kingship

Yesterday was the solemnity of Christ the King, a holy day instituted by Pope Pius XI in 1925 and moved in 1969 to the last Sunday of the liturgical year. Looking at the devastation of World War I and a still-uncertain future, Pope Pius XI wrote of his vision for a world at peace (?!):

...No merely human institution of today can be as successful in devising a set of international laws which will be in harmony with world conditions as the Middle Ages were in the possession of that true League of Nations, Christianity. It cannot be denied that in the Middle Ages this law was often violated; still it always existed as an ideal, according to which one might judge the acts of nations, and a beacon light calling those who had lost their way back to the safe road.

46. There exists an institution able to safeguard the sanctity of the law of nations. This institution is a part of every nation; at the same time it is above all nations. She enjoys, too, the highest authority, the fullness of the teaching power of the Apostles. Such an institution is the Church of Christ. She alone is adapted to do this great work, for she is not only divinely commissioned to lead mankind, but moreover, because of her very make-up and the constitution which she possesses, by reason of her age-old traditions and her great prestige, which has not been lessened but has been greatly increased since the close of the War, cannot but succeed in such a venture where others assuredly will fail. [Ubi Arcano Dei Consilio, December 23, 1922]

I have to admire this. I have trouble believing in any God at all, and here is someone with great faith not only in a God, but in one who has unambiguously commissioned the institution of the Roman Catholic Church to provide moral leadership, to be an authority "above all nations," to bring God's peace to the world. Christ as King! If only it were true!

But it isn't.

Christ the King always reminds me of my junior year in college, when the position of Catholic priest/theologian at the campus ministry was vacant for a whole year and we had to improvise. My friend Rachel and I would get there early on Sunday morning, wheel the little Catholic cart out of the closet, and set things up. Some random priest from the parish in Claremont would show up, say Mass, and leave; then we'd put everything neatly away. Nobody told us we had to train as sacristans, we just did it. And nobody told us we had to have a theology degree to write the prayers of the faithful, we just did that too - drawing from the gospel reading or whatever was in the news or on our minds that week. On the Feast of Christ the King, we decided that the end of the liturgical year was kind of like a birthday, so we celebrated by decorating the chapel with balloons and streamers. I think we may have even baked cupcakes. (Any excuse to bake, was our motto in college.)

This, admittedly, was less than entirely theologically sound. And yet. In the ragtag little community of college kids who were willing to be awake at 9 am on a Sunday morning (so. early.), I had a home and a purpose and a voice. I didn't ever think that anyone else should to do this, I was just happy that there were a few others who did.

For me, the Kingdom of God is that still small voice of friendship and community. Not Christ over us, Christ in us and among us. The Feast of Christ, the cupcake baker?