Sunday 25 November 2018

November 25 sermon: Christ: Our King

Then Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” Pilate replied, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?” Jesus answered, “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 to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” Pilate asked him, “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”
(John 18:33-37)

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     Kings and Queens seem almost outdated in today’s world – a thing of the past. Not that they don’t still exist, of course. We live in a constitutional monarchy – but our monarchy (our Queen) has pomp with little real power. Just to be clear, I’m not anti-monarchy. I’m not a republican and I’m not arguing that the monarchy’s symbolic role isn’t important. I’m just pointing out that it is a symbolic role. We just heard a passage from John’s Gospel that speaks about the question of monarchy and kingship. It describes an exchange between Pilate and Jesus. If that seems a bit out of place in late November (because we normally hear about Pilate during Lent) it really isn’t. The last Sunday before Advent is the official end of the church year, and so, in a way, everything else in the church year leads up to this moment. The Gospel proclaims that as history itself comes to its eventual and inevitable conclusion, it will be Jesus who is the culmination of everything God has done. In today’s passage, Pilate asks Jesus if he is the King of the Jews. And by asking that question, Pilate also forces us to confront the question of Jesus’ identity: whose King is he? Is he someone else’s King, or is he our King?

     One of the first things made clear in this passage is that Jesus was not immediately recognizable as a King. Pilate wasn’t really sure who (or what) it is he’s talking to as he confronts Jesus in this passage. The emphasis is everything in the question Pilate asked. When the passage is read, the emphasis is often something like this: “Are you the King of the Jews?” But I think as a starting point to get into this passage the emphasis needs to be different. It should be: “Are you the King of the Jews?” In the first, Pilate is asking a question (“Are  you …?”) In the second, Pilate is expressing surprise and even bewilderment (“Are you …?”) I believe that confronted by Jesus, Pilate was (at first at least) incredulous and was perhaps even being mildly sarcastic. Keep in mind the state Jesus was in as he stood before Pilate: he had been beaten, he was bleeding, he had been spit upon. And looking at that, to paraphrase, what I think Pilate is saying is “You don’t look like a king to me! What a joke this is!” And Pilate’s reaction is completely understandable – because Jesus didn’t look like a King; in fact, he was unlike any King that Pilate had ever heard of.

     Even the people of Jerusalem, who had proclaimed Jesus as their king just a few days before, must have been startled. He didn’t look like a king. He didn’t lead an army into Jerusalem – he led a bunch of ragtag, scruffy disciples. He didn’t ride in a chariot drawn by a horse – he rode on the back of a donkey. So even to the people who proclaimed him to be their king, Jesus must have seemed to have been a strange one. To Pilate he would have been even stranger. Pilate was not unfamiliar with kings, and nothing about Jesus said “king” to him. Pilate would have understood a king as someone who governed a particular territory. But Jesus had no land to rule and he claimed no land to rule. Jesus’ words to Pilate must have left the poor governor scratching his head: “My kingdom in not from this world.” And even to our ears, being a king is tied to having a kingdom. Jesus didn’t actually deny to Pilate that he was a king – but it left a question hanging: how could a person be a king if his kingdom was not from this world?

     So the issue is how to define kingship as Jesus understood the concept. So often what we do is try to redefine Jesus. So we downplay the regal aspect of his identity and think of him instead as merely a friend or a brother. And there’s nothing wrong with thinking of Jesus as a friend or a brother, because he is. There may be no more moving hymn in the entire Christian faith than “What A Friend We Have In Jesus.” But Jesus is more than that., and rather than simply discarding the title because we don’t like the political overtones of the word or because it’s so masculine, what we really need to do is try to understand kingship as Jesus understood it.

     When we think of royalty today, what do we think of? Social status; prestige; a throne; yachts and palaces; wealth. Jesus had none of these things. He is a king without land, without a throne, without a palace, without wealth. He’s certainly a different kind of king. He didn’t inflict punishment on people; instead he showed compassion to them and he wept when confronted with suffering and need. He came to get nothing from anyone – he asked for no awards or honours, and he collected no taxes; instead he gave for the sake of those around him. Those who accepted him as king became not his servants but his friends. In the end, this king would be exalted not in comfort on a throne but in agony on a cross. And even as he was dying rather than lashing out at those who were torturing him, he forgave them. Pilate – not sure about anything because nothing seemed to be what it should have been – asked Jesus “Are you the King of the Jews?” And it’s actually a pretty good question. Is Jesus a King? And, if so, whose King is he?

     Well, Jesus is a king. However uncomfortable some people might be with that word and that imagery, Jesus is a king – and that’s vital today. Jesus’ identity as a king is one of the things about him that almost literally turns the world and all its expectations and practices upside down. We live in a world full of brutal dictators and evil kings and violent tyrants and corrupt politicians. The way leadership is exercised in the world is a sign of the fallenness of the world. It’s enough sometimes to lead us into despair. But then we confront – or are confronted by – Jesus. Not brutal, not evil, not violent and not corrupt – rather kind, compassionate, gentle and loving. And in Jesus we see that these are the qualities of a king; the qualities of leadership; and in Jesus we understand just how fallen the world is. But Jesus gives us hope that a better day is dawning; that God will overthrow all the injustice and oppression and hatred of the world; that Jesus will indeed reign. We wait for that; we hope for that; we yearn for that; we believe in that. We believe that, in the words of a hymn, “Jesus shall reign where’er the sun shall its successive journeys run.” Which leaves only one last question: if Jesus shall reign, then whose king will he be?

     Pilate asked “Are you the king of the Jews?” Is he merely the king of one particular people? Is he merely a king from antiquity, perhaps of historical interest but of little contemporary relevance? Is he a sort of media star of interest, much like our own royal family? Is he someone else’s king? Every single thing about Jesus – his birth, his life, his teachings, his death, his resurrection and his ascension – challenges us to face this question: whose king is he? The church year ends today, and the Christian cycle begins anew next Sunday with the beginning of Advent, and everything in the church year from the start of Advent last year has challenged us to eventually face this question: whose king is he? It all comes down to that. In fact, it comes down to an even simpler question than that. Is Jesus our king? And for each one of us individually – is Jesus my king? With Advent on the horizon, it’s worth remembering how it all started – and as the Brazilian author Paolo Coelho reminds us, “it was the shepherds who were the first to recognize a king that the rest of the world refused to acknowledge.” It’s those who most need hope in their lives that understand Jesus as the great hope; the great King!

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