Christ the King Sunday: the last of the ordinary Sundays after Pentecost in the liturgical calendar. The journey that began in May is nearing its end. This Sunday we meditate on the nature of Christ as King of heaven and earth, on His triumph in inaugurating the Kingdom of God on earth, and on His promise to complete that Kingdom and bring peace to all creation--simply put, we meditate on the end of the world.
The encyclical Quas Primas (which means "in the first," or "the thing that causes") is the most deliberate consideration of the Feast of Christ the King. In it, Pope Pius XI says, "As long as individuals and states refuse to submit to the rule of Our Savior, there would be no really hopeful prospect of a lasting peace among nations." The peace of Christ is not simply a political peace or a social peace. It is not a semblance of political order imposed over fomenting human souls, like the Pax Romana at the time His birth. Christ promises not the wearying notion of a perpetual, unstable peace between democracies motivated by self-interest, as Kant predicates in Perpetual Peace. The peace of Christ is a permeating spiritual peace that fundamentally changes the conditions of life on earth, so the political and social peace become the only conceivable relation between people. Political and social turmoil are symptoms; Christ the King (like Tolkien's healer-king Aragorn) will heal the disease, all the way to the soul.
The celebration of Christ the King is not one-dimensional glorying in the promise of the Kingdom to come, however. Quas Primas makes a magnificent observation:
"[Christ's] kingdom is opposed to none other than to that of Satan and to the power of
darkness. It demands of its subjects a spirit of detachment from riches and earthly things, and
a spirit of gentleness. They must hunger and thirst after justice, and more than this, they must
deny themselves and carry the cross."
In other words, those loyal to Christ's Kingdom are not entitled to hate. Often, political and national loyalty are most easily expressed in hatred of other regimes and nationalities; we are held together not by our love of what we are, but by our distaste and hatred for what we are not. But we as Christians are not given this path of easy loyalty. We cannot hate Satan's instruments on earth, nor can we despise those who have succumbed to the power of darkness. Christ's kingship is predicated on the Cross, an act of love for those who oppose Him. If we are to be loyal citizens of His Kingdom, we must also follow in this way of the Cross.
St. John of the Cross was a 16th century monk who suffered cruelly at the hands of non-Christians and Christians alike. He was imprisoned and tortured by his own order of Carmelites, some of whom felt threatened by his attempts to reform the order. After his escape, he began publishing mystical writings and poems that invariably examine the nature of God's love. In an unwitting but apt summary of his own life, St. John of the Cross said, "Where there is no love, put love--and you will find love."
This is an exquisite expression of the kingship of Christ. Where there was no love, He came and brought love, at the cost of His own life. Where there is no love now, He commissions His followers to take love, sometimes at the cost of their lives. This is the spread of His dominion.
Today also marks the end of the Year of Faith proclaimed by Pope Benedict XVI. The Year of Faith "is a summons to an authentic and renewed conversion to the Lord, the one Savior of the world," he said in his letter "Porta Fidei" (The Door of Faith). It is a summons to reaffirm our citizenship in the Kingdom of Christ, and to honor that citizenship with deeds appropriate to that Kingdom. St. John of the Cross is an inspiring example of what citizenship in Christ's Kingdom looks like. But his life and writings, as all examples, point us back to the Door of Faith Himself: Christ, the King whose coronation was the Cross.
The encyclical Quas Primas (which means "in the first," or "the thing that causes") is the most deliberate consideration of the Feast of Christ the King. In it, Pope Pius XI says, "As long as individuals and states refuse to submit to the rule of Our Savior, there would be no really hopeful prospect of a lasting peace among nations." The peace of Christ is not simply a political peace or a social peace. It is not a semblance of political order imposed over fomenting human souls, like the Pax Romana at the time His birth. Christ promises not the wearying notion of a perpetual, unstable peace between democracies motivated by self-interest, as Kant predicates in Perpetual Peace. The peace of Christ is a permeating spiritual peace that fundamentally changes the conditions of life on earth, so the political and social peace become the only conceivable relation between people. Political and social turmoil are symptoms; Christ the King (like Tolkien's healer-king Aragorn) will heal the disease, all the way to the soul.
The celebration of Christ the King is not one-dimensional glorying in the promise of the Kingdom to come, however. Quas Primas makes a magnificent observation:
"[Christ's] kingdom is opposed to none other than to that of Satan and to the power of
darkness. It demands of its subjects a spirit of detachment from riches and earthly things, and
a spirit of gentleness. They must hunger and thirst after justice, and more than this, they must
deny themselves and carry the cross."
In other words, those loyal to Christ's Kingdom are not entitled to hate. Often, political and national loyalty are most easily expressed in hatred of other regimes and nationalities; we are held together not by our love of what we are, but by our distaste and hatred for what we are not. But we as Christians are not given this path of easy loyalty. We cannot hate Satan's instruments on earth, nor can we despise those who have succumbed to the power of darkness. Christ's kingship is predicated on the Cross, an act of love for those who oppose Him. If we are to be loyal citizens of His Kingdom, we must also follow in this way of the Cross.
St. John of the Cross was a 16th century monk who suffered cruelly at the hands of non-Christians and Christians alike. He was imprisoned and tortured by his own order of Carmelites, some of whom felt threatened by his attempts to reform the order. After his escape, he began publishing mystical writings and poems that invariably examine the nature of God's love. In an unwitting but apt summary of his own life, St. John of the Cross said, "Where there is no love, put love--and you will find love."
This is an exquisite expression of the kingship of Christ. Where there was no love, He came and brought love, at the cost of His own life. Where there is no love now, He commissions His followers to take love, sometimes at the cost of their lives. This is the spread of His dominion.
Today also marks the end of the Year of Faith proclaimed by Pope Benedict XVI. The Year of Faith "is a summons to an authentic and renewed conversion to the Lord, the one Savior of the world," he said in his letter "Porta Fidei" (The Door of Faith). It is a summons to reaffirm our citizenship in the Kingdom of Christ, and to honor that citizenship with deeds appropriate to that Kingdom. St. John of the Cross is an inspiring example of what citizenship in Christ's Kingdom looks like. But his life and writings, as all examples, point us back to the Door of Faith Himself: Christ, the King whose coronation was the Cross.
So today ends the proclaimed Year of Faith. Today also is the last Sunday of Ordinary Time. Today, we cast our eyes forward to the end of the world: Christ's Kingdom spread over every corner of creation. But every "end" in the liturgy is not an ending at all. The liturgy is a cycle; we cannot come to the end without coming to a new beginning. Next Sunday is the first Sunday of Advent, the great march towards the initiation of the redemption: the Incarnation. Similarly, the Year of Faith cannot really end until our faith becomes sight at the end of time. But even that will be simply the new beginning. Christ said, "Behold, I make all things new." This is the promise of the Kingdom of Christ, and it is the duty of the citizens of that Kingdom to participate in this promise by seeking, through the renewing power of love, to spread the great news of the King and to look forward in faith to the second Advent, and the beginning of all things.
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