SOLITUDE, A GOOD FRIEND

Why solitude can be such a good friend

 Being alone can be a treasure if we learn how not to fear it.

At some point in our lives we have all experienced solitude. In certain circumstances, it could become particularly intense — for example, when our house grows silent at the end of a holiday, or when we are away from our family for the first time. We have all had our moments of solitude. Even children cannot escape it. Unless they’re sharing their room with a sibling, they may dread bedtime. But the experience of solitude is important so long as it is gradually introduced and adapted to each child, based on their age and temperament. 

The benefits of spending time alone

I once saw this written on a wall of a convent: “Too much solitude can kill you, but a little time alone is life sustaining.” While it is indispensable for children to learn how to be alone, it’s unthinkable for them to spend hours in front of a computer in an empty house every time they get back from school.

We gradually learn how to deal with solitude, and it is a tough experience but does us good. Even if we fear it, to different degrees, we all need to spend some time alone since our spirituality cannot be cultivated without some level of solitude and silence. If it is not developed and we keep leading superficial lives, we won’t be able to fully become ourselves and establish a genuine form of communications with others. This in turn will inevitably make our relationships shallow. And naturally, will we not be able to cultivate our relationship with God either. So, a little solitude is indispensable if we wish to reach the inner spiritual peace where a soul can meditate in silence. It’s a place where God dwells and where we can always find Him if we also choose to reside there. 

Different kinds of solitude

The solitude of a lonely person is terrible, and the silence of the one who has purposely withdrawn into an “ivory tower” is proud.

But the solitude of a hermit left alone with God is fruitful, as is that of an elderly woman whose days are filled with prayer, or that of a musician or an artist who withdraws to create a masterpiece deep inside his heart. It’s not that solitude in itself is good (or bad), it’s what people do with it and what they’re able to discover.

How does one master solitude?

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To master solitude, we should first get used to it. We cannot master something we’re trying to avoid. It’s a vicious cycle — the more we do to avoid and reject solitude, the more we fear being left alone. 

To begin enjoying it, we need to fill our solitude with all the wealth we keep deep inside us. To become aware of this wealth, we need to spend some time alone. It is only by jumping into the pool that we can ever learn how to swim – it is only in experiencing solitude that we can learn how to master it.

Let us see to it that the lives of our children contain these “empty” time slots, too — without activities, television, and friends, even if they seem bored or lost in daydreams. Otherwise, accustomed to running from one activity to the next, they risk learning how to fear solitude instead of discovering what a friend it can be.

THIEF TAKES PARADISE

Jesus, Remember Me: A Thief Takes Paradise, the Reign of Christ the King

Claire Dwyer

Sunday, Nov. 24, is the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe. Mass readings: 2 Samuel 5:1-3; Psalm 122:1-2; 3-4; 4-5; Colossians 1:12-20; Luke 23:35-43.

While the world has had its holiday decorations up for weeks, the Church rightly sets her calendar by the liturgy, which is just now closing out Ordinary Time with a triumphant Solemnity of the King of the Universe, Our Lord Jesus Christ.

We should be awed from the implications of this day: Over all of creation, Jesus Christ reigns, enthroned on high, for all of eternity. The war has been won. Death is defeated, and we have been delivered “from the power of darkness.” All is subject to Christ the King.

Not all may recognize yet “that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (Philippians 2:10-11); but that is where we come in — to proclaim this truth and to seek to reconcile all things to him is how we will work out our own salvation.

This week’s Liturgy of the Word opens with the great warrior king of Israel, David. It’s been many tumultuous years since Samuel anointed the boy David, and now, finally, the elders come to make a covenant with David and anoint him as king over all Israel.

In the second reading, Paul paints a glorious picture of our reigning King, firstborn of all creation and the firstborn of the dead, who has won redemption and the forgiveness of our sins. This reconciliation came at a great price: “the blood of the cross.”

