Christ the King/Reign of Christ, C
November 20, 2022
Jeremiah 23:1-6
Luke 23:33-43
INTRODUCTION
On this last Sunday of the church year, we celebrate Christ the King Sunday, sometimes called Reign of Christ. Interestingly, this is a fairly new addition to the church year, instituted by Pope Pius XI in 1925 (and adopted by Lutherans some 50 years later). In a world then ravaged by World War I, and the emergence of communism in Russia, secularism in the west, and fascism in Spain and Italy (with Germany close behind), it was hoped that raising up Christ’s humble kingship would offer a counter, a needed alternative to these scary regimes. Now almost 100 years later our circumstances have changed, but the need for this alternative sort of reign has certainly not! We are still constantly reckoning with the goals and ways of earthly leaders versus the way that God rules.
Today’s texts offer us some different pictures of what a godly rule looks like. You will see a God who protects, and gathers together, and rescues, and reconciles, and forgives – even, we will see in our Gospel reading which takes us to Jesus’ crucifixion, forgives criminals with his last breath. Ours is certainly a remarkable king! As you listen to these texts, listen for what else you notice about the nature of our king, and what his nature says about what we are called to be and do. Let’s listen.
[READ]
Grace to you and peace from the one who is and who was and who is to come. Amen.
It is 600 years before Christ’s birth. God had given Israel some very clear directives on how to live in right relationship with God: namely, love your neighbor, care for the vulnerable, and live in holiness, so that God can bless the whole world through them. If not easy, at least straightforward, right? But they have fallen far short. The worst offenders have been the kings and leaders, who were supposed to be a divine representative on earth, but instead, despite numerous warnings from God’s prophets, they have chosen over and over again to pursue wealth, fame, power, and short-term status and security over God. And God has had it with these wayward kings!
So, at this point in the history of Israel, here’s where things stand: the people of Judah are living in a vassal state under Babylonian rule – in other words, the Babylonian Empire is in charge, but has allowed the people of Judah to stay on their land as a vassal state, as long as they are loyal to Babylon. But, they weren’t. They tried to rebel against Babylon, and Babylon was not impressed. So now, the conquering Babylonian army is at their doorstep, ready to deport them far, far away, and for a long time. That is, the Israelites are about to be scattered into what we now call, “The Babylonian exile,” or, “the diaspora.”
It's a scary time! So naturally, the people cry out to God to save them! They had a habit, you see, of having little interest in God until they needed help, needed something from God – something that isn’t altogether unfamiliar to many people of faith today. And, well, this time? God doesn’t save them. At least, not in the way they envisioned or expected.
And that’s where today’s reading from Jeremiah comes in. God calls those bad kings and leaders – the bad shepherds – to task. “This is your fault,” God says. “You are the ones who have scattered my people. You have not taken care of my sheep,” and then, God adds, menacingly, “So I will take care of you.” It’s like a God as mafia boss vibe.
Yeah, it’s not looking great for Israel right about now. This is not the response they were hoping for from God. They were hoping for salvation right now, a defeat of the enemy army. Instead, God observes the broken nature of God’s people. They are scattered, and it is their own doing.
It’s a situation that may seem familiar to us. This is the result that bad leadership can bring about – bad leaders turn us against one another, and create division. They do not seek righteousness and reconciliation. Their interest is in their own power, not the well-being of the sheep, the people they’ve been charged to lead and care for. And the result is pain, fear, and separation from God. The community is dis-membered.
Of course, God doesn’t leave them there forever. We know that – but that likely doesn’t bring the Israelites in Babylon much comfort at that moment! God offers a promise, but speaks to them in the far future tense: “I will gather the remnant of my flock, [whatever’s left of them after all this,] and I will bring them back to their fold. I will raise up shepherds over them who will shepherd them, and they shall not fear any longer.” That’s all very hopeful – but it doesn’t come for at least 70 years! And the shepherd king they are really waiting for, the righteous Branch of David, won’t come for another 600 years!
