Homily: Christ the King

Deacon Tony Cecil

Homily: Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, Year B (24/25 November 2018)

Saint James Catholic Church, Elizabethtown, Kentucky

My kingdom does not belong to this world…my kingdom is not here. You say that 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.

In college, I took a class that required me to look up my family tree, and to go back five generations. So, I got online to do some research and found that it was really easy to go back that far—which meant that I had to write that paper sooner than I thought, which I wasn’t really in the mood for—so I kept going back further, and further—until I was back fourteen generations. It ended up being a late night by the time that paper was finished.

When I went back that far, though, I discovered that one of my ancestors was a pretty prominent figure who worked for the British Royal Family. He was the chief advisor of Elizabeth I, a loyal servant of the crown, and lived in a huge, beautiful manor. Everything he did—just like every other citizen—was to serve the Queen.

Among his many duties, one of the main ones was the persecution of Catholics—to make the kingdom an entirely protestant population with full loyalty to the head of the state church, the Queen.

He probably never imagined that one of his descendants would be standing here—at a Catholic Church in Kentucky.

So, what happened?

That’s unclear—the family history just stops at some point in England—with a prominent, loyal, Protestant family, and then picks up across the ocean in Maryland—the safe-haven for Catholics in the new world. Filling in the blanks takes some imagination. It takes some guessing.

Someone along the line became Catholic.

Someone in my family became Catholic, and in doing so, someone in my family betrayed the kingdom. Someone in my family betrayed the crown. They brought shame—they brought danger to their lives—and they had to flee, and begin life anew somewhere else.

But why?

Why on earth would someone in such a prominent family do something like this? Why would someone living such a luxurious, comfortable life in service to the crown abandon—everything?

It doesn’t seem to make any sense.

My kingdom does not belong to this world…my kingdom is not here. 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.

I believe that whomever that relative was figured out something.

They figured out the Truth—the Truth with a capital T.

They realized that they were living their lives totally dedicated, totally serving, totally revolving around someone who, at the end of the day, was just another human being.

They figured out that the idea that began back then and continues to today—that when it comes to faith, when it comes to religion, it’s all really the same—was a lie.

I believe that they figured out that their duty and their service was not ultimately to the British Crown—it wasn’t ultimately to a Queen who would die—but to a King—the one True King who lives forever.

And when they did, they abandoned everything—everything—and followed Him.

This King that they abandoned everything to follow was quite different from the monarch that they were used to serving.

This King does not wear a crown of gold set with diamonds and precious jewels—but rather, a crown of thorns pressed into His head while on His throne.

That throne—that throne is not a chair made out of marble or gold—no, that throne is made out of wood—the wood of the Cross.

And it is from that throne that He proclaims the message of His Kingdom—not a message of conquering, and killing, and collecting wealth and things that will fade—no, this King’s message is a proclamation of love—and His throne, His Cross, is the ultimate sign of love.

Because it was love that moved this King to accept death, although He had done no wrong.

It was love that compelled this King to stay on the Cross as each breath became more and more difficult, and others tempted Him to save Himself.

It was love that caused Him to say, “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do,” not only about the soldiers who put the nails in His hands and feet and pierced his side—but about each of us who joined the crowds in shouting “Crucify Him!” and continue to do so each time we choose the lies of the evil one and the enticement of sin over Him.

It was love that caused Him to give up His spirit, to allow His precious blood to drip down the wood of the Cross, to soak the ground and set Mercy loose on a merciless world—so that the lost could be found and light could overcome the darkness.

It was love that caused His tomb to be found empty three days later as he rose from the dead, defeating death itself forever.

It is love that causes Him to allow a priest to call down His Holy Spirit onto some cheap bread and wine that would never be served a dinner party—transforming them into His very self—His Body and His Blood.

It is love that compels Him to allow Himself to be locked in tabernacles in Churches all across the world, where He waits for us in silence—to pour out that same love on us—to change our lives—to change the world, if we let Him.

Now that is what I call a King.

That is a King worth serving.

That is a King worth abandoning everything to follow.

That is a King worth dedicating our entire lives to.

And there lies the challenge.

It’s so easy for us to say that we believe that Christ is our King—but when it comes to living it, well, that can be more difficult.

Because that means we have to let Christ in.

We have to let Christ in to our lives—not just the nice parts we show the rest of the world—but the parts that are an absolute mess and need him the most, too.

It means that Christ is not just a nice historical figure, or a wise teacher—but the King and the Lord of our lives—all of our lives—every part of our lives.

It means that we spend our lives in service to Him, which means serving others—which means longing to see Him in every other person we encounter.

It means that we give Christ the relationship he deserves—not simply an hour within these walls once a week—but every moment of our lives, every breath that fills our lungs, every beat of our hearts that long so desperately to rest in Him.

He is the one True King.

He is the one worthy of our service, of our lives.

He is the one who loves us more than we can understand.

He is the one who has given us a citizenship much grander than anything the world offers us.

Today, let’s all take the first step—the first step of a life-long journey of letting Christ into our lives—all of our lives—and experience the joy of a life and world changed for the better.

May Jesus Christ, our King, receive all praise, glory, and honor, now and for ages unending. Amen.

To view this weekend's Mass Readings, click here.

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