Citizens of Christ's Kingdom

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

November 23, 2025

Year C, Proper 29: The Last Sunday after Pentecost – Christ the King

Jeremiah 23:1-6

Canticle 16

Colossians 1:11-20

Luke 23:33-43

Citizens of Christ’s Kingdom

    About a hundred years ago, after the bloody upheaval of the First World War, some Christian leaders grew concerned that many Christians were no longer placing their ultimate trust in Jesus.

    Instead, many Christians were putting their faith in human leaders – in the would-be “strongmen” of the time. 

    Many Christians were placing their faith in human ideologies like communism, fascism, and nationalism.

    A big problem.

    So, back in 1925, Pope Pius XI tried to remind Christians that it’s Jesus who holds ultimate authority – that it’s Jesus who should receive our ultimate trust.

    The pope added a new observance to the Roman Catholic calendar, and soon other Christian denominations, like ours, did the same.

    It’s the day that we celebrate today:

    The Feast of Christ the King.

    Today, on the last Sunday of the Church Year, the last Sunday before we begin Advent, before we prepare for Christmas, before we prepare for the day of judgment, today we are reminded that we are meant to place our ultimate trust, our ultimate faith, not in human leaders or human systems but in Jesus, in Christ the King.

    We’ve been celebrating the Feast of Christ the King for a century now, and I think we can all admit that it really hasn’t worked.

    Even if our knowledge of history is a little foggy, we all know that the last century has been filled with horrors, horrors that Pope Pius could not have begun to imagine back in 1925, horrors often committed by people who at least claimed to be Christians.

    Sadly, tragically, Christians of every political persuasion have fallen for worldly leaders and their tempting promises.

Christians have twisted themselves to justify the unjustifiable, over and over again, right down to today.

    So often, we Christians have forgotten, or chosen to forget, the truth that while our worldly allegiances and responsibilities are important, ultimately our true citizenship is in the Kingdom of Christ the King.

    And it’s not hard to know why we keep making this mistake, why we keep swapping out Christ the King for someone or something else. 

    I mean, did you hear the gospel lesson that I just read?

    (I’m told that their Thursday evening rehearsal, the choir puzzled over the choice of gospel lesson for this big day. What kind of king is this?)

    I mean, it’s not a story about Christ reigning in glory.

    It’s not a story about Christ triumphing over his enemies.

    It’s not a story about how Christ’s followers will rule the earth.

    No, it’s a story about Christ the King seemingly defeated, nailed to a tree like a criminal, dying alongside criminals.

    It’s a story about Christ the King unable or unwilling to save himself, submitting to worldly power that mocks him, asking the Father to forgive the people who are tormenting him.

    It’s a story about Christ the crucified King, willing to suffer, willing to give away his life to reveal the depth of God’s love for us all.

    No shortcut, no easy victory, and no scapegoats, except for Christ the King himself.

    Of course, we know the rest of the story, so we know that the way of the cross is the way to new life.

    But we also know that this is a hard way, only possible with God’s help. And so, we Christians often choose shortcuts.

    We take what look like easy victories.

    We often pick on scapegoats, the people we hold responsible for all our troubles.

    And yet.

    And yet, although we Christians have often lost our way, often forgotten our truest citizenship, there have always been Christians who have remembered, who have called us back to the way, who have given away their lives in faithfulness to Christ the King.

    I’m still thinking about our event a couple of weeks ago with Mark Gornik and others who were involved in the founding of New Song a few decades ago in the Sandtown neighborhood of Baltimore.

    Those faithful Christians – not perfect people, but faithful Christians – moved into one of the most neglected neighborhoods in town with no real plan or strategy but to get to know and love the people who lived there – to see Christ in them – and to serve Christ by serving them through a health clinic, a school, recreation, housing and creating the opportunity of home ownership - love and forgiveness, success and failure - hope, especially when things seemed hopeless.

    Not everything worked out, not everything has lasted, but Mark and the others modeled citizenship in Christ’s Kingdom.

    And here at St. Thomas’, too, we know that our amazing outreach efforts – all those sandwiches, welcoming the Afghans, tutoring children at Owings Mills Elementary School, the Thanksgiving bags that threatened to take over the Old School Building last week – all these outreach efforts are not going to save, or even change the world very much.

    But that’s not our concern.

