Sermon: Christ the King Sunday (Lectionary B)
Written by Pastor Tim Wray,
LTS Director of Recruitment
Grace to you and peace from God our Father through our Lord and savior, Jesus Christ.
Pilate pitches seven simple words at Jesus: ARE – YOU – THE – KING – OF – THE – JEWS - ? (counting on your fingers).
How many ways might a person ask that question? [Preacher, you’ll have to help me out a bit here by using different tones and expressions, emphasizing different words to bring this point alive to the congregation]
Hospitable – Are you the king of the Jews?
Confused – Are you the king of the Jews?
Bored - (sigh) Are you the king of the Jews? (yawn)
Indignant – Are you the king of the Jews?
Text message with emoticon inserted - Are you the king of the Jews? L
Star struck! - Are you the king of the Jews? (“can I get your autograph?”)
(ADD YOUR OWN…)
There are many ways to imagine how Pilate might have spoken to Jesus. Just changing an inflection or tone within a set of seven words can totally open up new meaning. In the case of Pilate’s question, playing with these seven words helps us imagine how the powers of this world might speak to Jesus today … and more importantly, how WE speak to Jesus today. Are we open, confused, bored, indignant, too preoccupied with our phones to talk … are we star struck? Are we even talking to Jesus at all?
Because we are not personally pre-occupied with Pilate’s political concerns, we can shorten our question down to four words: Are you the king?
Or even shorter: Are you king?
One word might even suffice: “King?”
But Pilate’s seven-word question gets at something important: Whose lives do you rule over? What are you claiming title to? How do I relate to you and your people? Are you the king of the Jews?
Through Pilate’s eyes, I imagine that he’s looking around the room, and honestly, it couldn’t have looked like Jesus had that much going for him … after all, it was his own people who turned him over to the Roman courts, and now Pilate was stuck trying to figure out what to do with this king that nobody wants. At first glance, one thing seems clear to Pilate: this Jesus what not his king. He says, “I am not a Jew…,” in one swipe rubbing his position in Jesus’ face as well as distancing himself from any claims that would ruffle the feathers of Rome. And yet, something about Jesus gives Pilate reason to pause. Pilate remains confused. Notice how Pilate must clarify, “I am not a Jew! Am I?” Peculiar. Power is so blinding.
For us today, if Jesus were to be thrust into our presence by a battalion of Roman guards, the appropriate response would be pretty simple, especially on Christ the King Sunday. What to do with such a character as Jesus? Worship him! Declare him King of the Universe. Let the praises ring for Alpha, Omega, Lord God Almighty! ... And it would be all so nice … until the rubber hit the road, when this King, Jesus, speaks directly to you and says, “Follow me.” (Gulp)
“For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” (John 18:37)
Question: What if we stopped projecting words at Jesus on Christ the King Sunday – be they harmonious hymns or the quiet yearnings of the heart – for just long enough that we were to actually listen for what this King has to say to us? And what if you actually experienced Jesus tell you to do something? On what basis would you decide to obey?
Professor Cam Harder[1] reflects on his experience of being personally called to become a pastor. As you will hear in his reflections as a young man (decades ago), the courage to follow Jesus comes from knowing that this king is like no other. Dr. Harder writes,
****************BEGINNING OF DIARY ENTRY*****************
In Matt 16:15 (also Mark and Luke) Jesus asks his disciples a critical question — one I've come to realize is the central question of Christian life: "Who do you say that I am?” I discovered how important that question was for me the night before I left to begin my study to become a pastor. This is my diary of that experience, written many years ago:
It’s a summer evening. I’m standing on a dusty road in northern Alberta, watching the sun set, struggling with my future. “Do I really want to be a pastor?” I wonder. “What do I know of God? I've never had any visions, no miraculous signs. God hasn't parted the waters for me, or spoken in my ear. What if it’s all make-believe? How can I spend my life asking people to put their trust in a God I've never seen?”
I guess, like doubting Thomas, who wanted Jesus to prove that he had risen, I’m looking for proof, for a sign. God doesn’t give me one. At least, no handwriting in the sky, no burning bush, no angel visitation. Instead God gives me a Person. Images of Jesus from the gospel stories flash through my mind:
Jesus is walking barefoot down the beach of Galilee's sea, the wind in his hair. He strolls past the nets of Peter and Andrew.With a strange joy in his eyes, Jesus invites them to come, let go of nets and security and even life. And they do.Whatkind of man is this?
Jesus is in the grainfield with those friends. It’s the Sabbath and food can't be gathered without incurring the anger of the Sabbath-keepers. But Jesus harvests to feed his friends anyway. And when the food-police come he takes the flak.
