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Sunday
In these days of No Kings marches, it seems somewhat ironic to be celebrating “Christ the King Sunday” today. Indeed, applying the king metaphor to Christ has always struck me as wrong and, even worse, ineffective. Figurative language is supposed to carry us beyond ourselves whereas applying “king” to Jesus seems to lessen him.
Malcolm Guite solves the problem by seeing “Christ the King” as an oxymoron, with Christ refusing the trappings of royalty. Rather, his Christ calls to us “from the hungry furrows,” stands in long lines, is strip searched by those in authority, turned away from hospitals, and locked up “in the prisons of our fear/ Lest he unlock the prison of our wealth.”
Guite’s sonnet reminds me of George Herbert’s Redemption, where the speaker goes looking for God “in cities, theatres, gardens, parks, and courts,” only to find him elsewhere:
At length I heard a ragged noise and mirth
Of theeves and murderers: there I him espied,
Who straight, Your suit is granted, said, & died.
As I think about it, today’s Gospel reading plays with the same paradox since it’s the story of our king undergoing what, in Roman times, was regarded as the most humiliating and certainly the most unkingly of executions. The word “king” is first used sarcastically and then transformed into something holy:
When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” And they cast lots to divide his clothing. The people stood by, watching Jesus on the cross; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!” The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” There was also an inscription over him, “This is the King of the Jews.”
One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” (Luke 23:33-43)
Here’s Guite’s poem:
Christ the King
Matthew 25-31-46
Our King is calling from the hungry furrows
Whilst we are cruising through the aisles of plenty,
Our hoardings screen us from the man of sorrows,
Our soundtracks drown his murmur: ‘I am thirsty’.
He stands in line to sign in as a stranger
And seek a welcome from the world he made,
We see him only as a threat, a danger,
He asks for clothes, we strip-search him instead.
And if he should fall sick then we take care
That he does not infect our private health,
We lock him in the prisons of our fear
Lest he unlock the prison of our wealth.
But still on Sunday we shall stand and sing
The praises of our hidden Lord and King.
This “hidden Lord and King,” this “man of sorrows,” is not demanding pomp and ceremony, and he has nothing to do with prosperity theology, despite the contentions of certain megachurch pastors. The soldiers’ sarcasm is turned on its head, just as so much was turned on its head with Jesus’s death and resurrection.
In short, when you hear Christ described as king, don’t think of him as an elevated king. He’s down here in the trenches with us.
