Growing up in the church, the image of Christ the King was one that was familiar and over time was lodged in my head and imprinted on my heart. Why? Well, the name of the congregation where our family were members is Christ the King. Christ the King Lutheran Church.
At the pinnacle of the exterior of the church building is a symbol that went along with the name. It is the chi rho, an ancient symbol where two letters are superimposed. These letters are the first two letters of the Greek word for Christ. This particular version of the chi rho is placed within a crown. It is a striking piece of art and one that is very visible, at least it was visible to me each time I walked to the doors.
The image on the cover of your bulletin is a photo of the icon on the back wall that is at the very center above the baptismal font. It is called “Christ Pantocrator.” The word pantocrator means “Ruler of all.” In Orthodox churches the pantocrator is often on the ceiling of the dome, creating a sense of Christ looks down upon the congregation, and, indeed the universe.
Christ the Pantocrator makes the claim that Christ rules not only the church but is ruler over all.
This was my overriding image of Jesus Christ, elevated up in the heavens. Indeed, for me, Christ was king.
When I went off to college I went church shopping. I finally found a wonderful congregation where I could worship while I while being a college student, but first, I checked out a number of other places. For a good stretch of time, I worshipped at a congregation with a name very different from the church back home. This congregation is named Christ the Servant Lutheran Church. The name seemed odd to me. I wondered how Christ the King could be honored as Christ the Servant. The titles seemed to contradict one another. I was confused and asked myself “aren’t kings supposed to be lords over their servants? How can the king be the servant? Isn’t the ruler above the servants?”
I found the congregation not so different than the one back home. The people were welcoming. The liturgy was the same at Christ the Servant and Christ the King. There wasn’t much different. What was with the two different titles for Christ?
Admittedly, my theological understanding of God was underdeveloped. I tended to think in neat categories. Only later, did I begin to value and appreciate the Lutheran love of paradox, holding two seemingly contradictory things in tension. Now, I can say that Christ the King and Christ the Servant are both true. You could say they are one in the same.
Today is the culmination of another liturgical year. We bring out all the stops to worship Jesus Christ, naming him King, Ruler, Sovereign. Christ is a different kind of king – different from the kingdoms inhabiting the earth. Unlike standard rulers, Jesus is, in fact, shockingly different. For this Jesus came, not to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.
When Jesus stands before Pilate on trial in the praetorian, we witness a clash of kingdoms.
Pilate, the Roman Governor, represents the kingdoms that always make the headlines. Pilate is the symbol for empire. Jesus, condemned criminal, is the embodiment of another kind of kingdom, from a different world.
Pilate asks him, “Are you the King of the Jews?”
The question comes from a place of fear for any movement that pledges allegiance to one higher than Rome itself was at odds with the prevailing systems of power. Rome needed to maintain a firm grip on the empire. Jesus was a threat.
Jesus answers the question with a question. “Do you ask this on your own or did others tell you about me?” In other words, Jesus is asking Pilate if he is a pawn in someone else’s power game.
Pilate responds, “I’m not a Jew. Your own people and the chief priests handed you over.” Jesus knew the power brokers had him arrested.
Pilate then asks him, “What have you done?”
Jesus then responds with a great revelation: “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over. As it is my kingdom is not from here.”
Jesus is no standard king. Jesus is no emperor. Jesus eschewed the conventional expressions of power. His kingdom is from elsewhere.
For Jesus came not to be served but to serve. The kingdom of God does not come about by force or with violence. Otherwise, his followers would have staged a coup, sought revenge or retaliation, or used violence in order to secure their leader and their cause. But the Kingdom of God is a different kind of kingdom. Jesus is another kind of king. God’s kingdom is not gained through dominating others. Jesus and his followers would not resort to violence or domination.
This what we know kingdoms to be and this what nations invariably strive to be – empires in love with power and seeking dominance. Empires are stocked with weapons of war, and most often seek to dominate rival nations. Emperors are lords over their subjects. We don’t know any better or sometimes we do know better but will continue to pay homage to imperial majesty believing it to be the way of salvation.
