34th Sunday in ordinary time – Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe. Today’s readings: Daniel 7,13-14; Revelation 1,5-8; John 18, 33b-37
The feast of Christ the King marks the end of the liturgical year. Since last Advent, the Church has been journeying through the year highlighting the most significant milestones in the life of Jesus. Today it reaches the climax of such mysteries.
The celebration of Christ the King is meant, as it were, to express the fullest effect of the greatest event in the life of Jesus, namely his resurrection following his death on a cross. As Hebrews 2:9 puts it, “we see Jesus, who was for a short while made less than the angels, now crowned with glory and honour because he submitted to death; so that by God’s grace his experience of death should benefit all humanity”. The Letter to the Hebrews construes our life in terms of a race, lived in imitation of Christ whom the author seems to present implicitly as the one who ran the race before us and is now bringing our faith to perfection, that is to completion.
It is therefore a happy coincidence that, only last week, the authentic marathon, as it is referred to, was run from the town of Marathon to Athens. The fatigue of the runners finishing the marathon is overcome by a deep sense of satisfaction at having conquered the long distance in a matter of hours.
According to legend, it all began in 490 BC at the Battle of Marathon when a Greek messenger ran the 42km stretch from that town to Athens without stopping in order to tell of the Greek’s victory over the invading Persian army. Upon arrival, he announced the victory by proclaiming “Nenikēkamen!” (we have won). The lad then dropped dead.
Today we can hear the resounding celestial exclamation: nenikēkamen! Christ has run the race and has been crowned King of Kings and Lord of Lords. To him belongs ultimate sovereignty. He owns the universe, but his choice prize is my heart.
The bellicose imagery in Psalm 45, which augurs that the sharp arrows of the king may pierce the heart of his enemies (v. 6), may even represent a desire to see Christ’s love penetrate the hardest of hearts. Indeed, it is our hearts he wants to conquer, these hearts which should exude the sense of welcome which a simple manger in Bethlehem would denote, but which too often resemble the impenetrable US Fort Knox. Bernini’s touching depiction of Christ’s victory over hearts is probably best admired in the statue of St Teresa in ecstasy at Santa Maria della Vittoria in Rome.
Human kings, queens, princes and princesses are invariably greeted with pomp, with doors thrown open and red carpets laid out nicely before them. Not so the King of Kings. Of his own will, he chooses to “stand at the door and knock” (Revelation 3:20), trusting that we will let him in. The one whose only crown on earth was a torturous crown of thorns – one that he allowed to be cruelly pressed into his head – cannot be provoked to demand obeisance or servitude at all costs. He wishes hearts to freely surrender to his dominion and to his will. Countless are the inspiring testimonies of people who, after years of resistance, finally dared to allow His Majesty to gracefully step into their lives and transform their hearts.
He wishes hearts to freely surrender to his dominion and to his will
Today’s feast is not about the secured victory of some lone ranger who now proudly guards his personal achievements. Rather, the exaltation of his kingship is an affirmation in the belief that we too can share in it if we allow him to make us sons and daughters of the kingdom of God. Hence, the following proclamation, addressed to God at mass, takes on a wholly different meaning: “For yours is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, now and forever.”