Most Christians know confession as a uniquely Catholic thing that happens between a penitent and priest under a seal of secrecy. Probably not as many are as familiar with the kind of confession the disciple Timothy tells us about in this Sunday’s second Mass reading (1 Tm 6:11-16):
I charge you before God, who gives life to all things, and before Christ Jesus, who gave testimony under Pontius Pilate for the noble confession, to keep the commandment without stain or reproach.
Judging by John 18:36-37, Christ’s noble public confession was in response to Pilate’s question about his Kingship. Jesus confesses:
“My kingdom does not belong to this world. If my kingdom did belong to this world, my attendants [would] be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not here. … For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”
If we want to claim citizenship in God’s Kingdom, Christ’s noble public confession must inspire ours. We are called to testify publicly and lovingly to his truth with our actions toward others. We renounce that citizenship with our complacency and ignorance of the presence of God in our fellow citizens, as Sunday’s first reading from Amos (Am 6:1a, 4-7) implies:
Woe to the complacent in Zion! … They drink wine from bowls and anoint themselves with the best oils; yet they are not made ill by the collapse of Joseph! Therefore, now they shall be the first to go into exile, and their wanton revelry shall be done away with.
The gospel reading from Luke (Lk 16:19-31) has Jesus dramatizing such complacency by casting a rich man to play that part in his parable, and a poor man named Lazarus to help illustrate how the rich too often live their part in real life. We join this drama after both men die and we see them as citizens of the kingdoms they’ve earned. From the pit of hell, the rich man raises his eyes to heaven, sees Lazarus consorting with Abraham, and asks Abraham to save him from his misery. Abraham explains that the divide between them in death can no longer be bridged. That’s why the living must take advantage of the chance to get closer to God’s children by acknowledging their past sins of omission and learning from the words of the prophets. Then the rich man asks Abraham about the possibility of sending someone to warn his living relatives about the fate that awaits them. Abraham replies:
“If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.”
Maybe the complacent among us in this century can be inspired by the noble confessions of the living—those of us brave enough to confess to the truth of Christ in our lives. That may mean exhibiting in public the weirdness of a Christian as we pray for all souls in need of God’s mercy. Such behavior takes courage in an age where truth is usually expressed as a denial of God’s presence. How many of us trying to get along in this age would tell someone who’s suffering from physical or mental anguish “I’ll pray for you”? Or how many of us would have the guts to ask for permission to pray with them? And once such prayer is completed, how many of us would promise and deliver on continuing it in the presence of God in the adoration chapel of their church? There’s both risk and reward in such a public and noble confession of faith.
The risk is that the object of our prayer—and anyone within earshot of that person—forgets his or her pain for a moment to let out a laugh at our childish fairy-tale beliefs. The reward, however, is that the person for whom we’re praying becomes like the Roman Centurion who learned to forget that he was Christ’s enemy and publicly asked Jesus to heal his servant. The miracle of this noble confession of faith—from an avowed enemy of the Christian kingdom—so surprised Jesus that it inspired the miracle of healing.
Let’s pray the faithless among us will use the time they have left to surprise God with a noble attempt to tap into the healing power of His truth.
–Tom Andel
The Scriptural quote you included in your blog that really hit home was in Jesus dialogue with Pilate during his trial. I quote: “he that belongs to the Truth, hears My voice.”
Something that happened to me today made that resonate with me. I am a tutor with wyzant.com. I’m qualified to teach abou 7 subjects. In all the 4 years I’ve been with Wyzant I’ve only landed 1 student for 1 hour. God has given me insight today into this dour fact. In my profile title I call myself a “Christian, kind tutor.” Don’t I sound like a bigot? That’s the last thing I am! I teach students of ALL faiths. I sent an email to Wyzant on appending my profile with the following explanation: Jesus said, “Love your neighbor.” He followed this teaching with the parable of the Good Samaritin, thereby showing us that ALL folks are our neighbors. I may be wrong, but this change might bring good results. If we persevere in prayer, God will answer with Wisdom in His own due time.
Thanks for sharing how God answered your prayer, Chris. If our blog was an instrument in that process, it makes all our previous posts worthwhile.
Yes, Thomas I love you and your family as if we were all in the same family. Isn’t that what Christ instructed us to do?
Tom, your blog inspires me to think of how I can proactive in service to building the kingdom of God and NOT be so complacent.
The world seems to be a real mess now (has always been really), and I know we all have issues and challenges in our circle of influence. The question is “what am I doing about it?”
Your blog is challenging me to act and I’m pledging to add several hours a week in Adoration to pray for my family, the church and the world.
Thanks for the motivation!
Thomas, nobody in this group would let fellow members get complacent. That’s why we get together on a regular basis: to pray with and for each other! That way, whenever we start feeling a little too sorry for ourselves we can remind each other that we’re here as a fellowship. Our group’s name means what it says. We ARE Brothers in Christ, and we’re all carrying on a family tradition.