“Revolution and Contrast: The Custom-Made Cup of Suffering”
Homily for Ordination to the Diaconate
September 28, 2024; St. Patrick’s Seminary
Readings: Num 3:5-9; Acts 6:1-7; Mt 20:25b-28
Introduction
One of the greatest gifts the Church has to offer the world is her vast treasury of the holiness of her saints. The saints come from every walk of life and every social and economic class. But in this hyper-secularized age, which extols a certain idea of equality almost to the point of worshiping at, the growing devotion to certain saints of royal lineage may seem ironic. Such is the case of Blessed Karl of Austria, whose cause of canonization continues to gain momentum.
The Poverty of Royalty
Karl, of course, was the last emperor of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, having assumed that position upon the death of his great-uncle Franz Joseph in the middle of World War I, and he upheld his responsibility as a sacred trust in all that he did. At home, he established a Ministry of Social Welfare, the first of its sort in the world. Its mission was to deal with such social issues as youth welfare, those disabled in war, widows and orphans, social insurance, labor rights and job protection, job placement, unemployment relief, and emigration protection and housing. He commuted death sentences whenever he could, and constantly urged his Hungarian ministers to enact universal suffrage in Hungary (unfortunately, his ministers resisted his instructions and suffrage was not legislated during Karl’s reign).
Karl ordered rationing to be instituted at the palace, just as it was throughout the rest of Vienna. He organized soup kitchens, used the palace’s horses and wagons to deliver coal to the Viennese, fought against usury and corruption, and gave away most of his private wealth by distributing alms beyond his means. He went among his people, suffered with them, and comforted them with his presence and words. His subjects called him “The People’s Emperor,” a title he cherished more than his noble and royal titles. And even beyond this, he was most outstanding as a loving and devoted husband to his beloved wife Zita and father to their children.
I say all this because Karl exemplified in his life the qualities and very essence of our Lord’s teaching in today’s gospel reading, as did all of the Church’s saints who were endowed with royal dignity: Louis of France, Henry of Bavaria, Casimir of Poland, Stephen of Hungary, Elizabeth of Hungary, Elizabeth of Portugal, Margaret of Scotland; and the list goes on. Particularly illustrative, I find, and moving, is the account of the life and death of St. Elizabeth of Hungary by her spiritual director which we read in the Office of Readings every year on her feast day:
Twice a day, in the morning and in the evening, Elizabeth went to visit the sick. She personally cared for those who were particularly repulsive; to some she gave food, to others clothing; some she carried on her own shoulders, and performed many other kindly services.… Finally, when her husband died, she sought the highest perfection; filled with tears, she implored me to let her beg for alms from door to door…. [In the town of Marburg] she built a hospice where she gathered together the weak and the feeble. There she attended the most wretched and contemptible at her own table.[1]
Waiting on Tables
Those days, of course, are far behind us, but the true revolution to which these saints bore witness is just as radical now as it was then; indeed, perhaps even more so: “whoever wishes to be great among you shall be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you shall be your slave.” There are few things our Lord detested more than that attitude of “lording it over” others. The Greek words used here for “lord it over” and “exercise authority” carry the prefix kata, which implies domination over another.
“But it shall not be so among you.” For the man of God, he must stand in sharp contrast to this corrupted worldly way of wielding power. The contrast was put well by a renowned Scripture scholar of the seventeenth century: “The tyrant does not care for the interests of those under him, but consults only his own advantage and honor, and so he abuses his subjects like slaves. Whereas true princes seek the good of their subjects rather than their own, and are the servants rather than the lords of the commonwealth.”[2]
One who wishes to be great “shall be your servant.” The Mass of Ordination of Deacons even begins with reference to this and what our Lord said about himself, with the Collect for the Mass referring to God who teaches the ministers of His Church “to seek not to be served but to serve their brothers and sisters.” “Servant,” that is, diakonos, the one who waits on tables. We know from the familiar passage in the Acts of the Apostles which we heard in our second reading for this Mass of Ordination that this was the very origin of the order of deacon in the Church, an order which derives from the Levites of the Old Covenant. The Levites are the ones who, the Book of Numbers tells us, assisted priests “in the service of the Dwelling.” This is the place of God’s Dwelling, the Temple in Jerusalem, which contained the remnants of His presence to them during their wandering in the Sinai desert on their way to the Promised Land, and served as a constant reminder to them of His continual presence among them.
