The Hopes and Dreams of Christ the King

The Last Sunday in Ordinary Time
Today’s Readings: [Click here]

A priest I know from back in Ohio told me a heart-warming story. A retired teacher in his parish decided to volunteer some time tutoring kids in the Children’s Hospital in Columbus. She was given the name and room number of a nine-year-old. There was also a note saying that the boy’s class in school was studying nouns and adverbs.

The tutor pulled out her fourth grade materials and headed over to the hospital. She was shocked to find that the boy was in the burn unit. She almost turned around and went home, but she worked up her courage and went inside.

The boy looked even worse than she had feared. “Hi,” she said. “I’ll be your teacher while you’re here. It’s important that you learn about nouns and adverbs.” Then she went right into the lesson. When she was finished, she said that she’d be back the next week. And then she hurried away.

A few days later, the teacher received a call from the boy’s mother asking if she would be coming for a lesson that day. The teacher thought that maybe she had done such a poor job with the woman’s child that the boy’s mother would rather he be left alone. So she apologized for her nervousness and said that she would certainly understand if the boy’s Mom would rather that she not return. “Oh, no,” said the Mom. “You have it all wrong. I don’t know what you said to my son, but since your visit he has really been fighting hard to respond to his treatment. It seems that he has finally decided to live.”

So the teacher returned the next day and found the child with a therapist and his mother. He was doing his best to cooperate with the therapist. When the boy saw the teacher, he said to his mother, “I know I’m going to live. They wouldn’t send a teacher to work on nouns and adverbs with a kid who’s dying, would they?”

In a very similar way, God has also given us hope that we will live. The Lord wouldn’t send his Son if we were a lost cause, would he? He wouldn’t make him a King if that King wouldn’t have any subjects. He wouldn’t let him die on the cross if he didn’t realize that some of us would call out to him with our lives, “Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom.”

Modern-day prophets of doom who see the negative in everything in life have given up on society. But not Jesus. He refuses to give up on us. He is the King who loves his people. We can’t remember that often enough!

When the little boy in the hospital realized he had a glimmer of hope that he was going to make it, all of a sudden, his goals and dreams and attitude changed. “I’m going to live!” he realized. And that changed everything. He didn’t have to give up. Even though he had a lot of therapy and painful struggle ahead of him, that was OK. He knew the “big battle” was won.

That can be our dream, too. No matter what trials and problems we may be dealing with, Christ assures us that if we stick with him, we are absolutely guaranteed to come out on top. He will guide us to turn every defeat into a victory, and every ounce of sadness into joy. Ultimately, the goal that matters, the dream that matters, is the dream of the kingdom of Jesus Christ and our getting a place in this kingdom.

Every other goal or dream is just a passing thing—not even a real thing. All other goals, no matter how important they may seem at the time, will pass away.

We’re starting to gear up for another presidential election next November. Do you remember all the fretting and controversy over voting and ballots in the last two elections? As we know all too well, politicians, political seasons and even scandals come and go. The concerns and issues that fired us up back then have pretty much faded away.

It’s the same in business, the economy, our culture… How many folks were waiting for catastrophe with Y2K when the new millennium began? How many of us dreamed of getting rich with double-digit interest rates before the “dot.com” bubble burst? How many were absolutely sure in early October—hardly seven weeks ago—that the Cubs might conceivably have a chance at the World Series? Very quickly, the old dreams are gone and we all but forget about them.

Some people’s dreams are wrapped up in the good days that they hope lie ahead in retirement. They work hard all their lives to save for that glorious time. They might even move away from Champaign County to Florida or Arizona. Maybe they sell the house that they raised their children in so they can buy a dream house on the water or the golf course. But before they can feel comfortable in their new homes, sickness or death may rob them of their dreams. It happens more often than you might think.

This last Sunday of the Church year really challenges us to decide: What are the dreams that really matter? What are the values and principles that we are willing to fight for? What hopes are we willing to believe in enough to sacrifice ourselves for?

Our baptism into the life of Christ was and still is a bold statement to the world: Jesus is Lord and King of our lives. We dream his dreams. We share his hopes. We believe that nothing, not even death, can steal the dream of his kingdom from us.

He has not given up his hope for us. And we cannot give up our participation in his dream.

The Feast of Christ the King is not just the end of the Church year. It is a summary of our lives as Christians.