Which is where the Gospel takes us, to the terrible scene of Calvary, as Jesus is intentionally hung between two thieves as if to mock him further — and, unknowingly, his tormentors have created a dress rehearsal for the Final Judgment. Soonto-be beatified Fulton Sheen, in Life of Christ, paints the scene: “The Judge was in the centre, and the two divisions of humanity on either side: the saved and the lost, the sheep and the goats. When He would come in glory to judge all men, the Cross would be with Him then, too, but as a badge of honour, not shame.”

One thief rejects the salvation that even now is his for the taking, which is tragic; because it is never too late, while we live, to take the mercy offered from the cross.

The penitent thief, in contrast, places his hope in that mercy and throws himself upon it like Saul on his sword: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom.” As Archbishop Sheen points out, a thief is the first to “steal” paradise. “It was the thief’s last prayer, perhaps even his first. He knocked once, sought once, asked once, dared everything and found everything. When even the disciples were doubting and only one was present at the Cross, the thief owned and acknowledged him as Saviour.”

How stunning is this, that our Sovereign Lord Jesus, “the image of the invisible God,” ruler of the universe, would welcome a crucified thief to be the first to walk with him in paradise, as Adam had in the “cool of the day,” and that this same invitation is delivered to us in each Mass as his body is broken for us.

Remember us, Lord, when you come into your Kingdom.

DISMAS THE GOOD THIEF

Dismas and His Opposites

Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom. These words of Saint Dismas, the Good Thief, saved in his last hours on a cross, resound as a perfect acknowledgment of Christ as King. Their power becomes more evident when contrasted with the words of others at that moment. At Calvary, there are three other reactions to the Crucified One. They come from Dismas’s opposites and reveal the attitudes that always oppose Christ the King.

First, the rulers. [They] sneered at Jesus and said, “He saved others, let him save himself if he is the chosen one, the Christ of God.” These are not pagans or unbelievers but Israel’s own religious leaders. These are the men who awaited their King, anticipated His coming, and desired His rule. But, as comes to be clear, they did so on their own terms. Jesus of Nazareth did not meet their requirements for kingship. He comes not on a warhorse to impose a kingdom, but humble, and mounted on an ass. (Mt 21:5) He comes not to judge but to seek and to save what was lost (Lk 19:10), to call not the righteous but sinners. (cf. Lk 5:32)

Second, the Roman soldiers. [They] jeered at him. As they approached to offer him wine they called out, “If you are King of the Jews, save yourself.” The great genius of the Romans was that they tolerated the religion of their subjects. Of course, that tolerance was cynical and lasted only as long as the people kept the gods in the proper place and their religion to themselves. Faith was tolerable only when kept private or confined to certain areas and spheres of life. It became intolerable when it made public claims. For Him to be executed, Jesus had to be presented as a political threat to Roman rule. Religion must be kept in its place.

Third, the bad thief: [O]one of the criminals hanging there reviled Jesus, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us.” You would think that he would remain silent, if only to hedge his bets against impending judgment. But he is unrepentant. In the midst of his suffering, he lashes out at God rather than acknowledge his sins and ask forgiveness. Even in his agony, he prefers his own will to that of Christ the King.

These reactions do not remain solely in the past. We see them throughout history – in every rejection of revelation, persecution of the faithful, and refusal to repent. More to the point, they continue in us. Each rejection of Christ the King can be found, at one time or another, within us.

We at times resemble Israel’s religious leaders: we want God, but on our own terms. We long for His coming and cry out for His help . . . but then resent His intrusion and the challenges He presents. We want a king, to be sure. In fact, we know exactly how he should behave.

At other times we act like the Romans. We allow God in our lives, as part of our lives, but not to rule our lives. We are always drawing a line He cannot cross. We forbid Him to have any say in (choose one or more) politics, economics, sex, entertainment, etc. We are forever declaring to Him, “Thus far and no further!”

As a society, we have restricted Christ to private life. We have accepted the error that faith is a strictly private matter. Out of fear of looking different or of offending, we forbid Him access to our broader life. Whatever the case, we claim the right to be one thing privately and another publicly. Of course, this can’t last. We inevitably privatize our faith so much that we ourselves no longer believe it.

In fact, the Solemnity of Christ the King is a feast established to combat this privatization. The feast is not, as might be reasonably presumed, a vestige of the Middle Ages when kingship was more familiar. It was established by Pius XI in 1925, precisely to emphasize the public reign of Christ the King and combat the increasing privatization of religion.