    This is how, with God’s help, we are required to act as citizens of Christ’s Kingdom.

    So, about citizenship.

    Like most, but not all, of you, I was born in this country. So, while I’ve certainly been grateful to be an American, my citizenship is something I’ve usually taken for granted – not something I think about very often.

    Of course, that’s not true for people who are seeking US citizenship, not true for those naturalized citizens who had to study for a test that most of the rest of us would probably fail, people who had to raise their right hand and make a heartfelt pledge of allegiance.

    I’ve never been to a naturalization ceremony, but I’ve seen pictures and videos, and it’s so moving - a beautiful reminder for all of us what American citizenship is supposed to be about.

    And I think it’s kind of the same with baptism.

    For most of us baptized as infants, we were pretty much born into it, right? We sort of take it all for granted.

    But for adults who get baptized, and we’ve had a few in my time here, it’s different, of course.

    This is why it’s so important that Baptism takes place right in the middle of our Sunday worship – it’s like witnessing a sacred naturalization ceremony, it’s a reminder for all of us that our truest citizenship is in the Kingdom of Christ the King.

    When we witness the “naturalization” of the newest citizen of Christ’s kingdom, as we will with little Caden in just a few minutes, when we renew our baptismal promises, we are reminded of the responsibilities of our Christian citizenship:

    To pray and to forgive.

    To love and to serve.

    A hundred years ago, the Church tried to remind us that our ultimate allegiance is not to worldly leaders or ideologies, but to Christ the King.

    Christ the King – a very different king of a very different kingdom.

    Our citizenship in Christ’s kingdom is not easy - there are heavy responsibilities, that we fulfill only with God’s help.

    But it’s our citizenship in Christ’s kingdom that offers Caden, and all of us, the blessing of new and never-ending life.

Amen.

In the Kingdom of the Foot-Washing King

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

November 24, 2024

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

In the Kingdom of the Foot-Washing King

One of the key moments in the gospels occurs just a bit before the exchange that we just heard between Pilate and Jesus.

Back before Jesus was betrayed, back before he was arrested and tortured, back at the Last Supper, Jesus taught his friends a few final most important lessons.

And maybe his most essential teaching occurred when he stood up from the table, removed his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. 

He poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet.

Probably they were all shocked and confused.

Maybe they were embarrassed – embarrassed for Jesus, embarrassed for themselves.

Feet, you know.

But it’s Peter who expresses his horror at the idea that his Lord would stoop to perform an act of such lowly service – this was the kind of work done by a slave, most certainly not an appropriate task for the Messiah, the Son of God.

Yes, Jesus had certainly taught some challenging, confusing, unsettling lessons, but I mean foot-washing was just too much.

So, Peter objects, tries to say no to Jesus.

But Jesus warns Peter that he must allow Jesus to do this – that if Peter wants to be part of Jesus, then he must allow Jesus to wash his feet.

Peter gets it – he gets it so clearly that, with a little nod to, yes, Baptism, Peter invites Jesus to wash his whole body.

Try to imagine the scene.

The disciples were just beginning to wrap their minds around the bitterly painful reality that Jesus was going to be killed.

They were beginning to grasp that the end – or what sure seemed like the end – was near.

And now Jesus has made his way around the table, washing all those dusty, smelly feet.

After Jesus was done – when perhaps the room was fragrant with fresh smell of clean feet – Jesus explains that this is how it is to be among his followers – this is how it is to be among us.

Just as Jesus the King has washed our feet, we must offer this same kind of loving service to one another.

        This is how it is to be

        In the Kingdom of the Foot-washing King.

        To say the least, a foot-washing king was uniquely strange back in the first century.

        In today’s gospel lesson, we hear the Roman governor Pontius Pilate struggle to make sense of Jesus.

        Pilate knew all about the ways of the world, the ways of kings, the ways of raw power.

        You had to be tough to be a Roman governor.

        So, Pilate knew all about using cruelty to assert and maintain authority.

        Pilate knew all about instilling fear and amassing wealth.

        And yet, standing before him was a King like no other – a King with no army – a King who didn’t fight back – a King who claimed that his kingdom was not in Pilate’s world of power politics.

        Standing before Pilate was a King – a King he’ll execute just like he disposed of countless other troublemakers, countless others who dared to threaten the glorious power of Rome.

        A King who would rise again on the third day.

        No, Pilate never did figure out Christ the King.

