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On Thursday, we commemorated the Ascension of the Lord into heaven. The Risen Lord left the things of this world behind to enter into the fullness of life in his Father’s kingdom. During those forty days before his ascension, the Risen Lord spent much of his time teaching his disciples, just as he did before his death. However, no longer was he teaching about the heavenly kingdom and the reign of God; instead, the Risen Lord was teaching his disciples that his death wasn’t a failure. The power of evil hadn’t once again overcome good and the hope Jesus had engendered in the hearts of his disciples wasn’t foolishness, though it may have appear so to the people of “this world.” No, for those forty days, the Risen Lord taught his disciples that God had vindicated the power of faith. No longer would death be “the end” for Jesus’ disciples. Instead, death would be the moment of miraculous transformation, when—like their Lord—his disciples would leave behind the things of this world and enter into the fullness of life in the Father’s kingdom. The Risen Lord also taught his disciples during those forty days that it would be the power of hope—the tenacious and steadfast belief in God’s goodness that filled Jesus’ heart as he breathed his last—that would overcome the pessimism spawned by the forces of this world. No matter how death would press in from all sides and gradually but surely destroy life, the power of hope would transport the human soul beyond the things of this world to the fullness of life in the Father’s kingdom. As the people of this world judge these things, they are nothing but sheer foolishness and utter folly. Death is the end; there is nothing more. But, as Jesus’ disciples judge these things, they are “the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” Stories abound about the heroic lives of disciples throughout the centuries who allowed the Risen Lord’s teaching about the power of faith and hope to shape the way the viewed their lives. Once such story—of heroic witness to the power of faith and hope—took place near the middle of the past century. During World War II, the Nazis interred more than six million human beings in concentration camps like Dachau, Auschwitz-Birkenau, and Treblinka. Few who passed through the front gate of those death camps ever walked out. For example, once prisoners were interred in Auschwitz-Birkenau, Commandant Karl (“the Butcher”) Fritsch would tell his charges that the only way out was through the crematorium’s chimneys. Jews had the right to live only two weeks and Roman Catholic priests had the right to live only one month, Fritsch also told the prisoners. Facing extermination, despair overcame many prisoners who grew increasingly ill due to having lost everything that gave them meaning in this world. With the touchstones of their existence stripped away, death was to be the end to a horrific existence where evil reigned supreme. Other prisoners, however, discovered what Victor Frankl termed “meaning” which dispelled the despair spawned by these circumstances. One prisoner interred in Auschwitz-Birkenau, known to the Nazis as “Prisoner Number 16670,” was a Polish priest named Maximilian Kolbe. Following a prisoner’s escape on August 14, 1941, the Nazis lined up all of the men belonging to Fr. Kolbe’s bunker. As was customary to teach the prisoners a lesson in reprisal for an escape, ten were to be selected and killed by starvation. At this lineup, the Nazis randomly selected one man from each line, including one member of the Polish army, Sergeant Francis Gajowniczek. Powerless against the forces of evil pressing in upon him from all sides, the Sergeant cried out, “My wife, my children! I shall never see them again!” That’s when Maximilian Kolbe stepped forward from the ranks and offered to take Gajowniczek's place. Since the Commandant didn’t care who went to the crematorium as long as ten prisoners would pay for the escape, he asked of Maximilian Kolbe, “Who are you?” “I am a Catholic priest,” Fr. Kolbe replied. “I wish to die for that man. I am old; he has a wife and children.” “Butcher” Fritsch called Fr. Kolbe forward and remanded Francis Gajowniczek to the original lineup. The ten prisoners were led off to the death chamber of Cell 18 to be starved to death. According to Maximilian Kolbe’s biography, Bruno Borgowiec—an eyewitness to Kolbe’s last days who was an assistant to the janitor and an interpreter in the underground Bunkers—here is what transpired: In the cell of the poor wretches there were daily loud prayers, the rosary and singing, in which prisoners from neighboring cells also joined. When no SS men were in the Block, I went to the Bunker to talk to the men and comfort them. Fervent prayers and songs to the Holy Mother resounded in all the corridors of the Bunker. I had the impression I was in a church. Fr. Kolbe was leading and the prisoners responded in unison. They were often so deep in prayer that they did not even hear that inspecting SS men had descended to the Bunker; and, the voices fell silent only at the loud yelling of their visitors. When the cells were opened the poor wretches cried loudly and begged for a piece of bread and for water, which they did not receive, however. If any of the stronger ones approached the door, he was immediately kicked in the stomach by the SS men, so that falling backwards on the cement floor he was instantly killed; or, he was shot to death….Fr. Kolbe bore up bravely, he did not beg and did not complain but raised the spirits of the others….Since they had grown very weak, prayers were now only whispered. At every inspection,
