Joe O’Leary: Thoughts on Christ the King, 23 November 2025
- At the many conferences and ecumenical gatherings celebrating the 17th centenary of the Council of Nicaea this year, the figure of Constantine, the first Christian Emperor, has come to the fore. In contrast, the celebrations in 1981 of the 16th centenary of the Council of Constantinople (which completed the Nicene Creed in the Nicaeo-Constantinopolitan Creed, which we recite at Sunday Mass), did not focus much on the role of the Emperor of the time, Theodosius. The council summoned by Constantine had geopolitical significance. He had lived amid civil war all this life and had defeated his last opponent, his fellow-emperor and rival Licinius on 18 September 324 at the battle of Chrysopolis. Even after this, Licinius, spared at first, was found guilty of plotting and was hanged. In the Edict of Milan, 313, Constantine and Licinius together had decreed toleration for the Christian Church. Constantine was convinced that a united church would be a cement for the unity of the Empire whereas church disunity could be a ferment undermining the Empire. He solved the Donatist schism at the Council of Arles in 314 and he solved the crisis occasioned by the views of Arius by having them thoroughly suppressed at Nicaea, an impressive assembly of more than 300 bishops from all over the Empire, called the first “ecumenical” (= worldwide) council by both Eusebius of Caesarea and Athanasius of Alexandria, the two theological giants of that time. Constantine was very proud of his Council and it could not be criticized in his lifetime (he died in 337). The efforts to improve on or replace the Council that were promoted by his son Constantius (who died in 361) ended with a powerful reaffirmation of Nicaea as the Church rallied to the theological leadership of Athanasius (synod of Alexandria, 362).
The gigantic statue of Constantine, of which fragments can be admired at the Capitoline Museum, and which has now been reconstructed as a seated colossus in its garden, tells us what an awesome figure he was to his contemporaries. Eusebius, who had chronicled the history of persecutions of the Church, glorifies the founder of the Christian Empire unreservedly in his Life of Constantine. The Eastern Orthodox Church and the Eastern Catholic Churches venerate him, and give him the title isapostolos, ‘equal to the apostles,’ whereas the Roman Catholic Church notes that he was baptized only on his deathbed, by an Arian bishop. Also the close alliance of state power and church authority that defined the long centuries of the ‘Constantinian epoch’ is now viewed critically.
- The feast of Christ the King was set up by Pius XI in 1925 in resistance to secularizing and anti-Christian governments. This coincided with the celebration of the 16th century of Nicaea. As Pius wrote in the encyclical Quas primas (11 December 1925): ‘Since this jubilee Year marks the sixteenth centenary of the Council of Nicaea, We commanded that event to be celebrated, and We have done so in the Vatican basilica. There is a special reason for this in that the Nicene Synod defined and proposed for Catholic belief the dogma of the Consubstantiality of the Only begotten with the Father, and added to the Creed the words “of whose kingdom there shall be no end,” thereby affirming the kingly dignity of Christ’ (#5). (Actually those words were added only in 381, in opposition to Marcellus of Ancyra’s teaching that when the Son yielded the Kingdom to the Father [1 Cor 15:24], he was no longer King.)
The Kingship of Christ is of a spiritual order, and Pius XI recalls how Jesus fled any proposal to make him an earthly king. Nonetheless: ““With God and Jesus Christ,” we said, “excluded from political life, with authority derived not from God but from man, the very basis of that authority has been taken away, because the chief reason of the distinction between ruler and subject has been eliminated. The result is that human society is tottering to its fall, because it has no longer a secure and solid foundation” (Enc. Ubi Arcano)’ (#18). If rulers remember that their authority comes from Christ, ‘then at length will many evils be cured; then will the law regain its former authority; peace with all its blessings be restored. Men will sheathe their swords and lay down their arms when all freely acknowledge and obey the authority of Christ’ (Leo, Enc. Annum Sanctum, 25 May 1899; quoted #20). Pius believes that a new Feast is the best way of making everyone aware of this message. ‘The last Sunday of October seemed the most convenient of all for this purpose, because it is at the end of the liturgical year, and thus the feast of the Kingship of Christ sets the crowning glory upon the mysteries of the life of Christ already commemorated during the year, and, before celebrating the triumph of all the Saints, we proclaim and extol the glory of Him Who triumphs in all the Saints and in all the Elect’ (#29). In 1969, Paul VI transferred it to the actual final Sunday of the liturgical year, broadening the eschatological and cosmic dimensions of the feast.
