Homily for Sunday, November 20th Harvest Service at Graves
Chapel
Christ the King of
Love
Lessons for today:
Psalm 46
Colossians 1: 11-20
Luke 23: 33-43
Collect for today:
Almighty
and everlasting God, whose will it is to restore all things in your
well-beloved Son, the King of kings and Lord of lords: Mercifully grant that
the peoples of the earth, divided and enslaved by sin, may be freed and brought
together under his most gracious rule; who lives and reigns with you and the
Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
In the rhythm of
American cultural life, we prepare for the annual frenzy of the holiday season.
This Thursday, Thanksgiving will launch us forward, whether we are ready or
not, to the day that is for the youngest among us the most delightful day of
the year—Christmas, when we celebrate the birth of the one we call the Prince
of Peace.
In the cycle of
the church year, however, today is Christ the King Sunday, the very last
Sunday of the church calendar. In
today’s gospel lesson, Luke tells the story of the crucifixion of Jesus, and
for the faithful stragglers gathered beneath the cross, it must have seemed to
be the end of a hope and a dream. How
do we move from Golgotha to the holy and joyous birth in Bethlehem in just over
a month?
The public reign
of Christ the King occurred only during the few hours Jesus hung and died upon
the cross. It was here that the Roman authorities ironically proclaimed him as
King for the first and only time in his life. Pilate ordered a sign which read, “This is the King of the
Jews” to be tacked above his head on the cross. What kind of king does Jesus reveal himself to be?
Jesus reveals
himself to be the kind of king who forgives even the men who execute him in a
most horrible way. After the soldiers nailed him to the cross, Jesus said,
“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Then, as he watched them, they argued
and cast lots as they gambled for his clothing. They mocked him, saying, “If
you are the king of the Jews, save yourself.” Jesus was silent.
Jesus reveals
himself to be a king whose forgiving and merciful love is unconditional. Two
thieves hung from the crosses on either side of Jesus. One of them joined in
the derision of the soldiers, saying to the Lord, “Are you not the Messiah?
Save yourself and us.” Jesus was
silent.
Then, the other
thief defended Jesus, saying, “Do you not fear God, since we are under the same
sentence of condemnation? And we
indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve, but this
man has done nothing wrong.” Then, he looked at the Lord, and said simply,
“Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” This time, the Lord replied, assuring the man, “Truly I tell
you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
In his exchange
with the second thief, Jesus does not ask about the man’s crime or guilt. He
doesn’t ask if he has repented. Jesus does not judge nor condemn him. When the
thief speaks to him, asking for his mercy, mercy is granted. The simple need
of the thief calls out to the Lord, and the Lord, as he has always done,
responds with love and mercy to that need. During his ministry, Jesus had said, “Blessed are the
merciful, for they shall receive mercy.” Even in the hour of his excruciating death,
Jesus is the one who blesses and forgives.
In the years of
his life and brief ministry, Jesus was a Lord of humility, generosity, and love.
He favored mercy over judgment and erected no barriers in his response to the
needs of the most vulnerable members of his society, those considered social
outcasts: the poor, the disabled, lepers, those possessed by demons. Tax
collectors and publicans. Samaritans. A thief. In becoming Christ the King,
Jesus embodied the love of God. As Paul wrote in his letter to the Colossians,
“For in him, all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God
was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven,
by making peace through the blood of his cross.”
Please ponder now
with me the brutal means by which this reconciliation of peace took place. In his crucifixion, Jesus suffered,
bled, and died on behalf of all of us, to reconcile us to God and to one
another. In his suffering, he showed us that to be true servants of God, we
must love and serve one another, no matter the cost.
Look at the cross.
Consider the head of the Lord at the center point, bowed and bleeding from the
crown of thorns placed there by the mocking soldiers. His chest is extended. He has difficulty breathing. His downcast
eyes are full of pity for the ones he loves, the ones huddled beneath the
cross. His eyes are full of pity for the thieves, the soldiers and for us. He
suffers for us.
See how his arms
are extended, stretched taut by the way his hands are nailed to the cross. Think of how those arms are spread wide
in an embrace of all who come near to him, all whose need speaks to him, the
Lord of Mercy. Think of how those wide-stretched arms offer shelter to the ones
who seek him. He suffers with us,
and that suffering illustrates his compassion. In the old hymn, we sing that
the “old rugged cross” is “the emblem of suffering and shame.” But it is also the emblem of true love
and true mercy.
I am reminded of
an oddly sweet passage earlier in Luke, when Jesus says, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often
have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood
under her wings, and you were not willing.” Jesus defines his compassion for us in feminine terms, as
mothering protection. On the
cross, his arms are outstretched in the way the hen’s wings would have been
spread to shield her brood of chicks.
Jesus says that
the people of Jerusalem were not willing to accept what he had to offer them.
Are we willing to welcome the Lord’s compassion? Will we share that compassion
in His way by serving and suffering with others? Jesus says, “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me
cannot be my disciple.” If we hope
to be disciples of Christ, then the task for each of us is to discern the cross
we are meant to carry.
On any given day,
the cross before us may be one we have never encountered before. Chances are,
in the nature of crosses, it will involve doing something we would rather
avoid, serving someone we would rather not serve. Maybe if we recall the beautiful words of St. Teresa of
Avila, we will find it easier to take up our crosses: “Christ has no body now
on earth but yours, no hands but yours, no feet but yours. Yours are the eyes
through which Christ’s compassion must look out on the world. Yours are the
feet with which He is to go about doing good. Yours are the hands with which He
is to bless his people.”
At this season of
Thanksgiving, may we be mindful of all of the ways we have been and continue to
be blessed by a loving, merciful, and compassionate God. May we be willing to follow the call of
the cross of Christ the King as we seek to serve others and reconcile the whole
earth to the unity and peace of God.
May we be thankful for the ultimate gift, a reconciliation purchased by
the blood of our Saviour and offered to all those in need of loving kindness.
AMEN.
