O.K. … maybe the language is a bit outdated. Not many today can relate to kings and queens and monarchies. It’s more fairy-tale stuff … or a reality they have in faraway England where the queen has not much direct influence in her subjects’ everyday lives.

But in Jesus’ time it was real, significant and powerful. Pontius Pilate, in fact, had decided to let Jesus go during the passion-trial. But when they told him, “If you release this man, you are not Caesar’s friend. Everyone who makes himself a king opposes Caesar,” he got scared and, acting out of fear, handed Jesus over to them. This, in spite of the fact that Jesus had openly declared that his kingdom is not of this world. Neither Pilate nor Caesar had anything to fear. Their kingdom would not be usurped. Jesus’ kingdom is something different, something that, Pilate and anyone who is solely concerned with worldly power cannot comprehend.

On this last Sunday of the liturgical year, the Church invites us to celebrate Christ as King of the universe, offering us a gospel reading which is part of the passion narrative from the gospel of Luke. We’ve been journeying with Luke throughout most of this year - a journey which saw Jesus going from Galilee to Jerusalem. Here he is to meet his passion, death and resurrection. It’s only logical, then, that we are invited to reflect on Jesus’ kingdom through his passion story, now that he has arrived at his destination.

We can take three protagonists from today’s passage. First, there are the religious leaders. They do accept and proclaim his spiritual powers. He did save others, they admit, let him now save himself if he is who he says he is. They miss a very important point. Jesus is not about saving himself. His life is always about “others”: serving, loving, helping others.

The soldiers do not care whether he is king or not. They just use the accusation (that’s what the inscription on the cross written by Pilate said) to mock him and make fun of him. The king does not react. He remains silent.

Then there are the two criminals hanged on the cross next to Jesus. One of them is focused on his hurts, his pain. Self-pity. He speaks out of anger. This is his last chance to vent it out. Let us not be scandalized of him. How often do we, too, vent our anger at God when we are hurt or angry?! The other one, somehow, speaks more sense. He admits his wrongdoings and the consequences of his actions. Still, he recognizes someone special in the person of Jesus. Someone who can give him hope. He understands that, what is happening on that hill outside the city is not the last word of the story. He enters into a relationship with Jesus. And the crucified Lord does not reject him. Today … with me … you will be in paradise.

Indeed, being part of the kingdom of Jesus, enjoying paradise, is not something of the future. Jesus gives it in the here and now. The only condition is to be “with him”.

​How close am I to Jesus in my life? How much do I allow his words and his teachings to guide and enlighten all that I do in my life? This King is not a fairy tale. He is one who, true to his words, made of his kingdom a life of serving and giving to others. It’s worth giving him a chance.

It all connects well together.

Being in the month of November, we have been remembering and praying in a special way for those who have died before us. At the same time this has often led us to make a serious reflection on the reality of our own death - where we are all heading.

Meanwhile, in the liturgy we are nearing the end of the liturgical year. In a couple of weeks’ time this year comes to an end, and we begin a new one with the Season of Advent, preparing ourselves for the celebration of the birth of Jesus.

As we approach the end of the year - both liturgically and the calendar-year - Luke, who has been accompanying us on our Gospel journey during this year, approaches the end of the journey of Jesus from Galilee to Jerusalem. As a community we have been walking with Jesus during our Sunday liturgies on this journey. We have seen Jesus being followed by a huge number of people - some to become his disciples, or followers, others just out of curiosity or to experience, perhaps, some miracle of the Master. This is a journey which, at its destination, will present to the readers the end of Jesus’ own life-journey here on Earth. Jesus is going to Jerusalem to embrace the cross and experience the Resurrection.

In today’s gospel we see Jesus arriving close to the Temple in Jerusalem. It was a glorious and marvelous building, totally renovated and embellished by king Herod the Great some 20 years before Christ, with long, arched porticos, golden gates, adorned with beautiful rare gems, and always busy with a huge number of people from all walks of life. Now Jesus is no longer being accompanied by a large number of people. Many have left to continue with their everyday lives. Some had found his teaching too hard, challenging, or unacceptable. Being left with those few who really wanted to follow him, Jesus now teaches them about the end times. All earthly things come to an end, no matter how big and beautiful they are. He was observing many people who were in awe of the beauty and grandeur of the temple. All this, he said, will one day come to an end. Hard to believe for many, but this prophecy came true only a few decades later, when the temple was completely destroyed by the Romans in the year 70 AD.

From that observation the topic of conversation moved on to the end of the world. There had been people who tried to “predict” the end of the world. Jesus warned that there will even be many more who will try to do the same. Even in our own times, in fact, we know that there are people who still try to do this. Some sects have been predicting the end of times over and over again. And we all remember how terrified many people were as the year 2000 approached! Jesus tells us not to worry about all this. There will be wars and natural disasters, but that will not be the end. It’s not up to us to know when the end will come. What really matters for us is to live as best we can the life which we have here.

​This will not be always easy. As happened to Jesus, there will be times when we will have to suffer in order to do the right thing. Today like in Jesus’ time, his message is not welcome by everyone. Here Jesus encourages us by letting us know that, in all this, we will be well taken care of by God. He is Lord of time, of history, of our lives. What really matters for us is that we make the most of our time here on earth, persevering in times of trial, knowing that we are being carried in safe hands. 

