Proper 29 C + Not that Kind of King + 11.23.25
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M. Campbell-Langdell
All Santos, Oxnard
(Jer. 23:1–6; Canticle 16 BCP; Col. 1:11–20; Luke 23:33–43)
Michael Card has a song, “Not That Kind of King (2006),” and its
second verse goes thus:
“You come in power to take Your throne
You'll show Your glory in Jerusalem
It's what the crowds are clamouring
Oh, but Jesus, is not that kind of king.”
This made me think of a book I read
recently, called The Song of Penelope by Claire North. This book explains
what really happened when Odysseus returned to Ithaca and the women’s role in
it, at least in the author’s rendering. While Odysseus is a king and makes some
heinous decisions, it is also noted that among men, he is exceptional because
he is open to showing mercy, at least as his character develops toward the end
of the book. This explains why Athena wished to sponsor him. Because he is not
that kind of king.
Today is Christ the King Sunday,
the last Sunday of the liturgical year, and a significant yet relatively recent
feast in the Church. Today, we recognize and honor Christ as the King of
all of our hearts. But in today’s gospel, we are also reminded that Jesus
was not an ordinary king. For those of us who have an ambivalent relationship
with kings, it is helpful to remember that, as Card’s song says, he’s “not that
kind of king.”
Because, faced with his death, we
know that Jesus had the opportunity to press pause, to avoid all that was
coming down the pike. To shirk his passion and death. In the garden
of Gethsemane, we can see he is sorely tempted to do just that. Let this
cup pass. But then it switches. Not my will, but thine.
Jesus chooses to proceed, and he
dies for us. Because that is the type of king he is. We know that
he is not an ordinary king; in fact, God never did hold well with ordinary
kings and typical power players. My seminary Old Testament (or Jewish
Scriptures) professor used to say that God frequently told the people, “You
don’t want kings,” and they said, “Yes, we do!” and so God capitulated.
And then what happens, but the
results we see in Jeremiah here? The leaders (shepherd is just a general
term for leaders here) have scattered the flock. And God, through
Jeremiah, is telling them off! These are God’s people, and they have been
bad shepherds of the flock.
But let’s ask ourselves: how are we
doing with religious leadership today? Not many of us here are ordained
leaders, but any person of faith can be a leader in today’s world and share
their opinion about God. In this world, there are so many lies about God
and about God’s judgment.
A while back, I was reminded of this when I saw a short video on YouTube
featuring some young adults who participated in a Poetry Slam, a kind of poetry
that is performed rhythmically and with passion. The video was called “Tell
Your God.” And it was powerful. Three young adults, speaking rhythmically
and sometimes in unison, share all the lies they have heard about God. This is
a bit dated now, but they mention that they have heard that God wrote DOMA,
that God pickets funerals. That the walls of heaven were built to keep
them out. They say they feel abandoned, that God has no time to listen to
their prayers unless they are a white Christian girl in America. They believe
that God’s forgiveness is used as a justification for vengeance. They say
to “tell your God, I mention him in my prayers.” To tell God that they
are beautiful and loving, also. They close by saying, “Tell your God I
don’t believe the lies… tell your God I forgive him.”[1] I
started to cry, hearing that.
Which brings me to Jesus on the
cross. Don’t their words remind you of him, hanging there in this gospel,
humiliated to the extreme, in pain? Being told that if he is king, he
should save himself. Except that’s not the kind of king he is. He
came to save us, not to save himself. He presses play, though he is
abused and tortured. And what does he do next? He shows
forgiveness. In the middle of his passion and death, in this most unforgivable
of moments, he forgives his enemies, prays for them. Just as he mentioned
earlier in the gospel to “pray for those who abuse you,” that’s what he does. [2] He,
like these young adults I mentioned, shows love and forgiveness despite the
pain. He even offers salvation to the thief who repents at the end.
“Today, you will be with me in paradise.”
And what is Paradise? Initially,
that term was used to describe the hunting grounds used by Persian kings, an
area just for the benefit and sport of the royals. But in the
Judeo-Christian tradition, and here in Jesus’ usage, Paradise begins to
describe the heavenly Eden.[3] Because
that’s the kind of king Jesus is. Nothing is to serve him; everything is
about us all getting forgiven, saved, and healed. He doesn’t hold power
for himself, live for himself, or die for himself. But everything he does
is for our forgiveness and salvation.
By contrast, what image of God do
we share with the world? Do we press play, or do we press pause in
sharing God’s love with others?
Do we share about a God who shows
love, forgiveness, and compassion? Or is the God we share one that seems
angry and judgmental? Sometimes, we have to remember which king we
follow. Because, as theologian Eberhard Busch says, it:
“This man is our king in the
lowlands, because he does not want us to die and suffer in that dark and sad
region. Maybe you are “today” in a sort of darkness, but because the Holy
One is with you today and for you today in that darkness, you will be with him
in paradise.”[4]
Here, Busch re-imagines paradise.
Because Christ is with you, even darkness itself can become a paradise, a
place of love and forgiveness.
Thanks be to God!
[1] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RBAtdqiF0kE&feature=youtu.be
“BNV 2013 Finals Round 4 – Denver” (accessed 11/22/13).
[2] Vernon K. Robbins, “Exegetical
Perspective: Luke 23:33-43,” FOTW Year C, Vol. 4, 335.
[3] Ibid, 337.
[4] Eberhard Busch, “Theological
Perspective: Luke 23:33-43,” FOTW Year C, Vol. 4, p. 336
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