THE REIGN OF CHRIST

Psalm 93; Revelation 1:4b-8; John 18:33-37

Christ the King Sunday, November 27 , 2024

Rev. Dr. Ritva  H. Williams

Today is the last Sunday of the church year — kind of like New’s Year’s Eve: a time to make reflect on the year just past and make resolutions for the new year. Lutherans have celebrated it as Christ the King Sunday since the introduction of the Lutheran Book of Worship (the green hymnal) in the 1970’s. Christ the King Sunday was formally established in 1925 by Pope Pius XI to counter the rise of secularism in the west, atheist communism in Russia, fascism in Italy and Spain, and the seeds of Nazism in Germany. But, long before there was Christ the King Sunday, ancient Christians honored Christ as as the Pantokrator, the ruler of all, as depicted in these ancient mosaics. Notice the one in the upper left corner that shows the emperor of Rome prostrating himself at Christ’s feet. 

 In Lutheran churches the last Sunday of the church year traditionally focuses on the second coming and the last judgment. Sometimes this Sunday is even called Judgment Sunday. As one retired pastor explains, 

The stress on judgment clarifies the nature of faithfulness. Those who are faithful will welcome the last judgment because it is the vindication of Christ’s suffering saints. Those who fear judgment either do not believe the redemption Christ has won for them in his suffering, death, and resurrection, or they do not put their trust in God’s unmerited grace. Nor is the judgment of Christ welcomed by those who are not suffering at all, but are in fact quite comfortable where they are.

In other words, this is a day when we ask serious questions about our personal faith. Today’s gospel reading expands that personal emphasis. To borrow the words of Pastor Frank Senn, 

The last judgment is not just a judgment on individuals; it is also a judgment on human history. The dialogue between Pontius Pilate and Jesus Christ in John 18 demonstrates the struggle between the kingdoms and republics of this world, on the one hand, and the kingdom of God and of [the] Christ, on the other.

Our gospel begins, as is often the case, in the middle of the story. Jesus has been arrested and interrogated all night by associates of Caiaphas, high priest and head of the Judean temple state. In the morning, they escort Jesus to the headquarters of the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, who is in town to make sure this Passover Feast doesn’t turn into another insurrection. Jesus is taken into custody by Roman soldiers, while Pilate comes out to the courtyard and inquires, “What accusation do you bring against this man?” They answer that Jesus is a criminal, without naming his alleged offense, who deserves the death sentence. That death sentence is beyond the jurisdiction of the high priest.

In the Roman world of Pontius Pilate, the most obvious reason to execute someone was sedition, rebellion, or insurrection. So, Pilate re-enters his headquarters, summons Jesus, and asks, “Are you the king of the Jews?” In other words are you some kind of a jumped up rebel, a threat to Rome’s absolute power?

Jesus responds with a question, “why do you ask? Are you genuinely curious, or just going on hearsay and prejudice? Pilate comes back with, “I’m not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me.” This interaction is kind of like a white police officer claiming, “I’m not a racist” when arresting a black youth in a hoody because one of us white folk complained the kid was hanging around the back parking lot. 

Jesus then spells it out for Pilate and for us, “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 authorities. But, as it is my kingdom is not from here.” Pilate misses the point entirely and concludes, “So, you are a king.”

But Christ the King is nothing like the rulers of most empires, kingdoms and even republics on this planet. The empire represented by Pontius Pilate was characterized by the hoarding of power among the richest and wealthiest citizens for their own personal honor and glory. They pointed to their success as signs of divine approval, thereby giving themselves a divine mandate to use their wealth and power to lord it over others, to create fear and divide people by race, ethnicity, and nationality, and to use violence to terrorize and conquer.  

The reign of Christ, by way of contrast, originates in God’s dream for all of creation. The reign of Christ seeks to reconcile and unify people without coercion or violence. Christ the King invites us to follow Jesus in lives of humble service — to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick and imprisoned, to provide for the orphans, the widows and the foreigners in our midst. Christ the King shows us how to lay down our lives for others, by using our gifts, talents and strengths to lift up, empower and give new life to the most vulnerable members of our communities.

Christ’s kingdom is not a place somewhere up above the sky, nor is it a reality waiting to be set in motion at some second coming. Jesus always speaks of the kingdom — God’s reign  — as coming near, present now. It is spread out over the earth but invisible to the human eye. It is within each of us individually and among all of us collectively. Jesus teaches us that God’s reign comes whenever and wherever God’s will is done here on earth. The reign of Christ exists within and works within all human systems — families, neighborhoods, faiths, tribes, nations — to turn them toward justice, peace, and love. 

Jesus’ final word in response to Pilate is, “I came into the world to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

In October the ELCA’s Conference of Bishops issued a statement recommitting themselves and the church  to speak the truth, refuse to perpetuate lies or half-truths, engage in rigorous face-checking, reject the use of humor that normalizes falsehoods, boldly advocate for the marginalized and oppressed, courageously interrupt hate speech, amplify voices of truth, and lean in with curiosity when interacting with those whose opinions differ from ours. 

Since today is our New Year’s Eve, let us make a resolution to commit ourselves to be truth-tellers in our daily lives in a world where misinformation and disinformation seem to be running rampant. Let us be truth-tellers as we open our hearts and minds to ponder: In what ways do we bow to empire? How do our attitudes, words, and actions reflect the ways of this world — racism, patriarchy, misogyny, homo-and-trans-phobia, greed for wealth, power and fame? Are we truly willing to accept Christ as our king, adopting Christ’s agenda for our daily lives? Will we seek to serve rather than be served? 

Remember that our honest answers will not separate us from the love of Christ. For that we can give thanks, even as we ask for the courage and strength to immerse ourselves ever deeper into Christ’s kingdom which not of this world, but which is:

The breath that passes through you, whose borders exceed all nations;
the wisdom of your immune system, whose ancient traditions never die;
the family you belong to, the tribe that spans the globe and runs in your veins.
It is the Domain of Grace whose law is mercy; the love that is given in which we live,
more real than earthly jurisdictions, more present than emperors and armies.
It is a place of serenity that resists all chaos, impervious to fear and anger’s noise.
It is the Land of Belonging from which you can never be exiled,
for it is within you, and among us all; 

the place the enemy can never find, the fabric no ruler can tear, the oneness that can’t be undone.
That realm is where you live, if only you remember.     Thanks be to God.