This order of service is then filled out with their successors in the new dispensation, whereby the duties of the deacon are not only service at the altar and attending to its temporal needs, but also that of service to the poor and needy. That is to say, they bring the revolution from the sanctuary to the streets, a service rendered by humble charity. This is, indeed, the first of the ordination promises that our brothers will make, after that of promising their resolve to be ordained: “Do you resolve to discharge the office of deacon with humble charity in order to assist the priestly Order and to benefit the Christian people?”
Humble charity can be a challenging, and sometimes even tricky, sort of a thing. We live in an age that confuses charity with capitulation, or indulgence, or laxity. Sometimes that humility will require a real death to self when it is correction that is required, especially to do so in a charitable way. So St. Gregory the Great teachers in his Pastoral Rule, where he explains that, through humility, the ruler should be a companion of those who live well, but, through the zeal of righteousness, should be firm against the vices of those who do evil.[3]
Diverse Paths, Common Origin
Death to self: this points to the importance of noting the incident that sets up this teaching of our Lord here. It is right before this passage where the apostles argue among themselves as to who is the greatest among them, and the mother of James and John asks our Lord if her sons can sit at his right and his left in his kingdom, and our Lord in turn asks his disciples directly, “can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?”
Of course, they respond that they can, certainly thinking that whatever sacrifice they will have to make to sit at his right and his left when he comes to power will be worth it. They later learn, and accept, that that cup would mean imitating their Master in the manner of their death. It is a cup of suffering, but not equal for all. It is rather one that is custom-made for each disciple; as we know, not all of the twelve died a martyrdom of blood, with St. John suffering exile on the island of Patmos.
So it is with us, and so it is with our brothers being ordained deacons today. The paths their lives will take in service to God’s people are diverse, as are the sufferings they will endure for it: Leandro and Emmanuel serving the Church here in San Francisco, where society is becoming increasingly indifferent and in some ways even hostile to the practice of religion, and inculcating those attitudes on the masses; Maurice and Alphonse in returning to their home country of the Democratic Republic of the Congo in the face of political instability and oppression and even direct attack on the Church there; and Brother Mikhael in modeling the “one thing necessary” for our local Church and the semi-contemplative life of the Contemplatives of St. Joseph.
No one knows where their cup of suffering will lead them. For Blessed Karl, who dedicated his whole life to working for peace, serving the poor, and sacrificing himself for his wife and children, it meant being exiled to the island of Madeira, living in poverty and dying of pneumonia, too poor to afford a doctor but forgiving everyone who had treated him unjustly.
However, while for the men of God who serve the Church in Holy Orders the sufferings involved in their different paths of service will vary – the cup of the Lord which he drinks with the Lord being particular to him – they all share the same origin. All begin with serving as deacons, the service of waiting on tables. This is our common origin in Holy Orders, and it is a constant reminder to us of the Lord’s commandment of servant leadership.
Conclusion
My dear sons about to embark upon this path: you do so with the view, God willing, of eventually serving God’s people as an alter Christus, exercising your ministry in the person of Christ the Head of the Body by preparing them for the sacraments and providing the sacraments for them, in teaching them the truths we receive from Christ and forming them in the faith and helping them to grow in their love of him, and in the service of pastoral governance. Do so always mindful of this day, always remembering the first step of service at table, the call to humble charity, which always draws souls into communion with our ever-loving Lord Jesus Christ. To him be glory, now and ever and forever. Amen.
[1] Liturgy of the Hours, Office of Readings for the Feast Day of St. Elizabeth of Hungary (November 17), 2nd longer reading.
[2] The Great Commentary of Cornelius a Lapide, The Holy Gospel According to Saint Matthew, vol. II Thomas W. Mossman (trans.) (Fitzwilliam, New Hampshire: Loreto Publications, 2008) p. 305.
[3] Pastor, Art. II, cp. 6.