‘CHRIST THE KING’ (Sunday next before Advent)
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Readings: Jeremiah 23: 1-6 and Luke 23: 33-43
We come to the end of the Church’s year today, as traditionally the liturgical year begins with Advent Sunday – next week.
And so this Sunday is designated ‘Christ the King’, or, in some traditions – ‘Christ the Universal King.’ I recalled that there is a Diocese named ‘Christ the King’ in South Africa – and there is a story to do with its title. It was formed in 1990 in the last days of the apartheid era. Parts of it were practically a war zone, and it included the town of Sharpeville where, ten years earlier, 69 people were killed and many injured by the South African Police. The new bishop of the diocese named it ‘Christ the King’ in a defiant assertion of Christ’s kingship in the face of all that contradicted his just and gentle rule.
We also affirm Christ’s kingship in defiance of all that denies it. We affirm his kingship at Calvary, where St. Luke sends us in the gospel today – describing Jesus hanging on the cross. The inscription over him mockingly read – ‘This is the King of the Jews’ – as if to say “this man doesn’t look much like a king at the moment” – being crucified as a common criminal. Most kings would expect people to die for them – members of the armed forces fight and die for ‘king and country.’ But Jesus the King died for us.
The authorities may have been dismissive of his kingship, but the bible commentator Joseph Fitzmyer points out “The inscription on the cross is the only thing we know of which was written about Jesus during his lifetime. It could seem like nothing more than an administrative label, but it was the very first proclamation of the Good News.”
One of the criminals hanging there alongside him had no hesitation in asking Jesus, “Remember me when you come into your kingdom.” The point has been made that Jesus arrived in Jerusalem triumphant, acclaimed as a king. Now he leaves the city beaten, accompanied by the women he passed on the road. Nevertheless, though the leaders mock him with their sarcastic inscription, the penitent thief, as we call him, still thought that Jesus could point to a kingdom that was his.
In a commentary on today’s passage, Jane Williams reflects that one of the problems about interpreting Christ as King is that today society is in a terrible muddle about leadership. She notes that ‘you can’t just hold-up the standard, worldly model of power and then contrast it with the biblical one, because there isn’t a standard, worldly, model of power.
You only have to look at divergent opinions about some of the world’s leaders: Trump, Putin, Farage – these, for instance, are applauded and loathed in equal measure. All intent on wielding the power they have or hope to have. I was thinking about King George VI the other day – how he was so unlike some of the world’s rulers and statesmen of today. He was a stammerer. Ill-health forced his retirement from the Royal Navy at an early age. He set-up the Duke of York’s Camp Project – aimed at bringing together people of different social classes. He became King unexpectedly, of course, when Edward VIII abdicated, and it is said he ‘looked on in horror’ as those events unfolded in 1936 and brought him to the throne in place of his brother. But George was a persistent and steadfast person. He insisted on staying in London during the darkest days of the Blitz, though could have easily escaped the danger. He was a heavy smoker, which may have contributed to his early death at the age of 56. All in all, he was considered a good monarch. Kings and leaders across the world vary greatly in terms of style and power.
But what do we expect from them? Jane Williams continued, “We don’t know what we want from our heroes and leaders; we don’t know what we are looking for. People often beg for strong leadership, but the minute that leadership does something they don’t like, they turn round and accuse them of getting it wrong and failing to listen.”
In today’s Old Testament reading we have a condemnation of Israel’s leaders, and the promise of a righteous king. Jeremiah blamed the kings of Judah for the enslavement of the Israelites to Babylon. Successive kings had failed to act justly and protect the weak, and they had made themselves rich at the expense of the vulnerable. The Lord says, “You have not attended, so I will attend to you.” But then God promises to raise up a ‘righteous branch’ – a ruler who will operate with justice and righteousness. We see this announcement or prophecy as pointing to Jesus.
The title ‘king’, then, in terms of the rulers and leaders of the world, has varied associations attached to it. Many monarchs are little more than figure-heads in their countries, maybe representing the essence of the nation, but perhaps not having much impact on the general way of life of their people.
And that is how some Christians, and non-Christians, relate to Christ as King – as a well-known name in the world, an example of goodness and kindness, but not someone to be accepted as dominant in our lives, or to whom we should give total devotion.
The leaders of the people at Calvary called out, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one.” They didn’t recognise that Jesus’ very purpose was to save others, including them. He did not come to save or look after himself. So we see him hanging on a cross.
We come back to this paradox. Jesus is hanging helplessly in pain and near to death, yet still the King, and ready to open the gates of the kingdom to the human rabble around him.
May we be ready to be challenged by this paradox and to live it out in our own lives – accepting Christ as King, and supreme, but realising that that will mean looking afresh at what we understand about kingship and leadership.
What does it mean to be subjects of this King! To be thoroughly engaged in our Christian calling: always ready to forgive, even and especially when that is costly. Prepared to go the extra mile; ready to reach out to those on the margins of society, like the penitent thief Jesus ministered to on the cross. Many good things are not achieved without some personal sacrifice – perhaps a sacrifice of esteem, ambition, tradition, or long-held view. King George VI had to sacrifice a quiet life which sheltered his introvertedness, and his speech difficulty. Jesus sacrificed all for us. It will be by how much we are prepared to give of ourselves that will demonstrate just how much we claim Christ to be our King.