Finally, we at times behave like the impenitent thief. We demand that the King do our bidding, that He save us without any repentance on our part. Rather than conform ourselves to the truth, we rail against Him Who is the Truth. More often than not this is just petulant and childish. But in the final hour, it’s tragic.

In stark contrast to the sneerers, jeerers, and revilers is Dismas. His dying prayer says it all: Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.

Unlike the religious leaders, he does not dictate the conditions of kingship; he is not ashamed to have a crucified King. This is one salutary effect of suffering: you stop dictating the terms of your own salvation.

Unlike the Romans, Dismas sets no limit on Christ’s authority. He sees that Jesus has not only a kingdom but power over death. He gives Him free reign. Here is another benefit suffering brings: you stop confining God’s power.

Most of all, unlike the thief opposite him, Dismas repents. Such repentance represents the full acceptance of Christ as King, giving Him authority over what is most painful and shameful.

Saint Dismas gives us the first example of devotion to Christ the King. It means to receive Him as He is, not as we would have Him; to give Him authority over everything, not just a portion; and most of all to surrender our wills to Him Who alone perfects them.

DEATH WITHOUT FEAR

DEATH WITHOUT FEAR

Truth be told, we can’t really be that bothered by the idea of being dead, because - well - we’ll be dead. The idea of dying, however, can shake us. It can unsettle our minds since we’ll have to walk through that process at some point and we’re not really sure how that’s going to happen, whether it will be painful, and who we might leave behind.

The stark reality of death can oftentimes scare us and lead us to see death as a terrible evil that must be avoided at all costs. The idea of losing our autonomy, which is the control we have over our own lives, can make us profoundly agitated and existentially restless. The idea of permanently letting go of everything we have and of everyone we love can profoundly disturb us.

Our dying process will be the most extreme time of transition we’ll have as human beings. Our beliefs on the afterlife will shape and mould most of our reactions at the thought of moving from one well- known stage of life into a veiled, mysterious one.

As Christians, we place our trust in the Lord Jesus, and we see that death has lost its sting. We hope in the resurrection and such a light destroys our fears. In Jesus Christ, we’re able to see the full reality of human existence, during and after this life.

In Christ, therefore, we see that our lives are a journey and death is a process. And while dying may be difficult, it leads us into eternal life. As such, believers understand that death is not an ultimate end or final goodbye.

By the power of the resurrection, death becomes a transition that only initiates a new phase of life, one that leads us from glory unto glory.

Our discipleship, with all its triumphs and failures throughout our lives, does not end in the dying process, but is empowered and intensified through it. As in life, so in death, we are called to cling to the Lord Jesus, truly risen from the dead, and give him all our fears and anxieties. In the dying process, we are especially called to be united to Jesus Christ.

In light of the resurrection, we see our dying process as the last gift that we can give to the Lord Jesus. As such, the Church walks with us and gives us helpful instructions to the various medical procedures and questions surrounding the process of dying.

Whether it’s the use of breathing tubes, the continuation of nutrition and hydration, or the use of pain medication and palliative care, the Church interprets the teachings of Jesus Christ on these matters and guides us so that we can die well and in the full abundance of his grace.

We are called, therefore, to give our dying process- and all the decisions surrounding it-to the Lord Jesus. Again, it is our last earthly gift to our loving Saviour.

In response to people who fearfully say, “I want to die with dignity,” the Church - echoing the teachings of Jesus Christ - confidently teaches us, “You will die with dignity. Nothing can take your dignity from you. In whatever way you die, and whatever might happen to you in the process, the God who created you and gave you your dignity will be the God who walks with you and gives you the strength to die a good death in his grace. You can trust him!”  

In the process of dying, we have to be aware of the influence of fear. Whether it’s a fear of diminished capacity, or losing our control, or being kept alive in ways we would not prefer, such fears can be matured, enlightened, and consoled by the reality of the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the sure guidance of the Church on how to die a holy death.

