Praying for Kings and Governors

Third Sunday after Easter
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  We’re knee-deep in election time again, and that means that the usual cantankerous atmosphere almost inherent in a two-party system will saturate our lives until at least November.  Among Catholics, we will hear the usual arguments about how you can’t call yourself Catholic and vote for fill-in-the-blank.  This is to dismiss those arguments; one’s voting should reflect one’s religion and how one best thinks the common good can be achieved.  I enjoy true policy debates, but we don’t really get those anymore, because good policy often cannot be contained by a pithy soundbite. 
    The Second Vatican Ecumenical Council spent a bit a time talking about how the laity should take upon themselves the transformation of the secular order by the values of the Gospel.  Participation in politics can help this transformation (or harm it, depending on how a layperson lives and for what policy he or she advocates).  And, I will admit, I used to enjoy doing a deep-dive into politics and the machinations of power and control.

Statue of St. Peter at his basilica in Rome

    But St. Peter admonishes us today to subject ourselves to the king or governors.  If you stop to think about it, this statement is a bit startling, as the leader of the general government was the Roman Emperor, who would eventually put St. Peter to death for professing the true faith.  Maybe at this point the local governors didn’t antagonize Christians as much, but it was a governor, Pontius Pilate, who put our Lord to death.  And yet, we are supposed to subject ourselves to them. 
    The early Christians, I’m sure, would have appreciated a more Christian-friendly administration.  But they certainly did not place their hope in this or that political authority.  They focused their lives on waiting for the time when they would see Christ again after He had ascended to the Father.  They didn’t ignore their earthly lives, but the took seriously the call of St. Paul to fix their minds on things above, not on things on earth.  I don’t think they suffered any illusions that the world would embrace Christ and His followers, because they had opposed them from the beginning.  They knew that this time between the Ascension, when they would not see Christ, and the return of Christ in glory, when they would see Him again, was a time of labor pains, that would include sorrow and suffering, but that Christ would grant them a joy that no one could take from them.
    This doesn’t mean that we can’t work hard to elect good people, especially good Catholics, or that you, as the lay faithful, shouldn’t participate in the electoral process.  We need people to stand up for life, from natural conception to natural death.  We need advocates for the poor and the disenfranchised.  Policies like subsidiarity, which keeps as much control as locally centralized as possible, and solidarity, which recognizes our inter-connectedness with each other, regardless of race, socio-economic status, or religion, make sense not just for Catholics, but have been time-tested as the best way to deal with legal and social issues.  But without Catholics participating in politics, these time-tested principles won’t find their way into public discussion.
    Still, as Catholics, we straddle heaven and earth.  We have a responsibility to do things as well as we can here on earth, but our eyes and especially our hopes are based in heaven.  We don’t ignore what happens in our city, State, country, and world, but we also know that the solutions to what ails our city, State, country, and world are not found in any law or political policy or personality.  The only thing that can turn things around at any level is a strong relationship with Jesus, and a firm commitment to following His will. 
    While it has looked different in the 2,000 years of its existence, we are the only “government,” if you will, that has endured.  The Roman Empire, which first persecuted us and then endorsed us, faded away, first in the West, then in the East.  The Holy Roman Empire came and went.  The monarchies of Europe and the dynasties of the Far East have changed throughout these two millennia, some more than others.  The Communists, who tried to eliminate religion, are merely a shadow of their once proud power, but even they are only around a century or less old.  No institution can outlast the Catholic Church. 
    While keeping our eyes fixed on heaven, we pray for our political leaders, even the ones with whom we don’t agree; even the ones whose policies are obnoxious to us; even the ones who cite their Catholic baptism while endorsing laws and policies that contradict the Catholic faith.  Perhaps those prayers will change their hearts.  Perhaps they will be receive a conversion, either to deepen their faith and grow in their knowledge of the truth, or to repent of their evil actions.  If we can’t even pray for them, then we need to go back to our own faith and remember that our Lord taught us to love, not only those who agree with us, like the hypocrites do, but even our enemies and those who persecute us.  In that way we begin to reflect the divine image in which we were made and love like our heavenly Father, who with the Son and the Holy Spirit is one God, for ever and ever.  Amen.  

