A Crown of Suffering, A Kingdom of Love
November 23, 2025
Opening Thought
When we hear "Christ the King," what image comes to mind? We picture thrones, scepters, glorious robes, and triumphant armies. We imagine a king whose power is undeniable, whose reign is absolute, and whose presence demands immediate homage. It's a natural human instinct to associate kingship with worldly strength, conquest, and splendor.
This is a natural instinct, perhaps because we have seen earthly monarchs whose reigns, despite their splendor, also embodied a profound spirit of service. I often think of Queen Elizabeth II. Watching on television, all those glorious and magnificent services at Westminster Abbey, we saw the grandeur of earthly power and opulence – gold and silver, trumpets and organs, voices raised in communal songs of praise and joyful gladness. Yet, in all these beautiful and shiny things, what shone brightest was her giving heart and adoration for her people, not just the people of her realm, but the people of the world. She gave her life for her people. While she was, of course, a flawed human, and Jesus Christ is purely divine, she truly lived a life reflecting Christ's love. Even as a child and later as an adult, I could feel this through the television; it was in her face, the way she listened, but also in the music, the choirs, the organs, and the trumpets. While her reign was one of earthly power, we were given a glimpse of Christ's cosmic and universal power through his humble servant, Elizabeth.
And yet, even the most beloved and dedicated earthly monarch points us beyond themselves, to a deeper, more profound truth about true kingship.
Today, we stand at the threshold of Advent, and our Church celebrates the Feast of Christ the King, the final Sunday of the liturgical year. It's a day when our hymns ring out with declarations like "Crown him with many crowns!" and "Rejoice, the Lord is King!" Yet, the Gospel lesson presents us with an image of kingship that completely shatters our worldly expectations.
There is no throne of gold, only a wooden cross. No glorious robes, only a naked, suffering body. No triumphant armies, only mocking soldiers and two dying criminals. Jesus is indeed "king of the Jews," but it's written as a jest, a cruel inscription above his head. This is the unexpected King, whose throne is Calvary, whose crown is made of thorns, and whose power is revealed not in conquest, but in utterly self-giving love.
This radical juxtaposition is the heart of today’s feast. It challenges us to look beyond earthly power and understand the true nature of God's reign: a reign of humility, sacrifice, and boundless mercy, extended even from the cross to a dying thief. It reminds us that our King's authority is won not through might, but through an act of love so profound it redefines everything.
Engaging the Word
Our journey into the Word culminates in the stark reality of Luke 23:33-43. Here, Christ's kingship is declared in the most agonizing and paradoxical way. "The people stood by, watching; but the leaders scoffed... 'He saved others; let him save himself!'" Even the soldiers mock him: "If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!" Yet, in this moment of utter vulnerability, his true kingship shines through. One of the criminals, realizing the profound injustice, says, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." And from the cross, the King replies, "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise." This is the kingdom: not a place of power, but a promise of mercy and companionship for the lost.
This unexpected kingship is precisely what the prophet Jeremiah (23:1-6) foretold. Jeremiah condemns the "shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep." He looks forward to a future when God will raise up a "righteous Branch" for David, a king who "shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land." This King, unlike earthly rulers, will gather God's scattered people and ensure their safety. Jesus, on the cross, is fulfilling this prophecy, becoming the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep, establishing a kingdom of ultimate justice and righteousness.
Colossians (1:11-20) gives us the theological framework for this King. Paul declares Christ's cosmic supremacy: "He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created." All authority belongs to him, and through him, "God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross." This passage is vital. Christ's kingship is not merely earthly; it is cosmic, universal, and eternally established through his sacrificial act on the cross. His reign is a reign of reconciliation and peace.
Finally, Psalm 46 grounds us in the unshakable nature of this King's reign. "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble... Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change." Even if "nations rage, kingdoms totter," we know that "The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge." This psalm, sung in the shadow of a cosmic king, assures us that despite the world's chaos, and even the scandal of a crucified king, God's presence and power remain our ultimate security.
A Journey in Song: Our Musical Guides
Our music today celebrates the majesty of Christ the King, but it also grounds that celebration in the profound truth of his sacrifice, preparing us for the somber beauty of Advent that begins next week.
Our Opening Voluntary, the Chorale Prelude on "Dundee" by C. Hubert H. Parry, sets a tone of thoughtful contemplation that, perhaps surprisingly, looks forward. The hymn tune "Dundee" is paired in our hymnal with the text "The people who in darkness walked / have seen a glorious light." This text speaks of the promised Child, the Prince of Peace, whose reign of justice and peace "no end shall know." Though we are celebrating Christ the King now, this Advent-themed music subtly reminds us that this glorious kingship began in the humility of the incarnation, a light breaking forth into darkness. Parry's dignified, somewhat solemn arrangement of this tune prepares our hearts for the paradox of Christ's kingship—the King who came not in power, but as a light for those who walked in darkness, and whose enduring faithfulness and promise of ultimate peace are central to his reign. It signals the coming Light even as we crown the King.The Entrance Hymn, "Crown him with many crowns" (#494), immediately declares Christ's glorious kingship. We sing of him as "Lord of love," "Lord of life," and "Lord of years." It’s a powerful, majestic opening, boldly proclaiming the authority of the one we worship, even as we prepare to confront the unexpected nature of that authority.
