Today the Church celebrates with great joy the Solemnity of Christ the King. It is the last Sunday of the liturgical year and, in many ways, the culmination. All of the seasons and feasts point to this reality: that Jesus Christ is the King of the Universe, the Lord of all. All of time, all of history, is heading toward this climax when Christ will be revealed as the universal King of Kings.
Although this feast wasn’t officially on the Church calendar until 1929, it’s been a doctrine of the Church since the very beginning—Israel referred to God as Heavenly King long before they had an earthly King. In fact, we Americans are a bit like ancient Israel in that way. We do not bend our knee to any earthly king, and yet we resoundingly hail Christ as Our King.
For a little cultivation of mind and soul, a few years ago, I read Shakespeare’s Henry V. Act IV of Henry V, takes place the night before the great battle of Agincourt, and King Henry does something surprising. He disguises himself as a commoner. The king dressed in peasant garb walks among his soldiers, he calls brothers, and raises their spirits for the upcoming battle.
Sound familiar? The King of the Universe became one of us. And it wasn’t just an act; God really became man and sent the Church on a campaign to bring the Gospel to all of the corners of the earth.
There is another famous story about royalty disguising itself as the commoner, a story I heard as a young boy, the story of the Prince and the Pauper. The prince and a poor commoner trade places, the prince goes and lives in the streets, begging for food, and the pauper lives in the castle and is treated like royalty. While he is living in the streets, some treat the prince with kindness, some ignore him, some even spit on him. At the end of the story, the prince comes back to the castle, sits on his throne and rewards those who cared for him, loved him, helped him, when they did not know he was the prince.
That lesson should sound familiar as well as it sounds a lot like Matthew’s Gospel this weekend! In Matthew’s 25th chapter, the Lord teaches us that those in need are really him in disguise. For the rest of history he is disguised in ever hungry, naked, thirsty, homeless, imprisoned person we meet. And we will be judged—we will be separated into two camps—when he returns in glory—by our treatment of the least.
Last Wednesday, on the 11th of November we celebrated the feast of St. Martin of Tours, whose image is depicted in one of our stained glass windows here at St. Ignatius. St. Martin of Tours lived in the 4th century. He was a soldier, but also a Christian. And one very cold day, much like today, Martin came across a poor, nearly naked man, lying at a city gate, begging for help. Martin had no money, so the story goes that he took his red soldier’s cape, and cut it in half, and gave it to the poor man, to keep warm. That’s what is being depicted in the stained glass window.
Not depicted is what happened shortly after. Martin had a vision of the Christ Child, seated on his throne, wearing half of Martin’s red soldier’s cape. An angel asked the Lord, why are you wearing that cape, were did you get it from? And the Lord responded, “My brother Martin gave that to me.” When we care for the poor, we care for Christ.
St. Mother Theresa of Calcutta said, “at the end of life, we will not be judged by how many diplomas we have received, how much money we have made, how many great things we have done, we will be judged by, ‘I was naked and you clothed me, I was hungry and you fed me.” But then she broadens the concept, “hungry not only for bread, but hungry for love; naked, not only of clothing, but of human dignity and respect, homeless not only of a room of bricks, but also homeless because of rejection…this is Christ in disguise.”
The catechism validates Mother Theresa’s words, when it says, “On Judgment Day at the end of the world, Christ will come in glory to achieve the definitive triumph of good over evil…when he comes at the end of time to judge the living and the dead, the glorious Christ will reveal the secret disposition of hearts and will render to each man according to his works and according to his acceptance or refusal of grace.”
Praised be to God, this parish has a such long history of taking this Gospel quite seriously. And I hope that can continue for a long time. It takes a lot of work and time. But please know that if you, or a group of fellow parishioners, have some idea of how you would like to serve the needs of our neighborhood or the needs of the parish, I will help you develop that. That’s what I’m here for.
Our everyday encounters, as St. Paul says, carries an “eternal weight of glory”—our treatment of the waitress, the cashier, the political rival, the belligerent family member at the thanksgiving dinner table—our decisions, our words, how we treat people, will be recalled on judgment day—when the disguise is taken off, and we will be judged according to the measure of our charity or lack thereof.
For Christ to truly be King of our lives, we must recognize that the King desires our service, especially when he dresses in disguise. Most of us are on our best behavior when we come into church, because we are in the Eucharistic presence of Christ, but that behavior, that generosity, always needs to extend beyond these walls, out in the world, in setting good Christian example by our words and deeds, sharing the good news of salvation with the brokenhearted, and even simply meeting the very common, simple needs physical needs of the stranger, for the Lord comes disguised as the stranger, and demands our respect, for the glory of God and salvation of souls.
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