A Sermon for Christ the King Sunday
November 22, 2015
(Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14; Psalm 93; Revelation 1:4b-8; John 18:33-37)
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. As in the beginning, so now and forever. Amen.
I read once about a woman with a rather intriguing reading habit. Before commencing a new novel she would turn to the final chapter and begin there. Only once she had established where the story was heading, was she ready to begin at chapter one. This, she insisted did not destroy the reading experience, but gave her a sense of direction.
This woman, as conventional wisdom recommends, habitually began with the end in mind.
‘Christ the King’ Sunday is our annual glimpse of the end. Appropriately, it comes on the final Sunday of the church calendar. Next week we will begin again our perpetual telling, rehearsing, and celebrating of our foundational story: God among us in the person of Jesus.
Today, however, we are presented with two visions of the final reign of this Christ and a conversation between Jesus and Pilate about this end. That is to say, we are considering three points in scripture where we are given insight into things to come.
Of course, we remember the prophet Daniel mostly for his entombment in the den of lions. This man of faith also had something of a mystic side to him.
Daniel saw and recorded visions of heaven. Most of these, like the one we have just heard, use a vivid and image-laden language. So much so that many translations present it as poetry.
God, the ‘Ancient of Days’ is described in terms of flame and fire. Something of a universal court is assembling. Only then appears ‘one like a Son of Man’. Authority is given for an everlasting and indestructible reign. This one arches over all that is.
This glimpse of heaven and the future was treasured, written, re-written, and taught by the ancient Jews. In other words, this vision that was never fulfilled in the lifetime of any of the Babylonian exiles, spoke to them and gave them hope.
Of course, it holds the same potential today. The end can help us make sense of both the past and the present.
The same could be said about the cryptic and difficult to grasp images presented in the book of Revelation. Today’s reading, mercifully, is far from the most difficult to understand. It is, essentially, a greeting.
This opening is written, to be sure, in the hand of John. It is however, a message from the one ‘who is and and who was, and who is to come’. The message is also from seven spirits in heaven, and the risen ‘ruler of the kings on earth’, Jesus.
A timeless God, a gathering of worshippers, one with authority over all that is. This too, is a vision of the end.
And every eye will see the one named ‘the Alpha and the Omega’. In english: the A and the Z. This God is both the beginning and the end. No wonder the persecuted receivers of this ‘revealing’ letter found comfort in reading it.
In our gospel reading this same Christ is on trial. It is a time to talk carefully, answer conservatively, say as little as possible.
Pilate’s opening question that sets the tone: ‘Are you the King of the Jews?’ It sounds like crazy talk but Jesus’ answer proves he clearly believes his rightful place is enthroned and ruling over a kingdom.
It is, however, a kingdom very different to Pilate’s. It is ‘not of this world’ – so much so that violence and war is are not employed in his defence.
His disciples have not yet grasped this reality. The expectation the Pilate might understand in a single conversation asks a lot. Jesus is simply not here to take power in the same way as Rome or the religious leaders.
In fact, Jesus seems to understand this kingdom to be so different there is a reluctance to accept the title of king at all. His reply to the direct question: ‘So you are a king?’ just may be a concession to the fact that Pilate has no other thought categories in which to discuss power. He is an experienced enough this-world politician to be unable to imagine – much less comprehend – a kingdom of truth.
They both use kingdom terminology. The overlap, however, is alarmingly minimal. In the end the might of Rome does not offer a perspective on the truth of heaven.
Our conversation is not so much over spiritual and unspiritual. Rather it is the coming together of two visions for God’s earth – one stuck in violence and power, capped by the emperor’s will. The other moulded by the humble and gracious love of God.
There is very little overlap between the two.
It all leaves me wondering if there is something very important for us about this account. Here, Jesus is facing his imminent suffering and death. He is not yet enthroned as the all-conquering Messiah. He is not yet king of all that is. Like us, Jesus is living between the beginning and the promised end.
Yet even here, Jesus testifies boldly to the hope that is his. It is risky. It is misunderstood. It is dismissed.
But this is Jesus living out the end-time hope that is not only his, but also ours. It reminds us that even Jesus lived with the end-time vision of the fully realised Kingdom of God in mind.
Surely if this was the practice of Jesus, we do well to also make it our own.
May this Christ the King Sunday serve to remind you that every aspect of life can be lived in the reality of the prayer that opened this sermon. Perhaps you could make it yours again this week:
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. As in the beginning, so now and forever. Amen.