Christ is king

The earliest kings were no more than small tribal leaders. Some possessed both political and religious functions. The word is derived from the Old English word cyng and is related to the German and Dutch words for king, and not surprisingly comes from the same root as the word kin, for family.

Undoubtedly David, king of Israel, was not unlike those early kings. There were no castles, princesses or other paraphernalia we attribute to modern kingship. David was chosen by the Lord and anointed by Samuel. He eventually becomes king iof Judah and later of a united Israel. He is remembered as a warrior, a poet and a musician. The memory of this king was imprinted on the minds and hearts of Jews. Any Messiah would be a descendent of this king. And while the Jews expected a warrior-king to free them from their various enemies and captors (Assyrians, Greeks, Romans), the acclamation of Jesus of Nazareth as both Messiah (Christ) and king was greeted by derision.

So, if Jesus was a king, what kind of king was he? Where was his kingdom? John (18:36) reports Jesus words: Mine is not a kingdom of this world. The parables, the miracles, the Beatitudes all hint as to what this kingdom would look like and feel like. The scriptures suggest that this kingdom has already been inaugurated (in the words and actions of Jesus) and will be completed when he comes again.

The feast of Christ the King which we celebrate this Sunday was instituted by Pius XI in 1925. It came at a time when monarchies were failing across Europe, when nihilism, Marxism and other philosophies were challenging the Church. Commentators of the time believed that the feast was a reminder that Christians owed their allegiance not to earthly supremacy – as claimed by Benito Mussolini, but to their heavenly, spiritual leader.

The timing of this feast as the last Sunday of the liturgical year invites us to consider the promise of what is to come at the end of time, and we then begin a new year with the Sundays of Advent.

The fact that we are bordering on being a republic, that our monarch lives on the other the side of the world, that she and her descendents live privileged lives and are expected to be exemplary citizens, makes it difficult for us to gain a full appreciation of what the feast has to offer. Our pope, Benedict XVI’s insight into Christ's kingship is that it is not based on "human power" but on loving and serving others. And that is how each of us can acknowledge Christ’s kingship and each of us can actively enter into, bring about and sustain his kingdom – by our love and service for others.

Lest we forget

I loved the way my children would count down the days to their birthdays and Christmas. For if parts of the media have complained bitterly about how early the Christmas juggernaut begins its journey, many are grateful for the warning and do, in fact, begin preparations.

We human beings have a strong sense of optimism, it is a part of the religious drive we experience throughout our lives. Though it is often blurred when times are difficult, we either anticipate or retrospectively see the positive outcomes: death is a release from pain; from a tragedy comes a stronger, more resilient family; from a mishap we learn valuable lessons.

The apocalyptic literature we find in the sacred scriptures is a response to the same dilemmas we face each day when as a single human being or as a single humanity, we face up against the odds: that is, how can God be righteous and yet allow us to suffer? While the earliest prophets expected a messiah to restore Israel to the Hebrews, the continued delay extended that expectation past the immediate future to an afterlife, and for Christians – the anticipation of a parousia, the second coming of Christ. In this coming he would be clearly revealed, and he will then vindicate the righteous and faithful.

These three aspects, preparation, optimism and expectation are to be found in Mark’s account (13:24 – 32) in which Jesus describes the end times, his second coming. In a parable he explains that just as twigs grow supple on the vine and the leaves come out, we know that summer is close. So too, do we have to read the signs around us to recognise his impending coming – though he sternly warns (verse 32): But as for that day or hour, nobody knows it, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son; no one but the Father.

As Remembrance Day passed us yet again, these three words echoed in me: preparation, optimism and expectation. Though totally captured by the excitement of fighting for the Mother Country on the battlefields of Europe, our young men and women left their homes, prepared to give their all in the greatest adventure they could imagine. Their optimism would save Australia, the world, their children’s children, from the tyranny of German aggression. They expected to be home by Christmas, they expected an early victory, they did not expect to die in such numbers. 416,000 young Australians enlisted, 332,000 embarked for war, 215,000 were listed as casualties.

As Australians, as a nation, the deep wounds and the darkness of that ‘Great’ war, gave a renewed sense of who we were as a nation, it was bloody, but it fortified the spirit of this young country, it was terrifying and bleak, but its yield has been nothing less than a brilliant optimism.

