Father Thomas Welbers' Homily

It certainly isn’t what you would expect of a king, is it? Or a president? Or a person of great influence and authority?

The one we celebrate is hanging from a cross, not sitting on a throne, or in an elegant office. He is writhing in pain, not waving to his subjects or citizens. He is mocked by the crowds, not receiving their acclaim. He is crowned with thorns, not with gold. He is surrounded by men of violence, not advisors and servants.

Indeed, Christ the crucified King, isn’t our idea of a king or a great leader. But he is God’s idea of a king, and we would do well to pay attention to what is being said here, more by action and example than by words.

God is not controlled by our understanding of things, but rather, God sets the standards by which we are to understand things.

Where we think of majesty, God thinks of mercy. It is not from a throne or an elegant desk that God grants favors, but from the wood of the cross, that he grants the requests of any who ask with understanding and confidence, even a certainly guilty criminal who simply recognizes his need for mercy.

Where we think of pomp and elegance, God thinks of poverty, willing to be stripped bare except for maybe a loincloth, so that all who are willing to see their own poverty may be welcomed into the richness of divine mercy.

Where we think of power, God thinks of love, a love so great that God becomes one with us, a love that shows itself in willingly bearing the sins of all people, passing through death to life, so that we may follow.

And yet, when Christ our king appeared to be anything but victorious, suffering the most agonizing defeat imaginable, he accomplished for us, his sisters and brothers, what we could never have dreamed of, becoming sons and daughters of the living God.

When we are racked with pain, betrayed by those we love, misunderstood by those we have helped, we tend to withdraw into ourselves and wallow in self pity.

Yet Christ our king, with rough iron spikes driven into his wrists and feet, tormented not only physically, but also by the abandonment by his closest followers and the mockery of the bystanders – Christ our King, reaches out to receive the last prayer of a criminal who saw a love greater than his sins.

Today we honor Christ with hymns of praise, not to cover over the agony of the cross or to avoid having to reflect upon it, but rather, because we seek to begin to see as God sees. We rejoice that we have a God-King who understands things differently than we do. We rejoice because everything this King sees and does differently is to our benefit: reconciliation and adoption into God’s family.

The greatest honor we can bestow upon this king is not in our hymns, our prayers, and even our liturgy; these are only starting points. The best gift we can offer the Lord is to imitate his example, to try to see with the same compassion as he sees, to think with the same understanding as he thinks, to act with the same self-giving love as he acts; for imitation surely is the highest form of praise.

© 2004 Thomas Welbers