Feast of Christ the King

Jeremiah 23:1-6; Luke 23:33-43

When George VI unexpectedly became king in 1937, after his brother’s abdication, most people who knew him thought he would be hopeless.  Painfully shy, with a crippling stammer and no desire to be in the limelight, on the surface it would have been difficult to imagine someone less well equipped for the task of leading a country, let alone the British Empire.  Yet, with the support of his wife and family, with a strong sense of duty and a firm Christian faith, in the war years which followed his accession he proved his real worth.  He identified himself with his people, refusing to leave London during the blitz, and they recognised his genuine concern for them and grew to love him for it.  The stirring speeches he left to Winston Churchill – his actions were his strength, though his quiet Christmas broadcasts were also an inspiration and a comfort to many; and when he died in 1952 the whole country mourned his passing.

Today we celebrate the Feast of Christ the King; it could feel like Ascension Day all over again, but the focus today is not so obviously on the glory of Christ’s kingship as its cost.  This feast was not part of the Church of England calendar until 2000, the year Common Worship was published, but when it was first established in the Roman Catholic church in 1925, it was partly to affirm that Christ was Lord over all political and social systems, given the rise of fascism and communism at that time.

Jeremiah, in our first reading, is prophesying at a low point in Israel’s history; one of a succession of puppet kings is on the throne, and exile is looming.  Those who should be leading the people in the right way are doing the opposite – they are like shepherds who scatter the sheep instead of gathering them into the fold.  Yet Jeremiah prophesies that God will raise up a new king, a true descendent of David, who will rule wisely, dispense justice, and restore the unity of his people.  We read this as foretelling the coming of Christ, yet our Gospel reading seems to turn this idea on its head.  Here the promised Saviour is ending his life as a common criminal, crucified between two others, and the title ‘King of the Jews’ is his criminal charge.  What sort of a King is this?  If George VI was an unlikely king, how much more is Jesus, helpless, mocked and scorned?  But it is from the Cross that Jesus shows us where the strength of his kingship really lies.  The key is in one word – love; not some superficial sentiment but a deep, unshakeable, costly love.  One of our communion hymns today, ‘Morning glory, starlit sky’ is based on a poem by W. H. Vanstone, a 20^th century spiritual writer.  The final verse expresses just how costly that love was, and is, for Jesus.

         “Thou art God; no monarch Thou

         Thron’d in easy state to reign;

         Thou art God, whose arms of love

         Aching, spent, the world sustain.”

What do we look for in a leader?  We may say we want strong leadership – but when a strong leader does something we don’t like, we accuse him of failing to listen to us.  We set up ‘heroes’ – sportspeople, TV personalities, so called ‘celebrities’, but before long we are looking for their faults.  The leaders who make a lasting impact are different – think of Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, Aung San Suu Kyi; their leadership skills have been honed by years of patient waiting, out of a real love for their people, often a sacrificial love causing them much suffering.  How much easier it would be to give in to the oppressors! They are human, fallible, vulnerable, but they put their own needs aside for the good of others.  Consciously or not, they follow the example of Jesus Christ, whose willingness to become weak and powerless even to the point of death, in order to defeat sin and evil, make him the greatest King of all.

The penitent criminal says: ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’  What kind of kingdom is this?  Surely a place of compassion, justice and acceptance for all; a kingdom without boundaries, where everyone is valued, not for what they have, but for what they are – children of God, made in his image.  It begins here and now, but it will continue into eternity. 

What should this mean for us?  As baptised Christians we already possess the freedom of the kingdom; what matters is how we exercise that freedom.  We need to remember that the Church is not the kingdom – only part of it.  Our task is to show others what it means to live in it.  Yesterday I was at Diocesan Synod – it’s not a place where I usually look for sermon inspiration!  But we heard how people are going out from their churches to connect in imaginative and innovative ways with those who have never had any contact with church (of whom there are many), and would find it very scary even to come inside, no matter how welcoming we might be.  God needs the help of all of us in building up his kingdom, and we cannot take it for granted that people will come to us – we have to be prepared to go to them.

The background of our lives today is as unpromising as the context in which Jeremiah prophesied or Luke wrote his gospel.  There is constant threat of war and climate change, incredible poverty, famine and widespread disease in some parts of the world.  Yet wherever people work to relieve the sufferings of others, or serve others without thought for themselves, there we have a glimpse of Christ’s kingdom on earth.  In this life there is always someone in need of our help, but we have the promise of Christ’s eternal kingdom, where all suffering will have ceased.  

This then is Christ our King; not a leader of armies, but a conqueror of evil by his death on the Cross; and a conqueror of death itself by his Resurrection.  We worship him and acknowledge his glory all through this service; in the Gloria; “with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven” in the Sanctus; and above all, in that moment at the end of the Eucharistic Prayer when the consecrated bread and wine are raised and we sing “Blessing and honour and glory and power be yours for ever and ever,” after which, words are inadequate, and we can only kneel in silence to adore Christ, our crucified and risen King.