St. Paul’s Church in
Bergen & Church of the Incarnation
November 25, 2018
Year B: The Last
Sunday after Pentecost / Christ the King
2 Samuel 23:1-7
Psalm 132:1-13
Revelation 1:4b-8
John 18:33-37
The Otherworldly Kingdom of Christ
You
may have seen in the news the other day that, while talking about Saudi Arabia,
our Secretary of State, Mike Pompeo, said,
“It’s
a mean, nasty world out there…”
And,
whatever we may think about our Secretary of State and the administration he
serves, I think we can all agree that he has given a pretty fair and accurate
assessment of our situation.
Very
often it really is “a mean, nasty world out there.”
We’re
reminded of this terrible truth every time we turn on the news and see stories
of war and cruelty and violence.
We’re
reminded of this terrible truth when we see stories of disasters probably
caused at least in part by climate change - like the wildfires in California,
which have killed and displaced so many people and destroyed so much property,
in many cases all that people had.
We’re
reminded of it every time we walk down Bergen Avenue or through Journal Square,
where we see so much poverty, addiction, so many people with grim expressions looking
like they’re just trying to get through the day, so much suffering.
On
Thanksgiving night as Sue and I drove down the ramp off the Turnpike extension
and were stopped at the Montgomery Street traffic light, there they were as
usual – a couple of guys braving the bitterly cold temperatures begging for
change from drivers like us stopped at the light.
It’s
a mean, nasty world out there.
And
then, think of the everyday, casual cruelty directed at people who are somehow
different – who look different, act different, speak different, love different
– think about how mean and nasty the world can be for them – for some of us.
Of
course, fortunately, there are many beautiful and inspiring things in the
world, too. But, as our Secretary of State said, all too often, it’s a mean and
nasty world out there.
I trust that this
isn’t exactly news to you.
No,
of course we all know this. And, the truth is the world has often been - has
long been - mean and nasty.
Just
look at first century Palestine, when and where Jesus walked among us.
First century
Palestine was a time and place when and where the Romans ruled with an iron
fist, willing to quickly crush any sign of rebellion with huge numbers of
crucifixions – including, of course, the crucifixion of one troublesome rabbi
from Nazareth.
Today
is the Last Sunday after Pentecost – it’s the last Sunday of the church year –
what we call the Feast of Christ the King.
And,
it’s appropriate on this last Sunday of the year when we celebrate the kingship
of Christ that our gospel lesson takes to nearly the end of Jesus’ earthly life
– takes us to when Christ the King comes face to face with Pontius Pilate, the
local representative of a very different kind of king, the ruler of the mean
and nasty Roman Empire.
A
few weeks ago we talked about how Jesus’ closest followers and friends – the
people who had front-row seats for his teaching and healing – we’ve had several
examples of the apostles just not “getting” Jesus.
Remember
the brother apostles James and John asking Jesus for the best seats in the
kingdom?
In
fact, it’s a consistent theme of the gospels that the apostles so often miss
the boat, just don’t “get” Jesus.
It’s
probably historically true and was well known – known so well that the gospel
writers couldn’t have cleaned up the story, even if they had wanted to.
And, the fact that the apostles so often
didn’t get it serves as a kind of encouragement to us today, we who so often
don’t get Jesus, either – we who are, so often, of little faith.
Anyway,
if the apostles in the front row don’t get Jesus, we should not be at all surprised
that Pontius Pilate – a notoriously mean and nasty official of a notoriously mean
and nasty empire – he doesn’t “get” Jesus, either.
Imagine
the scene:
There’s
Jesus of Nazareth, all alone and probably looking worse for wear after his
arrest – there’s Jesus of Nazareth rejected by the leaders of his own people -there’s
Jesus of Nazareth with no crown and no army and no government and, seemingly,
no friends – there’s Jesus of Nazareth who, Pilate has been told, despite all
of that, somehow claims to be – or some people believe him to be – a king.
