We have one of the most important passages in the New Testament for our reflection today. Jesus is standing in judgment before Pontius Pilate. The religious leaders are demanding his death. Pilate has little respect for the unruly people he’s ruling. He doesn’t know what they have against Jesus other than a trumped-up charge that he wants to be the King of the Jews. He knows that if a strong leader appears, they would support him in a rebellion against Rome. Evidently this man isn’t that charismatic figure and he isn’t going to lead a rebellion against Rome. Mockingly, Pilate asks Jesus, “Are you the king of the Jews?” Jesus’ answer comes without any hesitation. “You say I am a king. For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” Pilate couldn’t comprehend the depth of Jesus’ answer. He spits out a flippant response. “Truth, what is that?”

In a few hours Jesus will be lifted up on the cross, and from that kingly throne he will testify to the truth. He will “draw all things” to himself, and “through him, with him and in him” all of creation will give glory to God, the almighty Father.

The Feast of Christ the King declares the allencompassing presence of Christ. We must never forget his prayer at the Last Supper. “That they all may be one, as you Father are in me, and I am in you. May they also be in us.”

Today we contemplate our harmony with one another, with all of creation and with God. Reigning from the throne of the cross, Christ the King pours out his love, the Divine Energy eternally drawing all creation into the very heart of God.

Prayer

For me, my God, all joy and all achievement,

the very purpose of my being and all my love of life

depend on this one basic vision of the union between yourself and the universe…

I have no desire,

I have no ability to proclaim anything

except the innumerable prolongations of

your incarnate Being in the world of matter.

I can preach only the mystery of your flesh,

you the Soul shining forth through all that surrounds us.

From Mass On The Earth Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, SJ 1923

When I was in grade school, 1954-62, I feared this time of the year. I dreaded listening to the apocalyptic readings because they scared me. At Mass, the priest, would reinforce the imagery by speaking of the signs of the times. They were even more frightening than the prophecies – the Vietnam War, the People’s Revolution in China, Cuba working with Russia to mount a nuclear attack against the U.S. Then, there was the ever-frightening secret letter the children at Fatima had given to the Pope to be read sometime in the future. Just everyday-life frightened me; the end of the year apocalyptic passages only fueled the fear.

I hope that the readings this weekend didn’t scare the child in you. As I matured and studied the bible I came to realize that apocalyptic literature was a message of hope. The horrors they painted were symbolic of the events of the day. Daniel had survived the Babylonian deportation, and the Persian conquest of the Babylonians. The Book of Daniel was written at the end of the reign of the Persian King, Antiochus Epiphanes, whose cruelty against the Jewish people was epic. Today’s gospel reading was written as Christian persecutions were beginning under the Emperor Nero and would continue off and on for two centuries.
This is the time of the year when we think about the end of the world we suffer in – the world of starvation, war, oppression, injustice, persecution. It’s the time of year when we lift up our world to God for judgment and purification. It’s the time of year when we remind ourselves that there’s still a lot of work for us. It’s the time of year that we renew our hope in the good that’s deep in the heart of humanity. It’s the time we envision “a new heaven and a new earth.” It’s the time of year we feel our hope.

Prayer from a Poem
by Pierre Teillard de Chardin

Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything
to reach the end without delay…
Give our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.

W

e begin our reflection this Sunday with a passage from the First Book of Kings. A severe drought had struck the Middle East and many were in peril of starvation. In this account the prophet Elijah was about to enter the city of Zarephath. He was tired and hungry from traveling. He saw a widow gathering sticks and asked her for a cup of water which she readily went off to get for him. But he shouted after her to bring a piece of bread, too. She confessed that she only had a handful of flour and a bit of oil. She had intended to make a small bread cake that she would share with her son. After that there was no more food.

Elijah pressed her to feed him first; she and her son could eat later. He promised her that her jar of flour wouldn’t go empty, and that her jug of oil wouldn’t go dry if she extended this gesture of hospitality. She trusted the prophet and shared her bit of bread with him. Elijah’s promise came true. Her flour and oil lasted until the end of the drought.

Mark’s Gospel mirrors this account in the scene we’ve read today. He tells of an impoverished widow who came to the treasury of the temple to offer a donation. Jesus pointed the widow out as a model of selfless giving and noted that she had given all she had to live on.

We have two powerful images of generosity and trust to think about this week. But we also have two powerful images of spiritual bankruptcy.