His dreams are our dreams.

His hope is our hope.

His present is our future.

Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.

The End Times

The 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time
Today’s Readings: [Click here]

As I was driving back home on the Interstate from Ohio the other day, I spotted a cluster of flashing lights in the distance in the eastbound lanes. When I came up to the scene, there were all kinds of emergency vehicles: police cars, fire trucks, EMS vans. And then I saw the remains of a horrific accident. A car was lying upside down, completely charred and still smoldering. Nearby, there was a pile of burnt remains that I couldn’t begin to identify. This was one of those gruesome sights that make your stomach lurch. My immediate reaction was to start offering up prayers to Jesus and Mary for the poor souls involved.

When I got home, I checked the Indianapolis Star website, and there was a report of the accident. A roofing truck somehow flipped over and burst into flames. Incredibly, the driver and his companion managed to crawl to safety. No one was injured—although traffic was at a standstill for several miles.

Scenes like these have a way of reminding us about how fragile life is—especially when you’re hurtling down the highway at 70 or 80 miles an hour in a small, metal box on wheels. We don’t think about it too much, because it’s not awfully pleasant to face our own mortality—but Jesus does prod us from time to time to focus our brains and hearts on the stuff that matters not just in the present life but eternally. This earthly existence can be over in the blink of an eye.

On the church calendar, we are now coming up to the end of the liturgical year. One more Sunday after this, and it will be Advent. The time-honored tradition of many centuries is to use these last weeks to focus on the end times—in other words, not our own personal mortality, but the mortality of our entire world.

In the gospel today, Jesus describes the end times. He makes it clear that the material things we value and even treasure in this life will all be taken away at the end of the age. In referring to the Temple—truly the pride and joy of the Jewish world—Christ says: the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down. In other words, “Have fun with your cars, cameras and computers, but keep in mind that they are all temporary toys that will break. And while you’re busy enjoying them, don’t forget to also play with the toys of the heart—with faith, hope and love. The toys of the heart will never break. They are everlasting.”

When Jesus is asked when these end times will be, he is very clear about being unclear. He says: See that you not be deceived, for many will come in my name, saying, “I am he,” and “The time has come.” Do not follow them! Christ goes on to talk about nations rising against nations. There will be earthquakes, famines and plagues. People will be persecuted and even put to death. But even then, Jesus says, it will not immediately be the end.

How and when will the end come? We haven’t a clue. It could be a nuclear holocaust caused by a war begun by human beings. Our planet could be knocked off its axis by giant meteors. The sun could burn out. Maybe Al Gore’s vision of global warming taken to the nth degree will do us in. This final chapter of human history is simply not ours to see.

So where does that leave us? Let’s jump to the last sentence of the gospel passage: By your perseverance you will secure your lives.

The Greek word that Luke uses for “perseverance” is hypomone (pronounced: hy-POM-o-nee). It means patience under trials, endurance, steadfastness. It means having a spirit that is strong enough to overcome the trials of life. It doesn’t mean just sitting back and waiting for tribulations and adversities to be over; rather, it means getting up and doing what is right, even in the face of fierce resistance.

Hypomone calls us to fully embrace the values that Christ taught, regardless of how popular or unpopular they may be at the moment. It urges us to develop in our hearts the most indestructible of toys—faith, hope and love. It demands that through our words and actions—through our very lives—we must preach the gospel always and everywhere because the gospel represents God’s love offered to every person, without exception. By definition, then, every person must be given a chance to receive it. That’s our job.

Clearly, we have not succeeded in preaching the gospel to the whole word, inasmuch as the end hasn’t come yet! The truth of Jesus and the infinite love of God must be spread to the forgotten, the ignored, the discounted, the unloved. We still have much to do.

Jesus suggests in today’s reading that the false gospels of false prophets who arise and lead many astray represent one obstacle to the spread of the true gospel. A false gospel is one that proclaims that happiness can be obtained apart from God—for example, through material wealth, individual self-fulfillment programs, or the exercise of political power without the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Such (quote) “gospels” lead to the chaos the Lord is talking about: wars, famine, persecution.

Jesus Christ, the True Gospel, promises only one source of happiness: the love of God offered to every person on earth. How he wants us to see this! Because surely, there is no better way to play and win the game of life.