- Scholars since Johannes Weiss (1892) have underlined that the Kingdom of God was the central theme of the kerygma of Jesus. The theme is more richly presented in Matthew than in Luke, and since the gospel text must come from Luke this year the magnificent image of Christ coming as King to judge the nations (Matthew 25) was not available. Instead, rather startlingly, we end the year with the story of the two thieves crucified with Christ. The Cross was always the image of Christian triumph – in Constantine’s vision (‘In this sign you shall conquer’), in the Crusades, etc. – but today’s Gospel underlines that the triumph of the Cross is one of humility, service, self-emptying.
“Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” (Lord Acton, 1887) Still today there is failure on the part of the Catholic magisterium to admit that the relationship with absolute military power established by Constantine with the church is the root source of all of the scandals of Christian intolerance admitted by the Church in ‘Memory and Reconciliation’ (1999).
Dignitatus Humanae (1965) contradicted St Augustine of Hippo (408) in denying that the truth can be conveyed by coercion – but without saying so – and the corruption of even Augustine’s brilliant brain by the association with coercive power still dogs in the church in the revived cause of a new church-state relationship advocated by e.g. the multi-billionaire Peter Thiel. How would the US bishops react if offered such a deal by e.g. J.D. Vance, Thiel’s political protege, in some future bid for power?
That in accepting the Constantinian-Theodosian relationship – and, implicitly, the claim by Constantine of divine support for his conquests – the church was blinding itself to the roots of worldly power in covetousness, and therefore to covetousness itself – has still to be seriously considered by the Catholic magisterium. It is left to the academic followers of René Girard to follow this possibility. Thankfully these also include theologians such as James Alison, who interprets Genesis with a Girardian lens in ‘The Joy of Being Wrong’ (1998).
Even competitive cathedral building therefore followed in the long history of the Catholic magisterium – an obvious ‘wanting of what your neighbour has’ – as warned against in the decalogue. The challenge of St Francis to true poverty was an obvious counterpoint – but who was to say so when talking out of turn could mobilise the Inquisition as well, authorised by none other than St Thomas Aquinas, in line with Augustine?
Born of status anxiety – our chronic tendency to doubt our own value when compared with the apparently greater importance of others – covetousness waits to be discovered as the root of the growing crisis of human survival on planet earth. This discovery will happen in the New Pentecost that the greatest danger will take us to.
That’s where we are all going, led by Christ the King!
Surely it is wonderful that ambition and rivalry, along with faith, produced the Cathedrals (in which St Francis did not scorn to preach, albeit barefoot). The basilica was the hallmark architecture of the fourth century, which Harnack compares with the luminous presentation of the faith by Nicaea and Athanasius. I learn from Chat GPT that Girard warned ‘that the critique of Constantinism can itself fall into the same scapegoating dynamics: criticizing the Church is good, but if done violently or vindictively it mirrors the very scapegoating it denounces.’ The reference is given to an Ireland.ie. I listened to young Japanese academics yesterday drooling over Jean-Luc Nancy’s project of dissolving Christian beliefs one and for all. We must cherish the great monuments of theology, architecture, literature, and music that have been bulwarks of faith and that still inspire faith. The rebuilding of Notre Dame in record time is linked with a great revival of faith in France. (St Sulpice was packed at an afternoon Mass on Nov 11.) Macron may be posturing as Napoleon or Constantine, but he deserves credit.
Does the fact that ambition and rivalry helped to produce the great cathedrals justify overlooking the obviously related fact that ambition and rivalry also powered the imperial rivalries that culminated in the horrors of African slavery and tyranny over indigenous populations – and World War I – or continuing to fail to see in rivalry per se – even the rivalries of the great Eastern and Western patriarchs – the covetousness that the decalogue warns against?
There is a serious theological question here, Joe, that cannot be dismissed simply by adverting to architectural glories – especially given the Enlightenment’s bafflement over ‘original sin’ – tainted as the theological explication of that has always been by Augustine’s special problem with sexuality. Trent fulminated against any explanation of sin that sourced it in imitation, opting instead for Augustine’s conclusion that original sin comes via ‘generation’. How can that theology fail to imply that sexual desire – the libido – is the root of all evil?
But what if we are genetically ‘hard wired’ to imitate – the implication of Girard’s account of ‘mimetic desire’? As James Alison points out in ‘The Joy of Being Wrong’, that opens the way for an entirely new look at the supposed incompatibility of ‘imitation’ and ‘generation’ as the root of evil, and especially of all violent conflict.
That our tendency to doubt our own value is connected with our tendency towards ‘invidious comparison’ – and therefore towards wanting whatever seems to make our neighbour ‘superior’ – seems to me inescapable – but even yet our Catholic moralism seems oblivious – even in an age of massive over-consumption – to the fact that Genesis describes that very problem. Does the Tridentine dismissal of ‘imitation’ – and Augustine’s emphasis on ‘generation’ -help to explain that?