The Gloria (S 278, William Mathias), a setting that is often majestic and expansive, allows us to give "glory to God in the highest, and peace to his people on earth." It’s a joyful acclamation of God’s glory, aligning our praise with the heavenly hosts.
The Sequence Hymn, "Rejoice, the Lord is King!" (#481), continues the triumphal theme. It calls us to "Lift up your heart, lift up your voice!" This hymn, full of joy and confidence, reminds us that even though Christ's kingdom is not of this world, it is absolutely real and deserving of our enthusiastic praise.
The Presentation Hymn, "Come, ye thankful people, come" (#290), usually sung at harvest, takes on a profound new meaning today. As we bring our offerings, we are bringing the "fruit of the Spirit" from our lives, offering it to our King. It connects our tangible gifts to the spiritual harvest of God's kingdom. But the final stanza "Even so, Lord, quickly come, / to thy final harvest-home" powerfully foreshadows both the anticipation of the Christ Child in Advent, and the glorious reign of Christ's second coming. It reminds us that our offerings are part of a larger, divine harvest, looking forward to the day when Christ will gather his people, "free from sorrow, free from sin," to usher in his ultimate kingdom of justice and peace.
The Sanctus (S 128, William Mathias), a robust and glorious setting, lifts our voices to join the "Angels and Archangels, and all the company of heaven" in proclaiming the holiness of God. "Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of Hosts, Heaven and earth are full of thy glory!" It’s a profound moment of shared worship with the cosmic King.
The Communion Hymn, "My song is Love unknown" (#458), is the absolute pivot of the service, bringing us face-to-face with the crucified King. This hymn, with its poignant text and tender melody, is a meditation on the passion of Christ. "Love to the loveless shown, that they might lovely be." It is the perfect hymn to contemplate as we receive the sacrament, reminding us that Christ’s ultimate act of kingship was his suffering and death for our sake.
The Post-Communion Hymn, "Alleluia! Sing to Jesus" (#460), beautifully reconciles the cross with the crown. We sing "Alleluia!" to "his life of sorrow, / now in glory, evermore to reign." It is a song of praise for the Lamb who was slain, now enthroned in glory, anticipating his heavenly return.
Our Closing Voluntary, the Toccata in B minor by Eugène Gigout, is a magnificent and exhilarating conclusion. Gigout's Toccata is known for its brilliant flourishes and dramatic power. It sends us forth not merely with contemplation, but with a vibrant, confident, and triumphant proclamation of Christ's ultimate victory, echoing the majesty of his eternal, though unexpected, reign.
A Closing Note on Our Journey
The Feast of Christ the King is a paradox. We crown him, not with jewels, but with the wood of the cross. We hail him, not from a palace, but from a barren, desolate hill. His kingdom is not built on earthly power, but on divine love.
This Sunday, as we sing our glorious hymns and gaze upon the crucified Christ, we are reminded that true power lies in vulnerability, true authority in service, and true kingship in self-giving love. It is a reign that began on a cross and extends throughout all creation, inviting us to be subjects of a kingdom where justice and mercy kiss. As we approach Advent, let us carry this image of the Unexpected King in our hearts, knowing that his reign is not just coming, but is already here, transforming us from the inside out.
Above all, let us remain hopeful. It is easy to let earthly things—the distractions, the worries, the fleeting grandeur—divert our gaze from the promise of Christ's eternal reign. We must stay fixed on what truly matters: the humble self-sacrifice and love of neighbor that our King exemplified. We must remind ourselves that earthly things pass away, but the everlasting greatness of the King's Majesty is infinite and timeless.
A Prayer for the Week Ahead
Let us pray for the Church and for the world.
For the Church, that we may always proclaim Christ's kingship, not with worldly might, but with the radical love and mercy revealed on the cross,
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
For all who suffer injustice, oppression, and pain, that they may know the king who executes justice and righteousness in the land,
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
For the grace to humble ourselves and follow the unexpected path of our King, serving others with self-giving love,
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
For the peace that comes through the blood of Christ's cross, that all things in heaven and on earth may be reconciled to God,
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
That we may ever sing to the Lord a new song, rejoicing in his salvation and crowning him Lord of all,
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
Almighty and everlasting God, whose will it is to restore all things in your beloved Son, our Lord and King: Grant that the peoples of the earth, divided and enslaved by sin, may be freed and brought together under his most gracious rule; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.
Amen.
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