Coming Down from the Tree

The 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time
Today’s Readings: [Click here]

Luke’s gospel today features the well-known story of Zacchaeus, the tax collector of Jericho. It’s easy to picture this as a rather quaint story: here’s this short, pudgy bad guy who scampers up a tree and then has a major conversion experience thanks to Jesus.

Zacchaeus certainly knew how to live. He had taken advantage of Roman rule as a way to further his political and financial career. Yes, he was born a Jew, but since the Romans were going to be in power anyway, why not play the game by their rules? By collecting taxes from his own people for the Roman occupiers, he could gain favor with the government and get the perks he wanted. And it definitely paid off. As the passage tells us, he became “a chief tax collector and a wealthy man.”

Was Zacchaeus just a shrewd businessman or was he a traitor to his people? How could he live with himself for collaborating with the enemy? Maybe he was no different from the Jews who collaborated with the Nazis to get special treatment or privileges.

Evidently, Zacchaeus didn’t feel any need to make a choice between the God of his people and the gods of the Roman Empire. He bent his ethical behavior to conform to the political situation of his day. And when Jesus came to Jericho, Zacchaeus was curious to see him. After all, there was a lot of buzz about him. For someone like Zacchaeus who survived and prospered by keeping his thumb on the pulse of things, it makes sense that he’d want to get a closer look at this mystery man and prophet.

But doesn’t it strike you as odd the way the story continues? A person of Zacchaeus’ importance and status wouldn’t normally scamper around, climbing trees, to see anyone. In the ordinary course of events, he would have sent for Jesus, summoning him to his house. So it’s quite remarkable that this wealthy man stepped outside of the social structures of his day the way he did in order to see Jesus. It says something about his character—namely, that his desire to see Jesus and his short stature compelled him to run ahead of the crowd and climb a tree. The irony here, this inversion of normal power relationships, highlights a theme that we find throughout Luke: those in power must renounce their ways if they desire to be part of the realm of God.

I think there’s another interesting aspect and reason for Zacchaeus climbing the tree. Remember, he couldn’t have been a terribly popular fellow. He probably needed to have a bodyguard close by so somebody who hated his guts wouldn’t bash him. Being up in a tree afforded him a little safety from the crowd, as well as giving him a good vantage point to see all the action.

Do you ever find yourself acting like Zacchaeus, watching the parade of life going by from the safety of your tree? We see unemployment, starvation, drug abuse, homelessness, and prejudice of every kind. Sure, we feel sad about all that, but maybe we just go on taking advantage of the perks of the system that does the oppressing. As long as I can pay into my IRA, or collect my Social Security check, or have my dental insurance covered, life is OK. I deafen myself to the call of Jesus to feed the hungry, care for the sick, house the homeless.

I wonder what it would be like to just once stand up for God as if I really believed that God wanted me to get involved. What if Christ called me down from my tree and asked if he could be my houseguest.

Can you imagine? Picture yourself being called by Jesus to come down from your tree to escort Christ through your life. What would you want to throw out before Jesus arrived at your door? What would you want to add to your life’s routines?

This little mental exercise isn’t meant to make you feel bad. It’s very important to remember the message from our first reading today, the Book of Wisdom. Addressing the Lord himself, the text says: For you love all things that are / and loathe nothing that you have made; / for what you hated, you would not have fashioned. In other words, God doesn’t make junk. Even with all our flaws, the Lord loves us and wants to take care of us.

It’s not always easy to come down from the security of our perch. When I lived back in New Jersey, we had a business colleague named Jim who served in the Vietnam War. We went out to lunch one day and were crossing the street. A car backfired or hit a manhole cover or something, and Jim freaked out. He lived in a world of flashbacks and post-traumatic stress, doing his best to cope in the world.

Many of us carry around other burdens, from past abuses, dysfunctional families, childhood traumas, rejections, depression, or other profound losses and painful experiences. Climbing down the tree and embracing Christ is easier said than done. But the story of Zacchaeus can give us a dose of faith and hope that maybe we can do it, too.

Zacchaeus’ conversion began by helping himself. He made the effort to climb the tree. The question for each of us is: what do I have to do to turn things around? The view from the treetop may be great, but the blessing and joy of life—and the place where we are called to work out our salvation—is found here on the ground, in the thick of things.

Let’s pray today for ourselves and each other that the Lord will open our eyes and hearts to his grace and blessings.