This is especially relevant to the issue of faith formation in post-modernity – and therefore to synodal discussion also. Raving about cathedrals is all very well but there are surely more important fish to fry just now? Moreover, as Gaudi’s masterpiece in Barcelona illustrates, the building of cathedrals doesn’t actually require episcopal or municipal or international rivalries.
In Sean’s 1st comment we read “The challenge of St.Francis to true poverty was an obvious counterpoint – but who was to say so when talking out of turn could mobilise the inquisition as well, authorised by none other than St. Thomas Aquinas, in line with Augustine?” Let us consider how this fear of the inquisition could throw some light on ‘Transubstantiation’ which St. Thomas Aquinas based on the philosophy of Aristotle. St.Paul in his first letter to the Corinthians (1 Corinthians 2) wrote “-in my speeches and sermons that I gave, there were none of the arguments that belong to philosophy; only a demonstration of the power of the spirit. And I did this so that you should not depend on human philosophy but on the power of God”. In regard to transubstantiation if Thomas Aquinas had listened to Paul and ignored the philosophy of Aristotle much of the confusion caused by the philosophical concept of transubstantiation would be alleviated. It is THE REAL PRESENCE which is essential and after the consecration the priest says that it is THE MYSTERY OF FAITH.
Aquinas had a terrific devotion to the Real Presence. If I remember his discussion in the Summa correctly, he invoked Aristotelian categories only to show that none of them fit the Eucharistic presence. Gustus, visus, tactus in Te fallitur and so does Aristotle
Yes, we believe in the Real Presence in the Eucharist. What if we believed in the Divine indwelling in each human person. We would bow as we passed on the street. Thomas Merton got a glimpse of our human and Divine connectedness on a busy street in 1958. What a wonderful world it would be!
Joe@5, in his wonderful book, Eating Together, Becoming One, Tom O’Loughlin maintains that if Aquinas was around today he would not have used the philosophy of Aristotle to try and explain the Real Presence.
Tom also explains that the West, around the time of Aquinas, or slightly earlier, had just become aware of Aristotle and Greek philosophy again.
Remind me, Joe, how this happened, was it Muslim/Arab scholars who preserved the ancient texts?
Despite the decline in our Church we are still really engaged in the future prospects of the Church.
Many surveys continue to be done, usually focusing on things like the presence of priests under 70 in different dioceses and how many will there be in 10 years. It usually makes depressing reading.
About 2 years — maybe more now — there was research into what Irish Catholics actually believe and, if I remember correctly, only 10% of practising Catholics in Ireland believed in the Real Presence in the Eucharist.
If I’m mistaken in any of this I stand to be corrected.
Greetings from Drumcondra in our capital city.
Annoyingly I deleted what I was writing.
Fr Doyle probably referred to Dominican theologians Cajetan, Vitoria, De Soto, Melchior Cano, credited with building on Lombard and Aquinas in stressing the ontological indelible sacramental seal conferred at ordination.
Aquinas stresses that the sacramental conversion is directly concerned with the substance of Christ not with his accidents (though forced to admit that they cannot be separated from the substance). His discussion (ST III qq. 75-7) keeps yielding tensions with Aristotelian reason.
Augustine and Aquinas are the brilliant luminous summits of western theology, but their metaphysics needs to be overcome; a step back out of the scholastic labyrinth is imposed by all the waves of modernity (Reformation, biblical scholarship, revolutions in philosophy) and to negotiate it is a huge hermeneutical task.
Joe, thanks for all of that.
And, also your excellent piece on the 1925 advent of the Christ the King Feast Day.
I had tea with your fellow Corkonian, Kieran O’Mahony OSA on Saturday who told me you lectured in Trinity when he was there doing his doctorate.
I shared with Kieran what a wonderful source of information and knowledge you are and the excellent contribution you make to us all on this ACP site.
He sends you his best wishes.
MG-B @6, your mention of the Real Presence reminded me of my surprise when reading some years ago that Thomas Aquinas didn’t mean a “real” Real Presence but rather a sacramental Real Presence. The logic of this the author — can’t remember who now — informed us was that since Jesus sits at the right hand of the Father in Heaven, he cannot be in two places at the same time.
He/she was not being flippant.
With reference to the ninth comment which is from Paddy Ferry. Many will find it hard to take on board these different definitions of the True Presence namely, ‘A Real Presence’, ‘A Real Real Presence’ and ‘A Sacramental Real Presence’. What an effect this could have on the laity who are struggling to hang on to their faith and relationship with the day-to day Church. Perhaps, there is too much academic theology? However, the reflections of Jim Cogley do give hope to many.
Hope for the future.
Dom @10, I mentioned recently my surprise at the findings of a recent — perhaps two years ago — survey into what Catholics in Ireland actually believed and it was found that only 10% of Irish Catholics believe in the Real Presence.
