The rulers sneered at Jesus and said, “He saved others, let him save himself if he is the chosen one, the Christ of God.” Even the soldiers jeered at him. As they approached to offer him wine, they called out, “If you are King of the Jews, save yourself.” Above him there was an inscription that read, “This is the King of the Jews.” Now one of the criminals hanging there reviled Jesus, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us.” The other, however, rebuking him, said in reply, “Have you no fear of God, for you are subject to the same condemnation? And indeed, we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He replied to him, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” (Luke 23.35-43)
On this last Sunday of the liturgical calendar, the Roman Rite has inserted the Feast of Christ the King. It carries the highest status, that of a solemnity. Interestingly, we mark the 100th anniversary of the feast this year, its origins in more recent history than other solemnities that have their roots in ancient times, for example, Easter, Pentecost, the Ascension, and Christmas, to name but a few.
In the Jubilee Year 1925, Pope Pius XI decided to institute this new feast. His reasons were simple. The world had just come out of a horrendous war that had seen the end of four major empires in Europe, these being the German Empire, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the Russian Empire, and the Ottoman Empire. At the same time, there was a rise in nationalism, fueled by the war. It was a tumultuous period in human history, to say the least.
Contemporaneous with the devastation wrought by the war, there was an ascendancy of secularism across the globe, resulting in a loss of the belief in the sacred. All these factors played a part in the Pope’s decision to offer this new feast to the calendar, more so than just a desire to dress up the jubilee year. Pius XI wanted to emphasize that Christ’s reign was eternal, unlike that of other earthly rulers, and that his power was greater than that of any particular political force in the world.
The feast was placed on the last Sunday of October, in this way preceding the Feast of All Saints. However, in 1969 Pope Paul VI moved the Feast of Christ the King from the end of October to the end of November, making it the last Sunday of the liturgical year, in this way preceding the First Sunday of Advent, the traditional starting date for a new liturgical calendar. He did so in the hope of emphasizing to a greater degree the eschatological dimension of the feast, that of Christ’s Second Coming, in this way making the end of the liturgical calendar a focal point for the end of the world.
So, here we are today, our minds and hearts directed to this special day that summons us to serve Christ, the King of the Universe, his reign eternal, not to serve the potentates of this world, their reign temporary. And, fortunate for us, the scripture passage that has been attached to this feast is taken from part of the crucifixion text that we find in the Gospel of Luke, allowing us to complete our year-long study of this particular evangelist.
At first glance, the selection surely seems off base, the horrendous crucifixion of Jesus showing none of the majesty and power that we might expect from someone who holds the title the King of the Universe. In fact, it shows the opposite, the prophet and teacher named Jesus nailed to a cross by Roman soldiers, taunted by his enemies, and treated like a criminal, his crucifixion between two highway robbers making it very clear what his status is at the end. It is not that of royalty, but that of someone who has come up against the brutal forces of Rome and will not live to tell of it.
As we can see, Luke could not be more graphic in his description of Jesus’ end, writing that the rulers sneered at Jesus, the soldiers jeered at him, and one of the criminals hanging beside him reviled him. Adding insult to injury, Pilate the Roman governor had a sign nailed to the top of the cross that read, “This is the King of the Jews,” the inscription serving as a notice of his crime, at least in the eyes of the Roman officials and the Jewish leaders, but a claim to kingship that he never made.
Of course, it is that same sign that serves as the rationale for this scriptural text being chosen for the Feast of Christ the King, no small irony to be seen in the selection. While the powerful of the land had used the title King of the Jews as an indictment and as a mockery, they were the ignorant ones, blind to who Jesus truly was as they have been all along the way, refusing to see in the humble teacher of Galilee a man sent by God to offer salvation to the world.
As Luke has done many times before in his gospel, it is always the least likely who see clearly, whether it is a blind man or a man possessed by demons, these lost and last always being the ones to recognize Jesus as god-sent while those who should see do not. So, here at the end, we find two of the least likely once again seeing clearly. First, it is one of the criminals who chastises his partner in crime, telling him, “We have been condemned justly, but this man has done nothing criminal.”
Then, at the moment of Jesus’ death, it is a Roman centurion who says, “This man was innocent beyond doubt.” These last two voices mark the fourth and fifth times that the declaration of Jesus’ innocence is made, Pilate himself having reached the same conclusion on three earlier occasions, but nonetheless bending to the wishes of the priests and religious leaders that Jesus should be put to death, his spinelessness an everlasting stain on his name.