A Cosmic Wedding

 Nativity of the Lord–During the Day/Third Mass (EF)
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]  When it comes to weddings, priests have different opinions.  Some priests are not the biggest fans, especially of late, because all sorts of wedding ideas (most of which are foreign to the Catholic Rite of Marriage) have sprung up which (usually) the bride wants, or, from time to time, the parents (again, usually) of the bride can be very…involved in weddings.  While those things are still true, I find that I love weddings.  I love the joy of a couple coming together to commit themselves to each other and to God, the celebratory nature of a wedding, and the smiles that weddings bring to families and friends.
 

   Today as we celebrate Christmas, we celebrate a cosmic wedding, unlike any other wedding that came before, or any that would come after.  The music for the wedding is heavenly.  And the parents involved are anything but a problem.  As we come together for Christmas, we celebrate the wedding of heaven and earth, and the wedding of time and eternity.  Both are joined so as to never be separated again, and both are reasons for joy, celebration, and smiles.
    In Christ, heaven is forever wedded to earth.  Especially at Christmas, we often focus primarily on the human nature of Jesus, because that was something new that happened at the first Christmas.  At the first Christmas, we learned (eventually) that God and humanity could be joined together, and the God who was wholly clouded in mystery could now be seen face to face on earth.  We think about the shepherds who came to see Mary, Joseph, and the Christ Child.  We think about the cave (or manger) where Christ was born, the animals that were gathered round Him, and what was happening on earth.  
    But our readings today also help focus us on the eternal.  The author of the Letter to the Hebrews, traditionally St. Paul, talks about our Lord as the one through whom the entire universe was made, and the refulgence of the glory of God.  St. Paul emphasizes Christ’s divine nature and his superiority even to the angels.  And St. John begins his gospel account with the eternal nature of the Word, the Logos, who was with God in the beginning, and is God Himself.  While what we looked upon at Christmas is a little baby, what we actually saw was both God who is fragile and God who is omnipotent; the tiny child and the Lord of Hosts.

   Both natures, human and divine, are married in Christ, and, like marriage itself, what God has joined cannot be divided.  In the words of St. Athanasius, the great Doctor of the Church from Alexandria, God became man so that man might become God.  God took on our fallen human nature, so that we, in Christ, could be raised to the glory of the divine nature of God, not by substance but by adoption.  The glory of this day is that we have a savior who is going to save us from sin and death, and the darkness of the world is fading, even as the dark days of winter start to grow lighter.
    But in Christ, we also have the wedding of time and eternity.  In the Incarnation, we can see God, and know when He is (in Jesus) in one place, and not another.  He humbles Himself and subjects Himself to time and limits.  But the same God is outside time, seeing all time at once, and remaining the same “yesterday, today, and forever.”  And because of Christ, that connection remains forever, again, never divorced as a union founded in God.
    And that is precisely what is happening in this Mass, as well.  Each Mass is a little Easter, but we might also say that it is a little Christmas, inasmuch as divinity is united to humanity, and eternity is joined to time.  As I say the words of the Eucharistic Prayer, and as the Holy Spirit descends upon the bread and wine and transforms it into the Body and Blood of Christ, heaven comes down to earth, and is united in the Eucharistic species.  Christ, once more, is born for us, and is both fragile in our hands and on our tongues, without losing any of His power and authority.  As we enter into this Mass, we keep one foot in time (because we cannot leave this world and enter the next on our own), but we also put one foot into eternity, because we participate in the eternal offering of Christ at the right hand of the Father in heaven.  
    The beauty and otherworldly-ness of the Mass is on purpose.  We are not supposed to feel like we are at our home on the couch.  The music is not supposed to be of this world.  The smoke of the incense and the sound of the bells, and the unique words and language that are used are all meant to remind us that we stand at the antechamber of heaven, with the veil separating the two pulled back ever so slightly so that both can meet.  What we engage in at this Mass, and every Mass, is the wedding feast of the Lamb of God, where heaven and earth, eternity and time are joined together for the praise of God and for our benefit.  That is what you get to participate in (not merely watch, but actively engage in) when you come to Mass and join in the prayers, whether audibly or silently.  That is what you miss out on when you don’t come to Mass: the biggest wedding of the year, made accessible each day for anyone invited to the wedding.
    This wedding of heaven and earth and time and eternity make it possible for us to love the things of heaven, because we are drawn to them through the things of earth.  Through Christ’s humanity we are able to love His divinity.  Through what we experience with our senses, we encounter a world that is beyond anything we could ever see, hear, smell, touch, or taste.  As we worship with our voices on earth, we are joined by the voices of all the angels and saints in heaven.  That is a wedding worth attending!  That is the truest experience of joy, celebration, and smiles!!  [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]