Vine & Fig

Honestly, who cares whether or not Jesus is king? 

It's a solemnity, today, sure. But Jesus certainly didn’t seem to have much interest in the role. A king has land, and as a traveling preacher/carpenter Jesus seemed rather uninterested in that. A king has an army to enforce his laws, and as a lifelong pacifist Jesus seemed quite opposed to the idea. Just ask Peter and that ear he lopped off. And Jesus was rather coy with Pilate when asked if he was king of at least the Jews, what with his whole, you say that I am business. Is there any reason to think Jesus even wants to be king?

It’s not even until his resurrection that he finally says, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” Which is a good bit more royal sounding, but he had to die and come back to life just to say that much. So what changed? Catholic tradition holds that Jesus descended to hell after his death to fulfill his mission as Messiah, to extend salvation to those from all times and all places. What happened down there that had Jesus coming back talking like a king? And does it have to do with us today?

One thing Jesus wasn’t afraid to talk about in his lifetime was the kingdom of God. He mentioned it fifty-six times in the Gospel of Matthew alone. Some Scripture scholars say that “the kingdom of God” may not be the best translation. A kingdom typically refers to a physical place, and that’s not quite what Jesus was talking about. Instead, they say “the reign of God” is better. It’s a bit more active, not easily tied down to a space with borders. Maybe that’s what he was getting at when he came back from the dead and royally decreed that “all authority on heaven and earth” had been given to him. His reign, so to speak, had begun. 

Let’s take a step back. 

Sometimes I wonder how much Jesus understood his own divinity. How could a person fully grasp that, just growing up a normal carpenter, no matter how holy? He seems to understand it more and more as his ministry progresses, as he sees his Father working greater miracles through him. It unfolds within him, slowly, deliberately.

But maybe it took going down to hell and seeing those souls, saving them, to really get it. Something changed when he got back, anyways. Perhaps changed is the wrong word. Something was fulfilled. Some recognizing the full needs of those he loved, glimpsing the reality of an afterlife without God, that helped him become fully who he was meant to be.

When I was a theology teacher at a Catholic high school I tried preparing a lesson on homosexuality (ahem, same-sex attraction), for my junior-level morality and social justice course. After all, I fully believed the Church could teach that folks like me had desires that were inherently disordered and that we had inherent dignity at the same time. If I could just lay out the full rationale of the Catechism and the Theology of the Body and maybe some Peter Kreeft or Fr. Neuhaus, they’d see. Even if they weren’t convinced all the way, at least they would have to see that the Church wasn’t homophobic right? That’s what I had always been told. That you could be against gay marriage and still love gay people. Right? They would have to see that.

All in all, I was a good teacher. A convincing one. With every lesson I could usually change a good number of minds. But not this time. The handful of my students who were already against same-sex marriages just continued agreeing. And the majority of students who didn’t, well they just disagreed even more by the time I was done. They were furious. Many were hurt. A year’s worth of trust was lost in almost a day. 

So the next year teaching I decided to try something else. I listened. I dropped my lesson on homosexuality. And if any student asked about what the Church taught, I just asked them what they thought and why. I started to see how much the Church’s official position was failing my students. Instead of trying to fit them into the only box I had been told they would fit in, I asked where they thought they fit.

The harm I was willing to accept for myself, it took seeing that pain in someone else for me to start rejecting it, if only for them. Even if I wasn’t ready to admit it about my own life, I saw how much my students were being hurt by Catholic Church teaching. And how they were able to intuit a better way where their humanity and the humanity of those they loved could thrive.

That seems to be a key feature of the reign of God. Jesus says it’s like seeds falling on fertile ground and yielding a magnificent crop where elsewhere the seeds whither and die or are choked out. It’s where things are rightly ordered, yes, but the proof of following the plan is how well they do. It’s the fig tree that produces good fruit. It’s the way God’s creation thrives.

One thing every queer person on earth must ask themselves is this question - how do they flourish? Is it faking their way through a heterosexual marriage? Is it trying to change their attractions through conversion therapy and prayer? Is it denying the gender they can sense in their soul in place for the one a doctor assigned them at birth? Is it hiding your bisexuality in shame and trying to fit in because if you disguise things enough, you can? Is it in a life of tortured celibacy though you can see no reason to believe God gave you that vocation? Is that where you are seed firmly planted in fertile ground, God’s plan radiant as the sun?

The Church asks us today to crown Christ as King. This man who had no interest in worldly power or land or titles. Clearly it has nothing to do with politics or influence. It just has to do with you. Finding the way God made you, falling in love with it, and embracing it. Cultivating it. Protecting it. Rejoicing in seeing it grow. 

Look around and see how much this world needs the Reign of God in the Catholic Church. An affirming sense of who its Queer members are, and what they can be. One day the Church will fulfill that mission, too. Like Jesus coming back from the dead, a new prophetic spirit will awaken within her. The Church will call us her own in a way it never realized it could.

Until that day, we live it. We search for where we thrive and where we can feel God reign in our lives. Where we can tell he cares.

The Gospel passage says the man next to Jesus asks him, “to remember me when you come into your kingdom.” It’s a good prayer for all of us, too.

“Amen,” Jesus replies, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”