A CAT can look at a queen, they say, but quite often does not choose to do so. The upcoming visit of the British monarch will herald unfavourable comparisons to the last royal visit a century ago. Similarly the arrival of the American president will not draw the crowds that Ireland witnessed in 1963. The curious cat of years gone by has grown into a tired tiger and is not as easily impressed as it was when it was a cub. Years of being let down by establishment figures have turned it towards apathy but, hopefully, neither visitor will be mauled!
Tomorrow we celebrate Jesus entering Jerusalem and a large crowd lining the streets to greet him with their equivalent of bunting and flags. But like so many of the great and famous in history, he too would let these people down and they would show him no mercy. How his triumphant welcome would become his public execution within a week is no mystery. His audacious challenge to the market of his day would hardly have impressed the people who welcomed him into Jerusalem.
There is a perennial tension between the human desire for good and the insatiable demand for comfort. Fine words and ideals might inspire, but they wilt and wane easily when faced with hard facts. Last year we sold Good Friday, and 15 centuries of tradition with it, for €10 million. The figure was a fiction and would have necessitated that every man woman and child in Limerick consumed 25 beverages each, but, the lure of profit can be used to justify the suspension of faith and ethic. The triumphal entry will lose its sheen as a colleague sells him for 30 pieces of silver and the Gospel of Life descends into an ignominious death.
A society ruled by wealth is called a plutocracy. Pluto was the Roman god of the dead. It might be wealthy in silver and gold; it may have wonderful technology and food that is not in season; it can host dinner parties where world justice and property prices dominate the conversation – it can be the incarnation of that old adage “talk is cheap and money buys houses!” But nevertheless it is dead. Like a whitened tomb it has things right on the outside but emptiness and decay lie at its core. Like thousands of priests, paymasters and politicians since him, Christ’s words were attractive. Unlike many of the thousands of priest, paymasters and politicians, his words were devoid of self-interest. His message was a gospel of life and for life; a faith for the living rather than a dogma for the dead. Give us this day our daily bread was his prayer. Humanly we want far more. Concerns about financial security and a need to be ready for a rainy day overwhelm his message. Fear of destitution is the first symptom of plutocracy. Markets can collapse as easily as any idealism can. Christ’s message even appears to be a little naive.
Would we turn out to greet the bearer of a different message any more than we would turn out to greet a visiting head of state? Probably not! So maybe we should not be perturbed by the likelihood of small crowds next month. The contemporary cat is more likely to curl up at home and watch the visits on the television. Equally few will turn out tomorrow to greet Christ and his message of life (and very few will avail of the televised alternative). Have years of betrayal and broken promises at the hands of prophets, priests, paymasters and politicians made us apathetic to life, safer observed on a screen? – FMacE