Today in addition to receiving our Confirmation class and our pledges for the 2004 Stewardship
Campaign, we have also come to the final Sunday of the liturgical year. Next week we begin year C, throughout which
we concentrate on the gospel of Luke. Each liturgical year is broken into two halves - Advent to Trinity Sunday
which is the "historical" part where we focus on who Jesus was, how he was born, what happened to him
in his life, the final week, the cross, death, resurrection, ascension and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit on
the disciples, which culminates in Pentecost and the feast of Trinity. From there until today we have concentrated
on what Jesus taught - and we end this period with the Feast of Christ the King.
In the end isn't that how we evaluate most lifetimes, and pretty much how anyone will reflect on each and every
one of us--first who we were and then what we believed? It is a pretty good summation of our entire character.
So as we celebrate today and look back over that teaching period, we discover that the ultimate lesson was always
that Jesus had complete authority, that he had always been in charge -that he continues to reign as "King."
That fact alone should set the tone for us as we look forward from today towards Christmas,--some with anticipation
others perhaps with dread,-- but undeniably with the reality that the birth we are about to celebrate is no ordinary
one. He is "King of Kings, and Lord of Lords, forever!"
Unfortunately even language works against us. Words don't "mean what they seem" anymore. At one time
part of learning a language involved learning the various "roots," mainly Latin and Greek, which were
supposed to help us to understand where a word had originated from and sometimes pointed to the meaning of an unfamiliar
one.
Newer translations of Scripture attempted to address that deficiency in terms of our Biblical understanding. In
Psalm 88, verse 13 for example in the King James Version it reads, "But unto thee have I cried, O Lord; and
in the morning shall my prayer prevent thee." If one had been taught the "old way" they would have
known that the word "prevent" comes from the Latin pre meaning "before" and venio meaning "I
come." So "prevent" could mean to "hinder" or "stop" or simply to "come
before" in another sense. These days we never use the word "prevent" for anything other than to
"hinder" or "stop," so the ancient uses can really leave us baffled.
Some words have lost all precise meaning. "Awful" no longer "inspires awe." The "terrible"
is usually unpleasant, but then, if something is "terribly nice," it means it is "very, very"
nice. In fact, it can be "awfully nice," and that's "terrribly good" indeed!
All of this to say that perhaps this is why they tell us that the English language is one of the hardest languages
in the world to learn, because it is such a mix of unpredictable meanings!
So today when "monarchies" are pretty much the laughing stock of tabloid journalism, their former palaces
and lifestyles now tourist attractions that point out the excesses of a previous time, it's hard to appreciate
the value of a "King." Clearly no one likes the idea of having someone "lord it over them,"…so
what it means to call Christ Lord is also questionable.
We will soon however recall the words of Mary's song of praise--the Magnificat --from the first word in the Latin
translation, and discover that such was not always the case.
"My soul magnifies the Lord
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has been mindful
of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations
will call me blessed,
for the Mighty One has done great things for me -
holy is his name.
His mercy extends to those who fear him,
from generation to generation."
Christ the King was a "late-comer" to the schedule of festivals and observances on the church calendar.
It had none of the Biblical warrant of Easter nor the antiquity of the forty days of Lent. Christ the King Sunday
is the invention of a twentieth-century pope, Pius XI, and yet it is found on the calendars of all the Protestant
churches that follow a liturgical year.
In 1925 Europe was still reeling from the horror of World War I, and economic uncertainty abounded. People were
bending the knee and looking for a savior in any political party that promised to rescue them. Religion was increasingly
relegated to the private sphere, the combination of which paved the way for the rise of a man like Hitler.
In response to this, Pius XI called for an annual Sunday feast day to assert the supreme "Kingship of our
Savior." He called for a day on which people would gather to bend their knees to Christ and to give Him the
complete glory as a witness to the day when "every knee in heaven and on earth and under the earth will bend
to Christ and confess him as Lord."
In 1925 the observance of Christ the King proclaimed that no earthly ruler deserved to be "lord," save
Christ alone. The day proclaimed Jesus is king not only of our hearts and our private moments and personal salvation
but of all time and space.
Furthermore it stated that his reign does not bear resemblance to the reign of any other imperial power, then or
ever-for this King has no bed or home, no security or army-but ushers in the reign of service and love. Charis/grace
and Shalom/peace are the earmarks of His rule and nothing will overcome them.
It occurred to me, as the news media have focused on the 40th anniversary of the assassination of John F. Kennedy,
that at that time there were people questioning how we could have been so innocent, so naieve, and what the future
of the world would be. Commentators pointed out it was the first time we realized how violent we had become.
We know today of course that that violence has continued to escalate and so there is no more appropriate time for
us to be looking for a higher authority who can offer us not only release, but grace and peace forever.
John's recorded interrogation between Jesus and Pilate on the final morning of his life challenges us to be "fully
engaged" in what is before us at the moment; to be fully engaged in one's own life-for this is God's gift
to each of us-and no dress rehearsal! He presents the Roman Procurator caught between trying to listen to his own
inner voice and trying to pander to the Temple authorities. Political expediency, pleasing the crowd, and the danger
of ignoring the conscience are themes especially relevant to those about to be confirmed...as to us all.
This is no loyalty drive for a deity, a kind of distraction from everyday living. Its focus is on life itself and
the one who is within it and beyond it, before it and its goal. Notice that the threefold designation is not: "who
is, who was and who will be," but "who is, who was and who will come again."
This is a promise of engagement with one who is fully involved in our lives whether we acknowledge it or not. Not
an absent God who was and who always exists, but largely beyond us and with no interest in our plight.
Leaders and royals, celebrities and all other glittering personages will come and go. Even the ongoing dynasty
of David endured only four hundred years until the destruction of Jerusalem in 587 B.C.
Much of the hope and promise of our own days may fade with the pressures and struggles of life, yet our God remains
and lives. In Jesus Christ, who won the victory over death and the grave, we have been offered life eternal from
God who is the beginning of time itself, and who will close the door at the end.
This same God who is present with us now and stands with us in the midst of all the violence, as the Almighty who
alone can grant us the peace we so desperately need.
The Second book of Samuel draws to a close with a song of praise attributed to David. Like Hannah's song, which
we encountered in First Samuel, which celebrated God's faithfulness at a time of birth, David's words reflect on
God's faithfulness near the time of death. David, like Hannah, grounds his hope in God's promise, in the timeless
covenant that God keeps. Like the Psalm he proclaims there can be no rest until we find a place for God in our
lives.
In the beginning: God; in the end: God; in the midst of life: God.
Quite some time ago, I heard another preacher liken our relationship to God to that of fleas on a dog on which
they lived. He made the useful assertion that for one flea to claim a special relationship to the dog, denying
the other flees, was about as useful as one human claiming a special relationship to God denying all others. He
suggested the most practical thing the fleas could do was to learn to get along with one another. The same was
true for assuming we could "go our own way."
Knowing this priest as I do, I am sure he wasn't implying that "we are not worthy" even as fleas on a
dog - some irritant worthy only to be scratched.
The Good News, the Wonderful News in Christ is that God loves each and every one of us and has made us into a kingdom.
It is up to us not to destroy the kingdom that God has built.
God has made us into a kingdom, so that no one enters this Church by his or her own volition. So everyone here
has an equal right to be here, because it is God who has called each and everyone of us to this place. If God has
called each and everyone of us to this place, no one has the right to question anyone else's value here. No one
is more important or less important. In the words of the "Desiderata" -"You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here." And not just as a child, to be seen but
not heard. You are here to make a difference and to have your contribution recognized and acknowledged. This is
the authority by which we live, on which this and every true Church stands!
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