MY PROBLEM WITH THE KING

 

Sunday, November 22, is the Solemnity of Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, or more simply "The Feast of Christ the King." The U.S. Bishops have published a bulletin insert for the feast that takes about five minutes to read and is certainly worth the time.

The bishops' message begins this way: 

Pope Pius XI instituted this feast in 1925 with his encyclical Quas Primas ("In the first") to respond to growing nationalism and secularism.  He recognized that these related societal ills would breed increasing hostility against the Church.  His encyclical reminds the faithful that while governments and philosophies come and go, Christ reigns as king forever.

I'd been assuming that my post for this feast would be built around the idea that even in the midst of this pandemic (as well as other issues that frighten or discourage us) Christ is still in total command, the Master of the Universe who wields boundless power over everything that is. The post was to be about Power, specifically that Christ's Power is greater than any coronavirus or any political upheaval. But as I followed the news from Washington  this week I got exhausted with listening to all the jockeying for political Power. So I decided not to go the route that celebrates Christ's infinite Power (making him the winner in the ultimate Power game). So I set out in search of an alternative view of Christ the King.

My search was over almost as soon as it began, as I opened the lectionary and saw the first scripture reading assigned for the day. In it the Church presents us with the image of God as a Shepherd! In Ezekiel Ch. 34, the prophet first condemns Israel's leaders for not properly shepherding God's Chosen People, and then (in our first reading) God announces that He is personally taking over the job.

Thus says the Lord GOD: I myself will look after and tend my sheep. 

As a shepherd tends his flock

when he finds himself among his scattered sheep,

so will I tend my sheep.

I will rescue them from every place where they were scattered

when it was cloudy and dark. 

I myself will pasture my sheep;

I myself will give them rest, says the Lord GOD. 

The lost I will seek out,

the strayed I will bring back, the injured I will bind up, ... (Ez. 34:11-12)

[The passage continues, but we'll stop here.]

What a beautiful image for us in these troubled days: Comfort, assurance, hope, and joy! Since this image of a shepherd-God will be used by the gospel writers to refer to Jesus as the Good Shepherd who seeks out the lost sheep and carries it back on his shoulders, I was expecting to find this much-needed comforting image reflected in the day's Gospel passage. What I found instead began this way:

Jesus said to his disciples:

"When the Son of Man comes in his glory,

and all the angels with him,

he will sit upon his glorious throne,

and all the nations will be assembled before him.

And he will separate them one from another,

as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.

He will place the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. (Mt. 25:31-31)

My face fell as I realized that the theme is not Jesus' love for the world, but rather Jesus as the supreme judge whose role is to "separate them one from another." In fact, the final verses of the first reading contain the same threatening message:

The lost I will seek out,

the strayed I will bring back,

the injured I will bind up,

the sick I will heal,

but the sleek and the strong I will destroy,

shepherding them rightly.

As for you, my sheep, says the Lord GOD,

I will judge between one sheep and another,

between rams and goats.

I don't know about you, but over the past several months I've had more than my fill of scenes of two groups separated by a chasm. So I'm not attracted by the image of a God whose power is shown by his separating and dividing people into two opposing camps. Artists, however, especially in the Middle Ages, loved to portray the dramatic scene of the Last Judgement: Christ the King seated in the center, while the good guys are standing in a throng to his right (trying not to look too relieved?) and an equally large throng of bad guys on His left are being tortured and devoured by demons as Christ and the redeemed look on impassively.

This is not the image we need today: The ultimate "us-versus-them," with Jesus presiding over the division, with us good guys on this side and "them" on the other side of the chasm; "they" being, of course, the bad guys and therefore our enemies. And most likely there are angry insults being shouted back and forth across the divide.

I know that there is always a message for me in any passage of scripture, even in passages I find distasteful or obscure. Often these passages turn out to hold a message for me that I particularly need to hear. But today I'll concentrate on the assigned Responsorial Psalm: Ps. 23 "The Lord is my shepherd," which seems completely out of sync with the main theme of God's Final Judgement.