While death can be unsettling, it’s a part of life. The more we prepare for it, pray about it, and discuss the various possibilities surrounding it with loved ones, the more it becomes less fearful and a regular part of our lives.

CHRIST KING remember me

CHRIST KING

 Cycle “C: Luke 23, 35 – 43

 Introduction: Our proclamation of the kingship of Jesus is the articulate witness to what is going on within and in our Christian community, and is our faithful submission to the reign of Christ. The Kingdom of God, brought to us by Jesus, is the highest value a human being can realise.

Our Eucharistic celebration today is a thanksgiving for the gift of the Kingdom, the royal priesthood of the baptised. We pray our Heavenly Father to bless us with his mercy that makes us worthy to belong.

 The Homily: 

Our reading from Luke 23 might seem an odd choice for today’s celebration of Christ our King. How could a description of Jesus’ execution as a common criminal be a suitable example of his kingship?  Yet, paradoxically, it was on the cross that Jesus’ kingship was most clearly revealed. Kingship is a symbol of care and protection, springing from the love of a king for his people. His only thought is the well-being of his people to whom he belongs, constantly thoughtful of them, seeing to their needs, and heeding their petitions. Here we are not talking about a royal family, glamorous and gossiped about, moving graciously through official functions and state occasions. We are treating of a servant king who died naked on the cross. He was prepared to be stripped of his dignity, and let his life drain away from him. The inscription on the cross over his head was meant to make him look ridiculous; it was meant to lampoon his claim to being King of the Jews. But in fact it was entirely accurate; it was on the cross that Jesus was truly King of the Jews. The two criminals crucified on either side of him reacted quite differently to Jesus’ crucifixion.

 Amazingly, one of them asked Jesus to remember him when he came into his kingly power. Even as he watched him die a shameful death on a cross, he still had the faith to believe in his kingship. His faith is an example for us all.

Such a kingship invites us to question our priorities and ourselves. If we follow him, we will want to live his values. To repeat the lines of that hymn of Isaac Watts, “the sight of the Prince of Glory leads us to pour contempt on all our pride, to repent of our boasting, to sacrifice all the vain things that charm us most.” Under his leadership we can experience the power that overcomes sinful drives, and live with a new joy and peace. This is the kingship of the heart.

To a world that clamours for peace through domination and suppression, discipline from the barrel of a gun or silence by gagging the mouths of the protesters, Our Lord Jesus shows the way by humility and service. Human suffering, for instance, is not an occasion for pessimism but a challenge to action in the belief that the Resurrection is already operating in the dark night of pain and hopelessness. As missionaries and, indeed, as Christians, we realise that we cannot successfully proclaim the Good News from a position of superiority. We can preach the Gospel effectively only when the people to whom we are sent have the power to crucify us. Yes, and there’ll always be people who will ridicule our faith; well, consider the abuse and ridicule of the passers-by and onlookers on the first Good Friday.

But precisely in his moment of greatest weakness Christ King shows his greatest strength. The Letter to the Colossians, though brief, has a wonderful cosmic sweep. In this short, rich letter Christ is shown defeating darkness, holding all things in unity and making it possible for us “to join the saints and with them to inherit the light.” This same Christ crucified is able to overcome all divisions and rescue humankind.

This king had cabinet ministers made up of people from the financial world (Mathew), tradesmen (Peter), immigrants (Luke), and even a member of a terrorist gang (Simon, listed as “the Zealot). Jesus introduced gender balance even before the term was invented. His style was walkabout, making time to be with people who were powerless, voiceless and choice-less. He challenged the religious and spiritual powers. His Manifesto included health care for body, mind and spirit. He would use his Nazareth Manifesto as a checklist -  good news to the poor, sight the blind, wings to jailbirds, debt cancellation programme to introduce the day of Jubilee. The credit card companies would be after his blood.

His communication skills would be second to none. He was master of the sound-bite, with more bite than sound. Jesus would ask the awkward questions. Those of us who are part of the religious establishment  -  ministers and elders  -  would have a rough time playing power games in the name of God. Jesus’ overall aim would be to create a community that would be shaped by God’s way of doing things.

