Texts: Jeremiah 23:1-6; Luke 1:68-79; Colossians 1:11-20; Luke 23:33-43
Today, my dear friends, is the last Sunday of the Church Year. It is called “Christ the King Sunday” and it is a time, here at the end of our annual cycle, for us to recognize the Lordship of Jesus Christ over all of human history. Even though we celebrate this truth at this time every year, you and I still have to wrestle with this question once again: What does it mean to have Jesus as our king? To have him as our monarch, the one who governs all things in our lives, because of our willing and voluntary assent to his authority?
Now, I have to confess that I have no idea at all what it is like to live under a King’s rule. Nor, frankly, do I have any wish whatsoever to experience this! Our little mountain cabin is located is New Hampshire and, God willing, we will be going up there for Thanksgiving. One of the things I love about that state is its motto. Do you know it?
NH State Motto
“Live free or die.” This motto comes from a toast made by a New Hampshire Revolutionary War hero named General John Stark. His toast for a reunion of revolutionary war veterans was this: “Live free or die; death is not the worst of evils.” That’s how I think. Don’t try to tell me what to do! I’m not good at submitting to authority, so the very idea of having an earthly king to rule over me honestly is quite repugnant.
But I do have a king. We have a king, though I don’t think this title does any justice to who he is and how he governs the world. Because this Christ, this Messiah, this King is unlike any governor or president or emperor that this world has ever known. Doesn’t it seem a bit odd that we read about the crucifixion on this feast of Christ the King? There is a deep mystery here. Let us pay attention to it. Our King shows his majesty from the cross. This King reveals his worthiness to rule when he suffers such embarrassment, such ignominy, such cruelness, such pain. Even on the cross, even in the face of such apparent weakness, he wields his great power – the power to heal and to transform.
During Holy Week, of course we read this very text from Luke and we sing of the glory of the cross. One of the ancient hymns that we sing is #161 in the Hymnal. The words were written by Venantius Fortunatus in the 6th century and paraphrased in the hymnal in this way:
The flaming banners of our King, advance through his self-offering. He lived to rob death of its sting; he died eternal life to bring.The messiah reigning from a tree. When the repentant thief asks for mercy, when he pleads to be remembered kindly by Christ, the King replies with regal majesty: “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”
A Roman soldier drew a spear to mix his blood with water clear. That blood retains its living power; the water cleanses to this hour.
The crowd would have been satisfied to see a prophet crucified. They stumbled on a mystery: Messiah reigning from a tree!
With what strange light the rough trunk shone, its purple limbs a royal throne, its load a royal treasury: the ransom of a world set free.
The best are shamed before that wood; the worst gain power to be good. O grant, most blessed Trinity, that all may share the victory.
This past week, I and the members of St. Luke’s Church have dealt with an amazing wave of anger and bitterness from two neighbors there in Westville who object to the presence of homeless men in the Parish House. After listening to all of their threats and shouting, it seems that one of their primary arguments is that criminals cannot be trusted. That people who steal to support their bad habits will do so again. These neighbors have been robbed in the past and they are dreadfully afraid of this happening again. “You cannot change these people! You cannot trust these people!” they shouted in our face on Thursday night, at St. Luke’s Vestry meeting.
It’s funny how God works, because at the same time, while dealing with this conflict, I have been meditating on this reading from the Gospel of Luke. Jesus, the King, is on his throne of irony – the cross. And who is there present on his right and his left? Two criminals, two thieves. One proud and stubborn, bitter and angry. One remorseful and humble, sorrowful and honest.
Do you think that a criminal, a thief, can be changed? What does Jesus think? Which voice will you heed, the voice of hope and faith, or the voice of fear and despair?
The truth has spoken and the truth is this: no one is beyond the reach of God’s mercy and grace. The King does what he wills, and even if it bewilders those in the world who see only in black-in-white, this Messiah offers forgiveness and a chance to start again to all those who will come to him in confidence and trust.
It is not hard to do, except for the proud who are certain that they are better than “those people,” who believe that they are the good ones, who feel no need for help.
Dwight Moody (1837 – 1899) told the story of a young soldier in the Union army during the Civil War who was court-martialed and sentenced to be shot. This young fellow had voluntarily enlisted, and he agreed to go and serve the Union along with his best friend. They were close friends, and so, one night when his friend was ordered to go out and take the night watch, his friend asked him if he would be willing to serve in his place. He did this, but it just so happened that the very next night, he himself was ordered to take the night watch. And since he had now been awake for the second straight night, and since this young man was not yet used to it, he was found asleep at his post. President Abraham Lincoln had just issued an order that no interference would be allowed in cases of this kind, since this kind of lack of discipline had become all too common in the Army. Therefore, this young man was court-martialed and sentenced to face the firing squad.
When the news reached this man’s father and mother up in Vermont, they were devastated as this was their only son and he had recently enlisted with such enthusiasm. But they knew that there was nothing that could be done. The President had spoken. However, they also had a young daughter who had read the biography of President Lincoln. She knew how much he loved his own children. So she made up her determined little mind to do something. She told herself, “If Abraham Lincoln knew how my father and mother loved my brother, he would not let him be shot.” Somehow, she got herself down to the White House. And when the Guards saw this young girl’s determined yet imploring looks, they were unable to refuse her a visit with Mr. Lincoln. When she entered the room, she found the President there with his generals and counselors, and when he saw her, he asked what is was that she wanted. She told him the whole story: how much her parents loved their brother, how he had been sentenced to be shot, and how much they were mourning for him and how, if the execution took place, it would entirely break their hearts. Mr. Lincoln’s own heart was touched with compassion, and he immediately sent a dispatch cancelling the young man’s sentence and granting him a parole so that he could go home and visit his parents in Vermont.
The closest thing that we have to a King in our land is the President, the executive officer whose power is balanced by our other branches of government. Now consider this parallel: if Abraham Lincoln, a wise yet deeply flawed human being, was able to show such compassion for the sorrow of this one family, in violation of his own recent order, how much more mercy and grace and love can we expect from Christ the King, the compassionate, the merciful One? How much grace he gives to anyone who comes to him and asks for help! Even to criminals, to thieves. Even to people like you and me. This, my friends, is the only kind of King to whose authority I can gladly and joyfully submit. Amen.
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