Feast of Christ the King
Bishop Glen John Provost
Bishop of Lake Charles
Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception
Sunday, November 24, 2013
“This is the King of the Jews.” Luke 23:38
Palestine is a troubled area of the world and has been for centuries. Many of the news headlines today would sound like commentaries on the political situation during the First Century A.D. The Romans had entered this Jewish territory just a few decades before Jesus was born. Can we imagine being occupied? We could probably feel helpless and resentful, and that is exactly how the Jews reacted to Roman soldiers patrolling their streets and collecting taxes. The Romans, of course, were skilled at occupation. They usually allowed occupied territories to maintain their local governments and often made compromises with local customs. For example, the Romans allowed the Jews to keep their king, in this case Herod, although they saw him as a puppet. To be called a Herodian, as we see in the New Testament, was something like being called a traitor. Be that as it may, the Romans also allowed the Jews to continue their worship of the one God and did not force them to worship their pagan gods. All in all, the political mood wasn’t much different than it is today, very tense and on the verge of open rebellion.
When the Roman authorities crucified someone, the accusation was written on a sign and hung above the criminal’s head. Being nailed naked to a cross was disgraceful enough. It was reserved for the worst sort of criminal. A Roman senator accused of a crime would never endure such a punishment. He would probably be banished or poisoned. In crucifying Jesus, the Romans were exacting the most humiliating punishment they knew. To them Jesus must have seemed just another Jewish troublemaker, although Pilate gives every indication of knowing that Jesus is innocent. When they mounted a sign proclaiming Jesus’ crime, they wrote, “This is the King of the Jews” (Luke 23:38). The Romans would have thought this the ultimate mockery, the crucifixion of a religious preacher, accused by his own people, the king of a religion of fanatics. The entire scene is dripping with irony, but a strange reversal takes place.
Just a few moments before Jesus dies, one of the criminals crucified with Him turns to Jesus and says, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” (Luke 23:42). This is no ordinary appeal. This is the appeal of a subject to a king. The common people were always appealing to the king. Even in the days of the Sun King, Louis XIV, Thursdays were set aside for audiences with the king. As a matter of fact, historians point out that it was probably easier for a common person to see the King of France than it is for us to see the President of the United States. Anyone could see the king to present a petition. The king’s word was final. Where justice might have failed, the king could be counted on for mercy. The Romans had mocked Jesus by calling Him a king. Here a criminal, a poor subject of the king, is appealing to his mercy. Calvary has become a royal court, the cross a throne, Jesus a real king, and the condemned subject is appealing for his life. “Jesus, remember me.”
The king will not be mocked. He just doesn’t promise the criminal a reprieve or dispense him from punishment. The king gives him more. Jesus gives him eternal life. “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise” (Luke 23:43). No longer a disgrace, the cross is the throne of a benevolent king that offers victory over death. The condemned troublemaker, the scapegoat of the Jewish elite and the religious leader chosen by the Romans to set an example, is a king. The poor are redeemed. Appearance is shown to be false. The accusation above His head, meant to be a mockery, ends up being true. He is a king, and like a king He grants pardon and life and entry into His kingdom.
If Jesus is a king, it is because He has power to transform. This is why the early Church Fathers said that the crucifixion was a turning point. Jesus turned the table on the Devil. For the Devil, death was the last tool of fear. At death one entered the dark unknown, and the Devil could monopolize on our unknowing. The king changes all of this.
The king takes death and turns it into life. The good thief is the first to taste the fruit of this transformation. His life is not ending. It is just beginning, and all because of a king’s few words. As St. Paul writes to the Colossians, “For in him all the fullness was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile all things for him, making peace by the blood of his cross through him, whether those on earth or those in heaven” (Colossians 1:19-20). Try as they might, the Romans could not kill Him. “Peace by the blood of his cross” the world could not give, but Jesus could. The king reigns. The king gives more.
I would like to conclude with words taken from the homily of Pope Francis on this day to end the Year of Faith. Our Holy Father said: “Jesus’ promise to the good thief gives us great hope. It tells us that God’s grace is always greater than the prayer which sought it. …[Y]ou ask him to remember you, and he brings you into his kingdom!”