        But we shouldn’t feel too superior to Pilate because the truth is that we also struggle to figure out Christ the King.

        A foot-washing King is uniquely strange in any century, including our own.

        Today is the Last Sunday after Pentecost, the last Sunday of the Church Year, the Feast of Christ the King.

        Much of our church calendar – the different seasons and the various holy days – much of our church calendar is very ancient.

        But not the Feast of Christ the King, which is only 99 years old.

        In the aftermath of World War I, Pope Pius IX recognized that, while the horrific war may have ended, the world was still a very dangerous place.

        The pope and other Christian leaders were alarmed that many Christians were no longer placing their ultimate trust and faith in Christ the King.

        Instead, Christians were pledging allegiance to strong men.

        Many Christians were getting swept up in nationalism and fascism

        Many Christians seem to have concluded that, yeah, the Foot-Washing King might be nice for church and everything, but in the “real” world, you gotta be tough.

        Pilate would have heartily agreed.

        So, responding to this grim situation, in 1925 the Roman Catholic Church, quickly followed by Anglicans, Lutherans, and others, created the new feast day that we celebrate today:

        Christ the King.

        On the last Sunday of the church year, we are reminded that our King is not like the kings of the world.

        No, our King is Christ the Foot-Washing King.

        And we are meant to live in the Kingdom of the Foot-Washing King.

        Well, you don’t have to know much history, and you don’t have to closely follow current events, to know that this new feast day has not exactly been a big success.

        Over the last 99 years, Christians have gone right on putting their ultimate trust in worldly kings – including some kings far more evil than anyone Pope Pius IX could have imagined, kings who would never, ever wash anyone’s feet. 

        Over the last century, Christians have gone right on getting swept up in the ideologies of their time, fooling ourselves into thinking that this – this system, this policy, this party – this will finally solve all of our problems.

        Will we ever learn? 

        Back at the Last Supper, after Jesus finished washing the feet of his friends, he said to them,

        “Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord – and you are right, for that is what I am. So, if I, your Lord and Teacher have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.”

        As we conclude what’s been an often very difficult year and we look ahead to a new year of uncertainty, the kings of this world will continue to be the kings of this world, the kind of kings that Pilate would have known well.

        But no matter our troubles, just like with the first disciples at the somber Last Supper, Jesus calls us to follow his example of loving, lowly service.

        It’s a costly way – it was a costly way for Jesus, and it is a costly way for us – but it is the only way to new life.

        We are invited to live now and forever with Jesus and with one another in the kingdom of the Foot-Washing King.

        As always, the choice is ours.

        Amen.

The King Who Serves and Begs

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

November 26, 2023

Year A, Proper 29: The Last Sunday after Pentecost – Christ the King

Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24

Psalm 100

Ephesians 1:15-23

Matthew 25:31-46

The King Who Serves and Begs

I doubt that any of us who were here on Monday afternoon will ever forget Sandy Martin’s funeral.

This church was just packed with people – we could not have squeezed anyone else into this place – and the overflow seating in the Parish Hall was, well, overflowing.

That extraordinary turnout was an appropriate tribute to such a good man, someone whose life was devoted to family, friends, and community.

And the touching and often funny remembrances by family and friends honored Sandy, and the beautiful music by Wanda and the choir helped to comfort us in our sorrow.

The gospel lesson we chose was the one we almost always use at funerals.

The setting is the Last Supper as Jesus tries to reassure his friends that death is not the end for him, not the end for their friendship, not the end of their love.

Jesus tells the disciples that he is going on ahead to prepare a place for them – and that they know the way to that place of reunion.

I always love that out of all the disciples it’s only our friend the Apostle Thomas who is brave enough – honest enough - to admit, “Lord, we do not know the way to the place where you are going.”

And then Thomas asks, “How can we know the way?”

And Jesus responds, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”

I doubt that cleared things up much for Thomas and the others. 

But later, after the first Easter, after they knew that Jesus had in fact defeated death, the disciples must have reflected back to the Last Supper, recalling and better understanding the lessons Jesus had taught them.

Jesus had blessed the bread and wine, promising to be with them – to be with us – each time we gather around the table and remember him.

Jesus had shocked them by getting up from the table and washing their dirty and smelly feet – teaching them that this is what it looks like to follow him – that this is loving service – and commanding us to follow his example.

