Christ the King 2025
2 Samuel 5:1-3; Colossians 1:12-20; Luke 23:35-43
I have to begin with a confession: I struggle with this Feast. Perhaps that is no bad thing. Jacob wrestled with the angel, and sometimes God sets us puzzles through which we deepen our faith and understanding, so I don’t regret this particular struggle: perhaps it will prove beneficial. So, without more ado….
Forty five years ago this weekend I took a football team from Upholland College, where I was a member of staff, to Ushaw College, where I had trained for the priesthood. The principal celebrant at Sunday Mass was a Zimbabwean priest who began his homily by explaining that he found the concept of Christ the King a difficult one to grasp, coming as he did from a socialist republic. (This was before President Mugabe in Zimbabwe “went rogue” and established a dictatorship in all but name.) Father went on to claim that the only kings with whom he was familiar were Old King Cole, and Elvis.
Most of the world is in a similar situation. Very few kings remain, and those who do tend to have little or no power, though in our own case we have to admit that at least our two most recent constitutional monarchs, as they are known, namely Elizabeth II and Charles III, have shown considerable wisdom in national and international affairs—indeed, rather more than a succession of elected politicians.
Nonetheless, this feast, established one hundred years ago this year by Pope Pius XI, is something of an anachronism. It was established in the context of a particular political situation, the claim of Soviet communism to command absolute obedience: the Pope, by instituting the Feast of Christ the King, was asserting that Christ alone can make such a demand. It isn’t even the case that it has always been seen as providing an end to the liturgical year; some of you will remember when it was celebrated on the last Sunday in October. It is a liturgical sore thumb, and a movable thumb at that.
To be fair to the liturgists, they have done their best to move away from the triumphalism which originally marked this feast, by emphasising the role of Jesus as a suffering king, a martyred king. In one year out of three, we hear Matthew’s account of Jesus’ role at the Last Judgement, separating sheep from goats, but in the other two years, the focus is on the Passion of Christ. Last year, we heard John’s account of the interrogation of Jesus by Pilate: this year, He is already hanging on the Cross, subjected to the mockery of the crowds, the soldiers, and even one of his fellow-sufferers.
Over His head is a title which is itself a form of mockery—the King of the Jews. We are used to seeing this title represented by its Latin initials, INRI--Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudaeorum. Luke presents it in Greek, while John states that it was written in Hebrew, Latin, and Greek, presumably to reach as wide a spectatorship as possible.
It is an insult to Our Lord Himself, mocking Him for His supposed claims. Still more is it an insult to the Jewish people. Firstly, it implies that a crucified vagabond is the sort of king that the Jews might produce. More seriously, it is a blasphemy. There had been no kings in Judaism since the Exile to Babylon more than half a millennium before. For the Jews, God was, and is, their only king. Admittedly, Herod the Great had used the term, but he was a puppet of the Romans, and his claim to kingship had increased the hostility of devout Jews towards him. After his death, the Romans had divided his kingdom among three of his sons, two of whom were also called Herod. They were not accorded the title of “king”.
Thus, today’s feast provides a stark reminder that the kingship of Christ confers no earthly glory, and that this is no triumphal occasion. Those who will enter His Kingdom are those who share in His crucifixion. He is a king whose earthly throne was a cross, whose crown was made of thorns, whose sceptre was a reed, whose sole courtier was a crucified criminal. Only on those terms does this feast have any meaning or relevance, and I am far from sure that this is universally grasped. Hence, I can’t help feeling that little would be lost if it were to be quietly removed from the calendar. Unless this happens, it is important that we try to penetrate its deeper meaning.
