Rev. Maureen Frescott
Congregational Church of
Amherst
November 25, 2012
John 18:33-37
“I’m King of
the World!”
My
Kingdom is not from this world.
Today
is Christ the King Sunday, the day where we ponder what it means for us to say
to Jesus, “You are our King”, and what it meant for Jesus to say to us, “My
Kingdom is not from this world.”
Christ
the King Sunday is essentially New Years Eve on the Christian church calendar. This
is the LAST Sunday in the liturgical year, as we move out of the season of
Pentecost, the season that celebrates the ministry of Jesus, and begin the year
anew with the season of Advent next Sunday.
For
those of you who pay attention to such things, (other than the deacons whose
job it is to change the paraments on the pulpit and lectern to match the color
of the liturgical season) you may have noticed that typically we move from
Pentecost green right to Advent blue, but today the color is white. This year
is one of those rare years where we have an extra Sunday in between Thanksgiving
and the first Sunday of Advent…because Thanksgiving fell so early this year.
So, on this Sunday, we celebrate Christ the King.
The
truth is, Christ the King Sunday is celebrated on the Christian calendar every
year but typically it shares the date with Thanksgiving Sunday. But other than appearing
at the top of the bulletin as “Thanksgiving/Christ the King Sunday”, it usually
gets no further mention, as we instead spend our worship time focusing on
gratitude and the spirit of Thanksgiving.
But
this year is different.
This
year we have a whole Sunday devoted to Christ the King.
Aren’t
you glad you came?!
If
we think about, it’s easy to understand why the Christ the King theme often
plays second fiddle to the Thanksgiving theme.
The
concept of Thanksgiving is something we all know and understand.
Gratitude
and the need to name the blessings in our lives are virtues we want to lift up
and celebrate.
And
in the world outside these church walls, Thanksgiving is part of our collective
culture. It’s the day where our nation as a whole hits the pause button and
gathers together as family, friends, and neighbors to express thanks for all
that we have.
Christ
the King Sunday is none of these things.
It’s
not celebrated in the secular world, it’s not a concept we can easily
understand or explain, even to our fellow Christians, and for some, describing
Jesus using “kingly” language – with all the baggage that such language has in
regards to hierarchal power, paternal power, and abuse of power – doesn’t quite
fit with our image of Jesus as a humble and suffering servant.
Taking
about Jesus in terms of kingship and kingdoms can seem archaic and irrelevant
to our modern sensibilities.
When
we think of kings and kingdoms we may think of the Crusades, Disney fairytales,
Renaissance fairs, or the celebrity of the modern-day British monarchy.
Historically,
we inherited this language of Kingdom not just from the Hebrew Bible’s
tradition of telling the stories of earthly kings, like David and Solomon, but also
from the history of Kingdom that grew out of medieval England and influenced
the King James version of our Bible.
I
admit that when I think of kings and kingdoms I can’t help but think of the
movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail, where King Arthur and the Knights of the
Roundtable bumble their way through medieval England in search of the cup of
Christ. But there is a
scene in that movie that I believe perfectly captures our modern distaste for
Kings and Kingdoms.
In
this scene, King Arthur approaches a group of lowly peasants working in a field
and gets embroiled in a heated discussion over whether the peasants live in an “autonomous
collective” run by the people, or a “dictatorship that represses the masses.”
When
King Arthur orders the peasants to stop arguing and be quiet, one woman laughs
and says, “He’s ordering us? Who does he
think he is?” Arthur replies,
“I am your King”, to which she
responds, “Well, I didn’t vote for you!”
The
iconic image of Jesus wearing a crown and sitting on a throne ruling over his
kingdom is derived from the limitations of our cultural experience and our language.
We may
attempt to move beyond these limitations by interpreting Christ the King to
mean that we accept Jesus as our savior
and redeemer, and thus allow his teachings to rule and guide our lives – but truth be told, when we’re forced to
make the choice between celebrating Thanksgiving Sunday and celebrating Christ
the King Sunday, Thanksgiving usually wins out.
Perhaps
this goes much deeper than our desire to move beyond archaic images.
I
wonder if our discomfort with the image of Christ as ruler of our lives arises
from the feeling of uncertainty we experience when we move from the world in here to the world out there.
As Christians
we often stand hesitantly in two very different worlds.
One
world where we’re told to love our neighbor, forgive our enemy, and care for
the least among us.
And
one world where we’re told to mistrust our neighbor, fear our enemy, and to
care for only ourselves, our family, or our country, and leave everyone else to
fend for themselves.
In
one world we’re encouraged to live as a collective, to reach consensus, and to make
sure every voice is heard and every need is met.
And
in the other world we’re encouraged to live as individuals, to seek out what is
best for us, and to silence or reprimand those who try to take power from us or
who take more than their fair share.
It’s
no wonder why many of us stagger in here on Sunday mornings, seeking respite
and peace.
We
have these conflicting messages playing in our heads all week long and we come
here hoping to make some sense of it all.
But
talking about Jesus as King, and ruler of our lives may NOT be something that
we imagine will bring us peace, instead we may fear that it will cause even
more conflict to arise within us.
Living
as a Christian in the context of a Christian community is difficult, but at
least we’re all trying to do it together, and we do our best to forgive each
other when we fail.
But
living as a Christian in the world outside of the church some would say is darn
near impossible.
To
say that Jesus and his teachings rule our lives is to invite constant conflict
as we navigate in that world, because almost every word and action of
consequence presents us with a point of decision, and conflicting choices.
Do
we store up treasures on earth, by putting away money for retirement, or do we
store up treasures in heaven by giving all that we have to the poor?
Do
we stand up against evil and injustice, using violent force if necessary, or do
we turn the other cheek and rely on non-violent protest to enact change in our world?
