Christ the King

November 25, 2007



Royalty is something that we in this democratic society have little experience.

It is not part of our political and social scene, and, when we do experience the royals, it is from a distance.

Many years ago I did experience King Frederick of Denmark when he arrived to attend a concert by the Copenhagen Boys Choir.

Quite honestly, it was kind of a neat experience to be in the presence of royalty.

But mostly, royalty is far from our daily experience, and we only glimpse it from a distance.

For example, this week our newscasts showed the 60th anniversary celebrations of Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Phillip in a ceremony at Westminster Abbey.

The Queen was typically resplendent in one of her huge hats, the Archbishop of Canterbury in splendid vestments gave the sermon, and there was a great deal of pomp and circumstance.

Pomp and Circumstance – that’s probably how we view kings and queens, for that is the impression we get from a distance.

Today we experience royalty because this is the last Sunday of the church year, the Sunday of Christ the King.

Our first lesson from Jeremiah speaks of a righteous branch who shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land.

In his days Judah will be saved and Israel will live in safety.”

In these violent and worrisome times that sounds pretty good, doesn’t it.

We might wonder why such a king doesn’t hurry up and come to straighten out the mess of the world.

Then, our epistle talks about the Son of God who “is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created.”

All of that adds up for this Sunday of Christ the King….or does it?

The gospel lesson quickly punctures any thought of Christ being royalty of pomp and circumstance.

“When they came to the place that is called the Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left.”

Then to further complicate matters there was a sign over Jesus’ head that said, “This is the King of the Jews.”

So, today, we are faced with the enigma of a crucified King that had thorns for a crown and a cross for a throne.

Not only that, but we are faced with the enigma of a crucified God – the God who spoke creation into being – the God who came in fire upon Mt. Sinai to give his commandments to Moses, the God of whom the psalmist writes “Clap your hands all you people, shout to God with loud songs of joy.

For the Lord the most High is terrible, a great king over all the earth, for God is the king of all the earth, sing praises with a psalm.

So what would God, or, in fact what would any kind of royalty do on the cross of a common criminal.

British priest Thomas Smail wrote a book entitled “Window on the Cross” in which he tells us “for Greek philosophers like Plato, a God who was weak and vulnerable to attack by lesser beings, who was subject to death, was a contradiction in terms and no God at all.

It is no accident that according to the Koran, the Spirit of God flees from Jesus before he is crucified, because he is the Spirit of a God who cannot be touched by suffering or become prey to death.”

So, my brothers and sisters, what is our king, Jesus of Nazareth doing on a cross wearing a crown of thorns?

And, to make matters worse, what is Jesus, son of man and Son of God, doing on a cross hung between two thieves?

And not only that, here are the religious hoi polloi, the ones who have carte blanche entry into royal courts, standing at the foot of cross taunting him by saying, “If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself.”

That no doubt sounded hauntingly familiar to the crucified Jesus since he had heard those words verbatim from the devil on the mount of temptation.

One of the thieves joins in by saying: “Are you not the Christ. Save yourself and us.”

That would be a good way to show everybody who was king.

The other thief on the cross was a man whom tradition has named Dismas.

Dismas simply says to Jesus: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

Jesus replies: “Truly I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

Bingo. Now it all makes sense.

If Christ were a king of pomp and circumstance, we couldn’t get near him anymore than we can walk into Buckingham Palace and sit down at Elizabeth’s elegant table.

Ordinary folks like you and me are not invited into that kind of company.

But, Jesus is a different kind of king.

He is a king who is hung on a cross, crowned with thorns, and hung in the midst of the suffering of this world.

Christ can only be king of kings and Lord of Lord in the midst of human suffering and despair because he is God, and God is love, and love never separates itself.

At that moment, on the cross, Dismas heard God say that in spite of what was going on right then, paradise was only a heartbeat away, and he was welcome into the center of the heart of God.

Tom Smail once more speaks to this situation by writing: “To meet the penitent thief Jesus had to hang on the other cross beside him.

For, the sight of Jesus with us in our pain is the promise of our healing; the sight of Jesus sharing our death is the promise of our life.”

If Christ had not gone to the cross, Dismas would have never known him.

If Christ had not gone to the cross on our behalf, we would not know him either, and life without Christ our king would be a hopeless journey into darkness and oblivion.

Isaiah the prophet wrote: Surely he has borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows.

He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities, upon him was the chastisement that made us whole, and with his stripes we are healed.”

My brothers and sisters, only a God who joins us on our own crosses of suffering and pain can transform us and save us.

And that is precisely what Christ our King has done.

Yes, a cross and a crown of thorns are strange things for a king.

But, so are a piece of bread and a cup of wine that he will soon hand us as his very body and blood.

See, from his head, his hands, his feet, sorrow and love flow mingled down.

Did e’er such love and sorrow meet, or thorns compose so rich a crown.

Were the whole realm of nature mine, that were a tribute far too small.

Love so amazing, so divine, demands my souls, my life, my all.