The Feast of Christ the King
26th November 2017
My favourite, if you are allowed to have a favourite Christian leader and theologian is Desmond Tutu, better known today as Bishop Tutu. By his words and actions he speaks powerfully, with passion and authenticity of what it means to be a Christian and follower of Christ. He is not reticent to condemn the actions of neither political leader that abuse and exploit, nor Church leaders when he believes they have not done enough to speak out or remain silent against atrocities committed in the name of faith. In the words of Rowan Williams former Archbishop of Canterbury,
“Desmond is immersed in movement that speaks about what it means to be human. It is a humanity that is created ‘ around the life, ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus, and a humanity that is not always going to be successful and in control of things, but a humanity that can reach out from the depth of chaos to be touched by the hand of God”.
As a Church and a national and global community these words speak powerfully into the Church’s failures in the present time and the worlds unwillingness to share the resources of the earth with justice and equity.
Tutu has written many books and spoken without fear or favour, having experienced abuse, alienation and threats on his life, on atrocities across the globe, and names and calls out in a powerful way the abuses that have occurred in his homeland of South Africa and other places, conducted and sanctioned in the name of the Church, reminding us that Christian faith by its past practices and atrocities cannot claim a moral monopoly. He reminds us that the Church sometime gets it wrong.
On another occasion he said, “I do not preach a social Gospel. I preach the Gospel period. The Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ is concerned for the whole person. When people were hungry, Jesus didn’t say, ‘Now is that political or social? He said I feed you. Because the Good news to the hungry is bread.”
We live in an exciting and challenging world. I am excited by this world, yet I am diminished by its brokenness, and awake to the potential that the creation has to offer and the Church seems unable to comprehend or achieve. There may be some of you here this morning that feel likewise.
All around us are the outcomes and products of our post-modern world. The advances in medical science have prolonged life, air transport has enabled mass movement of travellers to all parts of the world with comfort and ease, every home in Australia now has a range of white goods to ease the tasks of cooking, washing and bathing. The motorcar has reshaped how we live and do business with one another. Sunday is no longer a holy or religious day but one like any other. Traffic is as bad on Sunday as any other day of the week, unless you are up for 8am Church. It is hard to think how we could survive today without these changes; in the main, they are accepted as essential to our way of living.
There are those in the Church who resist change that in any way appears to comprise with the context in which we live , whether it be around liturgy, music or ethics , yet at the same time embrace the changes and advances in medical science , transport and technology that has improved our standard of living.
As we gather on this last Sunday in the Church’s year, on this Feast of Christ the King, we are mindful of the past, conscious of the present, and yes, concerned about the future.
The Church has a long tradition of justice, care and hospitality. Throughout the ages this has been provided in a variety of ways, from the earliest monasteries providing hospices and programs of care for sick people and hospitality to travellers, through to emergency relief, housing, services for older people, emergency accommodation, foster care, children’s homes, day care centres, to name just a few. In addition, at the local Parish level, there have been small, effective community support programs, such as a casserole bank, pastoral visits, and concern for those who are ill.
In recent times I read a book by Phillip Yansey, entitled “Sole Survivor, how my Faith survived the Church”. Yansey tells the faith journey for some well, and lesser-known, individual Christians, such as Martin Luther King, John Donne and Henry Nouwen. He tells the stories of each of their own attempts to reconcile the Jesus of the Gospels, with the teachings of life and witness of the Church. He tells how each of them in their own way have been bruised and scarred from their relationship with the Church, and their involvement in the community of faith; yet, each has sustained a search and journey with “the hope” of gaining a “glimpse of God”, free of paraphernalia and dogmas, so often associated with Christian belief and practice. How true this is, as I reflect on our current debates in our Church, around human sexuality, dying with dignity or the response of our Nation to the treatment of asylum seekers and refugees. The book I suggest is very much about Phillip Yansey’s own bruising, faith, journey and brokenness, recognised in part through the struggles of others.
I think I read the book with interest because, in part, it has, and still is, my journey, but the book also tells of the struggle and experience of many of my friends and contemporaries, once active in the Church, now burnt out and abused. It may, in part, be your story also.
Friends often ask me as to why I stay a Christian and priest. Many have left the Church in recent years and have shared with me their disillusionment and what they perceive as abuse and rejection. I give the following responses.
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All institutions have their faults, foibles, blind spots and failures at times, including governments, corporations, community organizations and families. The Churches are not the only institution that has come under the spotlight in recent times.
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I believe the narrative of Christian faith is far more powerful and definitive in helping to be human in a complex world. I have found nothing better the an the Sermon on the Mount as a guide for living life as a gift from God.
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I am confident in the disturbing spirit of God and the voices outside the Church that challenge and call us to account.
In a visit to Australia in 2002, the now Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, spoke about the task of the Church to inspire the people of God to express the hope of God’s dream for the creation, and to be distinctive by its prayer and worship.
He went on to say how worship is the drawing together of the earthly life we all share together, and when our Eucharist and gatherings are devoid of the experiences of our human family life, our worship is diminished. Rowan was speaking about the place and role of the Church in contemporary society reminding us of the need to ground our faith in the lives of the people of our time.
As we gather on this Feast of Christ the King, we are reminded of the image of the shepherd, of the one who sought to protect and care for those for whom he had responsibility. Shepherds are called not to exploit abuse or scatter God’s flock, but rather, protect, encourage and include them.
In today’s Gospel Reading, we return to the man on the cross. Here we are, reminded again, of the passion of our Lord and the events leading up to the first Good Friday. In the words of the Jesuit Priest and writer, Anthony DeMello, we are invited to experience the call of the suffering servant of God, who even as he approached his death, was conscious of the vulnerability of those who called themselves Disciples, and those for whom they are called to serve.
The words of DeMello:
“As I gaze at that lifeless body, I slowly understand that I am looking at the symbol of supreme and total liberation. In being fastened to the cross, Jesus becomes alive and free. He is a parable of conquest, not defeat. It calls for envy, not commiseration.”
Today’s celebration of the Feast of Christ the King, is not to be understood as a celebration of might and power, as many expected the Messiah to be, but rather, a story of servant hood, an obedience to God, expressed in the offering of one’s life in redemption of a broken and confused humanity.
The celebration of Christ the King is not an event to celebrate Christ’s kingship in our image, or how we would like Christ to be, but rather one that affirms his identification with those on the edge of society. A reality that makes some of us feel uncomfortable at time.
The Feast of Christ the King reminds us that it was the victim, the persecuted one that reached out and offered a helping hand. It is the one who was abused, and spat upon by those who persecuted him and sent him to death, who had the final word. Once these truths have been understood, the true meaning of Christ kinship is apparent.
Throughout the entire Gospels, we see Jesus seeking out the lost ones, the lost coin, the lost sheep, the lost two sons, the woman of ill repute, the tax collector, and the Samaritan. Remember the words of Jesus as he was lifted onto the cross, as the despised and rejected one and a further lost one comes to light and asks him, “remember me when you come into your Kingdom”, and Jesus responds, we are told, with the words “today you will be with me in paradise”. Such a view of kingship is light years away from the need to control, exploit and exclude.
As Tutu said on another occasion, you may be surprised whom you meet in heaven.
In my youthful days, I recall this Sunday as stir up Sunday, with the words of the collect for the day:
“Stir up we beseech you, Oh Lord, the wills of thy faithful people, that they plenteously bring forth the fruit of good works, that they may be plenteously rewarded, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen”
May I invite you to make this prayer your own, on this Feast Day of Christ the King,
Amen