Christ the King C: What Kind of King Do You Want?
Dear Partner in Preaching,
“What kind of king do you want?” In one sense, this is the question Jesus put before those crucify him.
Keep in mind that just days earlier the crowds of Jerusalem had greeted Jesus as their king, rolling out the “red carpet” as it were by spreading their cloaks on the road, and receiving him as the one sent by the Lord (Luke 19:36-40). And now he is rejected, derided by the leaders of the people, then the soldiers, and even one of the criminals next to them. They mock his titles, asking why, if he is Messiah, chosen One, and King, he does not save himself.
“What kind of king do you want?” Jesus asks them. And they reply that they want a different king, one who is powerful, one who can save himself and others, one who can take vengeance on his and their enemies.
I wonder, Dear Partner, if Jesus’ question to us is much different. If not, “What kind of king?” at least, “What kind of leader?” And I wonder if in the last week we – at least we who live in the United States – offered an answer quite similar to the one given in Jesus’ day.
Jesus, to put it another and more pointed way, would not have won last week’s election.
But let me be clear: this is not a political statement as much as it is an existential one. We seek out those things and people who grant us a measure of security and who affirm our values. And, it turns out, when we are frightened or feeling particularly at risk or left behind, we may even accept someone who we profess decidedly does not reflect our values but who we believe will offer us security against our enemies abroad and prosperity at home. We vote for someone, that is, who promises a better tomorrow, and the candidates of both parties tried to offer themselves as the one who best fit that bill.
Jesus doesn’t do that. He refuses to come in power but instead appears in abject vulnerability. He does not vow retribution on even those who crucify him but instead offers forgiveness. He does not come down off his cross to prove his kingly status but instead remains on that instrument of torture and humiliation, the representative of all who suffer unjustly. And he does not promise a better tomorrow but instead offers to redeem us today.
Have you ever noticed that? That Jesus doesn’t tell the repentant criminal that someday in the future he will enter into God’s presence but instead says “Today, you shall be with me in paradise.” Today, now, in this very moment. Christians have sometimes been accused of pining for a distant and better future and therefore sitting out the struggles and challenges of the day. But in these verses Jesus is focused on this very moment, promising that those who believe in him, those who see in his vulnerability the revelation of God’s mercy and grace, will be ushered into God’s presence immediately.
Jesus was not running for president, of course, and perhaps it’s understandable that we seek from our temporal leaders a measure of strength and confidence. But Luke’s Gospel warns us against spiritualizing the kind of leadership Jesus offers. For in Luke’s story of the crucifixion, the one dimension of Jesus that is emphasized above all others is Jesus’ innocence. Notice the words of the repentant criminal as he rebukes his comrade: “We indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but his man has done nothing wrong.”
The verses that follow these are even more direct, as the Roman centurion, after witnessing Jesus’ death, declares, “Certainly this man was innocent.” Luke’s depiction, in this instance, is a stark departure from that of Matthew and Luke, who record the centurion as saying, “Truly this man was God’s Son.” In this account, it is Jesus’ innocence, rather than his divine parentage, that is paramount. And this is not to heighten our sense of tragedy but rather to remind us that Jesus stands with all the innocent of the world, all the vulnerable and forgotten, all those who suffer injustice and oppression. And when he is raised he promises God’s vindication to all those the world has similarly discarded.
So while Jesus was not running for president, he does call leaders of all kinds – and, indeed, any who would call him “Lord” – to join God’s insistent, consistent, and persistent solidarity with the weak, the oppressed, and the forgotten of this world. In short, the church of Jesus Christ reveals itself as faithful to its Lord only in so far as it stands with those who are most vulnerable. Whatever our understandable desire for strength and security, God calls us not only to identify with the weak and dispossessed, but to lift our voices on their behalf, calling leaders to care for them as parents care for their children. Jesus leaves behind all the strength and power of his status – as Paul writes, “emptying himself and taking the form of a servant” (Phil 2:7) – in order to redeem those who are weak, vulnerable, and lost.
And that includes us.
“What kind of king do you want?” Jesus asks. And the answer most gave him, both in the first century and the twenty-first, is “Not this one,” preferring instead some demonstration of power to vulnerability. Except for those moments when, like the criminal who beseeched God’s mercy, we recognize that if we are to get what we deserve, then we have no hope. If we choose to live in a world where might makes right, we will all eventually lose. And if we prefer a world where the rule of the day is “an eye for an eye,” all of us will be blind and the whole, indeed, will eventually lay in ruin. At those moments, Jesus reminds us that far from promising us a better future, he redeems us today, not only forgiving us for what we have done or not done, but setting us free to stand with those in need around us, advocating for their welfare, demanding their just treatment, and seeing in them the very presence of the God who always takes the side of the vulnerable.