But his popularity would be short-lived. His term of office didn’t go beyond three years: cut short in his prime by a violent death that was manoeuvred by priests and politicians. He died in public disgrace at the hands of the media smear machine. People wanted to make him king. He refused. He was already writing a new script for the notions of king, kingdom and authority. He would not fit the popular mould. He was moulding another way. He would carry a Cross before wearing a Crown.

The American Indians labelled Jesus as “The Little Buffalo Calf of God” because he nourished and sustained their bodies and spirit. An African tribe describes him as “the serpent that moves through the forest without fear.” In the Andes in South America, the people like to picture him as a weeping child removing a thorn from the sole of his foot. His tears help them better to understand how he shares their human condition. The thorn in the foot reminds them of his passion and suffering for their salvation. This is the Christ whom they feel very comfortable with. He is one of their own, and belongs.

Hopefully, he will become one of our own too. 

PRAYER (Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury. c. 908 – 988)

O Lord, O gentle Son of Mary free;

O King of Kings, blessed Redeemer,

upon those who have been ransomed from the power of death,

by your own blood, ever have mercy.

O noblest unbegotten, yet begotten Son, having no beginning,

yet without effort (in the weakness of God) excelling all things,

upon this your people in your pity, Lord have mercy.

O Son of righteousness, in all unclouded glory,

supreme dispenser of justice,

in that great day when you strictly judge all nations,

we earnestly beseech you, upon this your people, who here stand before your presence, in your pity, Lord, then have mercy on us.

CHRIST THE KING John 18, 33 - 37

CHRIST THE KING

John 18, 33 – 37

Introduction: Our proclamation of the kingship of Jesus is the articulate witness to what is going on within us and in our Christian community, and is also our faithful submission to the reign of Christ. The Kingdom of God, brought to us by Jesus, is the highest value a human being can realise. Our Eucharistic celebration today is a thanksgiving for the gift of the Kingdom, the royal priesthood of the baptised. We pray our Heavenly Father to bless us with his mercy that makes us fit to belong.

THE HOMILY:   St. John paints for us a dramatic scene. The Roman governor confronts a helpless prisoner. But Pilate is in a dilemma. The man before him is accused of claiming to be “King of the Jews,” a title with rebellious overtones. Scourged and bleeding, he is in obvious pain; he doesn’t look like a political hothead. Rather, the overwhelming impression is one of dignity. Despite the nightlong taunts of the soldiers and his scourging that morning, he has a regal majesty. He gives the impression not that this is the story of a man who is to be executed, but one whose last days were a triumphant procession. It does not seem to be Jesus, who is really on trial here, but Pilate and the rest. Jesus, in a position of complete powerlessness, commands the conversation. Pilate is confused, and has to admit he is confronting quite another and unheard of sort of royalty. That title “King of the Jews,” nailed above the prisoner’s head, was intended as an expression of contempt and ridicule. But Jesus has made worldly-minded kings look like fools. Kings have been associated with opulence and reckless appetites. They have been unapproachable, high and mighty, surrounded by sycophants and jesters, decked in finery, and decorated with trimmings of lordliness. Jesus, on the hand, came into the world to witness to the truth -  the truth about God, about people, about life. He will not kill for the truth, he will die for it. He will win, not by spilling others’ blood, but by offering his own. He does not dominate, muster armies, or amass possessions; he just invites, and serves, relying on nothing other than the response of the heart.

Jesus is the Alpha and the Omega  -  the beginning and the end, the one who is not up in the sky controlling the world by concealed strings and laser guns, not a gaunt empty figure, distant and removed from human affairs. Rather, Jesus is intertwined with everything we do and think, and with every moment of our being. Like every good teacher and preacher, Jesus preached to himself. He was held to the word by his own sermons. As well as the bridegroom, he is the one who watches for the Kingdom’s coming with unfailing oil in his lamp. As well as the master entrusting his property, he is the servant who risks everything to gain all. As well as the king who passes judgement, he is the one who first lives by his own laws, who sees his Father’s face in the stricken faces of the suffering, and who  loves with an un-mercenary love. In terms of his own homily, he sees humanity hungry and thirsty, estranged and exposed, sick and imprisoned. And he cannot but come to our help. Why ? Because love is his nature, and compassion the divine compulsion. Jesus had to choose daily to be “true to his own name”, to his deepest nature, which is always going out of its way, relinquishing itself in unbridled trust and service. And this is the cause of action that crowns him, as it crowns us all  -  with thorns.  That is the kingly way !