The way of Jesus is the way of love and sacrifice.

Christ is a King who serves.

Today we arrive at the last Sunday of the Church Year, the Last Sunday after Pentecost, the last Sunday of the little Pre-Advent season that we’ve been reflecting on during the last few weeks.

Today is the Feast of Christ the King.

During our Pre-Advent we’ve been reminded of the Last Day, the Day of Judgment.

We’ve been nudged to get going because we don’t have all the time in the world, and we certainly don’t want to be like the bridesmaids who failed to plan ahead and ran out of oil for their lamps.

And we certainly don’t want to be like the slave who was given one talent and buried it out of an abundance of caution and fear.

During our Pre-Advent we’ve been reminded that we will be judged and held accountable for how we have lived our lives, how we have shared our zillion blessings.

And that theme crescendos in today’s lesson from the Gospel of Matthew, where Jesus teaches that the people in need – the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick, and the imprisoned – they are Jesus himself.

The people in line early on a Saturday morning at the Community Crisis Center – the people who show up at Paul’s Place looking for a good meal and a fresh start – the children at Owings Mills Elementary School who don’t have their own bed or a kitchen table – they are in fact Christ the King himself.

At the Last Supper, Jesus dropped to his knees and washed the feet of his friends, doing the lowly, stinky work of a servant, teaching us that this is what love looks like.

Christ is the King who serves.

And today Jesus teaches us that he can be found in and among the people desperately looking for help.

Christ is the King who begs.

I’m not sure which image is more unsettling or more challenging.

For me, one of the highlights of the week is always our Wednesday service of Holy Communion and Anointing.

After the service, most of us stick around for Bible Study when we look at the upcoming Gospel lesson.

Because of Thanksgiving, last week our numbers were down a little but, as usual, we had a conversation that was thoughtful, lively, and challenging.

We talked about Jesus’ hard message of giving to people in need.

We wondered how to do that so we still had enough to sustain ourselves.

How can we give while also keeping ourselves safe in a world that is full of dangers?

I didn’t have any easy answers to those questions or concerns.

But, I did say that it’s not our place to decide who is deserving and undeserving of help – and that, at the very least, we should strive to really see the person who is asking for help – to see them as a person beloved by God – to see Christ present in and through them.

Big words, right?

Much easier to say than actually do.

So, my plan for after the Wednesday service was to make a few phone calls, catch up on a little paperwork, maybe try to straighten up my messy desk, and then head home early for a jump on Thanksgiving.

My office, as most of you know, gives me a good view of people making their way up to the office door.

And, on Wednesday afternoon as I was talking on the phone, I saw someone I didn’t recognize come along and ring the bell.

A minute or two later, our Parish Administrator Jane came to my door but saw that I was on the phone.

When I ended my conversation a couple of minutes later, Jane reappeared and said that the man I had seen coming up the walk was hoping to speak with me, looking for some help.

Jane said, he seems really nice and I hope you will help him.

So, I ushered the man into my office and we sat down across from each other.

I introduced myself and asked for his name.

He said, “Thomas,” which both made me smile… and also made me suspicious.

You’ve come to a church named for St. Thomas on a street named St. Thomas to talk to a priest named Thomas and your name is Thomas?

Hmm.

I asked what was going on and he told me his troubles – he had been laid off from his accounting job and he and his wife were having trouble providing for his two young children.

They had fallen behind on some bills, most especially their BGE bill.

Was it possible for us to offer him some help?

I confess that I asked him if he happened to have his BGE bill with him. No doubt anticipating that request, he did and handed it to me.

And, sure enough, there was a rather large amount past due.

And, of course, the name on the bill was “Thomas.” 

Long ago, a different Thomas thought that he did not know the way.

But he knew.

Jesus had taught him, just like Jesus teaches us, that the way is to follow his example, washing as many feet as we can - offering loving service.

And Jesus also teaches us that when we offer loving service, we’re not just helping the man behind on his bills, we’re offering loving service to Jesus himself.

The end of one year and the start of another are reminders that we do not have all the time in the world.

So, as we prepare to begin again, may we remember that:

Christ is the King who serves and Christ is the King who begs.

Amen.