Let’s
be honest. We wouldn’t get it either.
Despite
this bizarre and unlikely scene, Pilate asks Jesus directly:
“Are
you the king of the Jews?”
And,
Jesus, in his usual Jesus-like way, doesn’t answer him directly but finally
tells Pilate a great truth:
“My
kingdom is not from this world.”
The
otherworldly kingdom of Christ.
And,
for two thousand years we Christians have faced a choice – a choice between the
mean and nasty worldly kingdoms or the otherworldly kingdom of Christ.
Unfortunately,
but not so surprisingly, all too often Christians past and present have chosen
the mean and nasty worldly kingdoms – the kingdoms of people like Pontius
Pilate and the Roman Emperor.
All too often,
Christians have chosen power and influence in the mean and nasty world – have
chosen to sit in the seats of honor – have shared the prejudices and cruelties
of their time – have chosen to amass as much wealth as they can while others go
hungry - have chosen to bless hatred and sprinkle Holy Water on the tools of
war and destruction.
It’s no surprise
that so many Christians past and present have so often chosen the worldly
kingdoms – it’s just a whole lot easier to just get along with the powers that seem to be, and, let’s face it, the
rewards are immediate and satisfying, at least for a time.
But.
But, that’s not
who we are meant to be.
When we were
baptized we became citizens of the otherworldly kingdom of Christ.
That doesn’t mean
we spend our lives staring up at the stars or with our heads in the clouds.
No, dwelling in
the otherworldly kingdom of Christ means living in such a way right here and
now so that when other people look at us – when they look at how we live our
lives – they just don’t “get” us.
I bet you’ve
already gotten a taste of that.
A few decades ago,
going to church on Sunday – every Sunday – was still pretty much the thing that
people did. No one would look twice or think twice about it.
But, not so much
anymore, right?
So, if and when
you mention to family members and friends or even co-workers and neighbors that
you go to church, I bet least some of them raise their eyebrows in surprise
that you would still give up so much precious time – not to mention the money
you might give to the church – not to mention if you participate in other ways.
If we’re doing
this right, people just won’t “get” us.
Another, more
specific example:
As many of you
know, I’ve been bragging about our two weeks hosting Family Promise.
Maybe some of you
are even starting to get a little tired of hearing about Family Promise, but, I
don’t care because it was such an extraordinary effort and I’m really proud of
it!
The other day I
was trying to explain to someone from outside the church what Family Promise is
and how it works.
I explained how, yeah,
we had eleven homeless people – four families – living here for two weeks – and
we had to provide all of the meals and spend time hanging out with them and two
of us had to sleep over every night.
I explained that
we had seventy-eight different people help out in lots of different ways.
And, this person I
was talking to was too polite to say so, but I could see in his facial
expressions – I could see his eyebrows go higher and higher – and I could
almost read his mind:
“Wait, you had
homeless people – people you didn’t know – living in your space for two weeks?”
“You had to feed
all of those people for two weeks – people who aren’t even members of your
church – people you’ll probably never see again?”
“You had to sleep
over with those same people – sleeping on a less than comfortable air mattress
in a chilly parish hall when you could have just slept at home, warm and
comfortable?”
I could sense
that, on one level, this guy was impressed by what we had done but he couldn’t
really imagine doing the same thing himself, and perhaps even thought that if
only these homeless people just worked harder they wouldn’t be in this
situation.
I could see in his
face that he didn’t quite “get” it.
And, of course he
didn’t get it, because it was like nothing that we usually see in the world.
There was nothing
mean and nasty about the hospitality we offered.
Actually, it was
just the opposite: kind and loving.
By opening our
doors to strangers in need, we showed ourselves to be who we were baptized to
be – who we are meant to be.
So, a good “new
church year resolution” would be less mean and nasty and more kind and loving.
Let’s live and
serve together in the otherworldly kingdom of Christ.
Amen.
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