Today, we celebrate the Solemnity of Christ the King. A day that marks the end of Ordinary Time, which means that, liturgically, that is, within Mass, our time is changing, and next weekend we will move into another season, the Season of Advent, the new liturgical year of the Church. 

Yet, I have to be honest, before I started teaching Church history, when I would think of a king, I would think about the stories that can be found in children’s books. Perhaps, that is why I was reminded of a great parable by a 19^th century philosopher and theologian by the name Søren (SIR-uhn) Kierkegaard. A parable that he called the parable of the king and the maiden.

In it, he talks about a great and powerful king, so powerful that his enemies were afraid of him and anyone who tried to fight him usually lost. However, one day he met a beautiful maiden, and, almost immediately he fell in love.

But he had a problem, how could he declare his love with someone who wasn’t royalty and who might even be scared of this king?

In fact, Kierkegaard said: “In an odd sort of way his very kingliness tied his hands.” The king then thought of showering her with gifts but knew that that would not guarantee her love in return, he thought of making her a queen, but worried she would love him not for who he was but, rather, for what he represented.

All he really wanted was that she forget he was a king and let love, as Kierkegaard puts it: “cross the gulf between them, for it is only in love, he says, that the unequal can be made equal.”

So, the king realizing what needed to be done gave up his majestic robes and shining crown to put on a beggar-cloak, worn out and fitting loosely upon him. The king became a servant and by doing so was able to declare his love and they eventually, married, living happily ever after, as it were.  

Yet, if we look closely at our Gospel today, that is what Jesus is telling us He did for us. Our great, mighty, powerful, majestic, amazing, creator God became a servant for us all.

But His cloak was a little different than even the king’s beggars-cloak. His cloak was a garment of love, this is why He did not rule from a throne, or conquer kingdoms through violence or dictate from on high, as many had expected. Instead, He came among us serving the hungry, the thirsty, the naked and the sick, the most dejected and rejected, caring for them all, and bringing them closer to Himself.

And what He did He asks us to do as well, to be a servant of the same, knowing, ultimately, that the person we serve is not just them, but, indeed, Christ Himself.

In fact, it was St. Mother Teresa who recognized this asking: “How can you love God whom you do not see, if you do not love your neighbor whom you see, whom you touch, with whom you live?” When asked how it was we are to see Christ in our neighbor, she simply responded: “To be able to love one another, we must pray much, for prayer gives a clean heart and a clean heart can see God in our neighbor. If now we have no peace, she says, it is because we have forgotten how to see God in one another.”

Our Gospel today reminds us that Christ will not just return, but ask us to make an account of the lives we lived and of what we have done to bring the kingdom of God to earth.

And when He comes, it will not be as a simple servant, but as judge and king, His power will no longer be hidden and His sovereignty will be made evident. In fact, as our Gospel puts it: “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit upon his glorious throne, and all the nations will be assembled before him.”

That means that all of us, individuals and, indeed, nations will be held accountable, in fact, one of the reasons for this feast is an encyclical by Pope Pius XI, in which his desire was that everyone would realize Christ’s sovereignty on earth, with the hope, that as he says:

 “Nations will be reminded by the annual celebration of this feast that not only private individuals but also rulers and princes are bound to give public honor and obedience to Christ.”

And that is the kingship we celebrate today, the kingship of a king who will be dressed in beautiful clothes, with a crown and a scepter, one who is all powerful, surrounded by angels, who will conquer nations and kingdoms, but, again, not through violence, but where it counts the most, in our hearts, He will conquer our hearts and be the Lord and the King of our lives.

And, what’s more is that a symbol of that kingship stands right now, as we speak in the center of St. Peter’s basilica, because there stands a large obelisk.

That may not sound relevant, but when Pope Sixtus V moved it from the Vatican circus, that is, where Christians were martyred and where it stood as a symbol of St. Peter’s martyrdom, the epitome of love, they found a ball believed to contain Julius Caesar’s ashes, since the obelisk had an inscription to “Divine Augustus” and “Divine Tiberius.”

However, when it turned out his ashes were not there, Pope Sixtus put a relic of the True Cross in that ball and rededicated the obelisk to the Holy Cross. He also changed the inscription to three simple, but powerful, Latin words, words, I believe, perfectly sum up our Solemnity, words that I leave you with today: “Christus vincit! Christus regnat! Christus imperat!” Christ conquers! Christ reigns! Christ rules!