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Celebrating the King on Calvary The Feast of Christ the King stands in stark opposition to two contemporary trends in some Christian circles and many socio-political thinkers. The first trend is the rejection of honorific titles like “king” or “lord.” The second is the proposal that Christ is not pre-eminent as a revelation of God (… “image of the invisible God,” as our Second Reading points out), but merely one among many equal sources of truth and leadership.

As we reach the end of the liturgical year (next week will be the last Sunday in the liturgical calendar when we will celebrate the Feast of Christ the King, and the following Sunday 27 November, will be the First Sunday in Advent) and as we conclude the Lukan account of the public ministry of Jesus, the Word of God today speaks to us about “the end”.  Living through very difficult times of political unrest and wars raging round the globe and listening to this horrific description of events such as destruction, wars, revolutions, fights, earthquakes, plagues, famines, and fearful sights in the Scriptures, we might forget to hear the real words of Jesus: “Do not be afraid… but the end is not so soon” (Lk 21:9).

The inspiring story of Eric Little was made famous in the movie “Chariots of Fire.” It is the chronicle of a young athlete who preferred to honor the Lord than to be honored by the Olympics. He would eventually lose his life as a missionary in China. Early in the movie, there is a scene as crowds gather around the victorious Eric Little after winning an important race. He takes this moment not only to speak but also to preach. This is what he says: “You came to see a race today ... to see someone win. But I want you to do more than just watch a race. I want you to take part in it. Faith is like running a race. It’s hard and requires concentration of will and energy of soul. …And where does the power come from to see the race to its completion. It comes from within. Jesus says: Behold the kingdom of God is within you. If you commit yourself to the love of God.... that is how you run a great race.”

We have a saying about people who take risks. We say, “They’ve gone out on a limb.” Zacchaeus literally went out on a limb, and it changed his life.         Why did Zacchaeus climb that tree? You expect children to do that, not adults. He had two reasons. First, it was the only way he could see Jesus over the heads of the crowd. He was short, and nobody made way for him because he was one of the most hated men in town. They despised him because he was a wealthy man who made a living working as a corrupt tax collector for the Romans. The second reason went much deeper. It wasn’t just curiosity that sent him up that tree. Despite being wealthy, he was an unhappy, lonely man, an outcast. He had heard that Jesus was friendly toward people like him, and he wanted to find out for himself.

FROM DEACON ROB Today’s readings give us two striking, unconventional images of God and of the power of prayer. In the first reading, Moses prays for his men in battle against the Amalekites, and as long as he keeps his arms raised to God, they are victorious. However, if his arms droop from weariness, God will let them lose. In the Gospel reading, Jesus compares God to a corrupt judge who’s being worn out by a widow who keeps after him for justice, and finally gives in just to get her off his back.

As you read this, I am miles away in India visiting my mother who turned 101 years old a month ago. Please say a prayer as she comes to the final lap of her life’s journey. You are all in my prayers. The Scripture readings of this weekend are a tapestry of life situations: pain, silence of God, faith, and courage. One of the persons who best exemplified courage in face of whirlwind of problems is our own New Yorker up for canonization, Dorothy Day. In her autobiography entitled ‘The Long Loneliness’ she writes, “We have all known the long loneliness and we have learned that the only solution is love and that love comes with community.”

“There was a rich man who dressed in purple garments and fine linen and dined sumptuously each day. And lying at his door was a poor man named Lazarus covered in sores, who would gladly have eaten his fill of the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table.” What’s wrong with this picture? The Gospel for the Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary time gives us an image of wealth disparities. A nameless rich man is juxtaposed to a poor man named Lazarus.

Today's Gospel sounds puzzling to contemporary readers, but it can be made less so by considering the economic system which stands behind the parable. The manager of the property said to himself, “Now that my master is taking the stewardship from me, what am I to do? Dig? I am not strong enough. Go begging? I would be too ashamed. Ah, I know what I will do to make sure that when I am dismissed from office there will be some to welcome me into their homes” (Lk 16: 3-4). Here then is the crux of the story of today: the manager could have very well asked the debtors to give him part of the debt. After all, the master seems to have no idea of the amount owed to him by his debtors. The manager could have made some good money out of it. But he plans to do something more lasting: to use the wealth to build something more lasting – friendships.

We lift up our Nation in prayer to God this weekend as we recall with a heavy heart the loss of life, the way of life and the disruption of peace caused by the tragedy of 9/11. Our world needs more than ever, the healing that can come only from God. In chapter 15 of Luke's Gospel, Jesus tells three parables about losing, finding, and rejoicing. The outcasts of society, the taxpayers, and the sinners approach Jesus eager to hear what he has to say. In Luke's Gospel, hearing is a sign of conversion. The Pharisees and scribes, still suspicious of Jesus, complain about him associating with sinners. So, he tells them these three parables.

      The Gospel readings these past Sundays have a theme running through them forming a trilogy. Two Sundays ago, the Lord told us to strive to enter the narrow door. Being narrow, it involves not only great effort and focus, but also bending down low. So, in last Sunday’s Gospel, Jesus taught us the absolute necessity of the virtue of humility through the parable of the dinner guest choosing the place of honor without deserving it. But one thing more is needed. The narrow gate will not allow us to bring in any extra baggage. So, this Sunday, the Lord tells us: “Every one of you who does not renounce all his possessions, cannot be my disciple” (Lk 14:33). And to make sure we are admitted, we must show the distinctive sign of membership, namely, the cross: “Whoever does not carry his own cross and follow after me cannot be my disciple.” (Lk 14:27). Our idea and the significance of the ‘cross’ has undergone a lot of changes. From being a sign of commitment to the mission, as Jesus did, to just being a decorative symbol or even a statement of profanity.