Jesus is perhaps not the king or leader we may want, but he is the one we need. And our task, Dear Partner, is to declare the wonders of his love, grace, and mercy that we might hear and follow his call. Blessings on your proclamation.
Yours in Christ,
David
My understanding of the crucifixion changed when I learned that the word “hosanna” was not a cry of triumph in Jesus’ day. It was a plea for help. “Save us, we beseech you,” is one translation of the Psalm we read on Palm Sunday. While that cry may have come from a very real desire for a show of power, we find that real strength comes from our being shown the way through and beyond suffering, with a promise of life on the other side. The king we got may not be the king we wanted. Thankfully, he is not the king we deserve. He is the king we need most, because our paths all converge in the loneliness of a cross at one time or another. Jesus’ death does not save us from that. Instead, he shows us the way beyond it.
Can you say more about Jesus’ “promise of life on the other side” of suffering? Do you mean the afterlife? life forever with God in heaven? or something else? Thanks …
What happened to the 27th Sunday After Pentecost in the church year calendar???
This is not my area of expertise. And there are now so many ways to talk about the Sundays in Pentecost – Proper #, Ordinary/Lectionary # – that I find it rather confusing. My sense is that naming the Sundays as “# Sunday after Pentecost” is now considered a bit archaic, and yet it’s what most of the churches of which I’ve been apart have done. so I’m not even sure if there is a 27th Sunday after Pentecost anymore, as opposed to Proper 27 (which was, according to my reckoning, the 25th Sunday after Pentecost) or Ordinary 27, (which was the 20th Sunday after Pentecost). Sorry I can’t be of more help. Perhaps someone else will.
I still number the Sundays as “after Pentecost” even following the RCL calendar. It just seems clearer instead of “….in Ordinary Time” or “Proper #” I tried that a few years ago to move, and people said, “huh?” Yes, there can still be a 27th Sunday after Pentecost. It just depends on when Christ the King and Advent fall whether or not it is observed.
In the Episcopal Church, at least, Advent 1 is the Sunday closest to St. Andrew’s Day, November 30. There can be up to 29 Sundays counting back to the Day of Pentecost. Our “Propers” are numbered backward, Sunday by Sunday, from Proper 29, the Sunday closest to November 23.
Following on JEM: This Sunday would have been the 27th Sunday after Pentecost (at least, the previous Sunday was the 26th Sunday after.) But we always call the Sunday prior to Advent 1 the LAST Sunday after Pentecost (or, by modern custom and reflecting the Gospel theme always used, Christ the King Sunday).
All Saints’ Sunday happened. It usually winds up getting celebrated on what would be Proper 26, but was pushed out to Sunday, Nov. 6 this year.
“The Second Coming of Christ is not an event that we should expect to happen soon, violently, or literally. The Second Coming of Christ is what will happen when we Christians finally accept that the First Coming was the Only Coming and start to cooperate with its divine presence.” – John Domonic Crossan
Some day (not holding my breath) I hope Christendom will come to terms with archaic and dead theology and start living in God’s Kingdom TODAY….NOW. No one has to wait for death to “enter” God’s Kingdom.
I have little to no tolerance (especially as I get older and see the abuse and carnage they leave behind them with their scare tactics of heaven or hell) for bible literalist. To coin a phrase, I find them so heavenly minded that they are no earthly good.
I really do think that God is STILL waiting on us to “do even greater things” for the sake of God’s creation and all living beings. One, of course, can argue that the track record of Christianity (and all of its differing forms and translations) is dubious at best. It has a long history of participating in destruction and death rather than building up and life abundant. Today, in America, Jesus and “faith” is wrapped so tightly with our national flag and militarism (just watch any NFL game to see it in all glory) that one cannot be distinguished from the other. Blasphemy is not a strong enough word for it.
After all these years as a pastor, I still seek and follow Jesus as a way to live life, here and now, to participate with God’s promise to Sari and Abraham. I chose life over death. Jesus is my king and lord, not Trump, not Putin or Wall Street. And Jesus has very specific ways of how this world operates with him as King and not those and others who would lord themselves over us. Peace.
Amen. And in “The Power of Parable”, John Dominic Crossan says: “In other words, John’s challenge to the synoptic tradition is that the return of Jesus has already happened in the heavenly gift of the Holy Spirit.”
Thank you so much for this! I’m reading this in 2019, at a time when the UK is seriously divided and politics has fallen apart, and we’re facing a General Election with a very uncertain result and an even more uncertain future. Your words, written for a different election in a different country in a different year, resonate perfectly here and now.