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Reflecting back upon the events of 9/11, perhaps the scariest and most threatening thing we learned as a nation is that the Old Testament story of David and Goliath isn’t a myth of some by-gone era. If you recall, the giant, Goliath—representing the mighty and powerful Philistine nation, was slain by David—representing the less-than-mighty and utterly powerless semi-nomadic Israelite tribe. Although Goliath and his armaments towered over and far-surpassed David and his armaments, the shot fired from a simple slingshot proved mightier than all of those powerful armaments the giant had at his disposal. In the end, Goliath was slain when, by all rational calculations, the giant should have emerged victorious. Ironically, David emerged victorious when, by all rational calculations, he should have been slain. Ultimately, the mighty and fearsome Philistine nation proved itself to be exceedingly vulnerable, overpowered by a tribe of semi-nomads whom God had chosen by to inhabit the Promised Land…which the Philistines called their “homeland.” The Philistines trusted in themselves and their might to protect their homeland. The Israelites trusted solely in God and their election as God’s people. When those two airplanes were purposefully and intentionally impaled into the Twin Towers—functioning not as vehicles of transport but as incendiary devices—we not only saw two buildings come crashing down to earth and three thousand of our fellow citizens being deprived of their lives, their hopes, and their dreams. As awful as those events were, what was perhaps more threatening were the feelings of vulnerability suddenly thrust upon us as individuals and as a nation, feelings which many of us had never personally experienced unless we happened to be alive on the day the Japanese struck Pearl Harbor. Shielded and protected by two vast oceans, we have always reasoned our homeland invulnerable from outside attack. Like the giant Goliath tumbling to his death before the astonished Philistine people from a mortal wound caused by nothing more than a stone fired from a slingshot, the miracle of television turned our reasoning upside down. We watched on in horror as the Twin Towers and their inhabitants tumbled to their deaths. For decades, the sad truth is that we deluded ourselves in the false belief that such a tragedy could never befall our nation. Yet, perhaps more scary and threatening was a realization many of us had on 9/11. It was something we may never have reflected upon before. What was that realization? We actually lived all of those decades in fear of death and had crafted an idol of our military and technological supremacy. We believed this idol would protect us and we placed our trust in this idol crafted by our hands believing it would save us. But, in those very sad and tragic events of 9/11, we saw our idol exposed for what it truly was, namely, a false god of mythic proportions, a Goliath. As a nation, we have spent more tax money during the past century developing defenses to protect ourselves than have all of the other nations on earth combined and all of those defenses proved themselves completely and utterly useless on 9/11. Today, we’re clamoring to build border fences—hundreds of miles long—and to increase our border security by using satellites and g.p.s.-guided drones. Ostensibly, we’re spending these hundreds of millions of dollars to seal our borders in order to make ourselves feel safe, the truth be told, because we don’t feel safe and we’re building those fences to protect us from what we fear. What we fail to realize is that living behind protective walls and with drones in the sky surveilling the borders doesn’t free us from fear. No, all of those security measures—idols of our crafting—only anesthetize our fear. We’ve literally poured trillions of dollars into armaments, both conventional and unconventional, believing these artifices of the human spirit and entrepreneurial creativity will save us from external attack and what we fear most, death. And yet, all of that—the stealth fighter jets, spy satellites, advanced telecommunications, and advanced avionics—proved insufficient to the stone hurled at us from a slingshot by a group of fanatical religious Philistines. Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not a politician and I am not running for elective office, so I am not trying to scare the bejeezes out of you or to put down our nation’s need for preparedness nor our military. No, what I am descrying has to do with my pastoral role, namely, two important spiritual matters all of this raises. First: our collective fear of death. Second: our failure to uphold the First Commandment, “I am the Lord, your God. You shall have no strange gods before me.” Using Luke’s account of the crucifixion to shape our reflections, let’s examine what I propose is our first problem, the collective fear of death. In Luke’s narrative, Jesus is taunted three times. First, the rulers sneered at Jesus, saying, “He saved others, let him save himself.” Then, the soldiers jeered, saying, “Save yourself.” Adding to the indignity of Jesus’ torture and humiliation, a common criminal hanging on a cross to Jesus’ left reviled him, asking, “Are you not the Christ?” and then demanding, “Save yourself and us!” Not only did Jesus not save himself, he also apparently made no effort to do so. Jesus died the death of a common criminal, laughing stock of his fellow Jews, and traitor of Imperial Rome. Note his last words, “Father, into your hands, I commend my spirit.” Why didn’t God’s