The difficulty of reconciling Christian faith with political life is as old as Christianity itself. Perhaps the most <em>explicit</em> question put to Jesus about the relationship elicited arguably his most <em>enigmatic</em> response. When asked whether it is lawful to pay the census tax to Caesar, Jesus asks whose picture is on the coin used to pay the tax. When told that it is Caesar’s image, Jesus replies, “Then repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God”. All three of the synoptic Gospels record the exchange, and all three conclude that Jesus’ accusers were “amazed” or “marvelled” or “wondered” at his answer. Of course, both Jesus’ response and the reaction of the crowd are uncertain. It is not at all clear how Jesus’ words should be interpreted. Nor is it obvious why the people were amazed at his answer. Both the answer and the reaction are ambiguous.
Perhaps the ambiguity is the point. And perhaps the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe (as the last Sunday of the liturgical year is officially called), might help us not so much to answer the question as to understand why the answer was—and remains—elusive.
Instituted by Pope Pius XI’s encyclical <em>Quas Primas</em> in 1925, the Feast of Christ the King (as it is more commonly known), was a careful and deliberate response to the cataclysmic restructuring of old European political arrangements caused by, and in the wake of, World War I. It was both a time of political instability and opportunism, in which novel ideologies were competing to replace discarded hierarchies. While some bemoaned the demise of allegedly venerable political orders, others celebrated the rise of revolutionary dogmas. But both sides shared in a common error by seeking ultimate meaning in earthly politics. Whether in lamenting what was (allegedly) lost or rejoicing in what was (ostensibly) to come, the nostalgic and revolutionary alike sought salvation in political life. <em>Quas Primas</em> announced anathema on both sides.
There is no ambiguity in the opening paragraph of Pope Pius’s encyclical. By seeking ultimate answers in political terms, “the majority of people had thrust Jesus Christ and his holy law out of their lives”; they had declared that Christ and his rule “had no place either in private affairs or in politics”. In response to this lamentable state of affairs, <em>Quas Primas</em> reiterated a threefold power inherent in the affirmation that Christ is King. Essential to the sovereign lordship of Christ are his role as legislator, executor, and judge of both the hearts of men and the politics of nations. Pope Pius strongly emphasizes that this threefold authority applies to both <em>ecclesial</em> and <em>civil</em> affairs.
“Nevertheless”, he continues—introducing the abiding ambiguity in these times between times—“during his life on earth [Christ] refrained from the exercise of such authority”. This is because Christ demands complete obedience, but He does not suggest a particular political order. Nor has the Church, in presenting Christ to the nations, suggested that Christian discipleship is essentially related to any particular kind of political regime. Rather, Christ both transcends and subordinates all politics and regimes to himself. Because all regimes are subject to His Lordship, none can claim exclusive identification with it—Christ transcends them all. But nor can any regime claim to be exempted from the Lordship of Christ—all are subordinated to Him.
This is consistent with the salutary ambiguity of the Caesar’s coin pericope in the Gospels. The answer to the perennial question of the relationship of Christian faith to political order is not found in this or that kind of political regime. Rather, the answer is found in the relative ordering of the hearts of men and the rules of civil life toward Christ the King. The form of political life may be varied. And, to be sure, some forms are easily identified as being wholly inconsistent and incompatible with Christian discipleship. But even those forms of political life that do not contradict the Gospel will always be qualified and chastened by the sovereign reign of Christ over all.
This is the lesson of the Feast of Christ the King. For this reason, in 1970, Pope Paul VI moved the feast from the Sunday before All Saints to the last Sunday of the liturgical year. As the Feast of Christ the King is the end of the liturgical year, it is also the <em>telos</em> of all human striving. It is the eschatological pronouncement that earthly powers and dominions are properly ordered only when they are ordered toward Christ’s peaceable Kingdom. This is the end of all things, when political ambiguity will yield to eschatological clarity.