I have two songs playing themselves in my head today. The first, by Bob Dufford, S.J is entitled "Like a Shepherd." Here are the words:

 

Like a shepherd He feeds his flock and gathers the lambs in His arms,

Holding them carefully close to His heart, leading them home. Say to the cities of Judah: Prepare the way of the Lord. Go to the mountaintop, lift your voice: Jerusalem, here is our God. I myself will shepherd them, For others have led them astray. The lost I will rescue and heal their wounds and pasture them, giving them rest. Come unto me if you are heavily burdened, And take my yoke up on your shoulders. I will give you rest. Bob Dufford, SJ © 1993 Robert F. Connor, SJ New Dawn Music Published by OCP Publications.

The second song I'm enjoying is a poetic version of Psalm 23, "The King of love my Shepherd is, Whose goodness faileth never; I nothing lack if I am his And he is mine for ever."

Yes, if you're looking for Christ to be King, remember that from the beginning he has always been "The King of LOVE."

Again, I encourage you to read the entire message of the U.S. Bishops for today's feast.

May Christ, our Shepherd King, bless all of us with whatever gifts we need to build up His Kingdom and become one flock with one shepherd.

ON DEATH AND DETERRENTS

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A whole lot of seemingly unconnected ideas have been knocking into each other inside my head in the past few days. The following are not conclusions but rather questions.

THE LAST JUDGMENT

As I mentioned last week, this is the time of year when the Church’s calendar directs our minds and hearts to “the last things,” the end of the world, and our own death. I’ve been thinking about the magnificent carved tympanum over the main doors of the church of St. Foy de Conques in southern France. I remember gazing up at this image, guidebook in hand, for quite awhile 19 years ago.

Tympanum  carving "The Last Judgment," Conques, France

Recently I was bothered, however, by the problem of the perfect symmetry of the image: Christ in the middle, and half the people (those on his right) are saved and enjoying heavenly delights, but fully half the people (those on his left) are damned for all eternity to be gored, bitten, half-swallowed and otherwise tortured.. Fifty-fifty. I don’t like those odds! Okay, so we can chalk that up to the demands of aesthetics: It wouldn’t do, after all, to have Christ the Judge sitting way off to one side with 99% of the humans on his right and then just one or two miserable figures on his left side in hell.

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FAILING BY A POINT

I gave a chapter test in my Religion class this week. I corrected and scored the tests and then, as usual, had to decide what constituted a passing grade on this particular test. Looking at the distribution of scores, I decided that 70% made good sense as a passing grade. Anyone below 70% got an “F.” Simple, right? But then the usual decisions came up. What about the kid with the 69%? Well, okay; he’s a good kid, so maybe I should pass him. But there’s also this kid with a 67% who lost five points on one question because he simply misread the question – I know perfectly well that he knows the correct answer. Do I give him an F? 

So, now cut to the scene of the last judgment. What’s God’s cut-off point for getting into heaven? The stakes are unimaginably high: either eternal bliss or conscious excruciating agony for billions of unending years. So, suppose a sinner misses the cutoff for salvation by half a point? (Don’t say send him or her purgatory; that’s for people who've made the cut but need to be softened up a little before their final entry into heaven.) I want to know about the person who misses the cutoff by just a fraction of a point. Can God, like a soft-hearted professor, give that sinner the half-point and send him or her to heaven? Nope! Sorry. God is “all just” and must abide by the rules.  

Poor God! I’m glad I don’t have to make that decision.  

MORNING IMAGES

At 5:30 in church this morning I was praying the Jesus prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God,

have mercy on me a sinner.” Then I was distracted by that image of the last judgment, “troubled” is a better word, and in a snippy mood I continued my prayer this way: “Lord Jesus Christ, please do not be merciful to the really nasty sinners who have terribly offended you and spent their lives in sin and selfishness. Give them exactly what they deserve. Give all of us our just deserts.” I figured that this last part was a safe prayer since my own average has got to be at least an 85%, maybe higher.

But then another image came to me: The father in the parable throwing his arms around his prodigal son and welcoming him back with unconditional forgiveness. Hmm, that sort of messed up my prayer for divine retributive justice.

The next image was one from the French playwright Jean Anouilh. It’s the end of time and all of the just are lined up at the gates of heaven waiting to enter. Suddenly a rumor starts to spread like wildfire: “God has decided to forgive absolutely everyone. Everybody’s is going to get in, even the worst sinners!” Some of the righteous, filled with furious indignation, begin to complain bitterly, “Hey, I worked my whole life to get here while those sinful slobs spent their lives ignoring God's commandments! This isn't right. It’s not fair!” And at that instant, the story goes, those righteous complainers were damned.

