There are times in every family, dark days and sometimes dark weeks, when the parents feel as though they are servants for an entourage of tiny princes and princesses, with rather withering demands. This can be particularly true of the toddler (as well as the teen) years, when every reasonable request seems to be met with stunning incomprehension. “What, did you not know that I am the king,” they seem to imply, “and therefore your petty requests are of no consequence?”
It is altogether pleasing to my ego and my high sense of drama to imagine myself scrubbing floors at the fireside, dressed in rags and sore in body, at the foot of the fat, well-dressed, ridiculously self-centered king. My life, I will muse to myself melodramatically, is nothing but an endless list of chores to do for the ungrateful masters of my servitude. Fade out to weeping.
I know that if I am patient and kind, the little monarch will indeed obey me eventually, one way or another. I know that my years of service within the domestic cathedral are specifically designed to enlarge my heart and rescue my children from their self-centered apathy so that they can be worthy slaves to their own children. (Now that will be worth the popcorn to watch!)
Lord, is it possible that you are the King of my servitude as well as the King of all creation and the Omnipotent Lord? Our Lady certainly thought so. Her Magnificat mentions this idea: I am the handmaiden of the Lord. (The underlying Greek text here clearly connotes slavery.) Her servitude was so complete, she even offered the Lord her freedom. In return, He made her the Queen of Heaven.
You and I differ from Mary — Jesus bought our freedom at a price. On the cross, Jesus paid the ultimate price in the full knowledge that our sins would betray his loyalty. He yearns to be our master, and still we seek out a myriad of alternative enslavements which shackle our hearts to the lowest common denominator of piety. His yoke is easy and his burden light … for those who dare to take Him at His word.
Obviously, I have barely begun to offer my freedom to Him. He wants to be the King of my life, in every detail. Even the diapers. Even the “ten minutes till we leave / have you brushed your teeth / where are your shoes / drink your juice in the van” daily Mass drill. And especially the chores. In every detail lurks the choice to crown Him with the power to help me, or to refuse to honor Him and “just do it myself because no one can help poor me!”
It really is a question of whether you see the glass half empty or half full. Your days can be endless servitude with little recompense, or they can be full of the bright-hued life of the King who conquered your passions. With the freedom that comes from seeing the truth before us, we find service ennobles the soul and magnifies the heart. Any tyrannical little toddler will be melted by the loving heart of the King’s servant who loves him so dearly. (And the teen will at least admit it on occasion.)
Meditation
Read Luke 23:32-43
1. If you feel more enslaved than ennobled, why? Where is the key to your freedom? Forgiveness of someone important to you? Acceptance of the crosses of your life? Unwillingness to change the status quo in your own soul?
2. The Kingship of Christ implies a radical submission and a radical power. What glimpses have you seen of Christ’s power to transform? What can you imagine He might do with your freedom?
