Who will Christ the King say I am?

Mt 25:31-46

We’re uncomfortable with the idea of absolute monarchy in our world.  The idea of so much power, authority and control in the hands of one individual offends our democratic sensibility and the freedom of choice we supposedly exercise in personal life and decision making.  We may have less difficulty with constitutional monarchy, even looking with a certain degree of admiration and envy at a perceived lifestyle of comfort and privilege (though I often wonder if we recognise the responsibilities of duty and service that are its backbone).  It seems we positively adore a prince or princess perceived to be ‘of the people’: almost down to our level.

The pilgrimage of Advent, when we prepare to celebrate God incarnate as a human being at Christmas, is rapidly approaching.  On this last Sunday of the liturgical year, the Gospel for the feast of Christ the King presents ‘the humble carpenter of Nazareth’ as extraordinarily conscious of His role as the Son of Man.  Within days, He goes to His death as a ridiculed King and a common slave, yet He knows the plan of God since before the foundation of the world.  Not only that, He one day will return in ‘His glory‘ to judge the world, separating the sheep from the goats, the wheat from the darnel, the good from the bad; bringing into the light what was previously hidden.

The basis of our judgement will be exclusively on love: our reaction to the needs of the vulnerable and the help we have given.  The prayers I have said, all the Masses I have attended or the religious practices I have observed will count for nothing if I do not take my communion with Christ into my heart and pour it back out after His example in concrete, everyday actions of compassion, love and truth to sisters and brothers.  Very simple, ordinary everyday acts of generous, humble love done not for reward or recognition but because all people, like me, are God’s children too: loved, wanted, redeemed; bearing the face of Christ and the Holy Spirit dwelling within, just as I am.

Fr. Tomás Kehoe