Woops! No wonder Jesus tells us in the Sermon on the Mount, “Do not judge, lest you be judged” (Mt. 7:1-3)

Next image. It’s September 11, 2001, later to be known simply as “nine eleven.” The full horror of the attack on the World Trade Center 13 miles to the east has not even begun to sink in yet. But the owner of a little gas station on McCarter Highway downtown has already put an ominous hand-painted sign in his window. It reads simply “Payback’s a Bitch!” He doesn’t know who we’re going to pay back, of course; he just knows it will be a bitch when we do.

I hope you find the sign's crude language; I do. But then think of the millions of Christians who are convinced that God has those same three words inscribed in a prominent place to greet each sinner passing down that famous tunnel at the time of their death. Yup! That’s what Christians believe. “Payback’s a bitch.” If you don’t think so, just check out the tympanum at Conques: People being swallowed, chewed, burnt, and torn apart. Now that’s payback! Glad I’m on Christ’s right other side.  

WHAT’S YOUR GOD LIKE?

So then a question posed itself: What kind of God, what kind of Jesus, is sitting on that judgment throne? I find him sort of scary. I mean, is this Jesus, the Gentle Shepherd who is all-loving and all pardoning and who gave himself up to death for us? Has he suddenly, at the moment of our death, turned into someone totally different, a cruel relentless tormentor? We make all sorts of excuses for Him to soften the dichotomy. (“People are free; it’s their choice to go to hell.” “God is not the one doing it, it’s the sinners who have chosen it". "God has no part in this.”) Maybe. 

All I know is that if the father of one of my students did such a quick turnaround I’d fear for his sanity and for his children’s safety; I’d probably consider reporting the situation to the state child protection authorities.

I’m not the first or the only one to be bothered by the theology behind all this judgment business. I wonder if Jesus, who told the parable of the Prodigal Son, isn't at least a little uneasy playing the role he’s been thrust into on that tympanum at Conques.  

Some say that the Church’s emphasizing of hell is intended as a deterrent to sin. (Cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church #'s 1036, 1041.) Well, if it is intended as a deterrent, it doesn't seem to have worked all that well in recent years. Where it does seem to have some deterrent effect, however, is that it deters plenty of potential followers of Jesus who find it hard to stomach a God who runs an operation in which certain of creatures who don't do God's will suffer excruciating, conscious and endless agony. Come join the Church of Jesus the Gentle Shepherd.
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Meanwhile, let's pray for Pope Francis. I wonder what his God looks like?

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Rembrandt "Return of the Prodigal Son" 

LAST THINGS

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THAT TIME OF YEAR

This is the time of year when the falling leaves and the liturgy conspire to turn our thoughts once again to the so-called "last things," the end-time and our own mortality.

Coincidentally, today, November 9, is the feast of the dedication of the Pope’s parish Church in Rome, the Basilica of Saint John Lateran.  Many of the readings and songs on this feast add to the theme of the end time: the Church as the communion of saints in heaven and on earth, for example, and the vision of the heavenly Jerusalem coming down from heaven.

As I was reflecting on these things this morning I thought of the words of the Creed we recite each Sunday, “I look forward to the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come,” and the equivalent in the Apostles’ Creed, “I believe in the resurrection of the body and life everlasting.”

BORING AS HELL

If I’m not careful I can start thinking of “life everlasting” in terms of the only life I really know: My life just keeps going on forever... and ever... for countless billions of years. Now, I don’t know how that makes you feel, but that prospect makes me want to yawn. After a few billion years it would get boring as hell.

The good news is that that Jesus Christ adds to this concept something absolutely crucial: We’re not just “immortal humans,” but we’re given the literally indescribable gift of living in Him and in the Father in a union of LOVE. It’s indescribable. St. Paul warns us not to bother wondering about what it will actually be like, because we’ll never even begin to come close to the truth:
"Eye has not seen, nor ear heard,
Nor have entered into the heart of man
The things which God has prepared for those who love him." (1 Cor.2:9) 

SO WHAT?

But even this can leave us with simply the belief of "pie in the sky when we die" unless we make

still another escape from our limited human way of thinking. More good news: Jesus assures us "The Kingdom of God is among you." Our transformation has already begun! We are already being transformed into Christ. We are His presence wherever we are, whether in our workplace or at home or at the mall, we are Christ. And so is each person we encounter. Heaven is breaking in all round us today, here and now. 

