Pilate is
facing a paradox today. Before him stands the King of Glory, the King of the
Universe, Jesus Christ—but where is
the glory? Pilate only sees a man, the “King of the Jews.” Yet, Jesus tells him
that His kingdom is “not of this world.” That strikes me: didn’t Jesus tell us His kingdom is “at hand.” How is it “at hand” and yet “not
of this world”? I find myself, like Pilate, scratching my head, wondering who
this is in front of me.
The
solution to the paradox requires a greater sight than the power my eyes possess.
There is something beyond the visible going on here. On one level, I can recall
beyond my mere power of sight that Jesus has done many glorious things while He
walked on earth: so many miracles: walking on water, feeding the multitudes,
healing the impossibly infirm, raising the dead, teaching with deep wisdom,
acting with great dignity and patience. So many glimpses of glory He gave to
us: the sky being torn open at His baptism; the manifestation of His glory at
the Transfiguration; His Resurrection from the dead and walking among us,
glorified; His ascension; His promise to return in glory. Why do I not remember
these when I am faced with a humble Jesus—a Jesus whose noble kingship is
presently being questioned by Pilate?
John in his Book of Revelation
tells us that “every eye will see him, even
those who pierced him.” This is a promise and a warning to us: we must
remember Jesus’ glory and we must look to it. We must look beyond the mere
things of this world and remember and anticipate the glory of the “one who is,
who was, and who is to come”—the one who Daniel “saw… coming, on the clouds of
heaven.”
Pilate could not see. Perhaps he
was blinded by a lack of faith. Perhaps he was blinded by his own desire for
power. Perhaps he was worried about having a king greater than the earthly one
to which he had sworn his life. Perhaps Pilate was anxious about the change
that this King, Jesus, would require if He were to rule in his life. Whatever
it was, Pilate had to look beyond the kingdom of this world, to look to
something “not of this world,” for if there was a lesson that Pilate needed to
learn in that moment, I think, it was that the
world is not enough.
You may
have heard of the name Ian Fleming. He is the author of the James Bond books
which have been created into the movies of which many of us know. Ian Fleming,
when he was a boy, attended a boarding school in England in the 19-teens. Down the
road from the boarding school was a large mansion, built during the Elizabethan
era of England—in the mid-1500s, a time when Catholics were being persecuted in
that country. The persecutions were so bad that many Catholic families found
themselves having to smuggle in priests to have Holy Mass said in their homes.
Some families even altered their homes and built priest hideaways in the floors
or in the walls so that, when the police came looking for the priest, the
priest could escape and the family would avoid persecution. This mansion down
the road from Ian Fleming’s boarding school was built during that time and he
found it very interesting. How do I know this?
Well, the
name of the family that owned the house was the Bond Family. In fact, the creators of
the new Bond film have taken this detail from Ian Fleming’s life and have
incorporated it into the new film—but you’ll have to see the film to see how
they do that.
What
strikes me is this: the Bond family lived during a time when Jesus Christ, the
King of Glory... when His Kingdom appeared meek and humble. When… like Jesus
before Pilate today, the glory was not evident. There was skepticism, doubt, arrests, questioning, mistrust, persecution. The Bond family, however—they
had everything. A large home with everything in it. Yet they lived in a time of
upheaval and uncertainty. If there was a time when a people would recognize that the world was not enough, it would have seemed to have been during that time. And the Bonds, you would think, would have learned that lesson well.
But did they? Every noble family in England would have had a family
crest, with emblems and imagery, telling the family history and story, showing
to others what was important to the family. Below the crest would have been a
Latin motto. The Bond Family had a crest and it had a Latin motto. You might be interested in what is said. It read: “Orbis Non Sufficit.” Translation: The World
Is Not Enough.
I believe
the Bond family figured out during that age of persecution that, no matter how
much a person has or owns, no matter how much power or fame a person possesses,
it will never be enough. It can be taken away in a heartbeat. And what is left?
Before
Jesus died, He beckoned us to pray. And He gave us the best prayer of all: The
Our Father. There is a great line in that prayer. We pray: Adveniat Regnum
Tuum: “Thy Kingdom Come.” What a great prayer for us who are suffering, who are
looking for The More. What a great prayer for us who are comfortable, to remind
us that all is passing away. What a great prayer for us all, to exhort us to
look forward to the glory that is present now but hidden, to be revealed soon.
Adveniat… Advent… waiting for His Coming.
I will
admit: it is tough to live in this “in-between time”—the time in-between Jesus’
glorious Ascension and His coming again in glory at the end of time, when “thy
kingdom come.” But Jesus’ Kingdom is
“at hand”! We, like Pilate, are faced with the paradox of a glorious God-King
presented as a humble, meek, and lowly servant Jesus, “having become a slave.”
In this Eucharist, Jesus is just as humble, just as lowly. But just as present!
We have reminders to alert us that there is a King here: the gold vestments,
the beautiful candlestands, the altar, the music, the prayers, the testimony of the Word of God, the witness of the martyrs and saints who have come before us and worshipped.
Like
Pilate, we are being presented the King, humble. It is here that I realize the
next line of the Our Father. It says, “Thy Will Be Done.” This is the tougher
of the two lines in that prayer. It is easy to ask God to bring His glory. It
is tougher to say to God: I’ll be a servant for your glory. Your Will Be Done.
Because that means that we aren’t the king.
Pilate
could not accept this. He would not give his allegiance. He would not serve.
But Pilate is missing out. In
refusing to serve Jesus, Pilate ironically becomes a slave to the world—a world
that is passing away. Pilate misses out on being a prince in the Kingdom of God
And what a
calling! To be dignified: to not get caught up in the muck of the world, to not be entranced by the long lines purchasing a fleeting world on Black Whatever-Day. What a calling! to hold ourselves up with confidence, walking in the
grace of Christ the King, being able to hold our heads up even while all the world around us falls down. My friends, “Be of good cheer” for Christ Our King has “overcome the
world”!
St.
Ignatius Loyola, a great saint in the Church, was once a soldier for a king.
Ignatius one day learned that the world is not enough and that there is a
greater king, a king of glory who gives us a great inheritance worthy of giving our life for it. When Ignatius
discovered this humble King, he realized that he had to do everything “for the
greater glory of God.” And so he penned a beautiful prayer, offering this King, Jesus, his allegiance and love. I will leave you with his prayer.
Take, Lord, and receive all my
liberty,
my memory, my understanding
and my entire will,
All I have and call my own.
You have given all to me.
To you, Lord, I return it.
Everything is yours; do with it what you will.
Give me only your love and your grace.
That is enough for me.
my memory, my understanding
and my entire will,
All I have and call my own.
You have given all to me.
To you, Lord, I return it.
Everything is yours; do with it what you will.
Give me only your love and your grace.
That is enough for me.
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