Unlike Mark and Matthew, Luke does include the cry of anguish from the lips of Jesus “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me” as he nears his death. Instead, Luke portrays Jesus as cognizant and in control even during his torment on the cross, that fact found in three details unique to Luke’s description of Jesus.
First, we hear Jesus forgive his executioners; second, he promises Paradise to one of the thieves beside him; and third, he commends his spirit to his Heavenly Father, trusting that God will provide. After having studied Luke for the last year, we should not be surprised that he puts his personal touch even on this last scene of Jesus’ life on earth, each of these actions by Jesus being a theme throughout the gospel.
In many ways, then, Luke uses these final moments to demonstrate that Jesus died as he had lived, even at the end offering forgiveness, promising a place in God’s kingdom even to a sinner, and showing trust in His Heavenly Father whatever the circumstance. These have been the hallmarks of his mission and ministry and they stay with him until his final breath.
Another point that Luke apparently wants to make in this last scene is the belief that Jesus is, in truth, the Savior. However, Luke wants his readers to understand that Jesus is the savior of the world in a very different way than commonly expected. This is clear in the three different instances when someone says to Jesus on the cross, “Save yourself.”
The rulers who sneer at Jesus as he suffers are the first, saying, “He saved others, let him save himself if he is the chosen one.” The soldiers who jeer at Jesus are the next to voice a similar sentiment, mocking Jesus with the words, “If you are King of the Jews, save yourself.” Then, the unrepentant thief says much the same, telling Jesus, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us.”
By all appearances and by common sense, they assume that the savior is someone who can and should save himself, shown in the challenge that these onlookers make to Jesus with their words, “Save yourself.”But Luke would not have us see Jesus in that way. Jesus is not someone who saves himself, but someone who saves others, sacrificing himself.
That was made clear already at the start in Jesus’ inaugural address in the synagogue in Nazareth when he spelled out his mission, telling his listeners, “The Lord has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor, sent me to proclaim liberty to captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and to let the oppressed go free.”
We may recall that Jesus’ critics in Nazareth respond by saying, “Physician, cure yourself.” It makes sense, then, that Luke should have Jesus’ detractors say much the same thing at the end as he hangs upon the cross, shouting at him, “If you are Savior, save yourself!” But putting himself first while ignoring the suffering of others was never his mission.
We saw much the same taunts when Satan attempted to derail Jesus’ mission early on, putting before him while he was in the desert three different opportunities to put himself first, tempting him with these proofs for his identity. “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread.” “All this will be yours if you worship me.” “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here.”
Jesus refused the Devil’s attempts to have him prove who he was by putting himself first and he refused this last temptation to prove who he is by putting himself first even as he hangs on the cross. He stays true to his mission to save and to serve others until he draws his last breath. In so doing, Jesus redefines savior in terms of servanthood, not in terms of self.
Without question, it is also a vastly different understanding of kingship, one that the onlookers who taunt Jesus in his last hours cannot grasp, mockingly referring to him as a king in their snide and snarky comments. To these spectators, he is far from a king, at least a king as understood in this world where the powerful reign, where the wealthy rule, and where the privileged control the byways and highways.
And yet, the Crucified Jesus is kingly when looked at from the perspective of the reign of God, a reign where the poor are cherished, where the hungry are fed, and where the sick are healed. In the end, no one sees him as a king except for one of the criminals crucified alongside him. He speaks for all the poor, all the sick, all the hungry when he says these words, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
Even here, we do not want to overlook the fact that the only people who call Jesus by name in this gospel are those who need healing and help in their misery, such as a man possessed by a demon, or by a naked man who lived among the tombs, or by ten lepers on the roadside, or by a blind man on the outskirts of Jericho. Only these weak and wretched individuals call Jesus by name. So it makes sense that the repentant thief should also address Jesus by name.
We have to assume that is intentional on Luke’s part. He is not a careless writer. It is subtle, but it is important to Luke and to this gospel. Why? Because the name Jesus, rooted in the Hebrew name Joshua, means “the Lord is salvation,” or “the Lord saves.” Only a handful recognize Jesus as the savior as he hangs on the cross. Those who do, then as now, receive the same promise that Jesus offered to the thief beside him, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”
–Jeremy Myers
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