Reign of Christ Sunday

November 25^th, 2012

Donna G. Joy

John 18:33-37

 The God we worship reigns supreme from a place of weakness, powerlessness and vulnerability, and this is what we acknowledge today as we celebrate the Reign of Christ, otherwise known as Christ the King Sunday. 

This particular day in the liturgical year is relatively new in the life of the church. Pius XI instituted it in December 1925 in response to growing nationalism and secularism. At the time, the institution of this day in the life of the church was a powerful symbolic move. Europe was facing an uncertain future; Mussolini had been the leader of Italy for three years; a rabble-rouser named Hitler had been out of jail for about a year. The Nazi party was growing in popularity, and the Roaring 20’s were revving up for the great Depression. Pope Pius XI asserted that, despite all of these dictators and false values in the world, Christ was King over all this, but in a way that completely overturns this brand of power. Christians knew where their ultimate loyalties lay – not with dictators or power manipulators, but with Christ whose very weakness rises through such earthly power and reigns supreme.

And that’s the faith we celebrate every time we gather to worship. That’s the faith we celebrate on this Reign of Christ, or Christ the King, Sunday. That’s the faith we discover as we review the exchange between Pontius Pilate and Jesus in our Gospel reading this morning. This passage takes place at a point where the tension is building in John’s Gospel, as Jesus is moving closer and closer toward his death. In the verse just before this morning’s passage we have been reminded of his coming death.

So the interrogation continues, almost in the form of banter; an exchange between two individuals who represent two very different kinds of power.

Pilate: “Are you King of the Jews?”

Jesus responds, not with an answer, but with a question that turns the tables, and – in fact – ends up interrogating Pilate. He says, “Do you say this of your own accord, or did others say it to you about me?”

Pilate: “Your own nation has handed you over to me. What have you done?”

Jesus doesn’t answer that question either; some commentaries suggest it is the wrong question. They suggest that the question is not, what has he done, but who he is. He is a new King, a new kind of king, sent by God to inaugurate the coming of a new kingdom – one that is radically different from the one over which Pilate rules. So to this question Jesus says, “My kingdom is not of this world.”

Pilate: “So, you are a King?” (Gotcha! – I knew if I badgered you long enough I would get the truth out of you!)

And to this Jesus responds, “Your words; not mine. Everyone who is of the truth listens to my voice.” Again, Jesus puts Pilate on trial: “You have said it, but is it what you believe?" 

And finally, Pilate asks the question, “What is truth?” (…)

So, what we have here is a clashing of two opposing world views; a clashing of two very different types of leaders - Pontius Pilate: worldly power, governed by political strength and Jesus: messenger of God, governed by weakness, humility, selfless sacrifice.

But ultimately, it is a story about Jesus, who through his weakness, vulnerability, suffering and death reigns supreme. The goal of Jesus’ kingship is “to testify to the truth.” His form of sovereignty is to testify to God’s redemptive truth. But once again, the question, “what is truth” is left hanging. In John’s Gospel Jesus, it seems, is clearly identified as God’s truth made flesh for us and sacrificed for us: so the question is not so much ‘what is truth’ as it is ‘who is truth.’ I believe that this question is left hanging because the true response is in what follows. The true response is in Jesus’ journey to the cross, his tortured death, and his rising to new life – out from the tomb of sadness and despair. And the true response to this question, ‘what is truth’ continues to unfold through those who choose to follow Him.

Indeed, the God we worship reigns supreme from a place of weakness, powerlessness and vulnerability, and this is what we acknowledge today as we celebrate the Reign of Christ, otherwise known as Christ the King Sunday. We, as baptized members of the Body of Christ, have a responsibility to embody this brand of humility and selfless love. And as we do this, we do so with a profound sense that we – the church - live in interesting and challenging times.

During this past week the Church of England experienced an event that church leaders (Rowan Williams for one) and journalists (along with countless others) are defining as the bleakest moment in its history. I am referring here to the General Synod vote on whether or not women would be given the authority to be included in an Episcopal election; in other words, whether or not women priests would be granted the authority to become bishops. Since a decision such as this one, should it pass, would require a change to the canons of the church, the vote has to pass in all three houses; that is, the house of the bishops, clergy and laity.

Well, it passed overwhelmingly in the house of the bishops; it passed fairly significantly in the house of the clergy, and it was overruled by six votes in the house of the laity. So, this event has been devastating at many levels: (1) it is a clear indication that the laity in the Church of England are absolutely divided and what you do with that is a complicated question, (2) it is clear that within this division there has been and continues to be some very strategic lobbying on the part of those who are opposed to female clergy being given this level of authority within the life of the church, (3) it is devastating to the women who believe they are called by God into this particular leadership role… (Our thoughts and prayers must be with these women, with all those who live with the aftermath of such an event, and with all those seeking God’s truth in the midst of such challenging times.) Clearly, this is a very dark and serious moment in the life of our mother church.

Part of what the church is worried about with regard to the outcome of this vote is the possibility that this may risk the church’s credibility with the world outside of the church. In one cartoon response, we are shown a drawing of a large church, completely empty except for the preacher who says, "My sermon today asks the question: Could the vote against women bishops diminish the church’s credibility with the public?" News flash: The church has already lost credibility with the public. But I don’t necessarily see this as a bad thing. I see this as an opportunity for God to work through our smallness/weakness. I see it as a renewed freedom to boldly proclaim the radical message of the Gospel – because quite frankly – there is not much to lose – and, on the contrary, a whole lot to gain.

So here’s the thing.

As we celebrate this Reign of Christ Sunday – this Sunday of Christ the King – we are reminded that God works best through such dark and devastating times. God has taken a broken, bruised, humiliated body down from the cross and raised it to new life in ways that continue to shed light and hope into our church and into this world in which we live. Indeed, the God we worship reigns supreme from places of weakness, powerlessness and vulnerability, and this is what we acknowledge today as we celebrate the Reign of Christ, otherwise known as Christ the King Sunday. So, today as we celebrate Christ the King, let us identify those places in our own personal lives, in our families, our communities, our work places, our world, and our church (particularly today the Church of England) – each of those places that are weak and fragile and bleak and make room for the miracle of hope and new life that God is preparing to raise from the tomb.