Homily: Christ the King: 2007

Brothers and sisters, today is the feast of Christ the King. I think we as Americans actually have an advantage over other people who live under an actual king, because our vision is unencumbered by the very real image of a human king, who may be fat, weak, greedy, lecherous and adulterous. For example, I think we have an easier time celebrating this feast than folks who lived in the later years of King Henry VIII's reign!

I think our imaginations are more influenced by C. S. Lewis's descriptions of a king than our collective memories of George III, our last (and incidentally, mad) king! And Lewis's kings are hard and manly, strong and noble, compassionate and self-sacrificing, just like Our Lord. And though He is rightly called "the Lamb" (as in "the Lamb who was slain is worthy to receive wisdom and power and honor"), He is also known as "the Lion" (as in "the Lion of Judah"), the king of beasts. And this is not a tame lion! He's noble, all right, but He's powerful and dangerous. And I think that point just needs to be stressed more. We've had so many images of Jesus as a white-washed, effeminate, "meek and mild" Northern European, we fail to see Him as the dark, strong, immensely powerful God-Man that He is and was. We need to remember that not only through Him were all things made, but before Him all will come to be judged.

And while it's unhealthy to fixate on Our Lord as Judge in some divine courtroom (as Luther did), we still need to always remember . . . we will be held accountable. And though we know we can count on His mercy, we really should be wise and repent NOW, make restitution NOW, forgive NOW, and straighten up and fly right NOW because who knows how much harder it will be to do so in the next life? St. Brendan, when at the end of his long and holy life, was asked by his sister what he feared, replied: "I fear if I go alone, if the journey be dark, the unknown region, the presence of the King, and the sentence of the Judge."

I love those lines. Those are some of the most honest lines in mankind's long history. Because we so shrink from even thinking about death, much less discussing it, we seldom hear such wise words. St. Brendan was a wise and fair man and if even he, such a GOOD man, feared certain aspects of death, well, maybe that should give us pause.

" . . . if I go alone." ("You got to go to the Lonesome Valley/ You got to go there by yourself" . . . lyrics from "Lonesome Valley," sung to the prisoners about to be executed). And he does say "if." Perhaps, as it is widely believed, just before we expire we are greeted by Christ, in the form we best knew Him on earth. That may be a surprise: the form of our parents, or a particularly compassionate teacher or friend, or a person we knew as a saint. And if we greet Him, accept Him, embrace Him then, we won't have to "go it alone."

" . . . if the journey be dark." And what a long, dark way it may be. The ancients swore we had to cross dark water. Some say we have to pay the ferryman. Some say we have to row our own boat ashore. Whatever. But we may not know the way. After all, there's no GPS on the other side of the grave.

" . . . the unknown regions." Few, if any, have returned from those regions and those who did, it may be argued, didn't really die. Who truly knows what happens, where we go, what we see? None but those who go and never return. May we walk carefully and in light.

" . . . the presence of the King." Here there is a direct reference to Jesus, our Lord -- and He may be in His glorious, majestic guise . . . hard to look upon, especially if we are in sin. Who can describe what being in the royal chambers may be like? And finally, nothing to distract us, nothing to excuse us, nothing behind which we can hide.

" . . . and the sentence of the Judge." And here's my major point. Some of us are counting on a light sentence, especially since that's what we've been taught and that's what WE would do if WE were God. But what if we're wrong? What if the little things we do are counted heavily, for good or for ill? What if it's NOT true that everybody gets a pass? What if the stakes are much, much higher than we assume?

I think that's worth at least considering, on this last Sunday of the year. And I think it should make each of us take a long, hard look at ourselves, and run, not walk, to confession. Because Our Lord remembers not those sins confessed and forgiven, and as St. Therese said, this reading of the so-called "good thief," one of her favorites, always gave her hope and solace. "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." And though he was guilty, and heavy with sin, he was told: "Amen, amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise."

[pause]

Let us now profess our faith . . .