an awe before what is very much bigger than you, a reverential wonder toward the creator.

Only when we have this “awe” are we starting to relate to God, to begin maturing in our relation with the Most High. And only then do we start suspecting what it really means to say that “God is Love”. Healthy as this last sentence may be - “God is love” - understanding it requires a continuing spiritual revolution in our lives.

It is like the revolution brought about long ago by Copernicus (1473 – 1543) – the decades when America was “discovered”. The Poles say he was Polish, the Germans say that he was German. Copernicus showed that the sun does not revolve around the earth but rather that the earth circles the sun. Most of us, spiritually, are “pre-Copernican“: we think that God’s job is to circle around us, just as if we were the center of the universe; we think like tiny planets in this universe: the immense sun should answer our prayers, the immense sun should make us peaceful, should make our side win the ball game, help us find a parking place and so on…

Nothing is really wrong with any of these – but these thoughts are a bit too childlike. As adults in faith, we are in desperate need of a Copernican revolution. In fact, God does not exist to serve us, it is just the opposite: the center of the universe is God, not us; just like after Copernicus we know that the center of our solar system is the immense sun, not the tiny earth. God quietly maintains in existence everything that is: stars, galaxies, lands, oceans, cities, human hearts, butterfly wings. We owe reverence to such a Being. It takes a spiritual transformation to think this way. What would happen if you or I tried it?

First, we would be living in truth instead of in pretense, in fiction, in a fake reality. The truth of our lives is that we are at home only when we open to this real God - the source and goal of who we are as human beings - instead of opening our lives to the latest fashion or style. As believers, we often say “God is greatest.” If God is greatest, why would we make something else the center of our life?

Second, the “sun of justice with its healing rays” would shine upon us - as the prophet Malachi says. God’s love would appear to us as truth instead of just a way to find a parking place if we pray for it. We would begin to see God as the gentle source of life and the affectionate mother of the entire universe!

Advent is coming very soon. The Church will be preparing to see tender love shown forth in an infant. In this pre-Advent time, we are supposed to take in God’s majesty in its awesome and fear-invoking greatness, so that we might be humble enough to prepare for the baby. And that is why the First Reading from Malachi and the Gospel from Luke thunder on about the day of reckoning and judgement: when “nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom,” (Luke 21) and so on. These are meant to bring forth awe and fear, to show us who is at the center of the universe … and who is waiting for us to climb down from our thrones.

cf liturgy.slu.edu/33OrdC111719/reflections_foley.html

Fr. Wolfgang Felber SJ