A Crown for Whom?

The Feast of Christ the King is meant to inspire devotion and reaffirm the ultimate sovereignty of Jesus over all creation. However, each time I hear the words Christ the King, I cannot help but picture thrones, crowns, dominions -- images which sit awkwardly with the Christ I encounter in the Gospels: the one who washed feet, embraced the lepers and chose the cross over a golden throne, and with the one I meet daily in the poorest of the poor. And this uneasiness was aggravated these past weeks with some unsettling news from my country of origin. 

Five years ago, one of the parishes dedicated to Christ the King was elevated to the rank of a minor basilica (I have no idea what it means and its implications!). A few years earlier, the same parish had been embroiled in a controversy over a new statue -- representing Christ the King --meant to replace the old one. The two sculptors involved were at such odds that the matter had to be settled in court.

Naturally, a new statue demanded a new crown -- and surely, Christ the King deserved the finest.  A goldsmith from Seville, Spain was commissioned to craft a suitable crown. According to the parish’s facebook page, “the frontispiece of the crown is a 25 carat Siberian amethyst in gold and subset with four pearls . . . on the right side of the crown is a pink kunzite surmounted by amethysts and a sapphire . . . in the centre of the rear of the band is set a rectangular cut bi-coloured ametrine subset with four oval cut zircons . . . on the left side of the crown is an oval cut blue topaz, subset with four baguette cut peridots, or evening emeralds . . . to the front are set two aquamarines, the left one a brilliant cut oval stone and the right around brilliant cit. Together they weigh 43 carats. On the left is an oval cut orange morganite weighing 29 carats. On the right side a brilliant cut golden citrine weighing 31 carats. Uffff . . . I am out of breath! (I dare not reproduce the photo of it for fear of copyright issues, but anyone curious can take a look on the parish’s Facebook page. https://www.facebook.com/bazilikaKristuRePaola).

I tried to find out the cost of the crown, but no figures were available, and when I consulted on the parish’s website, I was admonished by a parishioner and told that “it costed much much much less than the price paid by Jesus Christ on the cross.” What is clear is that the faithful paid for it -- encouraged, no doubt, by an overly zealous parish priest. For its inauguration, the priest personally retrieved the crown from Seville and, accompanied by a few of the “most faithful of the faithful,” took it on a pilgrimage to Notre Dame in Paris, where it was touched to the relic of Christ’s crown of thorns. From there it was carried to Rome, blessed by Pope Leo -- who, judging by the video, did not seem particularly enthusiastic (but never mind!).

My friends, who know me well and love to push my buttons, keep sending me updates about the crown’s travels. And then they expect me to keep silent. I can only say I am both disgusted and embarrassed that church authorities allow such pomp, which to me demeans the humble Jesus of Nazareth. It feels like an insult to the one who dined with sinners, allowed a woman to wash his feet, and knelt to wash the feet of his friends.

The Feast of Christ the King was instituted in 1925 by Pope Pius XI during the time when Europe had been ravaged by the First World War I, monarchies were collapsing, and secularism and communism were gaining influence. Pope Pius sought to reassert the authority of Christ over the nations, and that true authority belongs to God, not to empires or dictators. But the paradox lies in the very language of kingship which evokes the same imperial and hierarchical systems that Jesus came to overturn. When Pilate asks Jesus if He is a king, Jesus, replies, “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36).

In my own missionary experience, I have seen how the imagery of kingship can turn away rather than attract. Among the poor, the imprisoned and the excluded, the Christ who inspires hope is not the regal figure in gold vestments and gold crowns, but the companion who suffers with them. They do not need a king; they need a friend, a liberator, a brother. The Christ who kneels down beside them in their poverty speaks more powerfully than the one on a pedestal of gold with a gold and gem-studded crown.

Two images speak deeply to me. One is taken from the Hindu scriptures, the Puranas of Markandeya: “Since King Vipascit had incurred an instant’s penalty for a trifling defect, on the orders of the just judge Yama, his servant led him down to hell. After a moment’s stay, Yama’s servant, informed King Vipascit that he was free and could leave the place. But those who were undergoing excruciating pain in hell endeavoured to stop him because his holy presence gave them relief. The King, therefore, decided to stay on in hell. He said: “For that reason I will not depart as long as these are in sore distress. From my near-presence, the inhabitants of hell secure happiness. Here then will I stand immovable as a mountain.” So saying he planted his feet firmly on the ground without flinching because he wanted to confer blessing on suffering creatures.” By choosing to remain voluntarily among the condemned, Vipascit transforms the meaning of kingship from one of privilege and exemption to one of presence and compassion. His power is not exercised over others, but for them -- not in dominance, but in solidarity.

The second is from the apocryphal Gospel of Nicodemus. After the resurrection of Christ, the chief priests Annas, Caiaphas, Joseph, Nicodemus, and Gamaliel gathered witnesses in Jerusalem to testify about the miraculous events. Those who had risen from the dead described how, while in Hades, a brilliant light like the sun appeared at midnight, illuminating the darkness and filling the patriarchs and prophets with joy. John the Baptist appeared among them, proclaiming that the Son of God was about to enter Hades to save all who believed in Him.

Meanwhile, Satan warned Hades that Jesus, the one called the Son of God, had been crucified, but Hades trembled, fearing His power. Suddenly, a mighty voice commanded, “Lift up your gates, O ye rulers,” and Christ, the King of Glory, entered, shattering the gates of brass and freeing the souls imprisoned there. Hades lamented his defeat as Christ bound Satan and delivered him to torment, declaring victory over death. Then Christ raised Adam and all the righteous, blessing them with the sign of the cross and leading them triumphantly to paradise. At the gates of Eden, they were greeted by Enoch and Elijah, who had never tasted death, and by the repentant thief who had believed in Christ on the cross and entered paradise carrying his own cross, fulfilling the promise: “Today you shall be with me in paradise.” Christ as “King of Glory,” who unlike earthly kings, his rule is exercised through humility, justice, and liberation.

Cuban theologian Ada Maria Isasi-Diaz proposed the term “kin-dom of God” -- a beautiful reimagining that emphasizes relationality, community and mutual belonging rather than hierarchy. In her vision, God’s reign is not about ruling subjects but about creating interconnective lives where all share in dignity and responsibility -- an image which aligns much more closely with the Gospel vision of the mighty being brought low, the last becoming first, and the meek inheriting the earth.

Pope Francis had repeatedly warned against clericalism and the temptation to turn the Church into a worldly institution of power. He spoke often of Christ as the “Lord of tenderness,” and the “Shepherd who smells of his sheep.” In his homilies for the Feast of Christ the King, Francis emphasized the paradox of a king whose throne is the cross, whose crown is the throngs and whose judgment is mercy.

As the Church concludes its liturgical year with this feast, we might ask ourselves: what kind of king do we follow?

And as for my dear friends -- knowing how much prison ministry is close to my heart -- they assure me not all is lost: on the eve of the statue’s crowning, the golden crown will be taken privately to the Corradino Correctional Facility for the prisoners to venerate. Well... they’d better take care. It might just get lost inside!

Blurbs

Among the poor, the imprisoned and the excluded, the Christ who inspires hope is not the regal figure in gold vestments and gold crowns, but the companion who suffers with them. They do not need a king; they need a friend, a liberator, a brother.

Pope Francis had repeatedly warned against clericalism and the temptation to turn the Church into a worldly institution of power. He spoke of Christ as the “Lord of tenderness,” and the “Shepherd who smells of his sheep.”