Do you know that name? He was a priest of the Society of Jesus, the Jesuits, who lived and ministered in Mexico at the beginning of the 20th century. At that time, the government had adopted a new constitution aimed at the secularization of the country, which imposed atheism as the official state doctrine, and which sought to break the power of the Church. Church property was seized, priests and nuns were imprisoned, and monasteries, convents, and schools were closed. A groundswell of resistance, peaceful at first but ultimately armed as well, plunged Mexico into a period of civil war, known as the “Cristero” conflict, which lasted for more than three years.
In the midst of the persecution, Fr. Miguel and other priests continued to minister to people in secret, celebrating Mass and bringing them the sacraments. Fr. Miguel was eventually falsely accused of being part of an assassination plot, and without trial or evidence, was executed in 1927. He was one of dozens of priests, and tens of thousands total, who lost their lives in the Cristero War. The reason that I mention Fr. Miguel’s story today is because of his very famous last words. As he faced the firing squad, he held out his arms in the shape of a crucifix and shouted, “¡Viva Cristo Rey!” – “Long live Christ the King!” Those words were something of a rallying cry for those who resisted the Mexican government’s persecution, but they are most often remembered now in association with Fr. Miguel, who was declared a martyr and a Blessed by John Paul II in 1988.
“¡Viva Cristo Rey!” “Long live Christ the King!” Those words are a reference to the feast we celebrate today. The Feast of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe had been instituted by Pope Pius XI just a few years before the Cristeros, as a reminder to Catholics to hold true to this essential message of our faith: that Jesus is King. By that, we don’t only mean he is king for us in a spiritual sense, or that he will be our king in heaven. We mean rather that he is King *now*, and that this world, and all that is in it, is part of his kingdom – most especially, we ourselves, all that we have and all that we are. We acknowledge him as sovereign of all; we submit ourselves to his reign and authority in all things. That kingdom is not yet fully manifest, but it is already present. As St. Paul says in our second reading, all other powers and authorities are being made subject to him, with death as the final enemy. The world awaits that final revelation of the Lord’s victory, but as Christians we declare now that he is King, living out that truth – and if necessary dying for it, as Fr. Miguel did.
Friends, we all know it has been a difficult year, and so many people are in need, including many of us. When we are the ones who hunger and thirst, who are ill or imprisoned, then it is a comfort to believe that Christ is our King, because we know that he will heal every sorrow and right every injustice, in the end. But that belief is also a challenge because to hope in him – to say “¡Viva Cristo Rey!”, “Long live Christ the King!” – means also that we are putting the challenge to ourselves to live out that belief now, to serve him now, especially his presence in those who are in need.
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| The martyrdom of Blessed Miguel Pro, SJ |
While we may nod our heads in agreement to all that, if we are honest with ourselves, I think we have to admit that we are pretty fickle in actually living it out. We may well *believe* Jesus is King, but too often we *live* differently. We say he is King, but we use our time and energy to prioritize other things – to pursue other goals that have little to nothing to do with him or, even worse, stand in direct conflict to him. We say he is King, but we make choices that acknowledge other authorities – often, our own, by compromising our consciences and rationalizing what we know is wrong. We say he is King, but we fall short in the daily habit of prayer that is our lifeline with him, and we allow ourselves to be distracted or delayed or detained completely from coming to Mass, where he is present above all. We say he is King, but we allow ourselves to get swept up by earthly movements and worldly figures, who promise us happiness in ways apart from him, or who prey upon our fears such that we grow to doubt his providence and care.
All of those things are important areas for growth in our relationship with the Lord. I certainly include myself in all of it! But the Gospel today reminds us that there is an even more important measure by which we can demonstrate our fidelity to Christ: by loving him in others. The passage is interesting insofar as neither of the two groups recognized who had been present before them; both have to ask, “Lord, when did we see you…?” If Jesus were to appear before us today, as hungry or naked or as a strange or imprisoned, we would, I hope, immediately do whatever we could to help him – whatever he needed, we would provide, because we recognize he is our King! The point of the Gospel today is that he *is* appearing before us, not in such a way that we see him, but in no less real of a sense. In those who are hungry, in the naked, the stranger, the imprisoned … in the homeless, the depressed, the single mother, the unborn, the addicted, the sorrowful, the penitent, in anyone else in need, Jesus himself is present. And the standard of our fidelity to Christ as King – the standard upon which he will judge us – is not in any lip service we might pay, or any good intentions we might have, but whether we actually help him: whether we feed him, clothe him, visit him, welcome him – truly him, as he is present in those who are in need. How we minister to him is left to us, to do in different ways – but we have to actually *do* so, or else he will hold us accountable.
All of those things are important areas for growth in our relationship with the Lord. I certainly include myself in all of it! But the Gospel today reminds us that there is an even more important measure by which we can demonstrate our fidelity to Christ: by loving him in others. The passage is interesting insofar as neither of the two groups recognized who had been present before them; both have to ask, “Lord, when did we see you…?” If Jesus were to appear before us today, as hungry or naked or as a strange or imprisoned, we would, I hope, immediately do whatever we could to help him – whatever he needed, we would provide, because we recognize he is our King! The point of the Gospel today is that he *is* appearing before us, not in such a way that we see him, but in no less real of a sense. In those who are hungry, in the naked, the stranger, the imprisoned … in the homeless, the depressed, the single mother, the unborn, the addicted, the sorrowful, the penitent, in anyone else in need, Jesus himself is present. And the standard of our fidelity to Christ as King – the standard upon which he will judge us – is not in any lip service we might pay, or any good intentions we might have, but whether we actually help him: whether we feed him, clothe him, visit him, welcome him – truly him, as he is present in those who are in need. How we minister to him is left to us, to do in different ways – but we have to actually *do* so, or else he will hold us accountable.
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| The Last Judgment mosaic (6th cent.), Basilica of Sant'Apollinare Nuovo, Ravenna |
Friends, we all know it has been a difficult year, and so many people are in need, including many of us. When we are the ones who hunger and thirst, who are ill or imprisoned, then it is a comfort to believe that Christ is our King, because we know that he will heal every sorrow and right every injustice, in the end. But that belief is also a challenge because to hope in him – to say “¡Viva Cristo Rey!”, “Long live Christ the King!” – means also that we are putting the challenge to ourselves to live out that belief now, to serve him now, especially his presence in those who are in need.
May the Presence of Christ in the Eucharist that we will celebrate open our eyes and open our hearts to serving him in the least among us.
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