This is what we lean upon for redemption. Even though we sing to Christ our as our Redeemer, we find our trust is often misplaced and we choose the myth that violence will redeem.
Even though he personally felt that Jesus did nothing wrong, Pilate released Jesus to the crowds in cowardice and let the crowds choose who to crucify. Unsurprisingly, the crowds shouted, “we have no king but the emperor.” So the crowds chose to save the life of the criminal Barabbas and let Jesus be crucified, choosing the empire.
You see, the myth of redemptive violence has been around for a long time and we continue to choose it over the things of God. The myth says that violence saves, that war brings peace, and that the hero always squelches the bad guy and good triumphs over evil through waging more violence. It is the creed that says, “Might makes right.”
It is a myth because it doesn’t work and violence only begets more violence.
Still, it remains the standard plot in our stories, novels, and films.
Do you remember Popeye? I watched it a fair amount as a kid. The standard plot was that big bad Brutus abducted Olive Oyl, Popeye’s girlfriend. In trying to rescue her, Popeye was beaten to a pulp by Brutus. Finally, Popeye would rise from the floor and take the spinach out of his pocket and infuse himself with this new power from the spinach can. He would then demolish the villain and rescue his girlfriend. It happened again in the next episode. We believe violence redeems, but ironically Popeye revealed that is not lasting.
In speaking to Pilate, Jesus reveals the way of God. Redemption comes about not through empire building or violence but through self-giving love. The crowds will not buy it.
Jesus essentially tells Pilate that he has come not to fight but to testify to the truth. Pilate asks, “What is truth?” Jesus was silent. No explanations were given. Pilate was essentially staring at the truth.
In John’s Gospel, the cross functions differently than it does in Matthew, Mark, or Luke. In John, the Cross is seen as Christ’s throne. The sign of self-giving love is victorious. Jesus mounts the cross in confidence to complete a task and at the end of the drama declares, “It is finished.”
This is the bold claim we make on Christ the King Sunday – forgiveness, redemption, salvation, are secured in through this one saving act of love and, as followers of Jesus, we are called to walk this way of love. The triumph is in the cross. The resurrection confirms the victory that has already occurred.
And it is a strange way to victory. Jesus is faithful to the way of God but fails the test of empire.
It is a radical thing we are doing today and every Sunday – we sing and pray to Christ the King and on a day like this we use the metaphors and images of royalty while we make the counter-cultural claim that Jesus, the condemned criminal who died at the hand of the empire, is Ruler and King.
Today after worship I will be sharing highlights from Civil Rights Pilgrimage I helped lead in early October. The pilgrimage, like our Sabbatical that preceded it, reinforced the witness of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference led by Martin Luther King and so many others. Their witness was non-violence because the principles of violence lead to nothing. African Americans were victims of violence fueled by bitter racism, but MLK, a pastor steeped in the Christian tradition was convinced that the way to true justice was non-violence. It strikes me that this is how we are called to witness to this kingdom that comes from another world but is hidden all over this world. God’s love moves in ways that are at odds with conventional ways of bringing about harmony. The school of nonviolence reveals the reign of Christ the King whose way is loving service but it is not a movement that shrinks from what is going on. Just as MLK and many others did, we are called to speak truth to power but we do not play its game. Speaking the truth about the sin that clings closely and the evil that is noisy and boisterous, we must do and love our neighbors, even our enemies, at the same time. Customarily, people kneel before a king or magistrate, but Christ the king, comes to us and kneels before us, washing our feet, to demonstrate the way of love. His throne is a cross and his scepter and orb are a basin and a towel. His crown is a crown of thorns. This is how we are loved and this is the one who redeems and will redeem all the world. So, sing out your praises to Christ the King who is indeed ruler over all and indeed is among us as one who did not come to be served but to serve. Amen.