And so we arrive at the final Sunday of the liturgical year, Christ the King. Yet again I had a look at the texts and imagery surrounding this day, mostly about victory, majesty and power... and yet again came back to, for instance, the dispute among the disciples as to who would be the greatest.[1] Jesus tells them: The kings of the gentiles lord it over them… But not so with you. The greatest among you will become like the youngest, and the leader like one who serves… I am among you as one who serves.
The Feast of Christ the King is actually a recent invention. Pope Pius XI inaugurated it in 1922, not 100 years ago, in the wake of the First World War. Europe was falling again into class and race divisions and militant nationalism, and the Pope sought to teach that it is Jesus who reigns as Prince of Peace, reconciling all to himself. But Christ the King remains an image that resonates power and (some would insist) dominance and masculinity. That may not be at all what Pope Pius intended, but a doctrinal formulation perhaps appropriate in 1922 may be seen now as simply replacing the power of politicians and demagogues and armies with the power of some christian imperialism... Christ the King… based allegedly on love… except that, tragically, love is not what many now associate with the christian church. And there are those of us who find it difficult to offer heart worship to a Christ in Glory, Christos Pantokrator, Christ Ruler of All, “exercising dominion over all creatures” (Cyril of Alexandria).
I am way out of my depth in all this. That may already be evident. Richard Rohr wheels in a theory in physics called Quantum Entanglement. Sub-atomic particles seem to know and are able to react to each other while far apart, even though there is no imaginable means of communication between them. So, it is thought, we can posit a mysterious force field of love and goodness, in which my loving thoughts or actions actually affect others far away – some people like to explain prayer this way. Equally, evil or negative attitudes or actions produce corresponding negative reactions. And these mysteries, some think, are a way of seeing the triumph and reign of Christ in power. He rules by some such hidden, transcendental network.
For others of us, it is a more subtle thing, not enhanced by being explained or defined. He reigns by love. His reign is completely unlike that of any earthly ruler we have seen. He knows our griefs and bears our sorrows. He suffers our rejection of him. He seeks the lost. He fills judgement with mercy. His power is never power of coercion. His judgement is never condemnation. His kingdom is not some “spiritual” version or replication of earthly kingdoms. It is, Jesus told Pilate, not of this world.[2] To be quietly at prayer, alone or with others, is to come to the threshold of this kingdom where Jesus reigns, and to start to hear its songs and to share its hopes and longings. It is a matter of being present to him, as he is present, always, to us, to the end of the world.
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