Do
we punish those who do wrong and seek retribution, or do we leave the judging
to God and offer forgiveness to those who trespass against us?
These
are not easy choices to make, and as Christians very few of us agree on which
are the correct choices. Some would say these choices as presented are overly
simplistic and open to interpretation, and the real choice - the truth of God’s
will - lies somewhere in between.
But
we can’t deny that the constant wrestling that takes place within us when we’re
confronted with these choices can be downright tiring.
Trying
to rectify the pull of these two different worlds is like trying to straddle
two trains that are moving in different directions. We can do it, but it takes
a lot of hopping between the two to stay upright.
In
our gospel reading today, we get a glimpse of the dueling worlds inhabited by
Pontius Pilate.
Pilate
served and derived his power from the world of the Roman Empire, but as a ruler
in the Roman province of Judea he also inhabited the world of the descendents
of Abraham, who prayed to a God he didn’t recognize and followed a law that he
couldn’t comprehend.
The
province of Judea sat at the edge of the Roman Empire, where uprisings could
quickly gain momentum and spiral out of control, and Pilate had orders to keep
the peace at all costs. Which he
did. Pilate had the blood of many on his hands, but he also understood that
playing the part of politician in two worlds sometimes required him to bend to
the will of others.
Thus,
with one foot in each world, it worked in Pilate’s favor to appease the Jewish
leaders and keep uprisings from
occurring.
So
we can imagine what Pilate must have felt when he encountered Jesus, who was
dragged before him in the middle of the night and threatened to upset the
balancing act that Pilate had taken such great care to achieve.
Jesus
was accused of claiming to be a king.
This
was a claim that neither Rome nor Pilate would tolerate.
But
it was also this claim that got Jesus on the Most Wanted list of the Jewish
Sanhedrin.
They
wanted him killed, but if Pilate did so it would surely upset Jesus’ followers
and would threaten the peace during the busy Passover season in Jerusalem. All eyes were upon Pilate, and the two
worlds he inhabited were suddenly careening in two different directions.
All
he had to do was to get Jesus to admit that he was not a king.
This
would satisfy Pilate and his superiors, it would hopefully appease the Jewish
leaders, and it would allow Pilate to release Jesus to his followers, thus
keeping the peace for everyone involved.
It
must have been obvious to Pilate that Jesus was NOT a king.
He
had no wealth, he had no army, he had no land, and he had no power by anyone’s
standards, except those of his low ranking followers.
Even
the claim that Jesus was “King of the Jews” was suspect because the Jewish
leaders themselves insisted that he was not.
With
his life on the line, surely Jesus would admit that he was not a king, and this
impromptu middle of the night trial would be over before it started.
But
Pilot was falling victim to his limited vision in the same way that we do when
we try to rectify our image of God’s world with the world we know out there.
Pilate
heard the word “King” and he pictured an earthly king, one who would steal
power from him and threaten the world in which he existed.
But
as Jesus told Pilate, and as Jesus tells us, his Kingdom is not from this world.
The
Kingdom of God that Jesus promises us in the gospels is a world where all God’s
children will share equally in the abundance of God’s creation.
A
world where war, disease, injustice, poverty, and death will be no more.
A
world where we will all gather at God’s table and eat freely of the bread of
life.
In
many ways Jesus’ Kingdom bears little resemblance to the world that we know.
Our
world is broken and imperfect.
Our
world is full of inequities and injustice.
Our
world is full of pain and suffering and heartache.
But
in some ways, this world offers us glimpses of the Kingdom to come.
Our
world is full of beauty, new life, growth, and healing.
Our
world is full of compassionate people working for equality and justice.
Our
world is full of joy and hope and individual points of light shining together into
the darkness.
This
is the world that we know.
This
is a world that contains both good and evil.
And
as much as we try to tell ourselves that the world in here is different from the world out there, it’s not.
Crosses
and steeples and Bibles in the pews don’t prevent that world from coming in
here.
But
they help us to imagine the ways in which our world could be different, and
they inspire us to work together to be the change we want to see in our world.
The
Kingdom that Jesus promises us is an ideal.
It’s
like one of those fairy tale kingdoms we read about as children and dream about
being whisked away to as adults.
Some
of us can’t help but look at Jesus’ world and look at our world and become
discouraged because we feel like we’re never going to get there.
We
can see by the dwindling attendance in many of our churches that some people
have found the disparity between the world we talk about in here and the world
that exists out there to be too much to handle.
Like
Pontius Pilate, we often lack the vision to see beyond the limitations of our
human experience.
We
feel like we’re straddling two worlds because we’re trying to overlay the image
of God’s Kingdom with the image of our human Kingdom, and as Jesus tells us,
his Kingdom is not from this world.
The
choices we wrestle with in this world will not exist in God’s world.
Should
we keep a portion of our money for ourselves or give it to the poor?
In
God’s world all will share equally in God’s abundance.
Imbalances
of resources will not exist.
Should
we use force or peaceful measures to counteract injustice?
In
God’s world all will share equally in God’s abundance.
Imbalances
of power will not exist.
Should
we punish those who do wrong or leave it up to God?
In
God’s world all will share equally in God’s abundance.
Imbalances
of love and mercy will not exist.
The
truth is that we cannot create the Kingdom of God here on earth,
only
God has the power to do that.
But
what we can do is latch onto those glimpses we have God’s Kingdom and do what
we can move our world closer to God’s world.
And
as we get ready to enter the season of Advent and anticipate the light of
Christ entering into our lives all over again, let us celebrate this Sabbath
day, this Christ the King Sunday, by celebrating Jesus’ ministry as an example
we’re all meant to follow.
Jesus’
Kingdom is not from this world. But we are.
Let’s
make the best of it while we’re here.
Amen.
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