To Reign Is to Love, and to Love Is to Reign
The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe
Director Ridley Scott’s latest film, a study of Napoleon Bonaparte, is not, by any account, a flattering depiction of the once Emperor of France. It is rather a critical and ironic portrayal of his military and political ambitions that pays more attention to the millions of his own soldiers who died under his command than to any of his victories. It is, in short, the sort of story you tell about a person who thrusted himself into power in a day and age when we are, as a rule, deeply unsettled by that sort of thing. The word “insurrection” appearing on the screen at one point, its choice deliberate and its reference thinly veiled. Napoleon placing the Crown of France upon his own head at his coronation in the presence of the Pope Pius VII is likely as offensive to us now as it was to those who despised such self-aggrandizing hubris then.
Kings, dictators, emperors, presidents, and all those who assert their right to rule by force called by any other name, do not find a happy welcome in a free and democratic world. They who put themselves above the people only make themselves the enemies of the people. Yet as the Church reflects upon the kingship of Christ this weekend, it stands to question whether the world looks upon him and his reign in the same manner. For, to the unenlightened observer, the prophecy of Ezekiel which speaks of Christ, sounds an awful lot like the kind of self-centered potentate the world viscerally hates: “I myself will look after and tend my sheep… I will rescue them… I myself will give them rest… I will seek out… I will bring back… I will bind up… I will heal… I will destroy… I will judge.” One could draw a comparison with Napoleon’s own famous words, “I found the Crown of France in the gutter, so I picked it up by my own sword.”
Now, though we, the people of faith that we are, know the comparison between Christ and Napoleon to be laughably unfair, does the world out there think it so odd? Did not both come heralding their own reign, proclaiming a kingdom, demanding fealty, and expecting conformity to the way of life they put forward? Was not Christ, in fact, the one who came to earth, finding it in shambles, and declared himself to be “the way, the truth, and the life” which alone leads to salvation? Does not Christ’s claim of lordship not infinitely extend beyond even the most ambitious worldly power, his kingdom transcending all borders and oceans, religions and cultures, races and classes, and even all time and space? Is not Christ, in the world’s eyes, a dictator of the first rank and of the vilest sort? Does he not stand against all that it values in the name of freedom and liberty?
And what of his Church? Does not the Church believe herself to be Christ’s kingdom present on earth in mystery? Is she not filled with his loyal subjects, who advance his reign and pray every day for the fuller coming of his kingdom? Are not the sons and daughters of the Church co-heirs with Christ and seated with him upon his universal throne? Does not the Church, then, stand visibly in place of her invisible Lord, and does she not receive the rebuke and ridicule the world levies at him? Are we not seen as conspirators of the same treason on account of which they crucified our King and Lord?
It is not likely to be our ordinary, day-to-day experience as Catholics to feel that we are hated. A good many people, indeed a shockingly high percentage, still have decent enough manners to leave us alone. Yet we should not be so quickly consoled by the ease with which we live as Catholics in the world today. Rather, if we get on with our faith without any resistance, it must be asked whether we are really living it. Nothing that Christ promised in the Gospel should lead us to expect tranquility and peace; yet he did warn that salt can lose its savor. And it may be the case that we have, instead of standing firm and resolute beneath the banner of Christ moved to stand beneath the banner of the world. Perhaps the reason why the world does not spit us out of its mouth is that we have become lukewarm, tolerable to its taste and no longer repugnant. It is possible that we, in seeking common ground, have abandoned the high ground and gotten mixed up and confused within the valley of the masses.
If instead we choose to live an authentically Christian life, if instead we make no concessions to the world but rather be for the world its salt and light, it is inevitable that rejection will come and persecution will follow. Yet the witness of the martyrs in twenty-one centuries of Christian existence proves that martyrdom is never the prelude to the Church’s defeat but the strongest sign of her secret, hidden triumph. The Church of tomorrow can only ever be the Church of the martyrs, of those who are willing to give witness to Christ no matter the cost, or the Church will not be anything at all.
I do not mean that we should leave this church seeking out the gallows, the lion’s den, or even a cross for ourselves. We do not need to stand on the street corner with signs and slogans tempting our enemies to come after us by force. No, there is a stronger, more convincing tactic that will secure the greatest possible victory— that of making enemies into friends. This strategy is simply the way of love. Christ’s kingship and his kingdom are nothing but love; and it is love that is and will ever be the salvation of the world. For while the world thinks in terms of pride and ambition, love thinks in terms of sacrifice and compassion. Love turns the tide against the egoism and self-interest of the world and offers an attractive way out of the world’s self-inflicting pain. It will take nothing more than the smallest sacrifice of charity, an act done in love toward the least of Christ’s own, that will bring love to reign in us and, through us, to reign over the whole world.
The entire program of Christ’s kingship is stated in the Gospel. We need only listen with an open heart and allow it to transform us into people who love in extraordinary ways. When lived to the full, the love to which the Gospel calls us will bring us into conflict with the lesser loves the world calls its own. But it is precisely at this point that the radiance of divine love will shatter our narrow-minded categories and be a light brightly visible for the world to see.
We as Christians do not promote ourselves. We do not seek our own glory. We do not claim our own dominion. Rather, we follow the example of our King, who humbled himself to share in humanity by humbling ourselves to share in the brokenness of a world torn apart and left in shambles by those who think only of themselves. May Christ the King advance his kingdom through us and lead us to where he lives and reigns with God the Father in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever. Amen.
Homily preached November 25/26, 2023 at the Cathedral of Mary Our Queen and St. Thomas Aquinas Parish.