Christ the King

Today I want to be Eucharistic, a Greek word that means thankful.  In today's first reading from Ezekiel we learn that God is our shepherd, the one who promises to be our protector especially at night when we are most vulnerable.  In becoming the shepherd God assumes the role of the lowly peasant, someone in the ancient world who had no voice, whose only task was to protect the sheep. Illiterate but compassionate, shepherds would gather all the sheep together at night and literally lie down at the opening of the sheep pen to keep predators from entering. God promises to be our shepherd, our guide, our protector.

This aspect of God's nature is made even clearer in today's gospel when Jesus, as the King of all creation, assures us that when we assume the role of shepherd and feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, shelter to the stranger, clothing to the naked, and show compassion to the sick and imprisoned, we do it for him.  Becoming totally other centered is the task of shepherds and we can do this on a daily basis when we look out for those most in need and those often ignored or dismissed by others as pariahs.

Jesus also promises to be the lamb of sacrifice and reminds us that we will have to take on the same role often in our lives.  When we commit ourselves to a gospel path, we assume there will be moments of great stress that demand we forget ourselves for the sake of others, and often this role to which the Lord guides us will be taken for granted, even mocked.

Many years ago, one of my heroines, Sr. Dorothy Ann Kelly, (RIP) the former president of the College of New Rochelle where I served as a chaplain, would often call me to accompany her to nursing homes and hospitals where she knew former students and benefactors of the College were languishing without support from family or friends. Dorothy Ann visited these "friends" often not only because they were alone and forgotten, but because she was grateful for their past kindnesses to the college and for the freedom she had to visit. On our drive to the hospital or nursing home, Dorothy Ann would tell me stories about the people we were about to visit.  She did not want me to simply function as a priest and bless the sick or hear their confessions.  She wanted me to minister to them, not as anonymous alumnae, but as people with a history and a personality who had become old and frightened and who needed a kind and gentle hand. 

Today, on the feast of Christ the King, thank God for the privilege of visiting the sick and imprisoned, of feeding the hungry, clothing the naked and giving drink to the thirsty.