“Today you will be with me in Paradise.” (Lk 23:43)
Today, on the final Sunday of the liturgical year, the drama of the end times brought to us by our daily readings culminates in the great feast of Christ the King. The book of Revelation presents us with an icon:
“Then I saw the heavens opened, and there was a white horse; its rider was called ‘Faithful and True.’ He judges and wages war in righteousness. His eyes were like a fiery flame, and on his head were many diadems. He had a name inscribed that no one knows except himself. He wore a cloak that had been dipped in blood, and his name was called the Word of God. The armies of heaven followed him, mounted on white horses and wearing clean white linen. Out of his mouth came a sharp sword to strike the nations. He will rule them with an iron rod, and he himself will tread out in the wine press the wine of the fury and wrath of God the almighty. He has a name written on his cloak and on his thigh, ‘King of kings and Lord of lords.’” (Rv 19:11-16)
This sight would be enough to frighten the life out of most of us, and John the Evangelist is no different: “When I caught sight of him, I fell down at his feet as though dead” (Rv 1:17). This terrible Christ of the Second Coming is at last visible to all and unmistakable:
“Behold, he is coming amid the clouds,
and every eye will see him,
even those who pierced him.
All the peoples of the earth will lament him.
Yes. Amen.” (Rv 1:7)
We might consider this triumphalism, were it not for the fact that this king reaches down to touch us with his hand, saying: “Do not be afraid. I am the first and the last, the one who lives. Once I was dead, but now I am alive forever and ever. I hold the keys to death and the netherworld” (Rv 1:17-8). While at the beginning and end of Revelation, Christ is seen in his majestic form, throughout the body of the book, he appears as “the Lamb”:
“Then I saw standing in the midst of the throne and the four living creatures and the elders a Lamb that seemed to have been slain.” (Rv 5:6)
What could be more contradictory? A slain lamb who conquers all. The weakest and most vulnerable, who has in fact been pierced through and seemingly done away with. Today’s gospel shows us the one called Christ, sneered at by rulers and jeered at by soldiers, hanging ridiculously under the title, “The King of the Jews,” yet whispering to the one who hangs next to him: ‘Today you will be with me in Paradise’ (Lk 23:43).
No, this is not triumphalism. It is, rather, an invitation to celebrate the long-awaited and hard-won triumph over sin and death. The painful and laborious process of bringing about the kingdom, detailed in Revelation as a cosmic battle of good and evil, is all too recognizable in the events of our own times. But the dragon will be thrown down. The beasts will be slain. The false prophets who lead humanity astray will be punished. All who are embroiled in works of darkness will drink the wine of God’s fury. Babylon, the great city of human wickedness, will fall:
“Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great.
She has become a haunt for demons.
She is a cage for every unclean spirit,
a cage for every unclean bird,
a cage for every unclean and disgusting beast.” (Rv 18:2)
This means victory over every evil that afflicts the human race, whether extrinsically or intrinsically, whether in body, mind, heart, or spirit, whether socially, politically, economically, environmentally, or morally. All evil will be definitively overcome, excluded from the holy city of God’s people, and cast into the abyss forever.
In Christ’s triumph, no-one will be forgotten:
“For the Lamb who is in the center of the throne will shepherd them
and lead them to springs of life-giving water,
and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” (Rv 7:17)
“He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, for the old order has passed away.” (Rv 21:4)
No fallen sparrow will be left to lie in the dust. No witness will be left unvindicated. Not a drop of blood poured upon the earth will be lost. All will be found again in the blood of the Lamb.
This is what we celebrate today. We celebrate Christ’s victory after the fact, as redemption already accomplished by his cross and resurrection; before the fact, while the world is still not fully handed over to his God and Father; and in the midst of travail, while the birth-pangs of the new heaven and new earth are ongoing. It is like eating the sweet-and-sour scroll that gives the sweet taste of victory in the mouth, even as the stomach turns sour with the suffering which is the necessary price (Cf. Rv 10:10).
Today, says Jesus, you will be with me in Paradise. We have our place:
“Then I looked and there was the Lamb standing on Mount Zion, and with him a hundred and forty-four thousand who had his name and his Father’s name written on their foreheads…. These are the ones who follow the Lamb wherever he goes.” (Rv 14:1, 4)
As followers of St Benedict, we are followers of the Lamb, who “serve the true king, Christ” (RB Prol 3), and “share in his suffering so as to have a share also in his kingdom” (RB Prol 50). We find him at every turn: in the abbot, charged to live up to the honor of standing for Christ (RB 2, 63); in the sick served as Christ (RB 36) and the guest welcomed as Christ (RB 53). We prefer nothing to Christ (RB 72), to the point that we deny ourselves in order to follow him more closely (4.10), even to praying for our enemies out of love for him (RB 4.72). Embracing obedience becomes natural for those who hold nothing dearer than Christ, (RB 5.2), and humility builds a bridge from fear to perfect love of Christ (RB 7.69). Even our harmful thoughts and impulses are to be dashed against Christ (RB 4.30), so that there is truly no part of our life separate from him.
Because we belong to Christ, we play our part in the transformation of creation. As Bishop Erik Varden writes, the Rule is a God-given instrument to rise above ourselves to the stature of Christ, so we have our mission and our purpose before us. The battle of good and evil takes place on our soil. Christ is our life, and we belong to him. We are to take on the mind of Christ, his heart, his eyes. We are to become the first fruits of his kingdom. Every day we can say yes to this. Let it happen. Be transformed. Even in darkness and confusion, even in pain and struggle, we are his.
At the end of the liturgical year, we are invited to take a long look at where we are headed: the fulfilment of all things in Christ. From the dazzling light of the face of Christ in majesty, we set off again into a new beginning: formless void, darkness over the abyss, and wind blowing unseen over the waters of chaos (Cf. Gn 1:2). But now, it is a pierced darkness. Advent darkness is pierced by light – a light, however small and flickering, that the darkness does not, cannot, will not overcome.