Now, safely in a place of knowing the end of the story, I actually love this moment of tension, because it is something I can relate to. I see my own experience echoed in this story – of asking for help, and getting the response, “Yep, you got yourself into a bit of a mess… and I will help you, save you… but not yet.” And as much as I hate getting “not yet” as an answer, I also know that sometimes that answer must come because if the trouble is removed prematurely, then I will not have the opportunity to learn how to trust God. I will too quickly return to trusting myself. Now, we want to trust ourselves to some extent, of course – to trust that God has equipped us with the particular gifts and skills we need to endure the challenges life brings – but ultimately, it is God’s providence that we are trusting, not our own. God will give us what we need, in God’s own way and God’s own time.
As we draw closer to the end of the year, we are talking once again about stewardship. There are so many approaches a preacher can take to discuss stewardship in a congregation, but the one that resonates with me most each year, and especially as we imagine a world in which Christ is indeed our king, is stewardship as an act of trust. Because giving away money, even large sums of money each year to God through the church, is often the most trusting act we can do. It is a very concrete way of saying, “I truly believe that Christ is the shepherd king who was promised to us. I believe he will gather us, and attend to us, and care for all our needs. I believe he is my salvation. I believe that his reign will be better than anything else I can imagine. And so, I will let go of this bit of my property that tries to promise my security, and put my trust in God.”
And, if we do, really and truly believe that, then we must also be drawn into asking ourselves, “In what ways am I finding protection by my own means? What ways am I living my life that show that I may trust God… but not completely?” For me, this shows up fairly consistently in the way I view money. Every time the budget gets tight, or we need a little extra to pay a large bill that came up, it flits through my brain, “Well, I could decrease my offering this month, so we have a little more cash.” To be clear – I don’t do that, at least not intentionally (though it has happened on accident), but I almost always consider it. And then I try to use that fleeting thought as a heart check, asking, “Why was one of my first inclinations to trust God less?”
Now, mathematically speaking, I know why. There is money there that can be used differently, and simple arithmetic tells me I can cover this expense with that money. But spiritually, it is way off. Because when times are such that we need a little more, that is exactly the time when we are called to trust God more fully, not less! And while there are many ways we can live into trusting God, how we use our money is one very concrete way that we can.
I have sometimes wondered, what would happen if, next time I am worried about something, instead of thinking to decrease my giving by a few bucks, I tried doubling it. It would probably hurt at first, I’ll be honest, but I have a sneaking suspicion that this would go a long way toward reorienting my heart in the direction of trust, rather than worry. Increasing my giving by a few dollars won’t do much to change my heart, but doubling it? That’s enough to feel a change!
Speaking of worry… how does our story here end? God’s “not yet” to the people of Israel is difficult for them to hear, no doubt. It is a clear sign that in Christ’s rule, things don’t work as we would expect them to. Sometimes being saved from something means we have to go through it, rather than around it. Sometimes being fruitful and multiplying means first decreasing and reducing in some areas, so that fruitfulness can follow. Sometimes “with Christ all things are possible” means that even the unthinkable is possible – not because God will spare us from difficulty, but because God will bring us through it. You see, the reign of Christ turns all our expectations on their head, just the way God has always done, throughout salvation history, and most especially with the birth of God’s son, who is born to peasants, without military power, and serves the poorest and weakest, rather than catering to the powers that be. This is how our shepherd chooses to lead, to gather us and bring us back together, to re-member us.
And so we pray, with the criminal on the cross, “Jesus, re-member me, when you come into your kingdom.” And Jesus’ response is, “It is already the case. You are re-membered, and one with me in paradise, on this very day.” We already can trust in God with all that we have. We already can step out in faith to serve the vulnerable, love the neighbor, and live in holiness for the sake of the world. Today, we will be with Jesus in paradise.
Let us pray… Reigning God, help us to trust you fully, so that our hearts would be reoriented toward your kingdom. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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