In Sunday’s readings we celebrate the feast day of Christ: King of the Universe.
In the first reading, the liturgy takes us back to the anointing of David as King of Israel, and I immediately think of Goliath. You really can’t separate David from that fateful moment — the shepherd boy stepping onto the field to face a giant with nothing but his trust in God and a sling and a stone.
Then the Gospel “fast forwards” us so hard we almost get whiplash, seeing Jesus in anguish on the Cross under the title “King of the Jews.” The kinship between the two kings is unmistakable. I see Jesus the Good Shepherd stepping forward to face another giant — the greatest one of all. The sneers, the jeers, the ridicule — it all echoes that ancient battlefield. Except this time, the giant isn’t made of flesh and bone. It’s death itself.
The rulers sneer:
“He saved others; let Him save Himself.”
The soldiers jeer:
“If You are King of the Jews…”
They judge Him by outward weakness. But God reveals kingship by inward truth. What David was in part, Jesus is in fullness. David was chosen, anointed, lifted up as shepherd-king. Jesus is the promised Son of David — “God-with-us,” the Messiah and King of Kings — revealed not in a coronation, but on a Cross.
On a battlefield, the shepherd who would become Israel’s king stepped forward. David protected a flock whose lambs were destined for the altar. Jesus, the promised Son of David, steps forward as the Lamb — taken from the flock to become the once-for-all sacrifice.
David conquered Goliath; Jesus conquered the giant of death. David defended Israel from its enemies; Jesus defends humanity from its deepest enemy: sin and death.
And the sneers and jeers? They haven’t gone anywhere. Anyone who follows Christ today will meet the same misunderstanding — humility dismissed, faith questioned, fidelity mistaken for weakness.
But the Cross teaches us this: mockery never dethrones the King. What looks like defeat is often exactly where God hides His victory. Christ the Shepherd-King still leads His flock through every giant — even the ones that laugh at us along the way.