Where Christ is King

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

November 20, 2022

Year C, Proper 29: The Last Sunday after Pentecost – Christ the King

Jeremiah 23:1-6

Canticle 16

Colossians 1:11-20

Luke 23:33-40

Where Christ is King

Once Jesus was asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God was coming, and he answered, “The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There it is!’ For, in fact, the kingdom of God is among you. (Luke 17:20-21)

And, actually, that last line can also be translated, “the kingdom of God is within you.”

It seems hard to believe but today is the Last Sunday after Pentecost – the final Sunday of the church year.

Next week, we will turn the page to a new year and begin the holy season of Advent – those quick four Sundays when we prepare for the birth of Jesus, far from home and in the humblest of circumstances.

And during those four quick Advent Sundays, we also look ahead to the end of time, to the day of judgment.

But, first, today, the church offers us an opportunity to reflect on Christ the King.

For many centuries, artists have depicted Christ the King wearing and holding the symbols of an earthly kingship: the golden bejeweled crown, the orb and scepter.

Those symbols were used to honor Jesus, but also to enhance the prestige of the church – the church that, unlike Jesus, very much wanted, and often wielded, worldly power and enjoyed worldly prestige.

But by the 1920s, some church leaders recognized that their worldly power and prestige were fading.

Christians were getting swept up into the ideologies and systems of the world – fascism, communism, nationalism, secularism, materialism, and all the rest.

By the 1920s, many Christians were giving their ultimate allegiance not to Christ the King, or even to the church, but to some truly bad ideas and some really awful leaders.

So, the Church created today’s Feast of Christ the King as a way to push back at these trends, to remind people of where – and in whom – they should place their faith.

You may have noticed that this effort has not worked.

For all sorts of reasons, the church has continued to lose much of its worldly power and prestige.

This can be unnerving for people like me who earn their living from the church.

And, I know it’s sad and disappointing for the many people who miss how the church used to be – packed with people, the place to be, the place to be seen, an influential force in the community.

But, you know, these dramatic changes remind us that Jesus never sought worldly power – quite the opposite.

The Jesus who was born far from home and in the humblest of circumstances wore only one crown: a crown of thorns. 

As we heard in today’s gospel lesson, as Jesus was dying on the cross, the leaders and the soldiers mocked him.

What kind of king ends up like this, bloody and humiliated, hanging beside two criminals?

Where is all that power that we’ve heard about? Supposedly you’re able to heal others but you can’t get yourself down from that cross, can you?

Even one of the criminals uses some of his last breaths to express disgust at Jesus

What kind of king – what kind of kingdom – is this?

Jesus said, “The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There it is!’ For, in fact, the kingdom of God is among – within - you.”

So, here’s what I think: losing our worldly power and prestige has given us new eyes to see the kingdom of God among us – and new hearts to humbly share the kingdom with people all around us.

A few examples:

Once a month, Sara and I gather here in church with our preschool children and their teachers for Children’s Chapel. Although it’s quite a challenge to hold the attention of 60 or so young children, this time has become one of the highlights of my month.

The whole service is probably shorter than the time it takes to walk the kids over here but I think it’s worth the trip.

We sing some songs. At our most recent service, Wanda played the organ and explained how it works. And, as usual, I gave a very short talk, usually inviting participation from the children.

This past time we talked about Thanksgiving and I invited the children to say who and what we’re thankful for. One of the first kids to pipe up was a little girl who gave thanks for her iPad. That made me worry if we were about to celebrate materialism, but, without any prompting from me or from the teachers, everyone else shouted out answers like “My mommy and daddy!” or “My sister!” or “My friend!”

The Kingdom of God is among – within – us.

This is where Christ is king.

Another example.

I’m still dazzled by the courage and generosity of the group of parishioners who have welcomed and cared for Hizbullah and have now offered the same hospitality to Abdul, just 18 years old.

I’m not sure you all know just how generous some of our parishioners have been to these two young men far from home.

There have been countless car rides – some of them over long distances – assistance with Hizbullah’s job search and getting Abdul enrolled in school – navigating all sorts of government bureaucracy – driving lessons - offering fun activities to break the monotony of sitting around the house – invitations to lunch and dinner – the gift of a basketball hoop for Abdul, who loves the game.

And an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner for Hizbullah, Abdul, and the other refugees at Gilead House, who aren’t really our responsibility - well, not officially, anyway.

The Kingdom of God is among – within – us.

This is where Christ is king.