A certain Japanese, Makato Ohoni, member of the Ittoen community (non-Christian) has stated: “Although my Christian uncle had failed to impress me with Christianity in my boyhood, I have since heard about the Gospels and found myself strongly drawn towards Jesus Christ. I feel very close to the breathing of Christ during his last moments on the cross. It stirs me more than many lectures and sermons. I picture him killed on the cross, all alone and surrounded by contemptuous people. Very few, I think appreciate the bliss that he must have experienced when all were against him.” An admirable statement coming from a non-Christian ! Nearer home, listen to our own great Vivekananda who said, “If I see Jesus Christ before me, I shall put my hand into my heart, extract the blood and smear it on his feet.” I personally envy Vivekananda, since he said that before I could.

Jesus and his values must be at the core of our private and public life, our individual and social life, our economic and political life. And that, not by way of sentiment but by principle. We are to demonstrate our royal dignity in all situations of life. We are to show that we are caring persons by the witness of our actions  -  by supporting campaigns of human uplift, participating in critical areas of social and economic development, housing, health care, and education. We want to do it because Jesus wanted it and still does.

This is the Person we come here to salute today on the Feast of Christ the King. Call him anything you want  -  Christ the Sultan, Christ the Pharaoh, Christ the President. It matters not at all. He is what he is  -  the Son of God, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, transcendent Lord of all by nature and by conquest, the significance and end of our existence. Jesus Christ is the mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved.

PRAYER (Dunstan  c. 908 – 988, Archbishop of Canterbury)

O King of Kings, blessed Redeemer; upon those who have been ransomed from the power of death, by your own blood, ever have mercy.

O noblest unbegotten, yet begotten Son, having no beginning, yet without effort (in the weakness of God) excelling all things, upon this your people in your pity, have mercy.

O sun of righteousness, in all unclouded glory, supreme dispenser of justice, in that great day when you strictly judge all nations, we earnestly beseech you, upon this your people, who here stand before your presence, in your pity, Lord, then have mercy on us.

CHRIST KING

CHRIST KING

Lk 23, 35

Introduction:          Our proclamation of the kingship of Jesus is the articulate witness to what is going on within us and in our Christian community, and is our faithful submission to the reign of Christ. The Kingdom of God, brought to us by Jesus, is the highest value a human being can realise.

Our Eucharistic celebration today is a thanksgiving for the gift of the Kingdom, the royal priesthood of the baptised. We pray our Heavenly Father to bless us with his mercy that makes us fit to belong.

THE HOMILY

          To make the point to his flatterers, the king was prepared to get his feet wet. Or so the legend says, the legend of Canute, Danish-born king of England in the 11th. century. You’ll remember that his fawning courtiers had flattered him by telling him that we was so powerful he could command the tide not to come in to the shore and it would obey him. So he allowed them to witness the ridiculous sight of him seated on his throne, his crown on his head with the sea-water swirling round his ankles. Then Canute made his point: “Let all the dwellers of the earth know”, he said, “that the power of the king is vain and worthless, nor is there anyone worthy of the name of king but he whose will, by eternal laws, heaven and earth and sea obey.” And, as legend says, Canute never again wore his crown, but placed it on a figure of Our Lord on the Cross.

          There’s something, isn’t it, about an image of the crucified Christ wearing a king’s crown ?  Just as, when you think about it, there’s an element of surprise in the Gospel of today’s feast. I mean, mention of Christ the King conjures up all the panoply of power...majestic...glorious. Yet today’s’ Gospel presents us instead with Christ rejected, ridiculed. humiliated, hanging as a criminal between heaven and earth. It makes a point, doesn’t it ?  A certain Japanese, Makoto Ohasi, member of the Ittoen community [non-Christian] has said: “Although my Christian uncle had failed to impress me with Christianity in my boyhood, I have since heard about the Gospels and found myself strongly drawn towards Jesus Christ. I feel very close to the breathing of Christ during his last moment on the cross. It stirs me more than many lectures and sermons. I picture him killed on the cross, all alone surrounded by scornful and contemptuous people. Very few, I think, appreciate the bliss he must have experienced when all were against him.”  Coming from a non-Christian !  Nearer home, listen to our own great Vivekananda who said: “If I see Jesus Christ before me, I shall put my hand into my heart and smear my blood on his feet.” I personally envy Vivekananda, since he said that before I could.