Jesus is kneeling in the streets of Capernaum among the lepers and the lame, touching their hearts with hope, touching their bodies with health. He touches and becomes unclean with them, but they are infected by his life, and made well.
Jesus is asleep in a boat during a violent storm on the Sea of Galilee. The disciples are bailing like mad, scared to death; they have forgotten that God is in their boat. Jesus reminds them by standing up in the teeth of that gale. Lashed by wind and spray, he speaks to the wild elements in a voice that comes from the dawn of time – “Be still” – and Chaos submits.
Jesus stands outside Gerasa, near the place of a Roman massacre. He confronts the Legion of evil spirits that inspired the horrors done there by the Roman legion. For the sake of one demon-tormented man he dares to challenge the tyrants of darkness. And they retreat.
Jesus talks theology with a woman – a Syrophoenician, no less! It’s unheard of. The Son of God debating theology with a Gentile woman – and he concedes the debate to her! Jesus loses face so that she might be lifted from social disgrace and be honored. Who is this, I wondered, who cares about the honour of others more than his own, who doesn’t cling to status and power or pander to it? Who is this one who, no matter whom he is with, is always true to himself?
Jesus is often with outsiders – hookers, tax collectors, the poor. He seems to have a special love for them. Perhaps that's why he gets so angry in the temple. He throws over the tables, shutting down the temple trade. The centre of Jewish faith has become a money factory for Israel's elite. The poor, the sick, women and strangers are labelled “unclean” and have to buy their way out of disgrace at the temple vendors. Jesus steps into the gears of that unholy machine and grinds it to a halt. Ultimately, he loses his life in its teeth. But the unclean find theirs.
Other images remind me that he didn’t have to die. He had a choice, right at the start, in the desert. The prince of darkness offers him the kingdoms of the world – the easy way – but Jesus opts for a cross. Then again, at the end in the Garden of Gethsemane, in anguish over the cruel death before him, knowing that he commands the armies of God and can save himself with a thought, Jesus chooses a cross again ... the cross that belongs to us.
So, in Herod's court, Jesus is silent. He refuses to defend himself, won't play the word-games of his power-blinded captors. His eyes fill with pity as soldiers strip him, jam plaited thorns on his head and mock him.
Then that Holy, Beloved One who shaped the planets in his palms, who held babies in his arms, stretches out those same hands to be pierced by jagged nails. In deep pain, he looks into the face of his executioners to say, “Father, forgive them, they don't know what they are doing.” I realize: that is the only absolutely good person who ever lived, the only one really worth dying fo,r and he chooses to die, in agony, for those who hate him.
That’s why I am a Christian. Not because I'm a religious person, looking for a spiritual high. I'm a Christian because in Jesus I meet a Love that is more than human, a Love worth living for. That crucified and risen Christ rips away the veil from God's face, and opens for me a life that death cannot crush.
Looking into that sunset, I realize that whatever doubts I might have, my life is not my own. It belongs to Christ. I have never known anyone like him. Even if I never hear an angel’s voice, or see a miracle, I will count my life worth something if I reach the end of my life and can say that in some feeble way I have known him and followed him.
I guess that’s also why I want to be a pastor. I want the rest of the world to meet this incredible Person. I want to tell the story, as John the gospel-writer says, so that “you may believe that Jesus is the Christ and that believing you may have life in his name.”
****************END OF DIARY ENTRY*****************
Inspired by the story of this different kind of King, Rev. Dr. Harder obeyed the call and went off to seminary the next day. He now teaches at Lutheran Theological Seminary Saskatoon and directs CiRCLe M (the Centre for Rural Community Leadership and Ministry). Looking at his life from the outside, it is fair to say that “in [many] feeble ways Cam has known and followed Jesus” … and his life isn’t even over yet!
The last word goes to Sister Delores Dufner, a well known hymn writer in Minnesota:
O Christ, what can it mean for us to claim you as our king?
What royal face have you revealed whose praise the church would sing?
Aspiring not to glory’s height, to power, wealth, and fame,
You walked a different, lowly way, another will your aim.
Though some would make their greatness felt and lord it over all,
You said the first must be the last and service be our call
O Christ, in workplace, church and home, let none to power cling
For still, through us, you come to serve, a different kind of king.
(Delores Dufner, b.1939 – Lyric to hymn #431, ELW, v 1 and 3)
[1] Rev. Dr. Cameron Harder is Lutheran Theological Seminary Saskatoon’s professor of Systematic Theology. He graduated from seminary in 1981.