PROPER 29, YEAR C

(CHRIST THE KING)

November 23, 2025

Saints Matthew and Mark, Barrington, R.I.

 

Luke 23:35-43

 

Three years ago, the death of Queen Elizabeth II and the subsequent coronation of King Charles III got me thinking about our relationship with monarchy in this country. We tend to be of two minds. On one hand, Americans are often fascinated by the British royal family. Approximately 10.9 million US viewers watched King Charles’s coronation live in May 2023. For many Episcopalians, the royal pageantry showcases our Anglican tradition at its best. 

 

On the other hand, this fascination with royalty can create a misleading impression. In general, I think it’s fair to say that while we Americans find it wonderful that the British have a royal family over there, a monarchy is the last thing we’d ever want over here! Whether we agreed or disagreed politically with the recent “No Kings” protests, they did presuppose this aspect of our history, traditions, and culture. We live in a republic in which the people are sovereign. For most of us, then, the very thought of subjecting ourselves to a hereditary monarch is unthinkable. That's what we fought the American Revolution to get away from.

 

Still, every year, the Feast of Christ the King comes around to remind us that as Christians, we are indeed monarchists. We freely yield our loyalty and allegiance not to any earthly king but to the heavenly king. Today’s observance reminds us that, despite all appearances to the contrary, the risen and ascended Christ reigns over all creation, and no earthly political system, ideology, ruler, or power can thwart his saving purposes for humanity.

 

In 1925, Pope Pius XI instituted the Feast of Christ the King as an antidote to Communism, Fascism, and, more generally, modern secularism. So, it’s a relative newcomer to the Church calendar. (This year is the 100th anniversary.) Initially held on the last Sunday in October, it was moved in 1969 to its current position on the last Sunday of the liturgical year. We thus conclude our annual cycle of seasons, feasts, and fasts with a ringing affirmation of Christ’s gracious rule over all human affairs.

 

Christ the King belongs to a special category of feasts that afford a second look at doctrines and mysteries already given a first glance on previous occasions in the year. For example, on Corpus Christi, we take a second look at the Eucharist, previously considered on Maundy Thursday. On Holy Cross Day, September 14th, we take a second look at Christ’s suffering and death, previously considered on Good Friday. And on the Feast of Christ the King, we take a second look at the risen Christ’s exaltation to divine glory at the right hand of his Father in heaven, previously considered on the Feast of the Ascension.

 

On Ascension Day, we remember that forty days after his Resurrection, Christ ascended into heaven in the sight of his disciples to reign as king over all creation until the Last Day, when he shall return to judge the living and the dead.

 

By now, you may have noticed that I’m very interested in how Christian teaching gets expressed in art. The Western Church’s artistic tradition typically depicts Christ the King as the Judge separating the sheep from the goats, the saved from the damned, at the Final Judgment. By contrast, the Eastern Church’s iconography tends to present Christ as the heavenly ruler of all things, even now. Byzantine churches in places like Sicily and Greece feature magnificent mosaics depicting Christos Pantocrator—Christ the Ruler of all things—that dominate the entire interior of the building. Yet both types of image—Christ the future Judge, and Christ the present cosmic ruler—merely illuminate different aspects of the same mystery that we celebrate today.

 

What does it mean to affirm the universal kingship of Christ? The doctrine of divine Providence—after which the capital city of this state is named—holds that God is actively involved in all aspects of human affairs. Everything that happens in history is ultimately under God’s control and subject to God’s will.

 

I realize this claim may set off alarm bells. In seminary, we were taught that the one thing we must never say to people in times of personal loss, tragedy, or bereavement—such as the death of a child—is to accept it as God’s will. Bad pastoral technique and spiritually very harmful! And I really don’t believe that such tragedies, or any other catastrophes and disasters, represent God’s will in any active sense. God is infinitely good, and he wills only our good.

 

Here, some theologians make a helpful distinction between what they call God’s active will and God’s permissive will. That is, God doesn’t actively bring about the bad things that happen in this world. But he is in charge, and he is all-powerful, omnipotent, almighty, and that means that in some sense he permits these bad things to happen. 

 

Partly out of respect for our human freedom, he limits his exercise of divine power and lets things play out as they will in our fallen world. Nonetheless, the doctrine of divine providence assures us that no matter what evils may befall us in this life, God is working in and through them to turn them to our good—indeed to an infinitely greater good than we can ask or imagine.

 

Most of all, today’s Gospel reading reminds us that Christ enters into his kingship precisely in and through his own suffering and death on the cross. There, a king is the very last thing that Jesus appears to be. The soldiers mock him, “If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself.” The inscription placed over his head, “This is the king of the Jews,” is intended to be totally ironic.

 

And yet, miraculously, against all expectations, one of the two criminals being crucified alongside him recognizes his kingship: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” By his response, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise,” Jesus reveals that he is indeed already the king, for only the true sovereign of the universe has the authority to forgive sins and admit a condemned criminal to eternal life.

 

Such is the nature of Christ’s reign as king. Whatever bad things we may suffer in this life, on the cross he suffers with us, and there he turns our suffering to an infinitely greater good. And in those moments when it feels like we’re being crucified, then to find our king, we need look no further than the next cross over. From there, he exercises his universal kingship, gently reassuring us, “Truly I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”