Is a King Good News?

Christ the King Sunday

Jeremiah 23:1-6

Luke 23:33-43

The final Sunday of the Christian liturgical calendar is today.  It’s always the Sunday before the beginning of Advent.  And it is a special day called “Christ the King” Sunday.

The whole calendar points to this day, this confession, of Christ as king of creation, king of all reality, king of our lives and hearts.  We are subjects and citizens in God’s kingdom.  And the prayer we pray every week is, “Thy kingdom come . . . “.   In other words, “Lord, we welcome your reign in and among and around us.”

But is that what we really want?  Does that prayer – thy kingdom come – does it really express what we most want?

Sometimes the best thing we can do in worship is to prayerfully back up a little bit and ask ourselves some honest questions.  What exactly do we mean when we call Jesus Christ our King?  What are we saying when we say we want to live in God’s kingdom?  After all, most of us aren’t all that fond of thinking of ourselves as ruled and governed.

So is there something about having Jesus as your king that is genuinely good news for us? 

Hilary Mantel is a British novelist who is in the middle of writing three books of historical fiction that are set during the reign of King Henry VIIIth in early 16^th century England.  The first two books in the series – Wolf Hall and Bring up the Bodies – were spectacular.  And I can’t wait to read the third when it comes out.

Apparently there are lots of other readers like me, because the books have become bestsellers.  It might seem odd that many Americans want to read about an old English King.  We sailed from England to the Atlantic shores, after all, because we wanted nothing to do with the English King!

But Mantel invites her readers to imagine what it would have been like to live in a realm ruled by a King like Henry.  She invites you to experience what a King’s power was like. 

That’s why her historical fiction is so readable.  It’s NOT about some ancient past that has little to do with me.  It’s about power, and leadership, and authority, and governance, and organization.  It’s about how the buzzing energy of life circulates among a people who live together under some unifying system.

All of us grew up in some kind of home.  And that home was a realm governed by parents.  Now your parents were either overbearingly involved in your life, or absent, or lovingly present.  But you have some experience and some opinion about what it felt like to grow up in a home governed by your parents.

At school we either had teachers who were encouraging, supportive, and stimulating, or we had teachers who were indifferent and harsh.  We know what it feels like to be in one kind of classroom as opposed to another.

In our workplaces, we either have to work with a supervisor or boss who is a wise guide and a motivating presence, or we have one who guides and governs a workplace that’s a dysfunctional mess.  It’s soul-killing to work in a place with bad leadership: expectations aren’t clear, employees work in a climate of fear and distrust, there’s no sense of a common vision or goal.

One of the great things about life in the US is that we’re free to speak our minds when we don’t think we’re getting good leadership from our elected officials.  We expect good guidance and wise leadership from our political leaders.  And all of us have an opinion, I’m sure, about the governing skill of our president, our congress, and all our elected officials.  And I know that because we have a number of 24/7 news programs that traffic in nothing but political commentary!

Good leaders – be they parents, teachers, elected officials, or the CEO of your company – can create an atmosphere where it’s good to live and learn and work.  Good leaders organize the life of the community in ways that enable people to flourish.  Bad leaders, on the other hand, can make life hell.

Our reading from Jeremiah 23:1-6 offers us a picture of bad leadership, of disorganization and chaos.  Like a preoccupied shepherd, foolish rulers don’t look after the safety and well-being of the people.  And living under bad leadership feels like being a sheep whose life is constantly under threat of destruction.  Rather than having leaders guarding and guiding you, it feels like they’re actually out to harm you.

And God makes a promise to gather his scattered people Israel, and to provide for their safety and well-being by providing the right kinds of shepherds and leaders.

The earliest followers of Jesus came to see him as the arrival of God’s promise.  Finally, a shepherd, a leader, a ruler and king who will guard those under his care.

During Jesus’ ministry, the question about whether Jesus is a king – and if so, what kind of king – simmered just beneath the surface.  But when he was arrested by Roman guards and executed under the authority of the Roman governor Pilate, this question about Jesus kingship came front and center.

Luke’s gospel offers us a picture of Jesus’ crucifixion that invites us to decide whether we want to have this Jesus as our king.  In a wonderfully powerful way, Luke offers us the chance to experience how several different groups responded to Jesus’ leadership.

The Sign

There was a sign placed above Jesus’ that read “This is the King of the Jews.”  You may have noticed in paintings the sign above Jesus with the letters INRI.  That stands for the first letter of the Latin phrase, “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.”

That sign is an invitation for us to decide whether this king is our king, and whether having a king like this is good news for us.

Some Jews were angry about the sign.  They thought Jesus a fraud, an unhinged imposter, a distorter of true religion.  They didn’t want him advertised as the Jewish King.  The sign probably conveyed sarcasm and mockery from the Romans.  But it would have doubled as a kind of threat to the Jewish people.  “Here’s your alleged king, pinned to a tree.  Imagine what we’ll do to you if you give us any trouble!”

