Nov. 20, 2022
Christ the King Sunday
If you were a little confused by today’s Gospel reading, you are not alone. Suddenly, we are back in Holy Week; Good Friday, to be exact. Jesus is being crucified. Wait, what? Is this some kind of time warp? What’s going on here? It’s Christ the King Sunday, also known as Reign of Christ Sunday, which is the last Sunday in Ordinary Time. (Ordinary Time is another way to describe that “long, green season” after Pentecost). It’s the end of the liturgical year. Hard to believe, but next Sunday is the First Sunday in Advent, the beginning of a new year in the life of the church.
While the theological understanding of Jesus Christ as King is ancient, the liturgical commemoration of Christ the King is a relatively modern invention. It was instituted by Pope Pius XI in 1925 in the Roman church as a response to the rising tide of secularism. It was later adopted by the Anglican Communion, including the Episcopal Church. Although initially held on the last Sunday in October, after Vatican II, it was moved to the last Sunday after Pentecost. Now we end the liturgical year by focusing on Christ as King, who shows what kind of a leader He is by how He acts when He is utterly powerless, dying on a cross. The appointed readings for today contrast the qualities of bad kings and good kings and in doing so, tell us something important about the nature of power and leadership that are truly grounded in God.
The language of kings, queens, and royalty generally is archaic and jarring here in the United States in the 21st century. We don’t have a king. Our country was formed in the crucible of the Revolutionary War, a war that was fought to free us from the tyranny of kings. Americans have a love/hate relationship with royalty. Consider the outpouring of tributes that followed the death of Queen Elizabeth II after 70 years on the throne of Great Britain. While there is a range of opinions about the monarchy as an institution, there is clearly a great deal of respect and admiration for Elizabeth as a leader. Her humility, her deep faith, her kindness and compassion, her fidelity to the vow she made as a young woman to dedicate her life, “whether it be long or short,”[1] to service—exemplify the qualities of a good ruler. In the language of the prophet Jeremiah, Elizabeth II was a good shepherd, a wise ruler who gathered and tended. Sadly, there are all too many examples of bad shepherds these days. You know who they are—the ones who seek power not for the sake of improving the lives of others, but for their own glory. These are the shepherds who scatter and destroy.
On this Sunday when we focus on the reign of Christ and the qualities of a good king, you might wonder why the lectionary serves up an account of the crucifixion. After all, in Year A, the appointed Gospel for Christ the King Sunday is the final part of Matthew 25, in which we learn that we will be judged by our behavior, by how well we have cared for the marginalized. In contrast, the focus this year (Year C) is on Christ’s behavior. It’s been said that people die the way they live. I think that’s true about Jesus. His behavior on the cross as He was dying reflected the way He lived. He humbled himself in obedience to God and dedicated himself to serving the marginalized of His day. Even in the midst of a highly public, carefully choreographed, agonizing dying process, Jesus acted as a king, with love, compassion, and humility.
All four Gospels provide accounts of the crucifixion, but Luke’s version differs from the other three in two key respects. First, only in Luke does Jesus forgive his executioners from the cross. Second, only in Luke is there a verbal exchange between Jesus and the two criminals crucified with him. Let’s recall the scene.[2] Jesus and two criminals are hanging on crosses in agony. The people stand by in silence. The religious leaders and soldiers challenge Jesus to prove that he is a king by saving himself. One of the criminals also mocks Jesus, saying “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” But the other criminal says something completely unexpected. He takes the side of Jesus, telling the first criminal that Jesus, unlike the criminals, has done nothing wrong. Then he addresses Jesus directly, saying “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus replies, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
Now we don’t know much about the two criminals. We don’t know what they had done to be sentenced to such a cruel death. We don’t know what if anything they knew about Jesus before they met Him on Calvary hill. What we do know is that one of them somehow, in a time of unimaginable suffering, came to understand who Jesus really was. This criminal didn’t beg Jesus to save him from death. Instead, humbly, the criminal acknowledged his guilt and asked only that Jesus remember him. That statement assumed that at some point, Jesus would indeed come into His kingdom. It was a matter of “when,” not “if.”
That’s a profound statement of contrition and faith. And Jesus replied by assuring the criminal that he will be welcomed into paradise—that is, heaven—with Jesus that very day. In the midst of His own agony, from a position of utter powerlessness, Jesus offered forgiveness, mercy, and unconditional welcome. At a time of great darkness, in the shadow of death, Jesus embodied the “tender compassion of our God” that we heard about earlier this morning in Canticle 16, enabling “the dawn from on high” to break upon that tragic scene.[3] That’s the kind of king Jesus is. As Paul put it in his letter to the Colossians, “…through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.”[4]
I awoke early this morning to the gut-wrenching, heartbreaking news of yet another mass shooting, this time at an LGBTQ nightclub in Colorado Springs. There is much we do not yet know about what happened and the motives of the shooter. But today is the Transgender Day of Remembrance, created in 1999 to remember and honor the lives of trans people lost to senseless violence.[5] As we mourn these deaths and work for positive change to create a world in which we truly respect the dignity of every human being—no exceptions—I invite you to reflect on today’s readings. Think about the nature of power in your own life, in our life together as the church—the Body of Christ—and in our political structures at the local, national, and international levels. What power and/or influence do you have, and how do you use it? When have you experienced powerlessness? Where have you found Christ in those varying experiences of power and powerlessness? Above all, how can you use those experiences to emulate Jesus? I can’t think of a more fitting way to honor Christ our King. AMEN.
[1] https://www.royal.uk/21st-birthday-speech-21-april-1947
[2] See Luke 23:33-43
[3] Canticle 16, The Song of Zechariah (Luke 1:68-79)
[4] Colossians 1:20
[5] See https://www.michigan.gov/whitmer/news/proclamations/2022/11/20/november-20-2022-transgender-day-of-remembrance
