HOLY MASS FOR THE CLOSING OF THE JUBILEE OF MERCY
PAPAL MASS
HOMILY OF
HIS HOLINESS POPE FRANCIS
Solemnity of
Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe
St Peter's Square
Sunday, 20 November 2016
St Peter's Square
Sunday, 20 November 2016
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| PHOTO: religionnesw.com |
The Solemnity of Our Lord
Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, is the crown of the liturgical year and
this Holy Year of Mercy. The Gospel in fact presents the kingship of Jesus as
the culmination of his saving work, and it does so in a surprising way. “The
Christ of God, the Chosen One, the King” (Lk 23:35,37) appears
without power or glory: he is on the cross, where he seems more to be conquered
than conqueror. His kingship is paradoxical: his throne is the cross; his crown
is made of thorns; he has no sceptre, but a reed is put into his hand; he does
not have luxurious clothing, but is stripped of his tunic; he wears no shiny
rings on his fingers, but his hands are pierced with nails; he has no treasure,
but is sold for thirty pieces of silver.
Jesus’ reign is truly not of
this world (cf. Jn 18:36); but for this reason, Saint Paul
tells us in the Second Reading, we find redemption and forgiveness (cf. Col 1:13-14).
For the grandeur of his kingdom is not power as defined by this world, but the
love of God, a love capable of encountering and healing all things. Christ
lowered himself to us out of this love, he lived our human misery, he suffered
the lowest point of our human condition: injustice, betrayal, abandonment; he
experienced death, the tomb, hell. And so our King went to the ends of the
universe in order to embrace and save every living being. He did not condemn
us, nor did he conquer us, and he never disregarded our freedom, but he paved
the way with a humble love that forgives all things, hopes all things, sustains
all things (cf. 1 Cor 13:7). This love alone overcame and
continues to overcome our worst enemies: sin, death, fear.
Dear brothers and sisters,
today we proclaim this singular victory, by which Jesus became the King of
every age, the Lord of history: with the sole power of love, which is the
nature of God, his very life, and which has no end (cf. 1 Cor 13:8).
We joyfully share the splendour of having Jesus as our King: his rule of love
transforms sin into grace, death into resurrection, fear into trust.
It would mean very little,
however, if we believed Jesus was King of the universe, but did not make him
Lord of our lives: all this is empty if we do not personally accept Jesus and
if we do not also accept his way of being King. The people presented to us in
today’s Gospel, however, help us. In addition to Jesus, three figures appear:
the people who are looking on, those near the cross, and the criminal crucified
next to Jesus.
First, the people: the Gospel
says that “the people stood by, watching” (Lk 23:35): no one says a
word, no one draws any closer. The people keep their distance, just to see what
is happening. They are the same people who were pressing in on Jesus when they
needed something, and who now keep their distance. Given the circumstances of
our lives and our unfulfilled expectations, we too can be tempted to keep our
distance from Jesus’ kingship, to not accept completely the scandal of his
humble love, which unsettles and disturbs us. We prefer to remain at the
window, to stand apart, rather than draw near and be with him. A people who are
holy, however, who have Jesus as their King, are called to follow his way of
tangible love; they are called to ask themselves, each one each day: “What does
love ask of me, where is it urging me to go? What answer am I giving Jesus with
my life?”
There is a second group, which
includes various individuals: the leaders of the people, the soldiers and a
criminal. They all mock Jesus. They provoke him in the same way: “Save
yourself!” (Lk 23:35,37,39). This temptation is worse than that of
the people. They tempt Jesus, just as the devil did at the beginning of the
Gospel (cf. Lk 4:1-13), to give up reigning as God wills, and
instead to reign according to the world’s ways: to come down from the cross and
destroy his enemies! If he is God, let him show his power and superiority! This
temptation is a direct attack on love: “save yourself” (vv. 37,39);
not others, but yourself. Claim triumph for yourself with your power, with your
glory, with your victory. It is the most terrible temptation, the first and the
last of the Gospel. When confronted with this attack on his very way of being, Jesus
does not speak, he does not react. He does not defend himself, he does not try
to convince them, he does not mount a defence of his kingship. He continues
rather to love; he forgives, he lives this moment of trial according to the
Father’s will, certain that love will bear fruit.
In order to receive the
kingship of Jesus, we are called to struggle against this temptation, called to
fix our gaze on the Crucified One, to become ever more faithful to him. How
many times, even among ourselves, do we seek out the comforts and certainties
offered by the world. How many times are we tempted to come down from the
Cross. The lure of power and success seem an easy, quick way to spread the
Gospel; we soon forget how the Kingdom of God works. This
Year of Mercy invites us to rediscover the core, to return to what is
essential. This time of mercy calls us to look to the true face of our King,
the one that shines out at Easter, and to rediscover the youthful, beautiful
face of the Church, the face that is radiant when it is welcoming, free,
faithful, poor in means but rich in love, on mission. Mercy, which takes us to
the heart of the Gospel, urges us to give up habits and practices which may be
obstacles to serving the Kingdom of God; mercy urges us to orient ourselves
only in the perennial and humble kingship of Jesus, not in submission to the
precarious regalities and changing powers of every age.
In the Gospel another person
appears, closer to Jesus, the thief who begs him: “Jesus, remember me when you
come into your kingdom” (v. 42). This person, simply looking at Jesus, believed
in his kingdom. He was not closed in on himself, but rather – with his errors,
his sins and his troubles – he turned to Jesus. He asked to be remembered, and
he experienced God’s mercy: “Today you will be with me in paradise” (v. 43). As
soon as we give God the chance, he remembers us. He is ready to completely and
forever cancel our sin, because his memory – unlike our own – does not record
evil that has been done or keep score of injustices experienced. God has no
memory of sin, but only of us, of each of us, we who are his beloved children.
And he believes that it is always possible to start anew, to raise ourselves
up.
Let us also ask for the gift
of this open and living memory. Let us ask for the grace of never closing the
doors of reconciliation and pardon, but rather of knowing how to go beyond evil
and differences, opening every possible pathway of hope. As God believes in us,
infinitely beyond any merits we have, so too we are called to instil hope and
provide opportunities to others. Because even if the Holy Door closes, the true
door of mercy which is the heart of Christ always remains open wide for us.
From the lacerated side of the Risen One until the very end of time flow mercy,
consolation and hope.
So many pilgrims have crossed
the threshold of the Holy Doors, and far away from the clamour of the daily
news they have tasted the great goodness of the Lord. We give thanks for this,
as we recall how we have received mercy in order to be merciful, in order that
we too may become instruments of mercy. Let us go forward on this road
together. May our Blessed Lady accompany us, she who was also close to the
Cross, she who gave birth to us there as the tender Mother of the Church, who
desires to gather all under her mantle. Beneath the Cross, she saw the good
thief receive pardon, and she took Jesus’ disciple as her son. She is Mother of
Mercy, to whom we entrust ourselves: every situation we are in, every prayer we
make, when lifted up to his merciful eyes, will find an answer.
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