          The Gospel makes the point that Christ’s kingship is based not on position, privilege or power but service, love and compassion.....the love that is prepared to lay down even life itself for another.  One day a very ill person was picked up quite routinely from the streets of Calcutta and brought to the Sisters’ house. Mother Teresa happened to be in and she could see that the poor man would be dead in a few hours. What could anyone do for him ?  What did Mother do ? She took out a pair of nail clippers and pared the dying man’s toe nails. Within a few hours it would have made no material difference whether his toe nails were clipped or not. But it would make all the difference for eternity for this man that he was treated humanly.

          How human that exchange between that criminal and Jesus as they hung side by side on their crosses. ! It is true he had nothing to lose; death was inevitable, and no amount of power, wealth or control could save him. And yet in his agony he had a good word for Our Lord, defending his innocence. He recognised Jesus, put his trust in him, surrendered himself saying, “Jesus, remember me when you enter into your kingdom.” And at this moment that we need a trumpet blast or explosion of fireworks.....or both, for this is the point we need to take in. In the instant it took to turn to Jesus and ask to be remembered, the criminal was forgiven, reconciled, welcomed and granted eternal life. Jesus’ love and generosity went way beyond what the man had asked for, and that is how it can be for us.

          From King Canute in England to Mother Teresa of Calcutta to the criminal on Calvary. Now the final trip to Algeria. Early in the month of March 1996, Islamic fundamentalist rebels raided a Cistercian monastery high up in the Atlas Mountains in Algeria in North Africa. The rebels took seven of the monks hostage. The monks were aged between 82 and 45 years, all French nationals who had spent their lives praying, working and helping their poor Muslim neighbours around the monastery of Our Lady of the Atlas Mountains. With the monks as hostages, the fundamentalist group demanded the release of Muslim prisoners jailed in France. Their demands were not met by the French government. On Tuesday, 21st. May 1996, the rebels issues a terse and chilling statement: “We have cut the throats of the seven monks....the executions took place this morning.”

          One of the monks executed was Dom Christian de Cherge, prior of the monastery of Our Lady of the Atlas Mountains. Over a year before he was abducted, he had sensed the danger of the situation in which he was living in Algeria. So Dom Christian wrote a letter, a sort of last will and testament. After his violent death, the letter sent to his family in France. They opened it on Pentecost Sunday in 1996. It’s a very moving letter, particularly the final sentences, in which Dom Christian addressed directly the man who will kill him. This is what he wrote:

“And you also, the friend of my final moment who would not be aware of what you are doing. Yes, for you too, I say, ‘thank you’ and adieu. I commend you to the God whose face I see in yours. And may we find each other...in Paradise, if it pleases God, the Father of us both. Amen.”

          Now what sort of extraordinary generosity allows a man to write like that....to call his murderer the “friend of my final moment”, and to see the face of God even in the man who will kill him ?  Quite simply, I think, it comes from a life spent thinking about and praying about the regal generosity of the King whom he served. From that, Dom Christian and his companions gained the courage and the freedom to follow the pattern set by Jesus, a pattern foreseen by the Master.

          The mysteries of Jesus are our mysteries. Whatever happened to the King must happen to the subjects. Whatever happened to Jesus must happen to us. May the kingship of Christ be your rule of life.

PRAYER

Lord Jesus, I proclaim you King of heaven and earth. You are the transcendent Lord of my life, Master of my actions and the Supreme Teacher of the Truth. I beg you exercise your power and dominion over me; keep me your loyal and loving subject, and remember me and admit me into your Kingdom when my time has come. Amen.