Christ the King, 2003
Sunday before Advent: 23rd November, 2003
Fr John Davis, Vicar of St Peter's, Eastern Hill
Yes, I am a king. I was born for this. I came into the world for this:
to bear witness to the truth; and all who are on the side of truth listen
to my voice. (Jn 18:37)
Jesus of Nazareth was crucified with the inscription on the head of his cross: Jesus of Nazareth King of the Jews. Against protests, Pilate insisted that this be so. Sarcastic irony or deeper awareness? My kingdom is not of this world, the Lord had said. And the powers seemingly in charge of that world appeared to have the last say. And Christianity had engaged in that great struggle where life confronts death, or good looks like it is being extinguished by evil. In what seems to be such an unequal battle somehow there is a spark of hope and a conviction that the true discernment lies deeper than the apparent facts of life all around us. Somewhere in all this lies the mystery that is being asserted, as we honour on this last Sunday of the Church year, the idea of Christ the King.
If this day honours the present experience of the kingdom of God, the reign of God then if ever this was the case, surely we are here dealing with the triumph of hope over experience! Surely, we say, in a world when we never know what terrible atrocity we are going to wake up to the news of next; surely, in a world where millions are dying of terrible disease or avoidable poverty; surely even in a country like this where the inequalities and injustices remain confronting and embarrassing, – this is not a world where it is possible to say that Christ is King. (That is leaving aside the complexities and sensitivities of a world of many faiths and of none).
What is the nature of this kingdom? If we are trying to understand the idea of Christ as King, what about that kingdom that the Lord spoke of, so frequently? If we consider those many parables of the kingdom that the Lord taught, particularly in the gospel according to Matthew, we are at once dealing with sharp glimpses of another, deeper truth, another reality altogether, that somehow breaks through, even in our experience of the everyday and normal. They are stories of little shafts of hope. Sudden bursts of sheer joy that completely change a whole perspective and give a new direction to a whole life. They are all about discernment and insight – ours of course, not God's.
But some followers of this Jesus do actually get it. The Lord saw to that by teaching so carefully. And in every generation of course, it has to be heard again. That is what we are on about as a community of faith. There has to be a way that makes sense of the obvious contradictions. So the Lord's teachings address this and above all the Lord's actions address this. But first we do remember those many parables of the kingdom. Parables talking about what it would be like, what it is like, when that which is valuable and beautiful is cherished and honoured, where that which is good and special can be nourished and can flourish.
So we think of the parable about the pearl of great price – where everything else is as nothing. Or parable of the lost coin – which is so earnestly hunted for. Or that mustard seed of faith – which starts so little but which grows so big Or the story of the sower and the seed – in all those various types of soils, some of them getting nowhere, others being just magnificent. Or the fishing net that makes possible a great sorting out of all those fish which are any good. And so we could go on.
So then, are we able to be people of hope? Are we able to be like those in the parables who could have a deeper reality burst through, that somehow place all the rest of experience into a different context? As I have remarked before, it is very possible to get encouragement from several of the most remarkable of the Christian martyrs of the last century in this very area.
I think at once of Pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer, or Fr Maximlien Kolbe, or Archbishop Janani Luwum, just to think of three clerics. And I think of the countless faithful ordinary people, unknown to us but certainly known to God, who in whatever circumstances and who in the face of whatever of the horrors of our recent past that they found themselves overwhelmed by, simply and finally said: this far and no further. And suffered. Why? Because they were prepared to stand for a way that was different, even when all the power and all the strength and all the exercise of earthly authority was against them.
By definition, one who is martyred for the faith and who has knowingly entered into a way of life or actions that could mean direct and potentially deadly confrontation, is a person who is affirming a deeper truth or values or allegiances that are worth everything to them. The terrible pain and sadness of sacrifice and separation from those they love is of course wrenchingly present. A true martyr is not one who seeks death out as some kind of prize. But a martyr, a witness, as the word means, is one who is prepared to place that much value on what it is they believe or stand for. Death for them is not the end. And in their dying, more may paradoxically be brought to an understanding of what is actually worth living for. And there may be more and more people coming to the conclusion that the way that things presently are, does not at all reflect the ways and the values of the One we are supposed to be following. And more and more people in quiet and undramatic ways, far short of martyrdom, might actually try to live this out.
One of the quietly impressive things about listening to or hearing about some of our fellow Christians, who have been forced to confront some of these questions in their own lives, is that it can be a little like what it must have been like first to hear a parable taught by the Lord. You can hear the story and suddenly you can start to see everything differently.
What then is it really like to try to live out that kingdom of God in the here and now? If we would wish to be counted as those who are indeed on the side of the truth, as the gospel words have it this morning, then what is that going to mean in some of the urgent issues of justice and peace of our own day? It sure puts things into perspective. I have seen a Christian community with the biggest point of contention being whether or not a certain sand pit should go in a certain place. Or who had keys to which cupboard. But where do those things stand against questions like "And who is my neighbour?" "Who is not loved by God?"
The ultimate truth that Christ the King was in the world to honour, was the truth of God's complete and faithful love. Even in the face of rejection and denial, that love stands. Even in the face of incomprehension, that love stands. In life, in suffering and death – and in resurrection, that love stands. Even in the face of great evil or of mocking indifference, that love stands. But for the moment, we can only see glimpses of what it might be like and of what this world and our communities and relationships might be like, if that love were to stand. But perhaps a glimpse is enough to start us out on a different path; maybe even now, as we begin again next week on a new Christian year.
Yes, I am a king. I was born for this. I came into the world for this:
to bear witness to the truth; and all who are on the side of truth listen
to my voice. (Jn 18:37)
The Lord be with you.
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