As summer is waning, we carry many memories of meal gatherings with family and friends. The sharing of food is one of the most common elements in the gospel of Luke. It progresses the narrative along and provides the setting for major teaching moments in the gospel. So let us reflect on today’s meal narrative through Jesus’ Mediterranean world lens. The meals were very powerful means of communication. Above all, meals affirmed and gave legitimacy to a person’s role, and it also carried a status symbol in a given community. For this reason, most meals in antiquity were attended by people of the same social rank much like the protocol of an exclusive club gathering of our time. Accepting an invitation to dinner in the ancient Mediterranean world obligated a guest to return the favor.

The 13th chapter of St. Luke’s Gospel recounts in parables the reversal of fortunes as the hallmark of the Kingdom of God. The first parable is about the tiny mustard seed that grows into a large tree and the second is about the small amount of yeast that makes a large batch of dough rise. We read the third parable in the Gospel today. The image of the ‘narrow gate/door’ is quite unique. Even in our day of expansive buildings and structures, we too, at times encounter small doors as we board small planes or go through security checks or get a whole-body scan. The last one in particular can be a scary experience but is a reminder of the precious nature of life.

The Reading for this 20th Sunday, could be jarring to our ears. If we feel so, then we must pay close attention to our call to be prophets. We who have been confirmed have been given a share in Christ’s prophetic anointing. If our goal is to be everybody’s ‘likeable fellow’, we are going to have a hard time being faithful. The word that God commands us to share is sometimes comforting, sometimes disturbing. We must get over our fear of offending people and love them enough to tell them the truth. Of course, there is always the question of the right place and time. But if no place is the right place and the right time never comes, we can be sure that we are allowing fear of other’s opinion to get in the way of love. Love is not about being sentimental or popular. It shakes things up and sets the world on fire.

Viktor Frankl, in his account of what he learned about human nature in a Nazi concentration camp, "Man’s Search for Meaning", notes that the people most likely to survive that ordeal were those who had something to look forward to—a loved one with whom they hoped one day to be reunited or an enterprise they hoped to accomplish. What we look forward to is so deeply a part of our personality that this mental and spiritual reality impacts our bodily health and vitality. The lack of something to look forward to results in a deterioration of energy and performance and may even shove us into the temptation to give up on life.

Ecclesiastes' wisdom comes from someone identified as “Qoheleth.” It’s not certain whether this is a personal name, some sort of pseudonym, or the title of an office. Judging from the meaning of the related verb, it would seem that the word means “convener” or “assembler”—thus the common English translations “Teacher” or “Preacher.” The book’s more common name, Ecclesiastes, is an approximate translation into Greek of the Hebrew name. The book comprises an extended reflective essay employing autobiographical narrative, proverbs, parables, and allegories.

The central theme of the Word of God on this 17th Sunday is prayer. The first reading, strange as it sounds to us, the book of Genesis tells this episode of Abraham bargaining with God. He kept haggling and badgering: “Are you really going to destroy the just man with the sinner?” Abraham’s prayer highlights a certain familiarity between Abraham and the Lord God. Abraham gives up the ‘bargain’ since he concludes the people earned their punishment by their wanton lifestyle. In the Gospel reading of today, Luke collects together some teachings of Jesus on prayer – including the prayer that Jesus gave us as the pattern of all prayers – the Our Father. Underpinning these readings is an invitation towards an attitude in prayer that goes beyond particular formulas and specific locations.

We have two famous hospitality stories from the Bible today. They are joined together to form a narrative though there are about one thousand eight hundred years between Jesus and Abraham. Abraham being a nomadic tribesman ends up at a certain place near present day Jerusalem at a location close to the desert called Mamre. At Mamre, there is a terebinth, which is a huge oak tree, and there he sets up his tent. Sitting outside his tent, he sees three travelers. He gets up and runs to them and he falls on his knees before them, which is an Asian sign of great reverence in the old days, and he says to them, “Would you do me the favor of staying here with me and I will give you water to wash your feet.”

The Good Samaritan or ‘Good-sam’ institutions around the globe have monumentalized the hero of Jesus’ story we read in today’s Gospel. Relations between the Jews and the Samaritans were always strained. Jesus ben Sirach (ca. 180 B.C.) referred to the Samaritans as "the foolish people that dwell in Shechem" (Sir 50:26). There is a tradition that 300 priests and 300 rabbis once gathered in the temple court in Jerusalem to curse the Samaritans with all the curses in the Law of Moses. When the Jews wanted to curse Jesus Christ, they called him demon-possessed and a Samaritan in one breath (John 8:48). To Jesus’ fellow Jews, a Samaritan was a despicable creature. Missing this note, we might miss much of the punch of the parable.

All three synoptic Gospels (Mathew, Mark and Luke) record a mission of the Twelve during Jesus’ earthly ministry. The mission of the Seventy (some texts have seventy-two) is peculiar to Luke. There can be little doubt that the number seventy is symbolic. The mission of the Twelve represents the Church’s mission to Israel (twelve tribes); and the mission of the Seventy, its mission to the nations of the world (which according to Jewish tradition, numbered seventy or seventy-two).

In the First Reading, Elisha is called by the Lord to be the helper and successor of the prophet Elijah. Elisha is a wealthy farmer with twelve yoked oxen. He is comparable to our mid-western farmer with a rototiller with immense power. He wants to go home and bid farewell to his family. Prophet Elijah reacts sternly. “Go back!” the prophet says to Elisha—and he seems to mean, “who wants you anyway?”