Exploring the depth of our prayers
Today is the culmination of our Church Year, the feast of Christ the King.
It doesn’t seem that we relate much to monarchy in this country, so the concept of “King” seems distant, even quaint. It’s more like putting our Lord up on a pedestal of glory and honor.
Which is fine, I suppose, but it doesn’t really grab me. It might even cause me to distance myself from Christ.
I’ve realized that many of our prayers are asking God for something. Or Mary, or Jesus, or Joseph, or St. Michael the Archangel.
But here we have this unique celebration to … just say thank you. Not to ask for more. Or to have God fix things for us.
I need to switch that up!
We’re nudging up towards the end of the Church year – just a few weeks away!
Our readings today talk about the end times:
Many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake; some shall live forever, others shall be an everlasting horror and disgrace.
“But the wise shall shine brightly like the splendor of the firmament, and those who lead the many to justice shall be like the stars forever.”
— Daniel 12:2-3
Our sign of the cross seems like an imcomplete sentence: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
But WHAT exactly is in the name?
For me, the most powerful beginning to this sentence is: I strive to live my life in the name …
God is love.
And, as we read today, the two greatest commandments are to love God and to love others.
Sure, we would all like to be in a world where everyone’s all loving each other: supportive, generous, sharing. So if that’s what we all want, why is it that we haven’t created a world like that?
Yesterday was our celebration of all the saints, and today we’ve expanded it to All Souls.
It seems to be a uniquely Catholic tradition: spending a day considering ALL of humanity. Each and every one of us.
Even people who didn’t make it to heaven. Because we have to pray for everyone on The Journey, through all time and all space.
I get blown away by the concept of Communion of Saints. I’m connected to everyone, living or dead, past, present, or future.
Which is appropriate, as we’re all on the same journey, striving for communion with God.
Our Saints are those who have completed (or will complete) the journey. And I want to be there with them.
In today’s psalm, we sing:
The Lord has done great things for us; we are filled with joy!
It’s quite easy for me to lose my optimism and hope, but we have an advantage: We know that God’s goodness prevails in the end!
The hard thing about this is that my choices still matter, in saving my own soul and the souls around me. Although we are confident that God and the entire cohort of heaven will defeat Satan in the end, I don’t know that I will be one of that cohort.
When I was five years old, I went camping with my family and our cousins. We were close to a stream, so my uncle Fred placed a large stick on the bank with firm instructions not to cross it lest we fall in.
I was five, so I crossed the stick. And fell into the rushing water.
Obviously, I survived the incident, because my uncle was able to run down the valley and pull me out before I drowned.
Today’s second reading conveys a powerful image:
Brothers and sisters:
Indeed the word of God is living and effective,
sharper than any two-edged sword,
penetrating even between soul and spirit, joints and marrow,
and able to discern reflections and thoughts of the heart.
No creature is concealed from him,
but everything is naked and exposed to the eyes of him
to whom we must render an account.
As we near the end of our Church year, we’re looking more and more at the four final things: Death, Judgment, Heaven and Hell.