only begotten Son save himself? The counter-intuitive answer is that Jesus led by example. His goal was to promote worship of the One, True God. This required Jesus to place his entire trust in God and nothing else. That is the second problem I am proposing, namely, crafting and worshipping idols. Today, we celebrate the end of the Church year, closing out yet another year by reflecting upon the concept of “Christ the King.” This focus challenges us to identify just who and what we seek in a leader, in light of the fact of death and belief in the One, True God. Is the leader we seek someone who will make us strong and powerful? Is it someone who promises to protect us by investing trillions of dollars in new technologies that can be transformed into new and more highly sophisticated armaments? Is this leader we seek someone who promotes such idol worship? In their day, the Philistines and Israelites confronted with the very same question. How did they want to be led and by whom? The Philistines chose Goliath. The Israelites chose David. As Christians, we choose Christ, not an idol crafted by our hands but the Son of God incarnate whose tragic crucifixion, in contrast to his triumphant entry into Jerusalem, teaches us what it means to place our trust in God and God alone. What makes Jesus’ death of supreme significance is that this is how God opened the way to eternal life for us. The leadership Jesus’ provided by his death as a common criminal has the power to transform our lives today. We need not live in fear of death because even though he was mocked by soldiers as well as by a criminal who was dying beside him, Jesus did not lash out. Instead, Jesus entrusted himself to God. “He is the image of the invisible God, the first born of all creation,” St. Paul tells us, “....making peace by the blood of his cross….” When we live in fear of death, we will do everything in our power to prolong our lives. As a nation, that is the realization of 9/11 that troubled so many people because all that we’ve done as a nation to make ourselves might and invulnerable to attack has proven itself insufficient. The shot fired from a slingshot on 9/11 was a clarion call for us as individuals and as a nation to renew our faith in the One, True God by turning away from any idol of our making. When Jesus looked his death square in the eye and did not flinch, Jesus taught us that the One, True God is the Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier, the source of everlasting life. Death is not to be feared; no, it is a “friend,” Cardinal Bernardin of Chicago wrote as he faced death from pancreatic cancer. How is that possible? Death “a friend”? Indeed, death is a friend when we entrust ourselves to God and begin to experience the freedom, the joy, and the peace that can be ours even when we suffer, experience pain, and are persecuted. This is the kingdom where Christ is King, a kingdom built not upon powerful armaments but of people who seek truth and life, holiness and grace, as well as justice, love, and peace. The Solemnity of Christ the King isn’t about crafting Christ into some worldly king to whom we subject ourselves. No, this Solemnity challenges us to see in Christ the pathway to life in God. As the Book of Revelations speaks to this truth of our faith: “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain and is worthy to receive strength and divinity, wisdom, power, and honor: to him be glory and power for ever” (5:12; 1:6). When we open our souls to receive this divinely-revealed truth, Jesus says to us, just as he said to the criminal hanging on his right, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” Fear dissipates as we live in God and do not put faith in the idols of this world. With that said, there is absolutely nothing to fear about death.
In preparation for Christmas, some Catholic trivia... A student asked me the other day for suggestions about where she might get an Advent wreath. The answer I gave was a good one but, upon reflection, not the best answer. In fact, upon completing a little bit of research, I found even most parishes and pastors don't practice the best answer. The best advent wreath (and Christmas wreath, by the way) is made of holly not evergreen. The elements of holly (the holly itself and the red berries) recall the crucifixion of Christ. He was crowned with thorns. The thorns bit into his brow, causing red drops of blood to flow. No color is more associated with Christmas than red, the color of Good Friday. This symbolism is consistent with scripture: "By the Lord's stripes we are healed." So, the holly is green, a color associated with life and hope—reminding us of the birth of the Savior—and the berries are red—reminding us of how the gift of eternal life has been won for us through the blood of Christ. I don't think it's easy to find holly wreathes, but then, I've never looked for one. I do know that a round metal wire holder and plastic holly branches can be purchased at Michael's. That would do the trick. Then remember: three purple and one pink candle. And, don't forget to place the Advent calendar on the front of the refrigerator. After the student received and read my comments, she responded: "I wish parishes would be more communicative about these sorts of things. It would make it easier to pass on the religious traditions to children because you're not just saying, 'This is just what we do as Catholics.' But you would reveal the 'why we do it,' which I find is very effective with the kids with whom I work." |
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HOMILY