Finally, over the past week it has been such a blessing to see so many of you bring in bags filled with food to share with people who might not be able to afford a Thanksgiving meal.

Day by day, the bags have taken over more and more of the Old School Building, where we have our weekday services. I like to think that they’ve been blessed by the prayers said in that room – just as your generosity will be a blessing to so many.

You all know that we distributed a list of items that we hoped would be included in each bag – pretty much the basics.

Here’s the thing, though. I noticed that quite a few of the bags looked awfully full, so I took a peek inside some of them. And, sure enough, so many of you went way beyond our basic list, doubling up on items, adding all sorts of extras and treats – party cups and festive napkins – the things that may seem small to us but really make for a special celebration for people we don’t know and who will never be able to thank us.

And, I know that many of you had to hunt long and hard for canned hams!

The Kingdom of God is among – within – us.

This is where Christ is king.

And so, we have reached the end of another church year – and what a year it’s been.

It’s true that the church doesn’t have the worldly power and prestige that it once did.

It’s true that pretty much nobody comes here to be seen or to impress anybody.

But, it’s also true that, without his golden crown, we have a clearer view of Christ the King – we can better see his life of love and sacrifice – and, most of all, the gift of new life that is offered to us all.

And without our worldly power and prestige, we have a clearer view of the Kingdom of God – a kingdom found among grateful children – a kingdom experienced when we extend hospitality to strangers – a kingdom discovered when we give even more than we are asked.

The Kingdom of God is among – within – us.

This is where Christ is king.

Amen.

The King Who Washes Feet

The Church of St. Paul & Incarnation, Jersey City

November 22, 2020

Year A, Proper 29: The Last Sunday after Pentecost – Christ the King

Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24

Psalm 100

Ephesians 1:15-23

Matthew 25:31-46

The King Who Washes Feet

        I’m sure many of you saw the news the other day about the arrival of the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. What’s usually a moment of joy and excitement – Christmas is coming! – became a source of grim humor because the tree looked, well, it looked pretty scraggly, more than a little worse for wear.

Now, follow-up reports insisted that this is actually not unusual and that they’ll get it all fixed up and looking good, but for a lot of people the battered-looking Christmas tree was a bleak symbol of our times, just the latest example, as if we needed one, that this has been a terrible year.

Though, to be fair, they were able to rescue a stowaway owl, the little bird that inadvertently hitched a ride to the big city in the branches of the tree. 

So, there’s that.

Then again, maybe they should’ve checked the tree for nests before chopping it down and bringing it to New York.

2020!

It has been a hard year – one unlike any we have ever experienced - one that we’ll never forget, no matter how much we might try.

But, the year is coming to an end.

The world’s calendar still has a few more weeks to go, but today we have arrived at the last Sunday of the church year – the Feast of Christ the King.

As I remind you every year, the Feast of Christ the King is a relatively new addition to the church calendar.

It was first added by the Roman Catholic Church in 1925, and then Anglicans and other Christians followed suit.

Nearly a hundred years ago, the church thought it was important – urgent, even – to remind us that Christ is king because so many Christians were turning to other kings – giving their supreme devotion to political leaders, giving their ultimate loyalty to ideas and ideologies, like nationalism, fascism, communism, capitalism, and so on.

Now, I’d be very glad to stand here this morning on this last Sunday of a rough year and tell you that the creation of this feast a century ago, that this attempt to remind us that Christ is our one and only king, has worked - but all you have to do is turn on the news to know that’s really not true.

This has been a hard year – and we’re not out of the woods, yet – but it has had its beautiful moments, too.

For example, I don’t know about you, but I loved our quiet and simple service of Evening Prayer on Election Day – which may feel like months ago, but was not quite three weeks ago.

At that service, for our gospel lesson, Rev. Laurie and I chose the foot-washing from John’s account of the Last Supper.

Jesus has gathered with his closest friends for one last meal – and even the often thickheaded and clueless disciples recognized that time was growing short – that their teacher and friend – the One they had long hoped for – the One they had recognized as Messiah – was about to leave them.

Jesus uses that final meal to teach some last, vital lessons – lessons that over all these centuries we’ve never forgotten and lessons we’ve had to relearn and adapt a bit during the pandemic:

Jesus is present each time we gather – yes, even over Facebook.

Jesus is bread broken for us – yes, even when you can only see it on a screen or when it gets delivered in a Ziploc bag.

