Knowing Who's In Charge
Sermon
Sermons on the Gospel Readings
Series III, Cycle C
When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. [Then Jesus said, "Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing."] And they cast lots to divide his clothing. And the people stood by, watching; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, "He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!" The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, "If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!" There was also an inscription over him, "This is the King of the Jews."
One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, "Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!" But the other rebuked him, saying, "Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong." Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." He replied, "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise."
-- Luke 23:33-43
It sounds so old-fashioned: Christ the King. It sounds so medieval -- some relic from the ancient past that the church has held on to for all too long, like the funny old hats in the back of your grandmother's closet. You know that at one point, long ago, those hats were all the rage, but now they sit in storage and in truth they're better off there. Couldn't they update it a little? "Christ the president"? "Christ the prime minister"? "Christ the CEO"? "Christ the leader"? Why "Christ the King"? There are hardly any kings anymore, at least not outside of fairy tales. Sure, there are a few heads of state in a few venerable countries who still use royal titles. But for the most part, those "kings" just ride around in horse-drawn carriages and cut the ribbons at the openings of new bridges, while the real work and the real power falls to the elected leaders.
If you look hard enough, you will turn up a few modern kings with true royal power, but it's hardly a good thing. Why say "Christ the King"? You wouldn't say "Christ the Dictator" or "Christ the Despot." The celebration of Christ the King Sunday is just one more way that the church shows itself to be outmoded, out of sync, and out of touch.
Except that there's this one little detail. "Christ the King Sunday" isn't old. The celebrations of Christmas and Easter, Lent and Advent, and even All Saints Day go so far back in history that it's impossible to pinpoint just when they started. The beginning of Christ the King Sunday, on the other hand, can be traced back to a letter written by pope Pius XI in 1925. That's quite a surprisingly recent origin for a celebration shared by much of the Christian faith. Maybe 1925 doesn't sound all that recent, but in the church, saying that something happened in 1925 is like saying that it happened last Thursday. Already by 1925 kingdoms were rapidly becoming a thing of the past. Democracies and republics and even communist states were pushing the idea of an inherited monarchy deep into the corner of grandma's attic. Already by 1925, the name "Christ the King" sounded old-fashioned, out-moded, and out of touch.
World War I had just ended a little more than five years before. The great empires of Russia and Austria-Hungary had collapsed. The British empire would eventually follow. Human civilization had proved to be far less civilized than it thought itself to be. Advanced communications, the wonders of technology, and the spirit of international cooperation had all failed to keep the peace. The horror of modern warfare with aircraft and tanks and chemical weapons had not acted as a deterrent. In 1925, that failure was still very raw.
Since that time, communications have advanced tremendously. Technology leaps forward and becomes more wondrous every day. Weapons are now nuclear and biological. Tanks are stronger and aircraft faster. Through the establishment of the UN, NATO, and other alliances, and the great increase in global trade, efforts at international cooperation are more serious than ever. And still there is war. Still there is terrorism and brutality and oppression. Human civilization is still far, far from civilized.
He's an odd sort of king, this Jesus. He walked around from one little town to the next, eating with sinners and talking to all the wrong people. That's not what you'd call majestic. That's not how a king lives. And being nailed to a tree between two common criminals isn't exactly a heroic way to meet your end. That's not how a king dies. If it wasn't for the sign over his head that read, "This is the King of the Jews" a passerby would never have guessed. Enthroned upon a cross, with his thorny crown piercing deep into his scalp, he looked anything but powerful. Where was the pride? Where was the fight? He just hung there, dying. There were soldiers there overseeing his execution. They were there as representatives of Tiberius Caesar. Now there's royal power for you.
