Feast of Christ the King 2019

Lectionary readings: Jeremiah 23:1-6 and Colossians 1:11-20 and Luke 23:33-43

The Feast of Christ the King, as the culmination of the Church year, is a recent occasion, instituted in 1925 by Pope Pius XI, against the backdrop of the rise of fascism. In the face of messianic posturing by Mussolini, and his many heirs, the Feast of Christ the King proclaims that Jesus is both our Lord and King of the Universe. And while nationalism pits us against our neighbours, through this man Jesus all things—all peoples, all communities, all structures of power and society—are completely reconciled to God. All communities are to be blessed in his name. Though the world is in deep darkness, all humanity can know what it is to be rescued from the power of darkness, and, in the kingdom the Father has conferred upon his beloved Son, may share in the inheritance of the saints in light. When the darkness seems deepest, the light shines brightest. And so, the Feast of Christ the King, which brings the Church year to completion, also sets us up to observe Advent, the season of longing for the return of the King.

Our reading from the prophet Jeremiah this morning was written at a time of national crisis. It employs the metaphor of shepherds and sheep, drawing on that great psalm of David, Psalm 23. But whereas there the sheep are led with care, here—in a time when unfaithful Israel has already been dispersed, and the unfaithfulness of their own leaders is set to scatter Judah also—the flock is described as having been driven away and neglected. Therefore, God will both judge the unjust shepherds and bring back his sheep along paths of righteousness. The context is perilous—the valley of the shadow of death—and the LORD, as shepherd, carries with him his rod and his staff: his club with which to drive back predators; and his shepherd’s crook with which to steer the sheep along the path, and pull them back on to it when they fall.

The metaphor transforms: the days are surely coming, says the LORD, when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. This king, then, is a Branch, is synonymous with [the rod of] justice and [staff of] righteousness.

And in our reading from Paul’s letter to the saints in Colossae, we see that this righteous Branch—whom Paul identifies as Jesus—has been raised up on an unrighteous branch, the cross. And yet, this is the means by which God is at work to reconcile all things to him. This king triumphs through self-sacrifice.

Our Gospel reading presents us with a fuller image of this King of the Jews on his throne, which is, in fact, the cross. It is from the cross that this king exercises his reign, deals wisely [in radical forgiveness], and executes justice and righteousness.

The shepherd-king carries a rod and a staff. This king is presented to us with a criminal on his right and on his left. One derides him, and is rebuked—albeit by his fellow criminal. A predator, driven back as it circles the innocent lamb. The other calls out for mercy, and receives the hope of being with Jesus in Paradise—a term that seems to speak of being brought back to the land of promise, steered there along a precarious but nonetheless well-established path beneath death’s shadow, by the just shepherd.

Shepherds, sheep, branches raised up. A cross that is a throne. How might reflection on these passages, set for this Feast day, shape our imagination and empower our living?

We are, of course, in the middle of a General Election campaign; one that, given the number of MPs not standing for re-election, will result in a very different parliament, whatever the outcome. And this General Election is itself set in the context of a time of great and prolonged economic uncertainty and environmental upheaval. As we not only cast our vote, but also hold out a vision for our communities, we might want to ask, of prospective candidates and parties—and of ourselves—how will you bring scattered people together again? How enable communities to flourish? Do the policies you stand for enable the lives of individuals and families and neighbourhoods to be fruitful, or trap them in a shadow existence? And what about the environment? Do our leaders, and prospective leaders, take the environmental crisis, and the impact of climate change, seriously? How committed are they to a green economy?

We might ask, are the proposals you advocate likely to result in those who are fearful being no longer fearful, or dismayed, or missing—invisible, having no voice at the table? Of course, no party has a monopoly on good or bad policy, and no parliament can please all of the people all of the time, but these are questions we ought to be asking. Are our leaders wise? Do they listen to people, seeking to hear their concerns and understand, and take them seriously; or simply to score points against enemies? Do they stand for justice, for the righting of wrongs, for restitution for those who have been exploited? Do they have a track-record of fostering neighbourliness, of helping people to live at peace with one another; or do they promote partisan antagonism?

It is not my place to tell you who to vote for. It is my duty to urge you to consider carefully, and to cast your vote, if you have one. It is also my joy to urge you not to despair, if the outcome of the Election is one you dread. Christ is King of the Universe, whoever sits in Number 10.

And what of us? For Paul, writing to the church in Colossae, his understanding is that we ought to be the locus of God’s life-giving presence. So, how are we doing, and what might need to change? How might the invisible God be made visible in our midst?

Paul’s prayer for those he loved and wrote to encourage was that they might be strengthened to endure with patience, sustained by joy. Not because all was good, but precisely because it wasn’t. Patience and joy are the fruit of the Holy Spirit. But thankfulness is the way we play our part. I know of at least one member of this congregation who has taken upon themselves the discipline of giving thanks to God for three things every day. Perhaps that is something more of us might adopt?

We might, also, pray for our politicians. Those who rule, Paul says, have been created through Jesus and for him. That doesn’t mean that they exercise Jesus’ reign of justice and righteous, but that this is what they were made for. So, pray that all of our Members of Parliament would come into that for which they were made. Pray that they might know what it is to be reconciled to our Father, not withered by the wrath. When we read the papers or watch debates, step back, and turn again to Jesus. If it helps, use a prompt. Hang a cross on the wall above your tv, or carry a holding cross in your pocket. That in the darkness of this world, we may look upon the glory of Christ the King, and renew our hope. Amen.