And then there is the foot-washing – a lesson that we haven’t forgotten, exactly, but one that maybe we’ve never fully absorbed.

You remember the scene – it’s the one we retell and reenact every Maundy Thursday.

Jesus gets up from the table, ties a towel around his waist and is about to begin washing his disciples’ feet.

As usual, Peter doesn’t quite get it – or maybe he understands only too well.

Peter objects, horrified by the thought of his Lord performing the lowly work of a servant.

Jesus replies that if Peter won’t allow Jesus to do this then he can’t be part of Jesus.

And when he hears that, Peter quickly changes his tune, even asking Jesus to wash not just his feet, but his whole body.

Washing feet – even in a ritualistic way in church like we do on Maundy Thursday – is a deeply intimate act.

The person being washed is exposed and vulnerable – many of us don’t often show our feet in public, let alone allow someone to wash them.

And, I can tell you from personal experience that the person doing the washing experiences a beautiful sensitivity and tenderness – it’s a kind of communion that moves me to tears every year – and it’s hard not to get choked up thinking about it today when we can’t even hug each other or just shake hands.

At the Last Supper, after Jesus has washed everyone’s feet, he says to his friends:

“Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord – and you are right, for that is what I am. So, if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.”

In that unexpected and beautifully loving act, Jesus offers us such a radically different vision of leadership.

It’s really the reverse of the leadership we usually find in the world, no matter who is in power.

Jesus is the king who washes feet – and, if we want to live in his kingdom then we have got to wash some feet, too.

Sometimes that may mean literally washing some feet, but, as we heard in today’s gospel lesson, if we want to be counted among the sheep, we’ve got to feed the hungry, offer refreshment to the thirsty, welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, care for the sick, and visit the imprisoned.

Jesus’ words about the sheep and the goats continue the theme we’ve been hearing in the parables from the past few weeks – some bridesmaids are wise while others are lazy – some slaves are brave while others are fearful - some are saved, while others are cast into the outer darkness.

But, here’s something you might not have noticed about today’s gospel lesson:

This time Jesus is not talking about his own followers – he’s speaking about other people who are not disciples – who, no matter what they may believe or don’t believe, are saved because they are kind and generous to people in need.

        And, if that's true for people who aren't disciples then it must be even more true for us, right? 

And, then there’s that one last twist: when they – or we – wash feet or feed the hungry or clothe the naked, it turns out we are caring for Christ himself.

In the words of Mechtilde, a medieval mystic whose feast day was yesterday:

“Love your fellow beings – for they are all tabernacles of God.”

So, here in church anyway, a difficult year is coming to a close.

Next week we get to begin again with Advent – when we prepare for the birth of Jesus in simplicity and the return of Christ in glory.

We don’t know what the months ahead will bring, but we can make some new year’s resolutions.

With God’s help, let’s rededicate ourselves to caring for people in need, on our own and by supporting Triangle Park, Garden State Episcopal, the Lighthouse, Family Promise, Jersey City Together, the ministries that we pray for every week – the people who feed and clothe and shelter Christ every day.

And, no matter our political views, no matter how we feel about the election and what has happened since and what is yet to come, let’s remember who should receive our ultimate devotion.

It’s Jesus.

The King who washes feet.

Amen.

A Palace for Christ the King

The Church of St. Paul & Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

November 24, 2019

Year C, Proper 29: The Last Sunday after Pentecost – Christ the King

Jeremiah 23:1-6

Canticle 16

Colossians 1:11-20

Luke 23:33-43

A Palace for Christ the King

            One of my most favorite days of the church year is Palm Sunday, especially our 10:00am service.

            In my early days as your rector, I tried to impose order on our Palm Sunday proceedings but I quickly realized that this was not really possible and, not only that, but our confusion and disorientation is actually a big part of what that most unusual day is all about.

            After all, that day is so mixed-up that it even has two names: the Sunday of the Passion - Palm Sunday.

            So, if you’ve been here you know we start outside.

            Some years, people are fairly orderly, sticking to the paved parts of the churchyard, and other times people are wandering around all over the place. While still outside, we tell the story of Jesus entering his capital city in triumph as people lay palms and their cloaks along the route.

            And then, carrying palms, we have our own little parade, with people not always certain what’s happening, with latecomers wondering what they’ve gotten themselves into, with passersby looking on in confusion and maybe even mockery.

