Today we celebrate the feast called Christ the King, here on this last Sunday of the liturgical year. Next week is the beginning of Advent. But before we begin to prepare for the celebration of the Incarnation of our God, the Church calls us to wrap up the current year, to take stock of our lives, to see where we’ve been and where we hope to go. For the past several weeks, our Sunday readings have reminded us of the “end times,” the completion of God’s kingdom on earth and the continuation of this kingdom with him in heaven.
Today’s readings continue this theme of a final judgement, when the Son of Man will separate all of us into two groups, depending not upon his own, royal whims but rather upon our own past actions, what we have done and what we have failed to do. And so, here at the close of one liturgical year and the opening of the door to the next, it is, indeed, appropriate for us to reflect on what Christ our King asks of us.
Christ our King. It is a strange king we follow. He comes to us, not in the form of a royal, fairytale king, but rather in the role of a shepherd. In our first reading from the 34th chapter of the book of the prophet Ezekiel, we heard about a particular shepherd, one who said, “I, myself, will pasture my sheep; I, myself, will give them rest, says the Lord God.”
I wonder how often some of us have read this line from Ezekiel. Actually, we’re given the opportunity every time we enter our church, every time we pass the statue of Christ the Good Shepherd in our courtyard. Yes, this quotation appears around the base of that statue. But a lot of people hurry by and don’t stop to look at our Good Shepherd. There may be several who merely glance at him but have not really looked at him and allowed him to look at them. I would encourage you to do that, to really look at this image of our Christ the King who comes to us as a Good Shepherd. Because if you really look, you might become part of a very personal experience.
If you look at this statue from almost any angle, it’s very impressive. If you walk around it and read the quotation from Ezekiel, you see the figure of Christ the Good Shepherd from every side. But if you look closely, there is something strange about him. Where is Christ looking? At first, you suspect it’s probably at the sheep he’s about to pick up. But then from the side views you can see he’s looking off into space. There is sort of a dreamy, otherworld, contemplative look on his face. But what happens when you stand directly in front of him? Not off to one side or the other. Not some distance away from the figure. But right there, at the foot of the Good Shepherd.
When you stand in that exact spot and look up directly into his face, Jesus looks straight back into your eyes. If you move a little to either side, the effect is not the same. Unlike in some pictures or statues, the eyes don’t seem to follow you, as you move. Instead, you need to go one-on-one with our Christ the Good Shepherd. You need to stand directly at his feet and look into his face, as he looks back at you and only you.
Perhaps, Sister Mary Peter Tremonte, who created our statue, perhaps she, in some artistic miracle, has caught the gaze of how Christ our King will look at each one of us when he asks his questions about how we have followed him. Those questions raised in today’s Gospel reading – about: feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, welcoming the stranger, clothing the naked, comforting the ill and the imprisoned.
We’ve heard these questions many times before, here in church and in the world outside these doors. We will hear them especially at this time of the year, when we gather this week to celebrate our national day of Thanksgiving, when we count our blessings and are asked to share with those less fortunate.
In one way or another, we will hear these questions during the four following weeks of Advent and in our preparation for Christmas. As we think about buying gifts and preparing holiday food, we will be asked to feed the hungry, cloth the naked, give shelter to the homeless, the young and the old. We will hear the litany of all those who are “marginalized,” all those on the outside of our circle who need our assistance. And many of us will respond in one way or another. Respond with our time and with our labor. Or with our contributions of funds and material support. Or with our prayers. For the next month, we will attend to the needs of others through group-organized and personal actions. Or we will stand aside and feel guilty that we have not done anything, or we’ve done too little.
Many of us will try to become part of the flock of sheep on the right hand of God, rather than be in the bleating group of goats on his left. And that is good. That is what we are called to do. But I wonder: is there not something else? Something that can be done by everyone. Something that can be done by those who lack enough time or money for helping with organized charities.
Here at Christ the Good Shepherd, as in other religious communities, we’ve taken an active interest in caring for the homeless. But at the same time, and without any decrease in these organized efforts, I wonder about those who might be called the “homeless who live in our homes,” those who are our friends in the neighborhood, our colleagues at work, our companions in school.
Are there any of these who are hungry for a kind word instead of a complaint, who need to be filled by praise, rather than criticism? Do we know those who are dry in spirit, who thirst for spiritual drink but who are ignored because we are too busy doing good work rather than being present to another’s tears? Are there those, young or old around us, who are naked in their loneliness and need to be wrapped in the warmth of an embrace or a gentle hug? How many do we pass by, unnoticed, who are imprisoned by addictions, all those habitual actions which cut them off from others and from realizing their full potential?
Sometimes it seems easier to be part of an organized effort that reaches out to the known homeless and the visible outcasts than it is to comfort those next to us. As a giving people we provide relief to those devastated by earthquake, fire and flood. And this is good. But what about those shaken and trembling in their loss of faith? Those burned by the flames of an intolerant boss or teacher? Those flooded with too many daily problems of missed buses and incomplete homework?
Yes, there are the big things in life that demand our attention. But there are the little things as well. Perhaps, we cannot all be missionaries in Africa or peacemakers in central America or the Middle East. It may be difficult to work in a soup kitchen or travel the streets of Houston as part of an outreach program, although many in Good Shepherd are called to these actions.
In the final analysis, it is up to each one of us to decide what we must do to help others: be they the hungry poor or the hungry rich. Each one of us must stand, alone, before Christ the King and answer his questions. Perhaps, in the meantime, each one of us also needs to stand at the feet of Christ the Good Shepherd, look into his face and recall it is his desire for each one of us to join with him when the Lord God says, “The lost I will seek out, the strayed I will bring back, the injured I will bind up, the sick I will heal – shepherding them rightly.”
Christ the King; November 21, 1993; November 24, 2002 (revised)
Ezek 34:11-12, 15-17; 1 Cor 15:20-26, 28; Mt 25:31-46