True Transcendental Meditation

By Fr. Jerry Pokorsky ( bio - articles - email ) | Nov 24, 2025

“You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I have come into the world: to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears my voice.” (Jn 18:37)

Meditating on Christ’s kingship draws us into a profound paradox. He exercises no worldly dominance, yet His authority governs both the visible world and the unseen chambers of our soul. To grasp this kingship, we rely on two complementary paths. The first is the top-down guidance of the Church’s authoritative teaching; the second is the bottom-up movement of personal reflection, experience, and our innate hunger for truth.

The Catholic faith is handed down through the proclaimed Gospel, through evangelization, catechesis, and formation. Together, the Creed provides the narrative of belief, the Commandments direct the moral life, and the Sacraments and prayer sustain our encounter with the living God.

Within this framework, the Church proclaims Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. His glorious Resurrection confirms everything He taught and lived. After appearing to His disciples and ascending to the Father, He sent the Holy Spirit upon Mary and the disciples at Pentecost, igniting the Church’s heroic age of martyrdom.

Despite persecution, the Gospel spread throughout the Empire. With Constantine’s conversion, Christianity shifted from tolerated to favored, ultimately becoming the Empire’s official religion. Over time, the Church flourished in both East and West. The two great traditions of the Church, rooted in the same apostolic faith, developed complementary emphases. The Roman West cultivated juridical clarity, shaping secular and canon law, while the Byzantine East focused on liturgical mystery and mystical theology. These variations enriched the Church while maintaining doctrinal unity.

The fall of Rome and the barbarian invasions destabilized the West, while the East faced the advance of Islam. Monastic communities preserved learning, prayer, and civilization. Eventually, political tensions and theological disputes contributed to the East–West Schism. Medieval Europe witnessed the rigorous brilliance of scholastic thought and the flowering of the Renaissance—developments often accompanied by moral decline and cultural instability. (Alas, there’s nothing new under the sun.)

The Protestant revolt destabilized Christian unity, but the Church’s response at the Council of Trent reaffirmed its doctrinal authority, maintaining the truth of Christ’s reign amidst division. Subsequent centuries struggled through religious wars, sectarian divisions, and the rise of the Enlightenment, which increasingly separated reason from faith. In response, the 19th century saw a drift toward fideism, which the First Vatican Council addressed by reaffirming the harmony between faith and reason. In the 20th century, totalitarian regimes and violence threatened the Church, yet her authority persisted.

Yet through all of this, the Church’s essential structure remained intact. The faithful continued to find stability and identity in Christ the King—known through the teaching Church, encountered in the sacraments, and sustained by the unbroken witness of tradition. This is the top-down perspective: the enduring edifice of faith in Christ the King.

The triumphalism of Church history meets with the humility of personal reflection. Our faith in Christ the King is not just a historical narrative; it is also written on our hearts. In our search for truth, beauty, and goodness, we are drawn toward the transcendentals—truth, beauty, goodness, and unity. But these longings find their fulfillment only in God’s self-revelation.

St. Thomas Aquinas integrated these philosophical insights into a deeper understanding of God: God is One in three: God is True. God is Beautiful. God is Good. The Old Testament proclaims the worship of the one God; the New Testament reveals the central mystery of Christianity: one God in three divine Persons—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—existing in perfect, eternal, triune love. Creation is not a necessity but an overflow of divine generosity.

The transcendentals find their divine fulfillment in the unity of the Trinity.

• The Son is Truth incarnate: “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” (Jn 14:6)
• The Holy Spirit manifests divine Beauty: “Thou sendest forth thy Spirit, they are created; and thou renewest the face of the ground.” (cf. Ps 104:30).
• The Father is Goodness itself: “No one is good but God alone.” (Mk. 10:18)

Our search for truth draws us to the Son. Our yearning for beauty leads us toward the Holy Spirit. Our longing for goodness draws us to the Father.

Created in God’s image, we bear within us the imprint of the transcendentals. Though wounded by sin, our pursuit of truth, goodness, and beauty still reflects God’s love at work in us. Meditation on the transcendentals draws us toward the Triune God. Thus, we proclaim Christ’s kingship, not through force or polemics, but by respecting the natural inclinations of our hearts and the witness of lives conformed to grace.

Even those who resist Christ’s proclamation still participate—albeit imperfectly—in the pursuit of truth, goodness, and beauty. Their questions and doubts can purify our own faith. Well-formed Catholics can drift into a subtle religious self-assuredness—even Pharisaism—of sterile religious externalism devoid of devotion, neglecting the wonder at the heart of revelation. The sincere inquisitiveness of those searching for God—or asking unsettling questions—can reignite in us a holy awe before divine truth. Just as the young often reinvigorate the old, these encounters restore our hope—hope in God’s providence and hope for the human family.

To meditate on Christ’s kingship is to enter into a living dialogue with history, philosophy, and the mystery of the One who is True, Beautiful, and Good. This meditation brings us to the Eucharistic King at Mass—whose rule transcends the world yet fills it with grace.

Christ is the King of the Universe. We acknowledge His reign whenever truth is sought, whenever beauty is perceived, and whenever goodness is chosen.

St. Augustine is succinct: “You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in Thee.”