            But, somehow, we get where we need to go, singing “Ride On, King Jesus” over and over until we get inside the church and we switch to the more solemn, more regal hymn, “All Glory Laud and Honor.”

            When we finally get everybody settled here in what’s usually a pretty crowded church, it feels like we’ve gathered for a big party – for a coronation – but then the mood switches quickly as we remember the end of Jesus’ earthly life, when we retell the sad story of betrayal and cowardice, suffering and death, the sad story of the cross.

            For the huge crowds of people gathered in Jerusalem on that Passover weekend two thousand years ago, it seemed like the reign of King Jesus had lasted only for a few hours.

            For the palm-waving people who had welcomed him into Jerusalem so expectantly, and most especially for the disciples who had left behind their old lives to follow Jesus, the crucifixion must have been a heartbreaking disappointment.

But, you know, the truth is that most people could never and would never see Jesus as a king. How could this teacher and healer from Galilee with no crown and no palace and not even that many followers, how could he possibly be king?

            So, for the chief priests and the Romans and for most of the crowd, the quick demise of Jesus – and the mocking inscription placed above him on the cross – seemed totally appropriate.

            In the eyes of the world, this was no king.

            And, yet, to everyone’s surprise, mockery, cruelty, and death were not the end of the story.

            And, the reign of Jesus, the most unusual king, continues to this very day.

            And this very day happens to be the last Sunday of the church year, the day when the Church invites us to reflect on Christ the King, on Jesus the most unusual king.

            Most of our church calendar is quite ancient, but, maybe surprisingly, not today.

            The Feast of Christ the King began in the Roman Catholic Church in 1925, just about a hundred years ago, and then the feast was adopted by other churches, including ours.

            The Feast of Christ the King began because the Church was alarmed that people – self-proclaimed Christian people - were giving their allegiance to other kings – to certain political leaders and also to ideologies like nationalism, fascism, communism, and so on.

            It would be nice to say that things have changed over the past century but we know that’s not true.

            All we have to do is turn on the news and we can see Christians giving their allegiance to other kings.

            All we have to do is look into our hearts and see that we give our allegiance to other kings.

            Jesus is the most unusual king, and just like people two thousand years ago, we don’t know what to make of a king with no palace, a king whose only crown is made of thorns, a king who asks nothing for himself but instead calls on us to love the hard to love and to give away what we have to people who can never pay us back.

            It’s all just as mixed-up and confusing as it was two thousand years ago.

            And, just like the first followers of Jesus the most unusual king, we abandon Jesus.

We fall away, and choose to live just like everybody else.

            But not all of us.

            And, not all the time.

            For example, earlier this month Pope Francis dedicated a new homeless shelter located just a few yards from St. Peter’s Square in Rome.

            That may seem nice and no big deal, but this is not just any homeless shelter.

            The shelter located in a centuries-old palace called the Palazzo Migliori, a named for the family who previously owned it, but it’s a name that translated literally as “the palace of the best.”

            The Vatican requested that the company doing the renovations hire homeless workers. No surprise, the company didn’t want to do that, but they wanted the job so they did what they were told and, to their surprise, they discovered that these homeless people were some of the best workers they had ever seen – and, in fact, the company chose to permanently hire them.

            Now that the project is done has been blessed, the poorest of the poor will be living in a palace, a palace decorated with beautiful art, a palace with a terrace overlooking St. Peter’s Basilica, a palace where tourists would happily pay a small fortune to stay on vacation but has instead been set aside as a home for the homeless.

            It turns out that Jesus the most unusual King has a palace after all.

            And, in a smaller but no less important way, we build a palace for Jesus when we host our Family Promise guests on Duncan Avenue or Storms Avenue.

            We build a palace for Jesus when we feed the homeless guests over at Garden State Episcopal CDC, or give to the food pantry, or make sandwiches with the Sandwich Squad, or buy a Christmas gift for a child in need, or even just when we see, really see, our brothers and sisters in need all around us, people who deserve not just scraps but the very best.

            And so, on this last Sunday on the church year, on the Feast of Christ the King, we’re invited to take stock of our allegiances.

            Are we loyal to other leaders or ideologies or do we place our trust in Jesus the most unusual King?

            Through our own faithfulness and generosity are we willing to build a palace for Christ the King?

            Amen.