A Homily for the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe
Readings: Daniel 7:13-14 Revelation 1:5-8 John 18:33b-37
Shakespeare took some license with the scene, but there was indeed a historical humiliation. Dan Jones, the newest biographer of England’s King Henry V (Henry V: The Astonishing Triumph of England’s Greatest Warrior King, 2024), retrieves a 15th-century monastic chronicle, which records a “tennis ball incident” unfolding as follows:
During Lent in 1414 Henry is at Kenilworth Castle, when he receives ambassadors sent from the French court. They come bearing gifts, along with a message from the seventeen-year-old dauphin, Louis. The gift consists of a set of Parisian tennis balls and the message of “some very jesting words,” informing Henry that the balls are sent so that he can “play with his young men as [is] his wont.”
Unfazed by this impudence from a prince a decade his junior, Henry dismisses the gift with a quip. He promises very soon to send back to the dauphin London balls—that is, cannon balls—which will smash down French houses. Thus, Henry says, he will bring profit to England and send the French packing from their own country.
King Henry V famously turned to violence to undo his humiliation, and, against all odds, he won a victory over the French at Agincourt. It vindicated both his own youth and, at least for a time, his claim to the throne of France, making him the most singularly successful of English warrior monarchs.
Today, we would rightly question why so many English and French subjects should die in a war of honor and succession. But that is what those with power, and those in power, do. They use violence to undo perceived humiliations.
Some would also question calling Christ a king because they associate monarchy with arbitrary and unjust rule. Any form of government is subject to misuse. The mobs that topple monarchs are rarely harbingers of justice. The real issue is that so often those in power follow King Henry’s pattern and seek to undo humiliation by way of violence.
The title may be troublesome, but it is not dispensable. The Gospels themselves call Jesus a king. A good monarch is supposed to set the world right, to create a kingdom where peace and justice prevail. Monarchs wield power, hopefully for the good, undoing evils. So, calling Christ a king is at the core of the irony the Gospels proclaim. The power of Christ is utterly unlike that of those who rule this world for he undoes violence by way of freely chosen humiliation.
Eventually, we Christians would come to celebrate the humbleness of our king, but that is glossing over a painful and initially embarrassing adjective. Pilate and his allies saw our Christ as the one who was humiliated.
The Gospels are proclamations, calls to discipleship. They summon us to Christ, and they teach us what it means to imitate him. First, consider the truly powerless: the woman in an abusive relationship, the poor who are forced to flee their homes in search of sustenance. These disciples must do what they can, simply to survive.
The rest of us might not yield the authority of absolute monarchs, but we often use the powers we do possess to undo our perceived humiliations with violence, with antipathy and hatred. Can we choose to be humiliated rather than oppress others in return? For that is what it means to follow Christ. Can we respond to violence or coercion with humility? Can we allow ourselves to appear humiliated in the eyes of the world?
Evil cannot stand unchecked, but it is rarely undone by violence, for violence is the lackey of evil. In Shakespeare’s rendering, Henry angrily tells the French ambassador:
When we have matched our rackets to these balls,
We will in France, by God’s grace, play a set
Shall strike his father’s crown into the hazard (I.II.261-63)
And tell the pleasant Prince this mock of his
Hath turned his balls to gunstones, and his soul
Shall stand sore chargèd for the wasteful vengeance
That shall fly from them—for many a thousand widows
Shall this his mock mock out of their dear husbands,
Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down;
Ay, some are yet ungotten and unborn
That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin’s scorn (I.2.281-88).
Henry does what the powerful ones of this world so often do. He responds to humiliation with violence. But Christ our Lord tells Pilate,
My kingdom does not belong to this world (Jn 18:36).
Neither does the way by which Christ responds to humiliation.
