Homily for the 18th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C: Only our soul matters

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You may be familiar with the work of the Monty Python comedy troupe, and if you’re young enough to not be, it may be worth an hour or two on Youtube exploring what previous generations found themselves chuckling away at.

One of their most famous sketches involves a man returning a freshly bought parrot to a pet shop; as it turns out that the parrot is, to be blunt, dead. Much of the humour in that sketch comes from John Cleese’s expertly delivered litany of British euphemisms for death, in his attempt to convince the shopkeeper that the purchased parrot is, again to be blunt, most definitely dead. Some of his phrases are crudities: he’s a stiff; he’s kicked the bucket; he’s fallen off the twig. Some are socially sanitised phrases to avoid the ‘d’ word: he’s passed on; he’s no more; he’s bereft of life. Still others are much closer to a religious understanding of death: he rests in peace; he’s shuffled off this mortal coil; he’s gone to join the choir invisible.

In today’s Gospel Jesus puts words into the Father’s mouth in his parable. Words which include an ominous euphemism for the man’s death: “This night, your soul is required of you.” That would be a very dark phrase to add in to Monty Python’s list; but it gets to the heart of Jesus’ teaching in today’s Gospel. When we are called to judgement, only our soul matters.

This past week I have been in Ireland, but before I left on Monday I attended the funeral of a former colleague. There was a good number of present and former staff there, and we were sharing stories and memories, as you do. One recurring thought that kept coming up in discussion was the sadness of a man who worked all his life, paid into his pension and so on, only to develop the symptoms which ultimately killed him, within a year of retiring. I was reflecting on that sadness on my drive to the West of Ireland and it dawned on me that it shouldn’t be thought of as sad – frustrating perhaps, but not sad. It is right and sensible to provide for ourselves, in working life and ahead of our retirement; but ‘our souls being required of us’ is not something that we need to fear if our souls are ready to go. There is a difference between seeking to provide what is just and fair for ourselves, and hoarding far more than is necessary. This is the real difference between simply ‘filling our barns’ and tearing them down and building newer, unnecessarily larger ones.

This all speaks of course of greed and at the heart of greed lies envy. We live in an age of advertising; where we attach something as simple as a certain shade of a colour, a certain sequence of musical notes, or a certain slogan to particular products. All of this makes us want, desire, or in a word used in all three of today’s readings, covet (which the first reading identifies as a form of idolatry). We begin to desire these earthly things even over that which is good for our souls. That is sin in its strictest sense – it causes our souls to turn away from God. And to say it again; when we are called to judgement, only our soul matters.

Greed and envy then are things to be fought against; and as we much about in Lent, the Church gives us three spiritual weapons with which to fight sin and the temptation to sin: prayer to orient our souls always towards God, and away from the distractions of the world; fasting to discipline ourselves in small things, so that we can be sure of our ability to resist more serious temptations; and charity to align our wills more closely to that of God, who himself is Love.

The catechism speaks most of that last as the most useful weapon against greed and envy. It says that: “envy represents a form of sadness and therefore a refusal of charity; the baptized person should struggle against it by exercising good will.”

Whilst in Ireland I went on pilgrimage for the first time to Lough Derg, which if you don’t know of it is a particularly ascetic three-day programme of prayer and of fasting. It involves a great deal of what might be seen as old-school Christian practices: isolation on an island; bare feet throughout; a single meal of dry bread and black tea; an over-night vigil without sleep; and literally thousands of meditative prayers, many said kneeling on bare rock. If that sounds terrible to you I would simply say don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Last Sunday Fr John told me, “you’ll either really enjoy Lough Derg, or you’ll really enjoy coming away from it!” It was a difficult, but massively fulfilling spiritual exercise, focussing on the first two weapons – prayer and fasting. As I drove back in the early hours this morning I was thinking where does the final weapon, charity, now fit in? What love is now going to be manifest in my life as a result? I don’t yet have an answer to that, but I will trust it to God; which brings me to my final point.

For a third time: when we are called to judgement, only our soul matters; but we are fooling ourselves if we think that we alone are in control here – like all good things, material and immaterial, the spiritual weapons of fasting, prayer and charity are rooted in, and draw their efficacy from, God’s good grace. As with all things, we must cooperate with God’s grace if they are to have value. Going without food is not fasting in a spiritual sense unless we intend the discipline to avoid sin. Saying the words of a hundred Our Fathers is not truly prayer unless we intend those words to be carried into heaven. Doing good works is not charity unless we truly intend the good of the other.

I will finish with a quote from St John Henry Newman, who it was announced last week will soon be declared a Doctor of the Church – a saint whose work has contributed points of crucial importance to Catholic theology and dogma. His point ties together the two ideas of rejecting the riches of the world and instead cooperating with God’s grace in the preservation of our souls. He wrote “Life passes, riches fly away, popularity is fickle, the senses decay, the world changes. One alone is true to us; One alone can be all things to us; One alone can supply our need.” That One, brothers and sisters, is Almighty God himself.

Christus Vincit, Christus Regnat, Christus Imperat

Christ the King 2022 (Year C)

The words Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christus imperat – Christ conquers, Christ reigns, Christ commands, are carved into the obelisk which stands in St Peter’s Square in the Vatican. That obelisk was placed there by Pope Sixtus V in 1586 as an eternal memorial to Christ the King.

Obelisks carried connotations of the divine from their earliest days. To the Egyptians the shape of what they called a tekhenu was reminiscent of the benben – the mound on which their creator god stood during the creation of the world; the living deity that was their Pharoah, and curiously, a bird which represented both the beginning and end of the world. Today’s second reading makes it clear that the Lord is eternal; “before anything was created, he existed.” He will be there too at the end of all things, the Lamb of St John’s Revelation. The Lord is the living God, “consubstantial with the Father” in the Holy Spirit. As such he is the fulness of revelation and the aim of human faith.

To the later Romans the Egyptian obelisks took on a different meaning. They were removed to Rome and erected as monuments to the victories of the god-emperors. The obelisk which stands in the Vatican carries an echo of this meaning even to this day. It was first transported to Rome by the emperor Caligula and placed outside the great circus he had built on the site where St Peter’s Basilica now stands. When it was moved in the sixteenth century to its current position it was exorcised and blessed as monument to Christ’s victory over even the most influential secular powers.

Today’s Gospel may seem an odd choice for today’s feast; but it has two important messages for us as we consider the sovereignty of the Lord. Firstly, it reminds us that Christ’s kingship extends far beyond what we can understand. His promise to the good thief that “today you will be with me in paradise,” is more than a promise of heaven. It shows the Lord’s authority to promise heaven. Anyone can say the words of a promise, but without the power to fulfil that promise, it remains only words. As Christians we take the Lord’s authority to fulfil his promise as an essential part of our faith – he is the Word made Flesh, Truth Incarnate; in the words of a hymn by Thomas Aquinas, “Truth himself speaks truly, else there’s nothing true.” Christ’s authority then, extends not just to the miracles and wonders he worked in our world, but unto the end of time and beyond, to the paradise which awaits all the faithful.

Secondly, the crucifixion is given to us today as a reminder that all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to him precisely because of the Cross. Even as mankind committed deicide, the greatest of sins, he felt nothing but love, offered nothing but redemption. His is not the kingship of a tyrant, ruling by fear and oppression, but one of charity and benevolence. As Catholics we understand every mass as making present the sacrifice of the Cross; at each Eucharist the Lord comes to us as his Body and Blood. As we attend mass this Sunday and behold the elevated host and chalice, let us share in the prayer of the good thief, “Jesus, remember me;” and be assured that in his divine majesty, he will.