Charles and Milan

Milan is a beautiful city. Its people are beautiful. It is the home of Armani and Versace. At its heart is the utterly impressive Galleria Vittorio Emmanuele I, an enormous, glazed arcade of immense proportions, named for the first king of a united Italy and built between 1865 and 1877. This is real window shopping. This retail centre is adjacent to the spiritual centre, the Duomo (Cathedral) of Milan. 500 years in the making, the Duomo is breathtakingly beautiful. After St Peter’s in Rome and the Seville Cathedral, the Duomo is the third largest church in Christendom.

Charles Borromeo was 12 when he was created an abbot; 21 when he completed his doctorate in law; 22 when his uncle Pius VI named him a cardinal; then archbishop of Milan. He founded seminaries, supported decrees of the Council of Trent and was rigorous in the reform of his diocese. His work and generosity to the poor was renowned. Charles brought a new simplicity to the Duomo, removing ornate tombs, banners and ornaments. He died in 1584. 25 years after his death, Charles was canonised. He is now the patron saint of bishops, students for the priesthood, catechists and catechumens. He was interred in a crypt under the Duomo, expressly contrary to his request.

The crypt is an eerie, dimly lit place. You have no doubt you are in the presence of the holy, of the sacred. Lying beneath the majesty of the Duomo, Charles’ tomb is a link between the saintliness we are each called to, and the humanity which drives our urges, hungers and desires.

We are familiar with Mark’s story (12:38 – 44) of the widow’s mite. Clearly Mark is teaching that those who give from their excess are not being generous, but those who give of their entire livelihood are worthy of great honour. Charles came from a family of great wealth and position, and while had titles of his own, he called on his total being as a gift to his Lord and God. Wealth and titles were for him but tools at the service of the poor and ignorant.

The City of Milan is a testament to humanity’s capacity to create beautiful churches, shopping complexes, motorcycles and clothing and should be a must see on your Italian sojourn, yet its rich and deep faith simmers not only in its underbelly, but in the celebration of life that the Milanese enjoy in their bounty.

St Charles Borromeo’s feast day was yesterday.

For all the saints

Paul often referred to his addressees as saints, or the holy ones. He wasn’t writing about those very holier-than-thou canonised variety of saints, but the regular every day faithful who chose to live out Christian lives with conviction. And, they weren’t perfect by any means.

I have known some great saints; people of patience, honesty, trustworthy and trusting, compassionate, kind, gentle and loving. Oh yes, some liked to party. Brother Gabriel Preston, Brother Damian Ryles, my late dad and my mother, Mrs Mary Webb, my father-in-law Jim, his father-in-law Basil O’Halloran, Sister Mary Sarto, great aunt Gwendoline. And yes, they were not or are not perfect.

The people who impact on our lives for the better, are those who challenge us by the way they live their own lives. They may be great teachers, great academics, sports people, financiers, military, clergy, religious, artists, musicians, builders, librarians, homemakers or office workers – they are good at what they do, but they have an enormous capacity to care about others, they want others to dream dreams, reach for the stars, be healthy and know love.

Gwendoline, whom we called Aunty Jimmie, was a nurse. The pictures of her in the 1920s and 30s present a vivacious and attractive young woman. She took to nursing like a duck to water. She did service in New Guinea, and returned to Australia a wiser human being. She never married; she was one of the first graduates of the College of Nursing Australia’s Diploma in Nursing Education, taught, and then retired to nurse her ailing sister. She lived a wonderful, rich and fruitful life, nursing and caring for thousands. Her life affected so many, and none more so than my own. Her humour and concern for others was infective and influenced many young woman to take up careers in nursing. Aunty Jimmy was certainly not what I would call religious, but she was certainly faithful. And a saint.

Matthew (5:1 – 12) sets out his criteria for ‘sainthood’ – the Beatitudes. To whom does the kingdom belong? It belongs to the poor in spirit, the gentle, mourners, those who hunger and thirst for what is right, the merciful, the pure in heart, peacemakers, those persecuted in the cause of right, those who are abused and persecuted on account of their faith. They are indeed saints.

Such saints are within our grasp. We know them, they are not superhuman beings, but they are superb human beings.

This Sunday, is of course, All Saints Day, in recognition of God’s grace so generously bestowed on us through the exemplary lives of our forebears in faith. This is followed by All Souls Day on which we recollect our many loved ones who have gone before us, Brother Gabriel, Sister Mary Sarto, Basil, and Aunty Jimmy, holy ones indeed, each chosen by God, and loved by him – and they will be made perfect by him.