On Friday we had a very moving celebration as a Parish Community. The relatives of those people who died during this past year, and whose funeral had been celebrated in our Church, were invited for a Mass offered for their loved ones. Memories were re-kindled, the pain of separation was re-lived. As Fr Ivano slowly called out the names of the deceased in the beginning of the Mass, a member from their family came up to light a candle at the foot of the altar. Many brought a photo or a significant prayer to be placed there. Being there to help these sisters and brothers as they lived out this powerful moment, I could witness this pain on their faces, often with a tear or two running down a cheek. As Fr Ivano rightly said in his homily, often the first year is the hardest one after someone’s death.

And yet, the whole liturgy emanated hope. Each small candle was lit from the Easter Candle - a powerful reminder of the Risen Christ. He, too, suffered the consequences of death. He knew what it means to lose a loved one, and He Himself went through the experience of death. But the Easter story tells us that death does not have the last word. While not denying the pain of separation and the whole process of grief, the Resurrection of Jesus tells us that there is something greater beyond the coffin and the grave.

All this comes to mind as we move into the month of November, the last month of the liturgical year of the Church. Traditionally, November is known as the month during which we remember in a special way our departed loved ones. As Christians, we do not deny the reality of death, we do not pretend that nothing happened and everything is OK when someone dies. After all, Jesus’ death was not fake. But we journey on with hope. We know that those who died before us continue to live, albeit in a different way. And it makes, therefore, sense that we continue to pray for them as we believe that they pray for us.

This Sunday’s liturgy helps us further in this reflection on death and life. In the first reading we have the story of the seven brothers killed by the cruel king Antiochus. “You dismiss us from this present life,” says one of the dying brothers to the king, “but the King of the universe will raise us up to an everlasting renewal of life.” The theme is picked up by the gospel reading presented to us. Upon interrogation by the Sadducees who, incidentally, did not believe in the resurrection, Jesus grasps the opportunity to teach his followers something about eternal life. Quoting the scriptures, which they knew very well, Jesus reminds them that God is referred to as “the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. Now he is God not of the dead, but of the living.”

A beautiful and very important point is introduced by Jesus here. Our God is not a generic God, or a God of some theory or ideology. He is God of persons, of real human beings. The God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, the God of Jesus Christ is the God of Jane and Peter and Mary and Paul. God is God of each one of us. He longs to enter into a personal relationship with each one of us. And this, my friends, is the source of our joys and our hopes. This is where eternal life comes from.

The tears I saw during our Friday celebration, the pain re-lived during our Mass at the cemetery on Sunday, finds light, comfort and hope in our God who is Life. 

He wanted to see Jesus. God knows what he had heard about this popular Rabbi. A huge crowd was following him as he journeyed towards Jerusalem. Many had been witnesses to his miracles, heard his beautiful teachings, found joy, and maybe peace, in journeying with him. Indeed, there was something special, something magnetic about this man.

Zaccheus was no exception. He, too, wanted to see Jesus. The story does not tell us why. After all, he had everything a man could have. He had power: being a taxcollector he was protected by the state-oppressor of Rome. Moreover, St Luke tells us that he was a “chief tax collector”. He was one of the top ones. He had riches. Luke specifically tells us that he was rich. Now, never had it been heard that there was a tax-collector who was not rich! So, this Zaccheus must have been exceptionally so! Still, he desperately wanted to see Jesus. In spite of everything, he probably felt something was lacking, something that perhaps this travelling Rabbi could provide.

Had Zaccheus been a normal man like so many others, he could have probably just mingle with the crowd, and gently ease himself to get as close as possible to Jesus. But Zaccheus’ story was very different to that of everybody else. Like each one of us, he was carrying a huge, and in his case heavy baggage. Different things hindered him from seeing Jesus.

First of all there was his smallness. He was short. This made it difficult, or rather outright impossible, for him to see Jesus from behind everybody else.

And there was the crowd, that was against him! For obvious reasons, they would not let him pass. They hated him. He definitely knew this, and did not even bother to try. So, he opted for another solution: tree-climbing.

In a way, Zaccheus’ story can be the story of each and everyone of us. Who of us can say that we have not been hindered at some stage in our lives by our smallness in our journey with the Lord? We are painfully aware of our smallness, of our unworthiness, of our not being up to standard. Somehow, the truth of what we pray before communion. “Lord, I am not worthy”, becomes an obstacle rather than a spring-board to thrust ourselves into God’s merciful arms.

Then there is the crowd. When following Jesus implies having to go against the current, we immediately feel the pressure of the fact that everyone else does or acts differently. We feel we cannot go against the crowd. We feel that we have to conform, to join, to not be different. The fear that we might be ridiculed or having to stand out is very real. It’s worth noting that, in that crowd there was a good number of people who were actually following Jesus - followers and disciples. This prompts me to ask the question: have I ever, being a follower of Jesus, been an obstacle to others in their desire to follow Jesus? Perhaps by my actions, my judgements, the way I relate to them?

Due to all this, Zaccheus climbs the sycamore tree. In the thick foliage of that tree, he can see without being seen. But Jesus does see him, orders him to immediately come down, and invites himself into this sinner’s house. This reaching out from the part of Jesus prompts the conversion of that sinner. Jesus did not ask Zaccheus to change his life-style so that he could go into his house. It works the other way round.

​Do not be afraid of your littleness, of your unworthiness. Unlike the other “good” people who started grumbling against Jesus for going to the sinner, Jesus is not scandalized by our unworthiness. Just accept Jesus’ invitation to come and visit you, and allow the rest to happen.