Mark introduced the account of the poor widow with a scathing condemnation of the religious leadership. “Beware of the scribes, who like to go around in long robes and accept greetings in the marketplaces, seats of honor in synagogues, and places of honor at banquets. They devour the houses of widows and, as a pretext recite lengthy prayers. They will receive a very serious condemnation.” He then ends the account with a disturbing proclamation. “Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury. For they have all contrib-

uted from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood.”

Sometimes the Gospel message brings us peace of mind or hope or a joy in realizing God’s loving relationship with us. Sometimes it makes us uncomfortable. Both are important. Today’s Gospel makes all of us, clerics and laity, quite uncomfortable.

Jesus’ condemnation of the scribes is a warning to religious leaders about the temptations posed by privilege. The scribes basked in their privilege and entitlement. Some of them even used their celebrity status to extort payment from widows for legal advice they’d give them. They who considered themselves examples of holiness were, in reality, the spiritually bankrupt.

Though we can identify elements of this same dynamic within the ranks of Christian leadership, we must take care not to be complicit by buying into the dynamic. Pope Francis has often condemned this element in the Church by pointing to the presence of clericalism and triumphalism among the clergy. The Church, lay and clergy, needs to take heed. Jesus called for a servant Church. We all need to be on our knees washing each other’s feet.

The poor widow’s model of generosity is meant to disturb every one of us, rich and poor alike. By offering all the money she had to live on, she was placing herself totally in God’s hands. This was a pure act of righteousness. Some of the wealthy people in the temple with her that day were ostentatiously placing their money into the large golden trumpets used to collect donations for the temple Their donations, too, were representations of their self-giving. But they offered to God only what was unessential to their lives – “their surplus wealth.” Their reward was a caressed ego and the admiration of the adoring crowd.

We conclude this reflection with a phrase that Jesus would often use after a teaching, “Whoever has ears, ought to hear.”

In today’s Gospel passage Jesus answers a question posed to him by a scribe: “Which is the first of all the commandments?” Now, the scribes were the lawyers in Jesus’ day. They wrote up the legal documents for mortgages, loans, divorces and marriages as well as being editors, teachers and experts in the interpretation of the law. Often enough ultraconservative scribes and Pharisees challenged Jesus with questions concerning the law hoping to catch him in an unorthodox interpretation. But on this occasion the scribe seemed to be sincere in his question.

Jesus answered him by quoting Deuteronomy: 6:5, our first reading in today’s liturgy. “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.” He then added a second commandment to it. “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Leviticus 19:18.

It’s interesting that just a few weeks ago we read the account of a man who ran up to Jesus, threw himself at his feet, and asked the question, “What must I do to attain eternal life?” Jesus’ answer was direct and simple. Follow the commandments! “You shall not kill; you shall not commit adultery; you shall not steal; you shall not bear false witness; you shall not defraud; honor your father and mother.” Exodus 20:12-17.

Jesus’ two answers come from the law but are quite different. The reference from Exodus is a legal, civil law: don’t, don’t and don’t. His referencing verses from Deuteronomy and Leviticus are a call to act, to love God and neighbor.

I see two different approaches to the commandments here. One approach is related to the rule of law necessary to maintain a civilized society. It’s against the law to steal, or defraud, and if we do,

we’ll be punished for breaking these basic laws. The other approach is spiritual in nature. Love of God and neighbor is essential for each of us and society to enjoy life in a deeper way, a way that mirrors the harmony of God’s creation. Both approaches are important for creating and maintaining a civilized society and for the individual to grow in holiness God-like virtues. However, Jesus took a tremendous step and added a “new commandment.”

At the Last Supper Jesus told his disciples as they sat at table with him, “This is my commandment. Love one another as I love you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” John 15:12-13.

This is a totally new commandment. It isn’t modeled on civil law. It goes beyond a general call to love God and neighbor. It’s modeled on the very life of Jesus. It’s a commandment to love radically as he loved radically. Every day, Jesus opened his heart to anyone and everyone who needed the healing power of love. He reached out to the adulterous woman, the lepers rejected and isolated by society, the deaf, the crippled, the mentally ill, and political and religious enemies like the Samaritans. His commitment to love put him in dangerous opposition to the religious leadership of his day. His commitment to love put him on the road to the cross, and from that cross he showed us the meaning of his new commandment. “Love one another as I love you.”

This commandment is more than the call to love God and neighbor. It’s the call to love as Christ loved, sacrificially. There’s no more perfect love than sacrificial love. It’s, as Dante wrote, “the love that moves the sun and the other stars.”