A reflection on the Feast of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

In 1925 Pope Pius XI declared the last Sunday of the Liturgical Year to be the Feast of Christ the King. He did this to resist the rising fascism of Mussolini and the fascist movement in Europe. He was alarmed when Mussolini, who had become prime minister of Italy in 1922, then declared himself dictator in 1925. Pius XI wanted to remind Christians that our allegiance must be to God and not to Il Duce. Years later of course, Pius XI would cooperate with Mussolini; that is a homily for another day. 

The readings for the Feast of Christ the King are ones of resistance. Daniel was written during the Maccabean revolt, around 165 BC when the Greek king Antiochus IV threatened to destroy traditional Jewish worship in Jerusalem. 

 Revelation was written as the Roman empire was ruthlessly persecuting Christians, and early in his tenure in the 1920s, Mussolini would do the same. 

To our modern ears, the language of these readings is a little weird. Kingdoms, dominions, apparitions, etc. Modern day monarchies are generally ceremonial, full of pomp and tradition, much of it geared to tourists. In America we are very leery of anything that sounds like “ruler” or “king.” When we use the words, they are generally for fun things like beauty queen or king of prom night. But for most of history, titles like “King” or “Emperor” came with a lot of power, a title not to take lightly. But the Roman emperors wanted even better titles. 

Augustus was the Emperor of Rome for much of Jesus’ life. He was called Caesar Augustus. We think of it as a name, but because Julius Caesar was the most famous Roman emperor of all, his name became a title. The German word “Kaiser” is from Caesar as is the Russian word, “Tsar.” The original Caesar was seen as a God, and Augustus was called the Son of God. Then Jesus continued the resistance tradition of Daniel and Ezekial. This nobody from Palestine, a small and relatively unimportant colony, started saying, “Actually I am the Son of God.” And the Romans were outraged. You can imagine them saying, “How can he say that?  He doesn’t even own a house, let alone an empire.” When Herod said he was the King of the Jews, Jesus encouraged his disciples to say, “Jesus is the King of the Jews.” Jesus mocked human authority and human claims to power. 

But when Jesus is in front of Pilate things become more serious. Pilate asks Jesus if Jesus is a king.  Jesus doesn’t answer that question and is not sarcastic. Instead, he says, “I was born and came into the world for one purpose — to bear witness to the truth.”  

What is the truth that Jesus bore witness to, and why is it so important for us to bear witness also, as we face a similar threat to the one faced by the Maccabees, then by the early Christians and then by the Italians leading up to World War II?  

The truth is that we are called to resist. We are to be “in the world but not of the world.” We are to “take nothing for the journey.” We are to clothe ourselves with compassion and kindness.  

The language of Daniel and of Revelation is dense, and deliberately so. It is a code for resistance — the people who read it would know what it meant and what it called for, but enemies would not. Thus you have Pilate asking Jesus, “What is truth?”  

Here is our truth, which will be our form of resistance. We will practice hope.  Elaine Prevallet reminds us that hope is not something you have or get or lose. Hope is not a commodity. We will get up every day and be hopeful. And if we can’t be hopeful for a day, we will be hopeful for an hour, or 20 minutes. We will help each other hope because hope thrives in community. We will practice faith — the evidence of things not seen. Faith takes practice. We will, as best we can, channel God’s unconditional love to all.  

Our resistance to our modern-day fascism will be kindness. We will follow the example of Jesus, and in doing so, we will bear witness to the truth.