when almost all the others were now lying on the floor, Fr. Kolbe was
seen kneeling or standing in the centre as he looked cheerfully in the
face of the SS men. Two weeks passed in this way. Meanwhile, one after
another they died, until only Fr. Kolbe was left. This the authorities
felt was too long; the cell was needed for new victims. So one day they
brought in the head of the sickquarters, a German—a common criminal
named Bock—who gave Fr. Kolbe an injection of carbolic acid in the vein
of his left arm. Fr. Kolbe, with a prayer on his lips, himself gave his
arm to the executioner. Unable to watch this, I left under the pretext
of work to be done. Immediately after the SS men with the executioner
had left, I returned to the cell where I found Fr. Kolbe leaning in a
sitting position against the back wall with his eyes open and his head
dropping sideways. His face was calm and radiant. Maximilian Kolbe’s heroism echoed throughout the death camp, a desert of hatred where this holy man sowed love. Jozef Stemler, the former director of a Polish cultural institute, commented: In those
conditions....in the midst of a brutalization of thought and feeling and
words such as had never before been known, man indeed became a ravening
wolf in his relations with other men. And into this state of affairs
came the heroic self-sacrifice of Fr. Maximilian. The atmosphere grew
lighter, as this thunderbolt provoked its profound and salutary shock. A fellow prisoner, Jerzy Bielecki, declared that Maximilian Kolbe's death was “a shock filled with hope, bringing new life and strength...It was like a powerful shaft of light in the darkness of the camp.” Maximilian Kolbe’s reputation spread far and wide. To the people of this world, Maximilian Kolbe was a “Magnificent Fool.” But, for those who know and understand the truth that the Risen Lord taught his disciples about the power of faith and hope during those forty days following his Resurrection, Maximilian Kolbe was a living witness to the truth Jesus Christ taught through his word and example, namely, that love of God and neighbor is the crowning glory of faith and hope: “Greater love has no man than to lay down one’s life….” In 1971, Maximilian Kolbe was beatified. Present at the ceremony in St. Peter’s Square was an elderly Francis Gajowniczek and his now-adult children. Then, in 1982, Pope John Paul II formally named Maximilian Kolbe a Catholic Saint. The Risen Lord taught his disciples for forty days that his death wasn’t in vain. Yet, as people of this world judge things, his death surely was in vain. For Jesus’ disciples—people whose faith informs them of the values of a different world which they use to judge things—his death signaled the most important victory of all times. During those forty days, the Risen Lord also taught his disciples that their hope wasn’t foolish, as the people of this world judge things. For Jesus’ disciples—people who use the values of a different world to judge things—hope is the virtue that God will transform into abiding joy for those who lead their lives consecrated—that is, “made holy”—in truth. “They do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world,” the Risen Lord prayed, “ ‘Make them holy’ in truth. Your word is truth.” To be made holy in truth is the prayer of the Risen Lord for us as his disciples. The story of Maximilian Kolbe tells us what being made holy in truth required and what it meant as Maximilian Kolbe faced death by starvation and lethal injection in the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp. But, the question remains: What does it require for us to be made holy in truth and what does it mean for us today? What the Risen Lord taught his disciples about what it means to be consecrated in truth during those forty days is as challenging to modern-day disciples as it was to those who walked with and sat beside the Risen Lord during those forty days and as it was challenging for the prisoners, like Maximilian Kolbe, who were interred in concentration camps. What being consecrated in truth requires is for each of us to know and understand truth well enough that we apply it in matters of faith and morals as these arise in our daily lives. That’s called “discipleship.” What being consecrated in truth means is that each of us pattern our lives according to truth not according the values of this world and that each of us proclaim truth in word and in deed. That’s called “witnessing.” To be consecrated in truth is a “package deal” requiring that we are disciples who witness to truth. To be consecrated in truth is not an “either/or deal.” In our generation this presents quite a challenge because our culture has a particular problem with Jesus’ teaching in that our culture doesn’t believe there is such a thing as “truth.” Instead, our culture inculcates in its members from their earliest years the idea that any “truth” is “relative.” This is nothing new, of course. Just recall Pilate asking Jesus: “Truth? What is truth?” In a similar way, when we are confronted with difficult questions related to faith and morals, it is easy and more convenient not only to overlook the fact that Jesus came to teach the truth but also prayed that his disciples would be consecrated—made holy—in truth. What relativism means is that while I may believe something is the truth, you may not agree. But, rather than engage in a vigorous and perhaps heated debate about what the truth really is and, as a consequence, coming to a conclusion about what the truth requires and means as well as changing the way we live our lives to better reflect the truth, our culture teaches its members from their earliest years that being tolerant of diverse views concerning truth is more virtuous than holding firm and steadfast to the truth. That is, our culture teaches us that it is more virtuous were I to respect the truth you assert—even if I know it is not the truth—than if I were to challenge you about what you assert is the truth and to teach you what the truth is. This isn’t simply the “I’m okay, You’re okay” approach to relating with people who hold differing truths. Neither is it simply the “Can’t we just all get along?” kind of approach to relating with people who come from different backgrounds. No, the deeply-held belief that all truth is relative is something far more deceptive, pernicious, and evil because it requires that we spend our lives living a lie. And just what is that lie? Think about it: If it is true that all truth is relative, then that statement must itself be true! How can the denial of the existence of truth be based upon its opposite, namely, an assertion of a truth? That’s the foundation of sand upon which our culture illogically asserts provides the sound basis for making important decisions, especially those concerning faith and morals. Despite what our culture would have us believe, matters of faith and morals are not relative, as if taking one position on these matters is equally virtuous to holding the opposite position. If Jesus’ teaching is roughly equivalent to that of Moses, Buddha, or Mohammed, then Jesus cannot be “the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” There is no middle ground to be negotiated or consensus to be derived. If every religion is basically equivalent and there is no such thing as “truth faith” and “true morals,” then why would anyone belong to any religion? Except for a fool, who would ever adhere to a religion that wasn’t the true religion? If the national aspirations of the defenders of slavery, the Nazis, the Fascists, and the Islamo-Fascists are roughly equivalent to our national aspirations just expressed differently, then why would any citizen—and, on this Memorial Day weekend, in particular—be willing to give one’s life for any nation? To do so would be sheer and utter foolishness! “To die for the truth,” Socrates said, “is better than to live a lie.” Why? Because the truth surely will live beyond any of us. All lies, however, are destined to go to the grave just as all of us surely are destined to go to the grave. The reason relativism is so perniciously evil is that it seeks to undermine belief in the existence of truth and, in turn, to elevate the things of this world to supreme values so that life in this world becomes more important than fullness of life in the Father’s kingdom. Unhappiness is avoided at all costs. Death is the end, just as it was for Jesus and Maximilian Kolbe and as it will be for me and you. So “grabbing for all the gusto” and “being happy” right now is of far greater importance than is seeking the fullness of life in the Father’s kingdom. “They do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world,” the Risen Lord prayed, “ ‘Make them holy’ in truth. Your word is truth.” When we allow ourselves to be deceived so that we choose belong to the world and to value what the world values, we get ourselves into very deep spiritual trouble because we pattern our lives not according to truth, but according to what culture dictates. And, as we allow that false standard to be our guide when we make important decisions—and especially those concerning faith and morals—our hearts become filled with fear, not hope, and a very cold and harsh fatalism squeezes out the possibility of experiencing the fullness of life in the Father’s kingdom. Like all of those heroic witnesses to truth—including Maximilian Kolbe—who have called Jesus “the Way, the Truth, and the Life” throughout the centuries, we also have been consecrated in God’s truth. “They do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world. Consecrate them in truth. Your word is truth, Jesus prayed. “As you sent me into the world, so I sent them into the world.” Now is the hour for us to be “Magnificent Fools”—disciples who witness to the power of faith and hope—whose crowning glory is the power of love of God and neighbor alive in their hearts that makes it possible to pay the ultimate price, if necessary. We will be disciples who give heroic witness as faith and hope spur us to act because death isn’t a failure but the moment of miraculous transformation when we leave behind the things of this world and enter into the fullness of life in the Father’s kingdom.
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HOMILY
