We live in a culture which is saturated with hero worship. Whether an athlete, movie star or a comic book character come to life in a film, the list of potential men and women to adore is a lengthy one. In a post a few years ago, I wrote,
We have all spent time doing it: Looking for heroes in all the wrong places. Our movies and music reflect and sometimes magnify that desire to find someone who is an authentic hero. While watching Wonder Woman, we love imagining a woman with extraordinary physical and mental abilities. Maybe even a little identification with her. But when the movie ends and we return to the real world, the illusion and our search for heroines ceases.
No, of course it does not end, we are all searching for something- even if it is something we cannot name…yet.
I recall a brief meditation written for this day in Magnificat The priest author wrote of a friend who suggested a change that should be made in the name of today’s feast day. The reasoning of the friend was logical: Fundamental to much of the western world and some of the emerging democrat countries in the eastern world is the notion of the right to decide who leads the nations. Perhaps, argued the friend, more Catholics could truly understand this day and why we place it in the Christian liturgy at the end of ordinary time, to signal the coming of Advent; if the day were called Feast of Christ the President or Feast of Christ our Leader, argued the friend, perhaps more people could grasp the import of the role of Jesus in our lives.
But it isn’t about a name or word change, is it? Instead, it is about that most mysterious of all life experiences: conversion. For some of us almost as dramatic as St. Paul’s fall from his horse.
“Lin, every day is your favorite feast day- you say that about all of them, ” replied my husband. And I laugh because he is right, I do say that about each one of them.
Converts like me don’t apply our logical, rational minds that have been so successful in guiding us through our many degrees and granting us positions of authority in institutions to our faith; we come here, to Him, on our knees, in relief. We know where our intellects and reason have brought us. We know where the vicissitudes of our worldly desires and ambitions led. Firsthand, we have experienced the consequences of reliance on opinion, democratic or not; informed, or not.
I smile as I quote the words of the man who has become another dear friend over this last year of writing My Name is Saul. A man I once vastly misunderstood: St. Paul.
For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet.
The last enemy to be destroyed is death.
When everything is subjected to him,
then the Son himself will also be subjected
to the one who subjected everything to him,
so that God may be all in all.
VIVA CHRISTA REY!
In the immortal words of Blessed Miguel Pro, long live Christ the King!