You know, one of the best parts of my job as youth minister is the fact that I work with really bright students. And since they are so bright, they ask a lot of good questions. Sometimes I forget how mysterious the things of faith can be when we start actually asking questions of them. Having a chance to make flailing and overwrought post-seminary attempts to address the basics of Christianity has a way of keeping me humble and honest. And of course, it’s a near constant reminder to take nothing for granted.
In that spirit, I wanted to explore what we mean when we say one of my favorite three word combinations: Christ the King. This is one of those amazingly simple yet powerful sets of words throughout the Christian vocabulary. Words that are so often said in earnestness, but I wonder how much we stop to consider the considerable weight behind them. Other examples include, “Jesus is Lord” and “God is Love” and “Church pot luck.”
Christ the King. Think about that. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a king ruling over us in terms of our local government. I wonder if the concept of “king” can be lost on us as Americans. We’re more intellectually comfortable with a system of checks and balances, political parties, and other trappings of modern democracy. In fact, the idea of an all-powerful authority or monarch makes us profoundly uncomfortable. That’s a healthy thing. God felt similarly uncomfortable when the Israelites begged for a king in 1 Samuel 8.
I’ll summarize the chapter: the elders of Israel tell the prophet Samuel to give them a king. He tells God. God tells him to tell the Israelites that it’s a really bad idea unless they like being ruled with an iron fist. Samuel tells them and they still want a king, because of local national peer pressure. God let’s them have a king and I assume walks off in a divine huff.
So the Israelites begged for an authoritative king to rule over them, despite the fact that God should have been their sovereign. Hindsight is 20/20, and it looks to me like the Israelites blew it that time, among many others. Scripture tells us there were periods where God’s people are ruled by good kings. But most of the Bible is the story of God’s people being ruled by rejects from the king factory: incompetents, despots, oppressors all. Israel’s religion may have been based on sacrifices in the temple, but her hope was in God reclaiming his kingship over them.
Therefore, the parallel between our situation and the Israelites’ has to do with the recognition of who our real authority is. The Church proclaims that all earthly rule and authority is inherently temporary; that it is essentially provisional because Christ is the head of all creation. He is the true king. Our proclamation is the fulfillment of Israel’s hope for divine kingship. He is the fulfillment of what it means to be an earthly leader and at the same time he subverts it. He is worthy of all glory, awe, and majesty yet he came as a baby and lived a simple life as a man. His model of kingship not to stand as the ultimate warlord riding with a conquering army; rather his triumphal procession into Jerusalem was a parody, lacking the pomp as becomes the true King. His true triumph was to storm the gates of hell and slay death, rising from his own death as the King of Life whose Kingdom is a renewed creation and whose subjects are invited into a community of full fellowship with each other and the sovereign himself. Jesus is the King we never knew we always wanted.
Now let’s play with this concept a little bit. Imagine someone who holds a great deal of authority in this area. Let’s say someone like a Governor. Now, let’s say the Governor makes a rule about how fast we drive our cars. Well and good, Governor. I try to be a safe driver and I appreciate rules made for the public good. But if we make the choice to break that rule, we may have to face some consequences, namely the police will enforce the Governor’s rule with some kind of punishment like a ticket or something. But the Governor thankfully does not personally know about your infraction . Also, the Governor disappointingly doesn’t really do anything to help you pay your ticket. Jesus, by contrast, sets up a law characterized by love, knows about when we make bad choices, helps us to make better ones, AND already paid the proverbial ticket. Jesus is a way better king than our hypothetical Governor.
And here at our church, we do our best to act like Jesus is a better king here in the liturgy. Have you ever noticed all the bowing, genuflecting, altar reverencing, and other little behaviors that in other contexts would seem at best inappropriate and at worst pathological? When we bow to the altar, we recognize the authority of the King, though he is not seated on his throne. When we genuflect to the blessed sacrament, we are saying that the King is here, and in his presence we are humbled. Think about these simple acts for a moment. Many of you have done them your whole life and already know what I’m talking about. Many of you think they are hopeless contrivances and you might have a point. Bear with me. What if we took seriously what our bodies are saying every time we bow or genuflect? What if every time we walked in front of the altar or approached the sacrament we said, “Hail king Jesus?” That’s what those things mean. They are baby steps into the life wherein all of our daily motion and activity are underscored with “Hail King Jesus.”
King Jesus. It has a nice ring to it. It gives me a lot of personal hope. It means that the Church will survive heresy, schism, and public unbelief. It means that God will take care of His people in this life and in life eternal despite the limitations of earthly governments. It means that someone is working harder than we are when we worry about our friends and family. It means that when Bishop Brewer lays his hands on to ordain me to the priesthood in a couple of weeks, my being a unprepared rookie pales in comparison to the gentle power exercised by the King of the universe, Thanks be to God.
In closing, I want to give a gentle reminder that on this advent of Advent, that in all the craziness that comes with the holidays and with all the activity that comes from being a Church expectant, remember that this place and the people who build it-which includes you and me and all those folks and all those folks and a bunch of people over there-that this place is an outpost for a Kingdom with a King whose reign will bring perfect love and eternal peace. Tell your friends that He is coming.
And keep each other in your prayers.
Amen.
Sermon preached by the Reverend David S. Bumsted
The Church of the Redeemer
Sarasota, Florida
The last Sunday after Pentecost
24 November 2013