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| Jagger goes to the gallows. |
(Epiphany 2017: This homily was given on January 8, 2017 at St. Pius X
Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.
Read Matthew 2: 1-12.)
[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Epiphany 2017]
Light
and darkness. The contrast between those
two realities is crystal clear in the story we just heard from Matthew 2—and in
the verses that immediately follow this passage in Matthew’s gospel. The “light” of the star that guided the Magi
from their homeland (probably ancient Persia) to the Savior of the world in
Bethlehem, stands in sharp contrast to the “darkness” that filled the heart of
King Herod: a darkness—a hatred—which led him to murder a lot of people,
including some members of his own family.
First,
the light. The journey of the Magi can
be seen, from one perspective at least, as a metaphor for the Christian
life. The life of a disciple—a true
disciple—of Jesus Christ is really a lot like the journey of the Magi to
Bethlehem: it’s a journey to Jesus.
It’s not always an easy journey; there are obstacles and difficult people (like
Herod) that you have to deal with along the way. But you don’t have to do it alone and without
help! As a baptized, Catholic Christian
you have a “light”—the light of your Catholic Faith—to guide you safely to your
destination, just like the Magi had the light of the star of Bethlehem to guide
them on their way. And if you follow
that light of faith and persevere in your journey as these Magi persevered in
theirs, it will be worth it in the end. You
will meet Jesus as they did; only not in a manger, but rather in his eternal
kingdom! As the priest used to say in
the old opening prayer for the Mass of the Epiphany: “Father, you revealed your
Son to the nations by the light of a star.
Lead us to your glory in heaven by the light of faith.”
Which
brings us to the darkness—specifically the darkness of King Herod—which, as I
said a few moments ago, filled his heart with hatred, and motivated him to kill
a lot of innocent people, including the Holy Innocents.
His
purpose in killing was usually to get rid of rivals: to get rid of any and all
potential rivals to his throne. That, of
course, was why today’s gospel said that he was “greatly troubled” when the
Magi told him that they were there to see the “newborn king of the Jews.”
If
he were alive today and were evaluated by a modern-day psychologist or
psychiatrist, I suspect that Herod would be diagnosed as a “paranoid psychopath”—or
something along those lines. After all,
among the people he murdered were two of his own sons, his wife and his
brother-in-law.
Now
you know why Caesar Augustus, the Roman emperor, once made the remark that it
was safer to be Herod’s pig than it was to be Herod’s son.
Which
brings us, finally, to 2017. What really
has me concerned, my brothers and sisters, is that in our American society
right now the “darkness of Herod” seems to be eclipsing the “light of the
Magi.” In other words, in many places
and in so many ways hatred seems to be trumping faith these days. And I use the word “trumping” there as a kind
of pun, because nowhere has this been more evident to me in recent weeks than
in the response of many of our cultural elites (and other people as well) to
our new president-elect!
It
doesn’t matter if you’re a Democrat or a Republican—it doesn’t matter whom you
voted for in this past election—this kind of Herod-like vitriol that we’ve been
hearing since November 8 ought to concern you. It ought to concern everybody! It’s one thing to disagree with someone’s
policies, it’s quite another to use every four-letter word you can think of on
social media to describe a man and his family—or to purposely engage in
violent, hate-filled protests; or to beat and torture a mentally handicapped
man, as those 4 young people in Chicago did last week!
And
of course, our president-elect hasn’t always responded to others with charity
and respect either—which has only compounded the problem.
The
darkness of Herod, I’m sad to say, is enveloping our culture right now. On this matter, and on many other
issues. Hopefully we are not
contributing to it—and, if we have been contributing to it, hopefully by the
grace of God we will stop, because no nation built on hatred can survive for
very long.
The
destructive power of hate was illustrated beautifully in an old Twilight Zone
program that I saw the other day during the Syfy Network’s New Year’s Day
Twilight Zone “marathon”. In this
particular episode a man named Jagger is to be hanged for murder. He’s unrepentant, and filled with hatred toward
the people of the town where he allegedly committed the crime—and by the same
token the townspeople all hate him. They
can’t wait to see him strung up and hanging from a noose. Then on the day of the execution something
very strange happens: the sun doesn’t rise.
Darkness covers the town throughout the day—and deepens after Jagger is
hanged.
The
people can’t understand the reason for the phenomenon, until the local reverend
steps forward and says that the sky is black because of hate—their hate—the hatred they’re holding
onto in their hearts.
The
episode then comes to a close when someone turns on the radio to hear the local
news report. The announcer says that the
darkness is not only happening locally, it’s also being reported in other
places around the country and around the world: North Vietnam, Dallas,
Budapest, Chicago, Shanghai, etc.
The
last word of the program, of course, as usual, goes to the creator of the
Twilight Zone, Rod Serling—and it’s a powerful one (so powerful that I’ll also
make it the last word of my homily). It
gives us the message he wants us to take from the story, which is the same
message I would like people to take from this homily.
Serling
says:
“A
sickness known as hate. Not a virus, not a microbe, not a germ—but a sickness
nonetheless, highly contagious, deadly in its effects. Don't look for it in the
Twilight Zone—look for it in a mirror. Look for it before the light goes out
altogether.”
