Ordinary Time 26 - Leave It All On The Field

 

Homily for Ordinary Time 26

October 1, 2023

Kenosis

 

            Paul wrote his letter to the Philippians from prison, and appropriately so, since it contains some of the most treasonous and seditious words ever penned: Christos Kurios, Jesus Christ is Lord. Why is this treason? Because Kurios – Lord – was the title given to Caesar alone. In fact, after his death, the Roman Senate declared Julius Caesar to be “Dominus et Deus” – Lord and god. Caligula, who lived during Paul’s early ministry, insisted on being worshipped as a god and called Kurios by all. So to proclaim that Jesus Christ, a humble carpenter who was brutally executed, was truly Kurios, truly Dominus et Deus, would be nothing short of treason.

            But how different was Christ’s Lordship than the Roman Emperors! The emperors were constantly grasping, clinging to power. It was said of one of the ancient Roman leaders that “it was safer to be his pig than his son” since he often put his own sons to death in a vain attempt to hold on to all the power himself. Caligula himself smothered his own uncle so he could be emperor, and then would murder anyone he merely suspected of disloyalty. It was a desperate grasp for power and glory.

            But Paul says that “though He was in the form of God, He did not consider equality with God something to be grasped at.” Instead, as Dominus et Deus – Lord and God – Jesus did something quite surprising – He emptied Himself, and took the form of a slave.

            There is a word in Greek that captures this perfectly – Kenosis. Kenosis means self-emptying, pouring-out, humbling oneself, abasing oneself to the lowest place. This is the radical mystery of the Incarnation – that God would leave behind all the glory, all the perfection of His Heavenly Throne, to purposely choose to subject Himself to pain and cold and rejection when it was completely avoidable. He emptied Himself freely – for us and for our salvation.

            We lose a sense of this in our comfortable, egalitarian society, but imagine for a moment that you were living back in the first century. A king could enjoy a warm castle, sufficient food, fine clothes and a nice bed, adoring crowds, security, and the ability to do whatever he wanted. Imagine, then, that this king desired to dwell among his peasants. This meant leaving behind the food, warmth, comfort, security, and walking out into a world where dirt and disease, filth and discomfort would be the everyday lot of the common people.

            Even consider the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem – we tend to romanticize it, but it was probably pretty rough. It smelled awful, like sweaty animals and dung. Jesus was likely shivering in the cold, and I don’t know if you’ve ever slept in straw, but it is profoundly uncomfortable and ridden with bugs and filth. They probably rarely had enough to eat, and the Holy Family – like all the poor in those days – knew hunger as their constant companion. They had to live in fear every day – fear of being robbed, kidnapped, or murdered by roving bands of marauders. He left His heavenly throne…for that? And yet He would go further, entering into the depths of utter abandonment upon the Cross, where He gave up His freedom to be nailed to a tree, He gave up his possessions as He was stripped of His garments, He gave up His self-respect as He was mocked and spat upon, He gave up even His very life as He breathed His last.

            As we declare in the Easter Vigil, “To ransom a slave, You gave away Your Son.” This Kenosis was for us, to lift us out of our spiritual poverty and welcomed us into the Heavenly Mansion prepared for those who love Him. It was a loving condescension, not just to make us feel better about being poor fallen human beings, but to lift us up so that we might participate in His Divine Life in everlasting joy!

            Okay, that is all very beautiful, but how does it apply to us? Two ways – first, we owe Him an incredible debt of thanksgiving for such Kenosis, such self-emptying. Our entire lives must really be about thanksgiving. Ultimately that’s why we celebrate the Eucharist – which means “thanksgiving” – to give worship and thanks for Christ’s total gift of self. Jesus’ earthly life was His descent into our misery; the Eucharist is our ascent to His glory.

            Second, He has given us an example to imitate. As John Paul II said, “Christ reveals man to himself” – He is the exemplar and archetype of the human race. Just as Christ’s life was one of not-grasping but pouring-out, so we must practice that same kind of kenosis for Him and for our neighbor.

            I am reminded of the beautiful example of the Catholic monks in Algeria, in the Monastery of Our Lady of Atlas. Built in the 1940s, this monastery began in rather hostile Muslim territory. But the monks soon won over the people by providing education, food, and medical care to the local peasant population. In 1996, civil war struck Algeria, and on several occasion the monks were threatened by radical Islamic terrorists. They were told to leave – and even the head of their religious community back in France urged them to travel to safety. And they debated back and forth about whether or not to abandon their mission, but in the end the monks knew that their lives were meant to be poured out as a living sacrifice for the poor Muslims of Algeria. Resolutely, they stayed and continued providing essential services to the poor.

            One night, the terrorists broke into the monastery and captured seven of the monks and marched them into the desert, where they gave them one last chance to recant their faith in God. But the monks knew they had poured out their lives for the people – now they had a chance to pour out their lives for God. They stayed steadfast in their Faith and were martyred. Pope Francis made them a “blessed” (one step away from sainthood) in 2018.

            In sports, coaches will often say, “Leave it all out on the field” – meaning, give 100% to every play. That, perhaps, is a modern adaptation of kenosis – pour oneself out for the mission. In our case, the mission is for Jesus Christ and for our sanctification and the sanctification of the world. Where are we not bringing 100% to that mission? Are we praying 100%, sacrificing 100%, doing whatever is necessary to avoid sin and practice virtue? If Christos Kurios, if Jesus Christ is Lord, then He is worth pouring it all out for, because the more we pour out for Him, the more He lifts us up to share in His everlasting glory.