The caesars were kings in the truest, most horrible sense of the word. The soldiers couldn't miss the difference between powerful Tiberius and the dying Jesus. "If you are the King of the Jews," the soldiers said, "save yourself!" (v. 37). But he didn't save himself. Even one of the criminals hanging next to Jesus, a guy who you'd think had enough problems of his own, joined in taunting Jesus. Turning his head, straining to see around his own upstretched arm, this dying felon bothered to waste his breath in ridicule, "Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!" (v. 39). Jesus did not save himself. But by dying, by becoming powerless, by losing, Jesus did save us. His power was shown in weakness; his victory in his defeat.
He's an odd sort of king, this Jesus. His kingdom has no boundaries. He conquers his enemies by waging peace on them. All of his subjects are also his heirs. He rules like no other. Calling him "president" or "prime minister" or "CEO" wouldn't quite do. Christ is king. He answers to no one. There is no constitution he has to follow. There are no elected officers to veto his word. There can be no other word for it: Christ is king. He is the legislature, the judiciary, and the chief executive. He makes the rules, and he grants the pardons.
Christ is our king. Our loyalty is to him. There are other rules we have to follow. There are rules everywhere: at school, at work, on the road, at home, even at swimming pools and playgrounds. There are many rules and many people in authority over us: police and judges, politicians and officials galore. We answer to bosses and teachers and leaders of every description. These all exercise authority over us by their power to take things away. They can revoke privileges. They can tax our wages. They can levy fees and fines. They can grant or deny promotions, lower our grades, and limit our opportunities. Some of these authorities have the power to imprison us and even to take away our lives. To one extent or another, that's what it all boils down to. The many rules and rulers that govern our lives do so by the power of death: The power to take away.
He's a different sort of king, this Jesus. Jesus rules by the power of life. Jesus doesn't threaten us and cajole us and coerce us by what he can take away. Jesus leads us by giving. Jesus rules by the power of life. Jesus forgives us. Jesus is merciful. Jesus loves us. He gives us the power to be forgiving. He gives us the ability to be merciful. Jesus gives us hope and joy and life in eternity. He's an odd sort of king, this Jesus. He's the one true king and Lord of us all.
No matter who claims power, no matter what wonders and what horrors our reason and technology bring, no matter what frightens and threatens us, one thing will always be true: Christ is king. Amen.
One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, "Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!" But the other rebuked him, saying, "Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong." Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." He replied, "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise."
-- Luke 23:33-43
It sounds so old-fashioned: Christ the King. It sounds so medieval -- some relic from the ancient past that the church has held on to for all too long, like the funny old hats in the back of your grandmother's closet. You know that at one point, long ago, those hats were all the rage, but now they sit in storage and in truth they're better off there. Couldn't they update it a little? "Christ the president"? "Christ the prime minister"? "Christ the CEO"? "Christ the leader"? Why "Christ the King"? There are hardly any kings anymore, at least not outside of fairy tales. Sure, there are a few heads of state in a few venerable countries who still use royal titles. But for the most part, those "kings" just ride around in horse-drawn carriages and cut the ribbons at the openings of new bridges, while the real work and the real power falls to the elected leaders.
If you look hard enough, you will turn up a few modern kings with true royal power, but it's hardly a good thing. Why say "Christ the King"? You wouldn't say "Christ the Dictator" or "Christ the Despot." The celebration of Christ the King Sunday is just one more way that the church shows itself to be outmoded, out of sync, and out of touch.
Except that there's this one little detail. "Christ the King Sunday" isn't old. The celebrations of Christmas and Easter, Lent and Advent, and even All Saints Day go so far back in history that it's impossible to pinpoint just when they started. The beginning of Christ the King Sunday, on the other hand, can be traced back to a letter written by pope Pius XI in 1925. That's quite a surprisingly recent origin for a celebration shared by much of the Christian faith. Maybe 1925 doesn't sound all that recent, but in the church, saying that something happened in 1925 is like saying that it happened last Thursday. Already by 1925 kingdoms were rapidly becoming a thing of the past. Democracies and republics and even communist states were pushing the idea of an inherited monarchy deep into the corner of grandma's attic. Already by 1925, the name "Christ the King" sounded old-fashioned, out-moded, and out of touch.
