Christ the King
by damianfeeney
CHRIST THE KING
An Address preached on The Solemnity of Christ the King, 2010
Readings: Jer xxiii.1-6, Col i.11-20, Luke xxiii.33–43
‘This is the King of the Jews’ (Luke xxiii.38)
Louis-Dieudonné de France, Louis Quatorze, Le Roi Soleil, the Sun-King, King of France and Navarre from 1643-1715. Was ever a monarch more richly titled than the progeny of Louis XIII and Anne of Austria? Certainly none has been so royally garbed as he, judging by the portrait by Hyacinthe Rigaud painted in 1701, on display in the Apollo Salon of the Château de Versailles‘ Grand Apartment – you received a copy when you entered the chapel this morning.
He stands in regal pose, bewigged and swathed with the Golden Fleur-de-Lys on royal blue, ermine-lined, with garters and shoes which defy any description of mine. Even his name. Dieudonné, means ‘God-given’ – his is the very epitome of the divine right of kings, and has come to represent the height of a dynasty of monarchs which would – quite literally – be decapitated some ninety-two years after his portrait was unveiled. But all that was in the future. He ruled for longer than any European monarch. At the time of the portrait France was pre-eminent among the nations of Europe. Put simply, he was the most powerful, unchallenged creature on the planet. God-given – or, more cynically, he thought he was God’s gift. I’ll move on quickly, before anyone starts talking about the good old days.
You can probably tell what’s coming next, but I make no apology for telegraphing it. Today we celebrate our Lord Jesus Christ, Universal King. King not of France, or even France and Navarre, but the universe. King of all that is, that has been, that will be. King of every atom and particle, every moment of time, every creature and every soul. Yesterday and today, the beginning and the end, Alpha, and Omega; all time belongs to him, and all the ages. To any novelist, poet or story teller, the fact that the moment of the cross is the moment of declaration that ‘This is the King of the Jews’ would be a moment of the profoundest irony, because it is the moment when the King has been ignobly disrobed, stripped of all royal apparel, as he undergoes the execution reserved for the accursed criminal.
But this is not irony. Rather, it is sublime paradox, and his dying is entirely of a piece with is living, for this is he who
though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, 7 but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross[i].
Our readings point to certain vital characteristics of a Kingship worthy of the title ‘Dieudonné’. To Jeremiah, such a one is raised up by God, and is righteous, both in name and in deed. In the letter to the Colossians we read of one who transcends all human power and authority, one who is prior to all existence, one who holds the created order together – a veritable Sun-King. And in Luke we read that such a one as this universal king is rejected to the point of execution by the very people he came to serve – the Sun King overshadowed by darkness and the mire and sin of his fellow humans. But even here, condemned by a desperate brigand on the one hand and acquitted by another, the Kingship of Jesus is shown to us in a definitive way which challenges and threatens.
The reign of our King is terrifying. Jesus is the true Dieudonné, God-given, since here is God, giving himself, to redeem his very creation. Here Christ completes the process begun before his birth, the kenosis, the self-emptying, whose self-negation fulfills all creation. God-givenness confers not privilege and power, but quite the opposite, and it is in exploration of this sublime and puzzling mystery that our intimacy with Christ and its outworking in our lives and actions is to be found. Laurence Freeman uses this idea to frame a puzzling question:
The question that Jesus asked his disciples ‘And who do you say that I am?’ is at the heart of Jesus’ encounter with our humanity. For to attempt to answer this question involves us in an inevitable questioning of our own identity for, whoever we say Jesus is, has very real implications for who we say we are[ii].
We are servants of the God-given, with a servanthood modelled on his own. The authority of the church is given as another way to serve creation – to live and to die for it, for God, to serve all that Christ holds dear, and for which he went to his death. As Freeman reminds us, our answer to the question of Jesus’ identity cannot sit on its own. It leads to further questioning about ourselves, and who we are, if we gaze on the crucified Christ and see the God-givenness of our King. If this is he, then who are we?
Clearly, we are servants too – a servanthood which expresses itself in a number of ways. Part of that is to be people who watch, and wait for the Lord, being faithful while being vigilant – vigilant over God’s people, vigilant for his return. Think of the images used in the ordination rites – messengers, watchmen, heralds – those of us who are ordained carry these images of the Dieudonne with the whole church. These images are intimately related to our perception of who we believe Christ to be, and the share in his priesthood we model will depend on our deepest reflections upon the crucified King. We should glory in the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ – for he is our salvation, our life, and our resurrection – through him we are saved, and made free[iii] – and so all glory to him, now and to the ages of ages.
Preached at St. Stephen’s House, Oxford, on November 21st 2010
[i] Phil 2.6-8 NRSV
[ii] Laurence Freeman, The Teacher Within
[iii] Entrance Antiphon for Maundy Thursday – Roman Missal
