The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

Lectionary: 160

And he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.

Saint Francis meditated continually on the Lord; his mind was always alert to God's compassionate mercy and his righteous judgment; and his senses were alert to any sight, sound, or smell that might evoke God's presence. 

On one occasion, as he walked past a flock of goats, he saw a single lamb among them. He burst into tears as the lamb reminded him of Jesus among his enemies. He felt so intensely about this that he persuaded a passing merchant to buy the baby sheep, which he then gave to the bishop of the next town, who kept the animal as a souvenir of the saint's visit. 

On this last Sunday of the liturgical year we celebrate the Lord Jesus as the King of the Universe, and the Good Shepherd who separates the sheep from the goats. , the faithful from the wicked. In the past few years we have heard our Holy Father Pope Francis remind his priests that they must be shepherds with a special concern for the wounded, lost, and wandering sheep. 

If these docile animals are unfamiliar to the billions of people who live in megalopolises, their helpless innocence still speaks to us of our vulnerability before the machinery of war and the machinations of the powerful. We have watched people like us die like helpless sheep in Ukraine, Israel, and Gaza despite all the protections of a civilized society with its safety nets and insured securities. Their apartment buildings, shopping malls, and hospitals -- like ours -- are not built to withstand cruise missiles and weaponized drones. 

Our religion presents Jesus to us as the King of the Universe and Judge of all the Nations who saves his beloved people from these atrocities. He establishes a Kingdom where we study war no more; where we wage peace with every nation on earth. As we wait for that Kingdom which is already among us to be manifest to the nations, we know  the Lord as our Good Shepherd, the lamb of sacrifice. and the priest who offers the sacrifice.

The Galilean Son of Mary can be our king and shepherd because he is the sacrificial lamb on the altar of the cross. Our Father’s obedient son has stripped himself of all the privilege and perquisites of heaven to know our helplessness in an overwhelmingly complex, troubled, and misguided world. We know him as the least among us, an alien in poverty, living like any homeless person, dying without the comfort of cotton sheets or pain killers, and buried in a borrowed grave. 

Our Shepherd is wise to our foolishness because he has felt the same foolish impulses, especially the impulse to power and domination, which he resisted when the Devil tested him. He has shared our insane delusions and suffered our reckless passions. He also knows our bravado in the face of trouble, and the cowardice we hide. 

Our Savior was saved as we must be saved – by the Holy Spirit which informed him from the moment of his conception in Mary's womb. It was that spirit which drove him into the desert after he was baptized, which guided him from Galilee to Jerusalem, and received his last breath on Calvary.

Though harshly treated, he submitted

and did not open his mouth;

Like a lamb led to slaughter

or a sheep silent before shearers,

he did not open his mouth (Is 53:7)

We’re tempted in times like these to thank God the catastrophes are far away; they’re in eastern Europe, or Africa, or Asia. They’re in areas prone to earthquakes, drought, or flooding. They happen to people who are accustomed to poverty, sorrow, and grief. They can’t happen here…

…until they do. Until friends or relatives are killed in a gas explosion or a building collapse; or they kill themselves; or they’re murdered by a faceless, nameless stranger who, until yesterday, never meant harm to anyone.

Living on edge, we’re disappointed by dreams of Caribbean cruises and paradise island getaways. Alcohol, relaxing medications, and erotic fantasies provide little relief. Harrassed by endless entertainment, twentyfour-seven news, traffic jams, and the pinging, ringing, tingling, and tickling of smartphones, we’re not prepared for the moment when life happens. The world is too much for us, as William Wordsworth said two centuries ago. 

The wise among us, knowing that we cannot save ourselves, that nothing in this madness can relieve our distress, turn to the Good Shepherd. We find solace in prayer; we hear reassurance in silence. Shutting down our senses to block out sensations, we ask the Lord who died silently as a mob howled at him, to speak directly to our hearts. 

He found a solitary, quiet place between heaven and earth, on a cross. Our merciful shepherd and judge takes us one by one into the silence of prayer, of dying to ourselves, of eternal life. There he renews our life. He restores us first to our church, and then to family, friends, and society. We belong to him and he is faithful to us, for he cannot deny himself.