The various characters in this scene react in different ways to Jesus’ as king.  Maybe you will identify with one of them.  Or perhaps you’ll find parts of all these characters swimming around in your own heart.

The crowd

There are always crowds at a public execution.  Luke mentions the crowds, but just barely.  He offers us only one line describing them. All Luke says is, “The people stood watching” (v. 35). 

They had seen this before.  Perhaps they were there primarily for the show.  Watching someone die always carries an allure, a certain appeal.  How were they to know, really, that something important was happening?  These folks were busy, they had work and families to get back to.  And even if they harbored some sympathy for Jesus, what do you want them to do?  Try to keep it from happening?  Make a suicidal run at an armed soldier?  Shout their support for Jesus and get a ferocious beating?  Maybe they weren’t even sure how to sort out their feelings.  And so we stand there with them, looking on.  Conflicted, torn, undecided.

The rulers

The crowds are watching, but the “rulers (that is, the Jewish religious leaders),” were “sneering” at Jesus.  Here’s what they were saying: “He saved others; let him save himself if he is God’s Messiah, the Chosen One” (v. 35).

They’re right of course.  It’s hard to make sense of a king who promises deliverance for his followers when his public crusade ends in such obvious failure.

The soldiers

The soldiers were working that day.  They had clocked in just like we all have to.  They didn’t put these plans into action.  They didn’t make these decisions.  They were functionaries, employees.  Their jobs involved the execution of criminals.  But they do seem to show special interest in this one victim. 

They “came up and mocked him,” says Luke.  Usually, even the fiercest of hate bends towards pity when another person is in agonizing pain and near death.  And yet to this writhing, gasping, humiliated man – they add to it with their insults, poking fun, making each other laugh.  They offer him a drink – what a nice gesture, the sun is brutally hot and his mouth is dry – but wait, it’s a joke.  The sponge is soaked in vinegar.  Oh, how they all laughed when he tried to slake his thirst, thinking it was water, but then jerked his head back when he tasted the pungent, undrinkable vinegar.

What was it about being a Roman soldier that would lead a person to such beastly depths of cruelty?

Perhaps they knew, on some deep level, that their lives were tied to the system.  Your identity, your training, your position in society, your network of friends, your livelihood, your paycheck – all of it was tied to smooth functioning of the Roman system.  All of it was tied to the unquestioned rightness of the social order which served as a kind of home for you.

They were afraid of what a change in the system might cost them.  So are we.  So are lots of people.  Lots of us have spent a lifetime building, brick by brick, some little system of meaning and value where we have a place, a home.  And to be confronted by a challenger who offers something completely different is threatening.  It would cost us everything to switch our allegiance, to welcome a different ruler.

The criminals

There were two criminals, Luke notes.  And Jesus was crucified between them.  We don’t get their names.  There’s just guy on his right and guy on his left.  We don’t even know what crimes they committed.  But we know that they’re scared to death, and in terrible pain. 

One of the criminals joins his voice to the chorus of insults flung at Jesus.  You’re a fake, a pretender king.  If you’re somebody important, show us something, get yourself and us out of this, unpin these stakes from our arms and let us live.  Save us!  Do something!

I’ve yelled at Jesus like this, have you?  When we are in terrible pain, trapped in a no-exit situation, down in a deep, dark well – that’s what our prayers sound like: What are you doing?  You’re doing nothing to help me!  You’re of no use whatsoever! 

Usually, he stays quiet, and we wear ourselves out.

Luke records no response from Jesus.  We do not know if Jesus was able to see the criminal taunting him.  He bore it, just letting the insults hang in the air.

The other criminal is the one who responds.  He is sober about who he is, where he is, and how he got there.  And he sees the difference between himself and Jesus.  He looks beside him and sees someone in exactly his situation, sharing fully in what he’s experiencing – gasping, exhausted, nearing the end – but someone who is innocent. 

And this leads him to a kind of prayer, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” (v. 42).  That is an odd kind of prayer.  Remember me.  The other criminal had shouted, “Save me!  Get me off this cross!”  This man says, “Remember me.”  And Jesus promises him that that very day, his prayer will be answered.

So what about you?  Do you want to have this crucified man as your King?  Can you hear it as good news that this is the King who governs our realm and provides for our well-being?

Of all the characters in this crucifixion scene, it is Jesus, of course, who stands out.  He might well be a king.  But he appears not to act kingly.  He hears the lies told about him; he is slapped and tortured by paid thugs; and he looks upon all their faces: the soldiers, the rulers, the criminals beside him – and he looks upon your face and mine, and says, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (v. 34).

Not all kings are good news.  Not all politicians, bosses, teachers, and parents govern well.  But Jesus does.  This king is different.  He is good news for the whole realm.  Let us rejoice.