Christ the King 2019
2 Sam 5: 1-3; Colossians 1:11-20; Luke 23: 35-43.
“Ha ha” said the clown,
“Has the King lost his crown?” and so on...
Those of you who are of a certain vintage may recall that song, a hit for Manfred Mann, with Mike D’Abo on vocals, somewhere around 1967. I can’t help feeling that there is, in some ways, more of the clown than the king about this feast, and that this has been the case since it was instituted in 1925.
Why do I say that? Even in 1925, the notion of kingship was outmoded; even in those days, the number of kings had been greatly reduced, and those who remained tended to be figureheads, rather than people of power. Since then, kingship has declined still further. Our own queen is regarded with great respect because of her personal qualities, but in general royalty is seen to belong in the pages of “Hello” magazine, rather than on the world stage.
So is this feast an anomaly? Yes, in some ways, and yet...Today’s readings suggest that, even in scriptural terms, there is something rather ridiculous about kingship.
Take the case of David. When the Israelites came to make him king after the death of Saul, he was hardly a regal figure. In effect, he was an outcast, a guerrilla leader, accompanied by a rag tag and bobtail gang of outlaws, malcontents, and general scallywags; more of a clown than a king.
And yet, he was God’s chosen instrument, anointed to be king by the prophet Samuel when still a boy, long before the death of Saul. He was chosen as king by God, but, at the time, his kingdom lay many years in the future.
As it was with David, so it was with Our Lord. In earthly terms, His kingship was a farce. His throne was a cross, His crown was made of thorns, His entourage consisted of two criminals, one of whom abused Him, and His royal proclamation was a calculated insult both to Him and to His race.
The sign reading “This is the King of the Jews” was clearly intended to mock Jesus, but even more was it intended to offend the Jewish people. By the time of Jesus, the whole concept of an earthly king was anathema to the Jews, who recognised God alone as their king. That a mere man, as they thought, could be described as their king was appalling, especially a man under a biblical curse, as hanging on a tree.
Yet, even more than was the case with David, this farcical king was chosen by God and predestined to reign: though, as with David, the revelation of His kingship was delayed. As the Letter to the Colossians expresses it, Jesus is the source of all creation, whose sovereignty is universal, encompassing all of time and space; and had the Jewish people but known it, they would have been justified in acknowledging this king, because He is also God.
What, though, does this feast say to us? From the 1950s and 60s, I recall a triumphalist feast of a triumphalist Church. In the afternoon, there would be a procession of the Blessed Sacrament, with the parish priest carrying the best monstrance, and arrayed in his finest cope. Recent events have destroyed any grounds we might have entertained for triumphalism: the Church has been humbled, nay humiliated.
There is nothing positive that can be said about the reasons for this—they are a source of deep shame—yet a humble Church is more in keeping with the feast than was the former splendour. Christ is indeed king, but the fullness of His reign is not yet; in this world, we come closer to His kingdom when we are seen as clowns.
