Sermon, 11/20/22: Christ the King

Canticle 4; Jeremiah 23:1–6; Colossians 1:11–20; Luke 23:33–43

And when they came to the place which is called The Skull, there they crucified him, and the criminals, one on the right and one on the left… And the people stood by, watching; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying. ‘He saved others’ let him save himself…” Luke 23: 33f.

On Thursday, 8 September, in the Year of our Lord 2022, a decree went out unto the whole world that, at the age of 96 years, Elizabeth II, of the House of Windsor, by grace of God, Queen of England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland, and Head of the British Commonwealth had died at 3:10 p.m. UK time.  Flags and national standards were lower.  Heads of other states issued words of condolence to members of her family and to her citizens, many of whom assembled immediately before her various palaces, in order to lay, not palm branches, but bouquets of flowers as expression their grief and respect to a queen who had, in the history of English monarchy, reigned the longest. 

Heads of foreign states, i.e., those who were invited, altered their schedules, in order to attend the final rites befitting a monarch.  On the occasion of her funeral, held in the same church, Westminster Abbey, in which she was crowned, dignitaries from throughout the world assembled there, while the less elevated lined the route, along which her path to Westminster Abbey took her earthly remains.  The solemnity, along the way as well as within Westminster Abbey, was marked appropriately with a ritual fit for a queen.  

Today is the 24^th, or last, Sunday after Pentecost.  It is also called Christ the King Sunday.  And so it is, that I should like to remind you of thoughts which many years ago I shared with you.  I do so, because as people of faith, I believe we ought to consider how we mark Jesus’ kingship.  I have divided my thought in three segments: 

I. Christ the King: a source of confusion for Christians and non-Christians alike.
II. The ignominious/dishonorable Cross, not an iron scepter, as symbol of Christ’s regal status
III. The true obligations of a king

I. Christ the King: confusion for Christians and non-Christians alike.
So it is that I ask, where are the appropriate fanfare, pomp, and circumstance befitting the kingship of Jesus of Nazareth, God’s Messiah?  Do we not employ joyful songs of praise when we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ of Nazareth?  From the very beginning of our liturgical journey, we are confronted with confusion, doubt even, with a contradictory scenario.  Instead of being born in a castle, as befitting a future king, attended by potentates, royalty, men and women of rank, the king, whose birth we celebrate at Christmas, was born in a stable, a barn, far, far removed from everyone and everything associated with the purple, fine linen, and the sparkle of jewels.  The Magi notwithstanding, Jesus’ heritage, his right to kingship is called into question.  And Herod does precisely that.

A more traditional way of imagining a king in his splendor may be found in the Book of Revelation of John.  Hear the beautiful prose of the mystic: “And lo, a throne stood in heaven, and with one seated on the throne!  And he who sat there appeared like jasper and carnelian…and day and night they never cease to sing, ‘Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come.’…they cast their crowns before the throne singing, ‘Worthy art thou. Our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for thou didst create all things, and by thy will they existed and were created.’…To him who sits upon the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might for ever and ever!’ And the four living creatures said, ‘Amen!’ and the elders fell down and worshiped.” (John 4:1b – 5:14)  Now, that is a description which stirs the imagination and excites us about a king: pageantry and majesty and grandeur. However, that is not what we have.

II. The ignominious/dishonorable Cross, not an iron scepter, as the symbol of Christ’s regal status
When talking about a newly elected or appointed bishop, one speaks of being elevated to the purple. When talking about a king or queen, one speaks of enthronement, about a coronation.  But when we speak about the kingly reign of Christ, we recite, as today, the lesson about his crucifixion, of his suffering and death.  What can be more perplexing than to kill our king and call that act a coronation.  

Instead of a drumroll, the blare of a trumpet or bugle, from a porch of a palace and instead of people crowding around with shouts of “hosanna to the Son of David,” or “long live the king,” when Jesus is elevated, the people shout, “Crucify him…He saved others, himself he cannot save.”  We know from historical record that death by crucifixion, death on a cross, was reserved for the lower class.  Royalty and individuals of rank were beheaded.  John the Baptist, you will recall, was beheaded, not tortured by death on a cross.  Yet, the Cross, a shameful instrument, is what we have, with which to declare Jesus as king.  The dishonorable cross becomes the symbol of God’s power.  Why our Creator God chose this form of reparations surpasses all human understanding, but that is what we have.

III. The fundamental obligation of a king
The fundamental obligation of a king, even as he might reside in splendor, is not to perpetuate that splendor for himself, but to attend the needs of those whom he has honor to serve. 

The cross of Calvary, erected by human hands is far from being a “good Samaritan deed,” judged by human standards, but it is the way God has chosen to restore union between the creator God and humankind.  Such an embarrassment does that cross appear, that we ourselves doubt, from time to time, that the message that is ingrained in that very instrument of shame, the cross, is decreed as free and available to the whole world.

In the minds of many believers, the cross, a symbol the magnanimous gift from God to all humankind, loses its sheen and it value, because it is perceived as free for our individual taking.  We claim Jesus as our personal savior, and we attempt to limit Christ’s kingdom to what “I” personally can manage.  It becomes a small kingdom, comprising only Christ and me, a kingdom in which other people can only appear as intruders.    

Try as we might, we cannot turn Jesus into a romantic hero of some great tragedy.  The crucifixion may make an odd coronation, but the one who rules from there, Jesus of Nazareth, shows us differently.  Just as he washed the feet of his disciples on that fateful evening, so does he hold fast to that image, by sharing the same judgment and the same instrument of death of those very ones whom he came to serve and to save.  Even here, this king extends his power, by receiving others unto himself.  The gospel according to John reminds us of that from human perspective difficult to understand declaration of Christ: “…and I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” (John 12:32)

The German theologian, Karl Barth, remarked once that the chancel area of our churches, where so often a cross hangs, would do well to be adorned not by a single cross, but by three!  For, even on the cross, when Christ is physically and spiritually lifted up, not only is there a stark absence of the royal purple, and Christ the king is not alone, but with those, for whose welfare he came.  At the place of the Skull, with a criminal on his right and his left, Jesus is there.

In one week, we begin another liturgical year.  Our liturgy is designed to take us on a journey, as it were, a journey where, using our Book of Records, the Bible, as our guidebook, our eyes are focused not on the scenery, the buildings and other structures, but on the fellow out front with the raised scepter, the raised tour guide umbrella which we follow.  Our liturgy will prepare us to welcome in an equally vulnerable form, who is God in human form.

However, today, we celebrate the glorious end of the journey.  Our king did not leave us with any photographs or portraits.  I find this fitting.  As the One who sent Jesus rejected images of gold as representative of God’s presence and power, so did our king not leave us with any photographs or portraits. Rather, he gave us much more.  Through his interaction with his life, after which we might pattern our own.  Even though we do not know what kind of face our king has (or had), or what color eyes, or how tall he was, we do know a good deal about the king.  We know the way he lived his life. 

Jesus said of himself, “If you know me, you know my father also.”  For us, to know God, is to know God through Christ whose priestly reign is displayed on the Cross, which is at once an instrument of abomination and distain, and an instrument of the greatest compassion that the world has ever known.  To see God, without benefit of a photograph on Snapchat, we need look no further than at each other who, as we are taught, are all made in the image and likeness of God.  And as such, we are the ambassadors of the king whose coronation was not secured via a ritual on a throne, but on the Cross.  And now, as loyal and worshipful servants of the King, our task is to “Lift high the cross, the love of Christ proclaim, till all the world adore his sacred Name.” AMEN