Homily, Christ the King Sunday C
The Catholic faith is full of paradoxes, things that at first glance seem like a contradiction. “Whoever seeks to preserve his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will save it.” “Unless a grain of wheat falls to ground and dies, it remains just a single grain. But if it dies, it produces a rich harvest.” Today we celebrate the Solemnity of our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, but in the Gospel we just heard, what is the throne that Jesus chose for His coronation? He reigns as King from the Cross, an instrument of torture and public execution. He is crowned, not with silver or gold, but with thorns that tear into His skull. Christ’s execution and debasement is, at the same time, His exaltation and glory. In John’s Gospel, Jesus says, “When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself” (12:32). Every crucifix continues to proclaim the love of God and the sovereignty of Christ that has the power to conquer and rule over human hearts more surely than any emperor or president or any other king throughout the history of the world.
Those who try to rule by superior strength, by military might, or economic influence, these have always come and gone, and their kingdoms rise and fall in every age. Jesus conquers, not by demonstrating His superior strength, but by laying down His life for us, being wounded for us, stretching out His arms and having His heart pierced, pouring out the last drops of His Precious Blood for us. When Jesus, lifted up on the Cross or raised up in this Eucharist upon the altar, when He draws us to Himself, we are faced with a choice, the same choice as those who witnessed the crucifixion 2000 years ago. Will we place our faith in this mysterious power of Christ, power that is “made perfect in weakness,” in trial, in persecution and suffering (2 Corinthians 12:9)? Will we freely take up our own cross and follow after Christ as His disciples? Or, will we rebel against that sort of King? Do we revile Jesus with the crowds, with one of the criminals saying, “‘Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us.’ Jesus, can’t you see that the world is spinning out of control? With natural disasters, with acts of terrorism, with incompetent and corrupt political and religious leaders? Jesus, what are you waiting for? Intervene. We’ve had enough of God’s weakness already. Come down from the Cross. It’s time for God to show His strength.”
Even in our personal lives we might become frustrated and impatient with God’s gentleness. There might be a sin or several sins that we’ve struggled with for years, keeping us as slaves, or we see a family member or close friend enslaved by sin and wonder, “‘Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us.’ Take control. Force us to be good.” But in freeing us from the slavery of sin, God refuses to make us slaves of His own goodness. God always invites. He does not force His way in. Jesus stands at the door and knocks (Revelation 3:20). He waits for us to respond, to open ourselves to Him. God wants us as His children and His friends, not as His slaves.
Now imagine the faith of that other criminal in today’s Gospel, whom tradition gives the name of St. Dismas. It’s fairly easy to acknowledge Jesus as King when He feeds the five thousand or when He enters Jerusalem on Palm Sunday to shouts of “Hosanna in the highest,” or when our life and our world is going according to plan, but imagine seeing this King crucified and you yourself suffering and dying next to Him on a cross of your own, and somehow, you have the audacity, the foolishness in the eyes of the world, you have the faith to say to this dying Messiah, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” How many of us would be prepared to say that in those circumstances? To acknowledge the coming kingdom of a God so seemingly powerless in the face of all the evil in the world as to be killed by His very own people? And then to believe Him when He replies, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
This is the same faith that on November 23, 1927, allowed the martyr Bl. Miguel Pro to stretch out his own arms in the form of a cross in front of the firing squad, and to proclaim with his final words “¡Viva Cristo Rey!” Long live Christ the King! even as he had seen his beloved Mexico ravaged by civil war and by corrupt and anti-Catholic governments and dictators over the course of the previous 10 or 20 years. Put to death when he was only 36 years old, and just two years into his priesthood, Miguel Pro had probably hoped and planned on many more years to serve God and His people here on earth. When life doesn’t go according to plan, when we suffer injustice and tragedy, when God seems to ask too much from us, or when He seems silent in the face of great evil, do we still have the faith to proclaim that Christ reigns as King over all?
Long after every other human power has passed away, long after every earthly kingdom or empire has risen and fallen again, one kingdom of heaven will still endure. God grant us the grace today to transform the questioning in our hearts, “Are you not the Christ?” into the confession of our faith, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” “¡Viva Cristo Rey!” Long live Christ the King!