Christ the King - Homily 2

Homily 2 - 2010

I believe that words like almighty, omnipotent, all-powerful, when applied to God or Jesus, are not helpful, and can even be quite misleading – though the problem may lie in how we understand them, particularly, if we haven’t paused much to think about them. We have to be careful with any words we use about God. God completely escapes our grasp. We are on safer ground when we say what God is not than what God is. Of course, unless we say nothing,we can’t help having a go at saying some things about God – but, in the back of our heads, we need to be clear that we don’t really know what we are talking about.

Take the word love, for example. We struggle to learn even what human love can be – it’s a life-long task. Children, adolescents and mature adults might all use the same word, but it means something quite different for each of them. Maturing means discovering that love is not what we used to think it was. Divine love is not just the most mature human love multiplied by infinity. It’s qualitatively different.

What about power, then (since this is the Feast of Christ the King)? Perhaps the best we can do is discover what it’s not. As we spontaneously think of it, we usually see power as the possibility to impose, to control, perhaps, even, to restrict people’s freedoms. The possibility to do that comes, not from who people are, but from what they’ve got – strength or military arms or numbers of supporters (or voters) or legislation or wealth or whatever. But that sort of power is a negative thing – it limits. It doesn’t create; it doesn’t enable growth or set free.

Real power would be a positive thing. Real power would enable and enhance growth, create, set free, give life. When you think about it, that is what true love would do, too. In fact, only love can give life, enable and enhance growth, set free, create. That might be a better way to approach God’s power. In that case, there would be no difference between all mighty and all loving. They would be the same thing.

But that sets up a bit of a paradox. Love at its best is unconditional, and consistent – it never draws back. It also leaves the beloved free. So love at its best is also, from the negative point of view, powerless. It is vulnerable. We might say that true power is also powerless. True power is vulnerable.

Isn’t that the kind of power exhibited by Jesus? Look at today’s Gospel: Jesus – vulnerable, victim (and deliberately determined not to run away from being victimised and tortured and mocked) – but consistently, insistently, loving – no violence, no vindictiveness, simply forgiveness.

Is it power? Does it give life? Can it bring out the best in people, energise them, set them free? I can answer that. So can you. That is why we are here today.

Yet, even Jesus’ love, Jesus’ radical power, for all its truth, for all its maturity, is human. Divine love, divine power, is not less – but what they are essentially is totally beyond our imagining. We approach God always in wonder and in profound silence.