Homily for the Solemnity of Christ, the King of the Universe, C

We don't "see" the light itself; we see things because of the light. In the light of Christ, we are being given a glimpse of the very being of God’s own self. We are made in God’s image, so our lives can reflect the way God thinks and loves.

I have Mass on Sunday, November 23 at St. Isidore @ 9:30/11:30 am

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Transcript

A reading from the Holy Gospel according to Luke. 

The rulers sneered at Jesus and said, He saved others. Let him save himself, if he is the chosen one, the Christ of God. Even the soldiers jeered at him. As they approached to offer him wine, they called out, If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself. Above him there was an inscription that read, This is the King of the Jews. 

Now one of the criminals hanging there reviled Jesus, saying, Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us. The other, however, rebuking him, said in reply, Have you no fear of God? For you are subject to the same condemnation. And indeed, we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes. But this man has done nothing criminal. Then he said, Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom. He replied to him, Amen, I say to you. Today, you'll be with me in paradise. 

The Gospel of the Lord. 

Now that it is dark in the morning, if the sky is clear, I like to go out on the front porch to see the constellation Orion, which is visible right across the street, just above the horizon. But the light from the stars of Orion's belt are 250 to 1,200 light-years away. So when I'm looking at Orion today, I'm actually seeing Orion in some distant past. 

Paul seems to be describing something similar in our reading from Colossians. When we contemplate Christ, we see beyond Christ. "Christ is the image of the God we cannot see. Christ is firstborn in all creation. Through Christ, the universe was made, things seen and unseen. Before anything came to be, Christ was, and the universe is held together by Christ."

We don't see the light itself. We see things because of the light. In the light of Christ, we are being given a glimpse of the very being of God's own self. We are made in God's image so our lives can reflect the way God thinks and loves. 

Let's step back two verses in Luke's Gospel just before today's reading. "When they came to the place that is called the Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, Father, forgive them." Who is Jesus forgiving? The soldiers? The crowd? The two thieves? The one repentant thief? Remember, in Colossians, "Christ is drawing all things to himself, reconciling creation with its source, and making peace by the blood of the cross."

Episcopal priest and writer Barbara Brown Taylor recalls watching a trio of white crosses spring up on a hillside by the highway. Well, they didn't really spring up. Erecting these crosses was a drawn-out task for someone. The first time Barbara drove by, there were just three posts that appeared to be growing out of the ground. The next time she passed, crossbeams had been added. A few days later, the crosses were painted white, and then, a few days after that, the finishing touch. A purple cloth was draped over the central cross. Why construct three crosses on the hillside, Barbara wondered. Why not stop with one cross? But then she realized one cross is not the same message as three crosses. "One cross makes a crucifix. Three crosses make a church." 

"Christ is also the head of the body, the church," Paul writes in Colossians. "It's beginning as firstborn from the dead." Firstborn means there are others. The risen Christ is not alone. 

All four Passion Gospels quote Psalm 22. "They divide my garments among them, and for my vesture they cast lots." The fourth gospel mentions that the robe is seamless, which is the robe of the high priest. On the Day of Atonement, the high priest alone passes through the temple veil and enters the Holy of Holies. In the first temple, the mercy seat was inside the Holy of Holies, with angels on either side. If you saw Raiders of the Lost Ark, you know what this looks like. The Ark was lost after the destruction of the first temple. So in the second temple at the time of Jesus, there was no longer a mercy seat. 

In the picture Luke is painting of the crucifixion, Jesus, the high priest, takes his place on the mercy seat. "Father, forgive them. They know not what they do." Rather than two angels, now there are two criminals, one on his right, the other on his left. We like to separate one from another, good thief, bad thief; deserving, undeserving; just, unjust. In Christ, all things are held together. There is no separation. 

Now, it's easy for us to imagine that the one who said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom," will be with Jesus in paradise. But is forgiveness only for the penitent one? The other one scoffed at him, saying, "Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us." Ironically, that is exactly what Jesus is doing. 

At the end of Luke's Gospel, the risen Christ seeks out his two errant disciples on the road to Emmaus, joining them even as they walk in the wrong direction and talk about him in the wrong way. As earlier in the Gospel, he quietly, unobtrusively slipped into the waters of the Jordan to stand next to sinners and today as he willingly suffered alongside two other crucified criminals. Though the two disciples on the road to Emmaus were going the wrong way, the Messiah has walked all the way with them, just as he had accompanied sinful humanity all the way to the limit of sin and death. 

As always, the Bible tells the story not so much of our quest for God, as of God's passionate quest for us. The Swiss theologian Karl Barth once wrote that the Church is born in this story, out there in the shadows on that desolate executioner's hill, a meager congregation, not of the righteous, but of criminals, gathered around Jesus, listening for and receiving words of forgiveness and radiant good news.