A child asked the teacher: Is it ok to bite the Host? and got the reply: How would you like to be bitten?
This bad catechesis should be corrected — the real presence does not mean that when the host is dropped on the floor, Christ is dropped on the floor. Aquinas would say that Christ’s presence is not a local presence.
Again, the real presence lasts only as long as the host has the form of bread.
In fact this means that it is the meal-event that is the vehicle of the real presence. In other words, the meal becomes a participation in the reality of Christ’s death and resurrection.
The fact that only 10% of the faithful believe in the real presence suggests that they have been badly taught about it.
Unfortunately the confession demanded of Berengarius at a Roman synod in 1059 (Denzinger 690) with its heavy insistence that the eucharistic presence is not merely sacramental but can be broken sensibly (sensualiter) by the priest’s hands and the teeth of the faithful. He signed another confession 20 years later (Denzinger 700) which insists more simply that the real body of Christ, born of the virgin, etc., is really present. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Berengar_of_Tours
A child asked the teacher: Is it ok to bite the Host? and got the reply: How would you like to be bitten?
This bad catechesis should be corrected — the real presence does not mean that when the host is dropped on the floor, Christ is dropped on the floor. Aquinas would say that Christ’s presence is not a local presence.
Again, the real presence lasts only as long as the host has the form of bread.
In fact this means that it is the meal-event that is the vehicle of the real presence. In other words, the meal becomes a participation in the reality of Christ’s death and resurrection.
The fact that only 10% of the faithful believe in the real presence suggests that they have been badly taught about it.
Unfortunately the confession demanded of Berengarius at a Roman synod in 1059 (Denzinger 690) uses misleading language in its heavy insistence that the eucharistic presence is not merely sacramental but can be broken sensibly (sensualiter) by the priest’s hands and the teeth of the faithful. He signed another confession 20 years later (Denzinger 700) which insists more simply that the real body of Christ, born of the virgin, etc., is really present. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Berengar_of_Tours
“The fact that only 10% of the faithful believe in the real presence suggests that they have been badly taught about it.”
This is probably true – but it is also a mistake to believe that we are most likely to be ‘taught’ of the real presence only by formal education that is aimed at that result.
In my own long experience we are far more likely to learn deeply of the presence of the Trinity – at any time – from totally unorganised and challenging experience that leads us to pray more deeply and attentively than at any other time. Only when circumstances oblige us to be attentive do most of us put ourselves in that fully attentive and prayerful state.
If we are instead only in a ‘show me’ state of mind – as when we are attending, say, the theatre or the circus – any teaching on the real presence is likely to ‘wash off of us’ like water off the proverbial duck.
It follows obviously that to believe that God is present ONLY at the consecration in the Mass must also be a mistake. Instead our basic problem is to suppose that ordinarily God is absent when instead the Mass needs to be seen as a reminder of God’s continuing presence, and the Eucharist as an experiential reminder that God wishes to dwell at our deepest centre.
Isn’t that what it is to be a ‘Temple of the Holy Spirit’ – even when we are not attending Mass?
Joe, I never bit the host— well that was the teaching that people like myself took so seriously.
Then about 30 ago, I suppose, I became a lay minister of the Eucharist — title since changed — and I remember so well my first day on the altar with my old friend Fr. Tommy McNulty — Seamus will remember him as a wonderful priest.
He gave me communion and then we were about to go down to the altar rails to distribute communion and, suddenly, I knew I had a problem.
So, in that moment, a lifetime of non-biting came to and end. I knew I had to digest the host before presenting and saying “Body of Christ” to each recipient of Holy Communion.
Sean, am I correct in saying that St. Augustine said — based on the writing of St. Paul — that the holy communion exists in those of us gathered around the altar and that which happens on the altar is merely symbolic?
I am not well-enough read in St Augustine to pronounce on that, but the phrase ‘merely symbolic’ raises a question about our understanding of what symbols are and how they actually ‘work’ – i.e. how they communicate.
What I mean is that if one is saying ‘the Eucharist is just a symbol’ one is already ‘outside’ the experience, even the ‘reality’, that the words ‘this is my body’ were intended to convey – i.e. that Jesus is lovingly in this and every moment giving himself completely to and for us.
Similarly, what would be the the point of everyone gathering around an altar if at that moment everyone is thinking ‘this is just a symbolic exercise’ – distancing themselves from the only good reason for being there in the first place?
Doesn’t our own ‘real presence’ demand that we enter fully into the realness of God’s presence both in the consecrated host and the gathered assembly – and are NOT at that moment thinking ‘this is just a symbolic exercise’?
I suppose I am asking if the phrases ‘merely symbolic’ or ‘just a symbol’ make any sense.