Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe
The Four Last Things
Part IV: Judgment
Two men were seated in the same train compartment. One was grey-haired and thoughtful; the
other was young, restless, and apparently quite worried. In time, the older man spoke: “Something
sure seems to be troubling you, son.
Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, sir,” the young man replied. “Actually, there’s nothing anybody can do to help. But since I feel like I can trust you,
and I probably won’t ever see you again, I’ll tell you my story, and that
itself will be a relief.” With
utter honestly, the young man shared how he’d gotten started in petty crime—stealing
small things from work to help support his widowed mother. But then he fell in with two coworkers,
who proved to be hardened criminals.
The three planned a serious robbery, but when the security guard caught
them by surprise, he was shot by one of the older men, who were both captured
by the police. They pinned the
murder on the young man, who had managed to get away, and now a warrant was out
for his arrest. He was headed for
the big city, where he hoped to disappear into the crowds.
Kindly, but in all seriousness, the older man said, “You
know, you really need to turn yourself in and tell this whole story to the
court—just as you’ve told it to me.”
“It was easy to tell you,” the young man replied, “since
you’re a stranger and so understanding.
I’d be much too scared to tell my story to a judge!” But eventually the older man prevailed,
and the young man promised to do it.
He kept his promise, and there came his day in court. Just as restless and anxious as he’d
been on the train, the young man was led before the bench with his eyes cast
down. After the charges were read,
he was asked to make a statement.
It’s only then that he looked up at the judge—who, to his great
surprise, was none other than his friend from the train. It was suddenly much easier to tell his
story to one who knew it already.
He was acquitted of murder, placed on probation for the attempted
robbery, and never turned to crime again.
On these four Sundays of November, when the Church’s
thoughts turn to prayer for the faithful departed, we’ve been reflecting on the
Four Last Things. We’ve already
considered (1) death, (2) heaven, and (3) hell. This Sunday, we contemplate the hinge between life in this
world and life in the next: (4) judgment.
Every Sunday, we profess our faith that Christ our King
“will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom
will have no end.” This Sunday, we
have a feast to celebrate that faith.
These last several Sundays we’ve been hearing parables reminding us to
get ready: to prepare ourselves for the coming of the Son of Man, to prepare
for Jesus’ return. Today we hear
yet another parable, through which we learn what will happen when he comes.
The scriptures are clear that all men will be raised in
their bodies on the last day so as to stand before the judgment seat of Christ and
give an accounting of their faith and works. Standing before Jesus, who is Truth itself, the whole truth
of our relationship with God will be laid bare for all to see. Ever throw a pebble into a still pond
and wonder just how far the ripples will go? At the Last Judgment, the full extent of what we’ve all done
and failed to do will be revealed as God’s justice triumphs over our every
injustice, and God’s love and mercy prove stronger even than death.
But Jesus is not only the King and Judge of the whole universe;
he’s my king and my judge. Besides
the general judgment at the end of time, we believe in a particular judgment at
the hour of our death, when our eternal reward will be determined immediately—either
to depart into eternal punishment, or to come and enter into eternal life.
By the way so many of us live, you’d think the criteria upon
which we’ll be judged were how much money we’ve earned, or how far we’ve gotten
in our careers, or how many friend we’ve made. But Jesus makes it clear that only one question will be
asked: “What have you done for the least brothers of mine and yours?” That’s not an abstract question! In fact, the King gets rather specific
as he speaks to the sheep and then the goats. That familiar list of charitable deeds is known to us as the
Corporal Works of Mercy. But why
should these actions in particular be the ones upon which our everlasting
destiny depends? Because they’re a
practical test of whether we really love our neighbor, and the love of neighbor
is a practical test of whether we really love our God.
How does this faith of the Church in the judgment of King
Jesus affect your life and mine, here and now? For one thing, it should instill in us a holy fear—the sort
that prompts us to covert our lives while time yet remains. And for another, it should give us
blessed hope—looking forward to the Lord’s return with eager expectation, for
it is then that God’s will, God’s plan for creation, will come to its glorious
and perfect fulfillment, when God will be all in all.
My friends, we should all see ourselves in that young man on
the train—we’re all sinners, restless and anxious because we’re guilty as
charged. And for that very reason,
let us reach out with charity to every stranger who walks into our lives, for
in each and every one of them the King of the Universe is giving us another
opportunity to become his own friend.
And if we thus allow Jesus to be our friend in this life, we will be
able to stand before him with great confidence when he comes again to judge the
living and the dead.
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