Prairie Chickens and Eagles Homily for the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe November 23, 2025 An American Indian tells about a brave who found an eagle’s egg and put it into the nest of a prairie chicken. The eaglet hatched with the brood of chicks and grew up with them. All its life the changeling eagle, thinking it was a prairie chicken, did what the other prairie chickens did. It scratched in the dirt for seeds and insects to eat. It clucked and cackled. And it flew in a brief thrashing of wings and flurry of feathers no more than a few feet off the ground. After all, that’s how prairie chickens were supposed to fly. Years passed, and the changeling grew very old. One day it saw a magnificent bird soaring far above in the cloudless sky. Hanging with graceful majesty on the powerful wind currents, it soared with scarcely a beat of its strong golden wings. “What a beautiful bird!” said the changeling eagle to its neighbor. “What is it?” “That’s an eagle—the chief of the birds,” the neighbor clucked. “But don’t give it a second thought. You could never be like him.” So, the changeling eagle never gave it another thought. And it died thinking it was a prairie chicken. Today, we are celebrating the fact that Jesus Christ is the King of all God’s creation. And yet, it is strange that the gospel passage chosen for this feast is the scene of Jesus’ crucifixion. Notice how weak he is. Consider how he is laughed at and made fun of. “He saved others, let him save himself if he is the chosen one, the Christ of God….If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself.” So, the problem is one of expectations. The bystanders were looking for an eagle, and all they saw before them was a prairie chicken! And yet, at the end of the gospel, this prairie chicken seems to have some power that prairie chickens don’t normally have. When Jesus is asked by the thief being crucified with him, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom,” Jesus replies, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” Hardly a promise that could be made by a prairie chicken! What’s going on here? I’d like to refer us to a passage we find in the writings of St. Paul, a section of his letter to the Philippians that is the second reading on Palm Sunday, when we reflect on the crucifixion of Jesus. Here it is: “Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness; and found human in appearance, he humbled himself, becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Because of this, God greatly exalted him and bestowed on him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” Jesus taught the way of humility and service. He came to raise others up, especially those who were bowed down by poverty or prejudice. He taught that there was no greater love than to lay down one’s life for the love of others. Greatness is found not in building oneself up at the expense of others, but in building up others, especially those who need it the most. So, Jesus emptied himself, to the point of looking like a prairie chicken, and in doing so he showed us the way to the eternal kingdom by means of humble service, that we might become who we truly are, eagles destined to soar beyond the clouds.

The Holy Presence of God Homily for the Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica November 9, 2025 Once, a parish priest climbed way up in the church’s steeple to be nearer to God. He wanted to hand down God’s Word to his parishioners, like Moses of old, who had brought the Ten Commandments down from the mountaintop. Then, one day he indeed thought he heard God say something. The priest cried out aloud from the steeple, “Where are you, Lord? I can’t seem to hear your voice clearly.” And the Lord replied, “I’m down here among my people. Where are you?” Today, we’re celebrating the dedication of a special church, the church of St. John Lateran. What makes this church unique is that for many centuries it has been the cathedral, or the official church, of the bishop of Rome, the Holy Father. So, in our readings we find a focus on buildings that were signs of God’s presence. In Ezekiel, life-giving water is flowing from the temple, making the earth fertile and fruitful for the people. In the second reading Paul talks about himself, as well as those who came after him, as builders of God’s building, with a solid foundation. But then he teaches that the people are actually what God is building. Each person has the Spirit of God dwelling in him or her. That makes each of us, and all of us together, holy. God’s not off somewhere in holy isolation. God is down here—in us, and with us, and among us. In the gospel we find two temples, two signs of God’s presence among the people. The first is the magnificent building, the temple which was the sign of God’s presence in Israel, the special place where they could focus their worship and offer their sacrifices to God. But we have a second “temple” in this gospel—in this case, not a building or a sign or a symbol, but Jesus, the Son of God, God come to earth to be among the people. The clue to help us understand this is Jesus’ statement: “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.” In other words, put me to death on Good Friday, and on Easter Sunday I will rise from the dead! God among the people, watering, teaching, nurturing, not just for this life, but for life eternal. So, we’re celebrating church today, in all its manifestations and meanings. A building that is the sacred place of encounter with the divine. A community that is sacred because God dwells in each and in all of us. And Jesus Christ, the foundation, the very life-giving presence. Let me end with a story. Many years ago, when I was studying to become a priest, I heard about a priest who some years before was the head of a seminary. During the season of Lent one year, he examined his conscience and decided that, once and for all, he wanted to give up smoking. He knew this would be hard, so he brought the Eucharist into his office. Being a humble man, he didn’t tell anybody what he had planned. One day, a visitor came to see the priest, and he started to light up a cigarette. The priest became outraged, and he yelled at the visitor, “How dare you smoke in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament?” The visitor ran out of the office, believing the priest had gone mad, thinking he was the Blessed Sacrament. Well, that crazy story has stayed with me over the years, and I’ve thought about it in relation to how I treat people. If God’s Spirit dwells in each of us, if each of us is a holy temple, then that means I should treat everyone as if they are, in a sense, a blessed sacrament, a person created in God’s image, and having a spark of the divine within them. If God is down here, in, with and among us, even in those I find it difficult to love, how dare I treat anybody as if they have no dignity or worth?