(Solemnity of Christ the King-Year B; This homily was given on November 22, 2015 at Paul VI Chapel in Meriden, CT.; See John 18:33-37)
In his first encyclical letter, Lumen Fidei, our Holy Father Pope Francis reflects on a scene from
Dostoevsky’s novel, The Idiot. It is the scene where Prince Myshkin is
looking at a famous painting of Christ in the tomb. The image, painted by Hans Holbein, is a
particularly brutal and graphic rendering of the effects of Jesus’ death. Prince Myshkin, somewhat taken aback, says, “Looking at that painting might cause one to
lose his faith.”
Yet Pope Francis, in Lumen Fidei, insists instead that “it
is precisely in contemplating Jesus’ death that faith grows stronger and
receives a dazzling light” (Lumen Fidei,
16). The more we consider all that Christ
endured, all that He was willing to go through in order to save us from our
sins and throw wide open the gates of heaven, the more we grow in faith and in appreciation for that beautiful
self-offering of Jesus Christ for us.
Further on in Dostoevsky’s novel, Prince Myshkin begins to
feel the effects of his own weakening condition, a debilitating disease that is
threatening to consume his life. But
suddenly, even in the midst of his suffering, he glimpses for a moment how
beautiful and harmonious the gift of life truly is. It is
an experience that floods his soul with joy, even to the point of ecstasy, and
his entire perspective begins to change.
Attributed to Prince Myshkin, then, is the astounding claim: “Beauty
will save the world.”
He does not mean that beauty in some general way will save the world, but that beauty has the capacity
to open our hearts to something beyond our own often compromised and burdened
experience. Even under the weight of our
crosses and even when the darkness seems to surround us, beauty can find a way
through and connect us once again with God.
Beauty will save the world.
But the question we are forced to ask ourselves this weekend
is: Will it save Paris, France? Will
beauty save the City of Brussels, that is under the same threat in these dark
days of terror? Will beauty save our
cities, and the world we live in today, from an even greater threat than
fundamentalist Islam: the radical secularization that is threatening to remove
God from all semblance of public life?
Rampant in our culture is this sense that faith and God have
no place in the world. If there is any value to faith at all it is
only as a private devotion, hardly worth living for and certainly not worth
dying for. Church, faith, God, become an
extra, an aside, peripheral in the grand scheme of earthly life. We definitely should be concerned with the evil
of terrorism and the violence that besets our cities, yet secularization has
the potential to destroy much more than human life here on earth. It threatens to remove souls from the presence
of God, for all eternity.
Will beauty save the world?
In the middle of the City of Paris is a small patch of land
called the Île de la Cité, the Isle of the City. On that small island stands what is perhaps
the most beautiful and remarkable cathedral in the western world: Notre Dame
Cathedral. There is nothing immediately beautiful,
however, the moment one walks into that historic church. The environment
is dim, and the walls are rather bare.
There are some paintings and statues, and some rather plain stained
glass windows just above eye-level. The
massive columns that hold up the cathedral are ornamented with leaves and foliage
meant to symbolize Eden recaptured. It is impressive, but not overwhelmingly
so.
Yet once the eyes begin to adjust, the expanse of Notre
Dame begins to draw them upward to the vaulted arches and the magnificent
cathedral ceiling. The radiant and brilliant
stained glass windows, set impossibly high above the apse, and the great rose
windows in the north and south transepts, flood the soul with images of Christ
and the Blessed Virgin Mary, the saints, the angels, the virtues and heaven
itself. The very structure of Notre Dame
captivates the soul and ignites within it a deep desire and longing.
The point that the architects of Notre Dame had in mind, of
course, is that this world is solid and strong; it is awesome and possesses a
beauty all its own. It is a wonderful
and substantial place, but it is simply not enough. We are made for much, much more than this
solid and substantial place. We are made
for heaven, for eternity, and for an everlasting life in the presence of God
and the angels and saints. This is not
our home, but there is a place more beautiful than we could possibly imagine,
and it awaits us and beckons us even now.
In our Gospel for this Solemnity of Christ the King, Jesus
Christ the King of the Universe is being confronted and interrogated by a
man. How ironic and paradoxical is
that? Jesus Christ stands before Pontius
Pilate, who does not recognize Him. He
questions Christ and asks, “Are you the
King of the Jews?” Jesus’ answer is
astounding, even for us who believe in Him and His kingship:
My kingdom does not
belong to this world.
—John 18:36
How remarkable, that
Christ the King would say such a thing.
But then He clarifies his answer:
If my kingdom did
belong to this world, my attendants would be fighting to keep me from being
handed over to the Jews. But as it is,
my kingdom is not here.
—John 28:36
The kingdom and the reign of Christ is not an earthly
kingdom. One day it will be, and that is
something we pray for incessantly every day:
“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done.” We anticipate
and even hasten the day when that
reign will be fully established on the earth (see 2 Peter 3:12). But we
are reminded daily that this kingdom of Christ is not like the kingdoms of the
world. It is different, and because it
does not belong to this world we are called to live our lives completely for
that kingdom that will last forever, where we will be eternally united to
God. Everything we do and all that we
strive for must be informed by, inspired by and focused on that kingdom.
The great English writer, C.S. Lewis, once said that the men and women who did the most for this
world (think of the saints, the great writers, artists and architects, the
men and women of God that helped build entire cultures and established hospitals
and universities) were the men and women
who thought mostly of the world to come.
Aim at heaven, he said, and you will get earth thrown in with it. Aim only at earth, and you will get neither!
But we are living in a world where fewer and fewer people
think mostly about the world to come. So
many people today live their lives as if this
were the only world there is, or ever will be.
Their lives are preeminently and, in some cases, entirely, focused on
earth, and they stand to lose it all.
What will catch their attention, awaken their desire for heaven and
eternal life, and captivate their souls with the one, necessary thing (Luke
10:42) that alone will truly satisfy them?
Beauty will save the world.
This morning, Beauty Himself comes to us here and speaks to
us in the Sacred Scriptures. Beauty
Himself will come down from heaven and dwell with us here on this altar. Beauty will most certainly save the
world. But the question we must ask
ourselves this morning is whether or not we will allow Beauty to save us, and to
send us out into the world, to be the beautiful face of Jesus Christ, the King.
