Maybe these issues are ones that speak to you, or maybe not. But all of us see things in the world that we think are wrong or broken or harmful, and for the sake of ourselves, the sake of our children, the sake of society, we want to make them right. As Christians, this takes on a special significance: seeking to make our world more a reflection of the kingdom of God. We’re not just altruistic we see striving for peace and justice as what Jesus commanded us to do.
Edward Armitage, Christ Calling the Apostles James and John (1869)
In light of all of this, what we hear St. Paul say in our second reading likely strikes us as very strange: “I tell you, brothers and sisters, the time is running out… The world in its present form is passing away.” Paul’s words are in response to a letter the Christian community in Corinth had sent to him. Living in a major cosmopolitan city, surrounded no doubt by all kinds of immorality and social injustices, they wrote to Paul to ask him how they should live as disciples of Jesus. Paul answers many of their questions: how to remain united as a community, how to resolve internal disputes, whether to marry or to remain single, etc. But he also reveals for them this amazing, startling conclusion: that this reality is passing away.
Nowadays, if you start talking as Paul did – about a world to come, a life beyond this one, a reality that is not yet fully present – people tend to have one of two reactions: either their eyes glaze over and they tune you out, or they think immediately about heaven. Paul, however, wasn’t talking about heaven, at least not as we typically think of it. For a person steeped in the Jewish tradition, as Paul was, the kingdom of God was not something that was going to happen someday, in another dimension; rather it would be ushered in here, on this earth, when God would reveal to the whole world his saving power and remake it in his image. For Paul, everything that he understands about God and the world flows from his experience of encountering the Risen Christ, of seeing the man Jesus, who had been tortured and crucified as a criminal, visibly alive again, risen in power and glory.
For two thousand years, our Christian tradition has always held in tension two ideas that seem contradictory: we must work urgently for justice and peace, and yet we await a kingdom not of this world. You can gain a lot of traction by being a Christian these days who talks about the need for more justice, a better peace, a deeper regard for human dignity, and a more meaningful, purpose-filled life for all. Those words will get you somewhere because anyone can appreciate them; they have a built-in rationale that doe not challenge us beyond the here and now. The problem is that we can sometimes lose sight of the second idea, which is really the more important one: that the Risen Jesus will return to establish his reign over all things, vanquishing every foe and judging each of us by what we have done in his name.
What Paul encouraged the Christians in Corinth to understand – and what I think we are called to understand in this moment as well – is that our efforts for peace and justice, as critically important as they are, must be rooted in a more foundational reality: that our hope lies not ultimately in our own efforts but in what the Lord is doing and will do at his return. This is especially important to remember when our efforts seem to be futile, when progress seems to stall, when we are tempted to become discouraged or anxious or afraid. It is precisely then that we should remember that this world is passing away, and while we struggle to do good here and now, our efforts will remain incomplete. Some might call this romanticism or idealism: that by placing our hopes in a reality beyond this one, we are not as committed to working hard to make this world better. But the Christian understanding of the world has always been that what we labor for is not a perfect world as we would make it but the kingdom of God.
So what does that mean, in the here and now? First, we as Christians must always be asking ourselves, “By what lens am I viewing the world? Whose kingdom am I striving for?” We naturally feel attraction to certain causes and commitment to certain issues, but we need to always see if these are in accord with our Christian faith. There are a lot of voices out there that are seeking to shape our worldview but whose social and cultural and political platforms are not always consistent with our Christian identity. We have to look to what our Church teaches and to our own conscience to examine whom we are allowing to truly influence our worldview.
Second, we can’t grow complacent, by thinking that either the world is too broken to struggle for, or that we are too helpless to make a difference. We are called to work for peace and justice, but always bearing in mind what is most important. Recently, I read an article that analyzed the connections between an individual’s social consciousness and happiness. What it found was that, in general, the more committed and invested an individual was in a particular social cause, the more likely they were to identify with feelings of isolation, alienation, frustration, anxiety, even despair. Honestly, I can’t help but think that those feelings are the result of us rooting our hopes in the wrong thing: the idea that justice comes from our own efforts. When our efforts then are unsuccessful, the bottom falls out, and we lose all hope. Such should never be the case for a Christian. As daunted as we might feel at times, we never lose hope, because the Resurrection is our fundamental reality that undergirds everything we strive for. Jesus has already won the definitive battle over evil, and thus we await with joy and hope the full manifestation of his victory. In the meantime, no discouragement or defeat will change the end result.
In the Gospel today, Jesus calls his first disciples and announces the kingdom of God is at hand. There’s no doubt that we are in "a moment," as some have phrased it, in our country. But whether it’s in Hollywood, or Wall Street, or Washington, we are not going to solve all of our problems by slogans and marches, as important as those might be. We will not be able to create a better world because we strive hard enough; this world is passing away. Instead, as St. Paul encourages us, we must look at every moment, every occasion, every relationship as one defined by our discipleship. The disciples could have said, “Let me go fix this problem first, Jesus, and then I will be your disciple.” But ultimately, Jesus calls them to give it all up, as he does us – to leave behind what is familiar and comfortable, and even to let go of things that are important and part of our identity, in order to discover a new and truer identity in him. God does not ask us to right every wrong. He doesn’t measure us by our accomplishments, but rather by our faithfulness, our hope, our conversion.
As we prepare to celebrate to share in the Eucharistic sacrifice, let us remember that the work of praise we render to God in this Mass is more powerful and effective than anything else we do in the name of what is good. Strengthened by the One whom we receive, the Risen Christ, the One who has vanquished darkness and death, may we be renewed in faith and hope, to keep following him faithfully each day and to await with hope and joy his return.
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