World War I had just ended a little more than five years before. The great empires of Russia and Austria-Hungary had collapsed. The British empire would eventually follow. Human civilization had proved to be far less civilized than it thought itself to be. Advanced communications, the wonders of technology, and the spirit of international cooperation had all failed to keep the peace. The horror of modern warfare with aircraft and tanks and chemical weapons had not acted as a deterrent. In 1925, that failure was still very raw.
Since that time, communications have advanced tremendously. Technology leaps forward and becomes more wondrous every day. Weapons are now nuclear and biological. Tanks are stronger and aircraft faster. Through the establishment of the UN, NATO, and other alliances, and the great increase in global trade, efforts at international cooperation are more serious than ever. And still there is war. Still there is terrorism and brutality and oppression. Human civilization is still far, far from civilized.
He's an odd sort of king, this Jesus. He walked around from one little town to the next, eating with sinners and talking to all the wrong people. That's not what you'd call majestic. That's not how a king lives. And being nailed to a tree between two common criminals isn't exactly a heroic way to meet your end. That's not how a king dies. If it wasn't for the sign over his head that read, "This is the King of the Jews" a passerby would never have guessed. Enthroned upon a cross, with his thorny crown piercing deep into his scalp, he looked anything but powerful. Where was the pride? Where was the fight? He just hung there, dying. There were soldiers there overseeing his execution. They were there as representatives of Tiberius Caesar. Now there's royal power for you.
The caesars were kings in the truest, most horrible sense of the word. The soldiers couldn't miss the difference between powerful Tiberius and the dying Jesus. "If you are the King of the Jews," the soldiers said, "save yourself!" (v. 37). But he didn't save himself. Even one of the criminals hanging next to Jesus, a guy who you'd think had enough problems of his own, joined in taunting Jesus. Turning his head, straining to see around his own upstretched arm, this dying felon bothered to waste his breath in ridicule, "Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!" (v. 39). Jesus did not save himself. But by dying, by becoming powerless, by losing, Jesus did save us. His power was shown in weakness; his victory in his defeat.
He's an odd sort of king, this Jesus. His kingdom has no boundaries. He conquers his enemies by waging peace on them. All of his subjects are also his heirs. He rules like no other. Calling him "president" or "prime minister" or "CEO" wouldn't quite do. Christ is king. He answers to no one. There is no constitution he has to follow. There are no elected officers to veto his word. There can be no other word for it: Christ is king. He is the legislature, the judiciary, and the chief executive. He makes the rules, and he grants the pardons.
Christ is our king. Our loyalty is to him. There are other rules we have to follow. There are rules everywhere: at school, at work, on the road, at home, even at swimming pools and playgrounds. There are many rules and many people in authority over us: police and judges, politicians and officials galore. We answer to bosses and teachers and leaders of every description. These all exercise authority over us by their power to take things away. They can revoke privileges. They can tax our wages. They can levy fees and fines. They can grant or deny promotions, lower our grades, and limit our opportunities. Some of these authorities have the power to imprison us and even to take away our lives. To one extent or another, that's what it all boils down to. The many rules and rulers that govern our lives do so by the power of death: The power to take away.
He's a different sort of king, this Jesus. Jesus rules by the power of life. Jesus doesn't threaten us and cajole us and coerce us by what he can take away. Jesus leads us by giving. Jesus rules by the power of life. Jesus forgives us. Jesus is merciful. Jesus loves us. He gives us the power to be forgiving. He gives us the ability to be merciful. Jesus gives us hope and joy and life in eternity. He's an odd sort of king, this Jesus. He's the one true king and Lord of us all.
No matter who claims power, no matter what wonders and what horrors our reason and technology bring, no matter what frightens and threatens us, one thing will always be true: Christ is king. Amen.
