This weekend our nation celebrates Independence Day. It is an appropriate time to reflect on a subject that has shaped not only the history of our country but the history of humanity itself—power.
In the Gospel for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost (Matthew 9:1–8), Jesus heals a paralytic. At first glance, the miracle appears to be the center of the story. Yet Matthew concludes with an observation that deserves our attention:
"Now when the multitudes saw it, they marveled and glorified God, who had given such power to men." (Matthew 9:8)
Power. Authority. Influence.
These are words that have fascinated mankind from the very beginning.
Power is often defined as the ability to act, to produce an effect, or to exercise authority over others. It can be used to build, to protect, to heal—or to dominate and destroy. History is filled with examples of both.
The first temptation in Scripture was, in many ways, a temptation of power.
In the Garden of Eden, the serpent promised Adam and Eve something they did not possess:
"For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil." (Genesis 3:5)
The promise sounded irresistible. The result was devastating.
Sin has always worked this way. It takes our deepest desires—even good ones—and twists them into something self-serving. We grasp for what we believe will satisfy us, only to discover that it leaves us farther from God than before.
The Old Testament repeats this pattern again and again.
After the death of King David, Solomon immediately begins consolidating his kingdom, eliminating rivals and securing his position (see 1 Kings 2). Although God had blessed him with extraordinary wisdom, Solomon gradually allowed power, wealth, and pleasure to capture his heart.
Scripture ultimately gives its verdict:
"The LORD was angry with Solomon, because his heart had turned away from the LORD."
Power itself was never the problem. The condition of the heart was.
Then the story takes an extraordinary turn.
Jesus enters the wilderness—the very desolation that humanity inherited because of Adam's fall. There He encounters the same ancient tempter.
Once again, the devil offers power.
"To you I will give all this authority and their glory... If you, then, will worship me, it shall all be yours." (Luke 4:6–7)
Unlike Adam, however, Jesus refuses.
He will not seize power apart from the Father's will.
After His Resurrection, Jesus declares:
"All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me." (Matthew 28:18)
Notice the difference.
Adam reached for power.
Jesus received authority from the Father.
That difference changes everything.
Perhaps nowhere is Christ's understanding of power expressed more beautifully than in St. Paul's words to the Philippians:
"...though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant... he humbled himself and became obedient unto death—even death on a cross." (Philippians 2:6–8)
Every kingdom of this world is built by grasping.
Christ establishes His Kingdom by giving Himself away.
His throne is a Cross.
His crown is made of thorns.
His victory comes through self-emptying love.
That is the mystery we encounter every time we come before the altar. God's power is revealed not through domination but through sacrificial love. In the Eucharist, Christ continues to reach down and transform His people, making us more like Himself and less captive to ourselves.
As we celebrate Independence Day, I cannot help but think of two American presidents whose lives reveal very different understandings of power.
When the Revolutionary War ended, George Washington voluntarily laid down his sword and returned to private life. Later, after serving two terms as President, he again surrendered power peacefully, establishing a tradition that became one of the greatest strengths of our republic. Washington understood that authority is a trust, not a possession.
Lyndon Johnson viewed power differently. He famously remarked, "Power is where power goes." Throughout his remarkable political career, he sought positions where influence could be exercised and decisions could be made. His great biographer, Robert Caro, captured an enduring truth about Johnson when he wrote:
"Power doesn't always corrupt. Power always reveals."
History gives us two men entrusted with great authority. One became a model of relinquishing power. The other demonstrated both the extraordinary possibilities and profound dangers that accompany the pursuit of it.
Their stories invite us to ask an uncomfortable but necessary question.
What does power reveal about us?
Most of us will never lead nations, command armies, or occupy public office. Yet each of us possesses influence somewhere—in our homes, our marriages, our workplaces, our friendships, and our parish communities.
How do we use it?
Do we insist on having the last word, or do we seek peace?
Do we manipulate others to get our own way, or do we serve them?
Are we quick to defend ourselves, or are we willing to say, "I was wrong"?
The Christian answer is found in Christ Himself.
The path to true greatness is not the pursuit of power but the willingness to empty ourselves in love. The more we surrender ourselves to Christ, the more His life becomes visible in ours.
St. Paul reminds us of this in the Epistle:
"Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord." (Romans 12:10–11)
The world teaches us to grasp.
Christ teaches us to give.
The world tells us to climb.
Christ invites us to kneel.
And in that surrender, we discover the only power that truly lasts—the transforming power of the love of God.
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