BETTER QUESTIONS

In the gospel for Sunday, Nov. 10, the Sadducees, who do not believe in a resurrection of the dead, ask Jesus the inane question about whose wife will that widow of seven husbands be. They do that deliberately to try to make Jesus look silly. But in our unguarded moments we who believe in a resurrection of the dead can also ask equally inane questions: Will there be pepperoni pizza in Heaven? Will I see my dog Fido in Heaven? Will there be soccer in heaven? What age will my resurrected body be in heaven? Those are bad questions. Paul's advice to the Corinthians is worth repeating here: 

"Eye has not seen, nor ear heard,
Nor have entered into the heart of man
The things which God has prepared for those who love him." (1 Cor.2:9) 

Jesus offers us a much more positive set of question to ask:

- How am I reflecting God's boundless love to the people around me?

- How am I being Christ to my sisters and brothers today?

- How am I already living out the life of God's eternal love in my home, my place of work?

These are the things we need to be worried about. We need to be building up the Kingdom NOW, foreshadowing and even hastening the everlasting love of heaven.

Let God worry about the pizza and the pets in heaven!  
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DEADLINES

We are all familiar with the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus (the gospel reading for Sunday, Sept 29, 2013) about the rich man who feasts richly every day while never noticing the poor man lying at his door. I’ve been thinking the challenge posed by this story.

First of all, the poor man, Lazarus, lies at the door. Now the Latin word for door is porta; it’s the root of the English “opportunity.” Luke gives us other hints that show that Lazarus poses an opportunity to the rich man every day.

Notice, for example, that the poor man actually has a name! Why is he the only character in any of Jesus’ parables that has a name? He is not anonymous; he may be poor and outcast, but, Jesus tells us, he’s a person with hopes and fears and feelings. Further, his name Lazarus (the Greek rendering of Eliezer) means “My God helps.” And how is God intending to help him if not through the generosity and concern of his fellow humans? Lazarus’s very name, then, contains a moral challenge to those around him.

The rich man, though, consistently misses every opportunity to incarnate God’s help for the poor man. The situation is set out in a couple of brief sentences, then the real action starts when the poor man dies. When Lazarus dies the rich man’s opportunity dies as well.

The parable contains another interesting point: When Lazarus lying in Abraham’s bosom explains to the rich man in v. 39 “A great chasm lies between us and you,” the pronouns are plural! This story includes you and me. Uh-oh! How many opportunities do I walk past every day? How many Lazaruses are camped out at the door of my life hoping to be fed by the smallest gesture or kind deed from me? When I walk into a classroom full of sophomores is Lazarus sitting among them? Almost certainly.

The better question would be “How many Lazaruses are sitting in that room?”


For me the most unsettling question coming from the parable is “When will these opportunities suddenly
stop? D.O.B. and Exp. We’re all used to being asked for our date of birth when filling out forms or as a normal way of confirming our identity when making a doctor’s appointment. We’re also used to telling vendors the expiration date on our credit cards.

But what would you think if the person on the phone also asked “Could I have your expiration date, please?” You do have one, right? Each of us is due to “expire” some day. The problem is, of course, that unlike the date on a credit card, a passport or a bottle of vitamins, your personal expiration date is unknown to you. I know that I have in the back of my mind these good intentions: “Yeah, I really should consider doing something about this or that,” or “Right, I guess I ought to start being kinder to so-and-so.”

The parable, though, makes a rather abrupt point: The rich man was unaware of his own expiration date, and suddenly found that all opportunities for doing something with his life had just ceased one day -- and he was stuck on the wrong side of this big chasm. Actually, this chasm was nothing new: He had lived with it all his life, the poor man on one side and himself on the other. So now he has to live with it forever, with the added realization, of course, that God is on the other side with Lazarus, whose name means My God helps.”

Lest we miss the point, Jesus adds the final section in which the rich man wants to send a warning to his brothers back home who are as blind and unaware as he himself used to be. We are those brothers and sisters at times, looking right past Lazarus at our door and not seeing him as one whom God is expecting us to help.

Strange behavior indeed for people who don’t know their own expiration date.
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