The associated reading for this reflection can be found in your Every Sacred Sunday Mass journal or online here.
I grew up in a community and on a street with a lot of waving American flags and exuberant Fourth of July celebrations. Patriotic themes were found everywhere, and I spent long, joyful, sunny days playing with toy army soldiers in the backyard. Paired with a healthy dose of scouting and a father who spoke lovingly of the nation while encouraging political thought, you can gather a vision of a young man’s bursting pride for his country who was ready to answer the call to serve in the armed forces. I am proud of my service, and to this day, when the flag is raised, I’m not only reminded of the times I saluted in uniform, but I’m still happy to put my hand on my heart.
Today’s solemnity is one of my favorites because it simultaneously builds upon those deeply embedded realities but calls me higher. It’s natural for us to love our family and our community. This love participates and flows from the same place as our sacramental experience of Christ and His mystical body, the Church. Our natural family should lead to a heavenly family, and our earthly community to our yearning for a New Jerusalem. The problem is that we don’t often see this bridge or have shifting priorities and experiences. Today’s solemnity clarifies our vision and provides something extraordinary to inspire us to greater heights. Jesus Christ sits on his throne, but it's far from glorious; it's the cross. He’s a King utterly worthy of following, serving, saluting, and dying for. Today, a flag isn’t raised—Our Lord is. The question is, will we acknowledge his kingship in our lives?
Today, Christ is celebrated as King of the Universe, and we should ask ourselves if he’s conquered any new territory in our hearts. We are called to the heights and to remember who we’re really following and whose kingdom we are really subjects of. When I remember this, I’m moved to something more profound than filial pride or a love of country. I’m given a desire to do something more than salute; I’m filled with a desire to sacrifice like him. That’s a long way away from the flag-waving little boy playing toy soldiers or the young man wearing a uniform, and closer to a loving and sober desire for the robes of a martyr.
Fr. Ryan Higdon is the pastor of St. Louis Catholic Church, Bishop Louis Reicher Catholic School, and St. Philip Mission in Waco, Texas. He has served at St. Mary’s at A&M and College Station, St. Joseph’s in Bryan, and currently serves on the college of consultors for the Diocese of Austin.
