The King Who Topples Tyrants

Anyone who has been a longtime reader of this blog, and I don't think there are that many of you out there anymore, will likely recognize some of what's here. For the first time in my priestly career, I am doing a "rerun" of the sermon I preached on this text six years ago when I was a seminarian at St. Monica and St. James Capitol Hill in Washington, DC. 

The president was the same man currently occupying the Oval Office. And, sadly, the words I chose six years ago are still very relevant...possibly even more so...than they were in 2019.

I made a few adjustments, added a slightly new beginning, but this is that same sermon. How sad...yet fortunate since I've been down with a nasty head cold...that it remained "fresh." 

See what you think.

Text: Luke 23:33-43

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The Church has been calling this last Sunday after Pentecost “Christ the King Sunday” since the early part of the 20^th century.

Pope Pius XI introduced this idea at the end of World War I…as a counter to growing secularism…and the turmoil in post-war Europe.

The idea being that while governments rise and fall…Christ’s reign is forever.

Yet nothing about this situation described in our Gospel seems fitting for a king.

Let’s consider this scene for a moment.

The man Jesus hangs bloodied and bruised between two criminals.

“Leaders” are shouting at him. And in their taunting, they are calling into question his healing works and undermining faith in his teachings: 

“You saved others; save yourself!” 

Soldiers are also getting in on the act.

They’re making fun of him and laughing as they take articles of his clothing like they are party favors at this execution.

And then there are “the people” who stand by watching.

We don’t know who they are.

We aren’t given details about them.

We can imagine that if they are fellow Jews living in this Roman-occupied state… they might be angry…feeling dejected and hopeless in the face of tyranny…and quite probably afraid. That was the purpose of crucifixion: to instill fear into the hearts of anyone who might dare to stand up to the authority.

Terrorizing people who are powerless is a favorite tactic of bullies and authoritarians.

It’s the way to keep people anxious…uneasy…compliant…and silent. 

What kind of a King dies in such a horrible way…stripped down….his arms outstretched and pinned high above his chest and his head bloodied?

How can a king be hung up on hard wood like a common criminal?

For those who claim earthly power, both then and now, 

Jesus is a joke. 

Encouraging an ethic of love, 

loving the stranger as your neighbor, 

forgiving the wayward one who comes home and says, “I’m a screw up and am not worthy,” 

healing people struggling with all kinds of demons; 

that’s not how a powerful person lives their life.

By earthly standards…such caring and compassionate behavior shows weakness and vulnerability.

Jesus is the embodiment of a person full of empathy…an emotion that some today deride as “toxic.”

But then isn’t it interesting that even though there are three people being crucified, only Jesus draws out the ire of the powerful. 

There is something about Jesus that makes them so bitter that they make a spectacle of his death.

Something about him has a strange pull on them.

He seems to be such a threat to their comfort at the top that they feel they must not only inflict punishment and shame on him; they have to kill him to prove to themselves and others that they are the strong ones here.

Perhaps deep inside their hearts they are also afraid. 

Maybe they sense that he is stronger than them and his strength might expose their own weakness. 

That is the paradox of being a bully, isn’t it?

It’s because they are weak…that the bullies and tyrants of the world act out in destructive ways to mask their own vulnerability. 

It’s why they feel the need to attack and mock others.

In this whole scene there is only one person who sees through all the horror and the mayhem and can fix upon the truth of Jesus. 

And it’s not a soldier. 

Not a leader. 

It’s one of the criminals, another rejected member of society. 

In his own dying moments, this condemned convict looks to Jesus, and in his suffering, he pleads: “Jesus remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

This man knows that Jesus is innocent.

And in his request to be remembered into Jesus’ kingdom he is signaling to us that he has seen below the skin level of Jesus and is perceiving something more.

He is seeing God made incarnate in the flesh.

This man understands that this one…hanging next to him…and experiencing the same torture…is the one who came into the world to 

“preach the gospel to the poor, 

heal the brokenhearted, 

free the captives, 

give sight to the blind, 

and liberate the oppressed.” 

It takes one who is among the broken…one who has been brought low himself…to know the divinity of Christ shining through that bruised and battered skin.

It is one without earthly power who can perceive the real power hanging in agony with him.  

Here again we see the wonderful and un-worldly way that God’s grace works.

Because it is not the prestigious and powerful or the bullies and tyrants who recognize Jesus.

It’s the one who’s been banished to die.

The one who might otherwise have been intimidated into silence.

The one who…realizing that he has done wrong…begs Jesus: remember me.

Remember me when you come into your kingdom. 

What this man sees in Jesus is what so many who have ever found themselves on the margins of society throughout history have seen in the Christ. 

This is the king who can maintain compassion in the face of violent opposition. 

A king who can resist anger and can keep loving all the way to the end. 

A king being unjustly crucified by a corrupt system and yet can still maintain dignity enough to promise Paradise to the repentant criminal. 

If social media had existed in the First Century…Jesus would have been vilified by all those hiding behind their avatars.

Because he is type of king whose power of love and true righteous justice intimidates and topples the bullies who feed on fear and hatred. 

We proclaim Christ as King because…in his dying and then his rising again… Jesus makes a pledge to one on the lowest rung of society that he will restore and liberate him from his worst self…and deliver him from his separation from God. 

If Jesus can say this to a criminal…how much more so do his words apply to us?

How much more is he bringing us into his mission to face the injustices of our time which keep people in poverty…keep them captive to their fears and addictions…and press down upon those who yearn to breathe free?

This promise of being “re-membered” into God’s kingdom is renewed each time we come to this Eucharistic table and receive the body and blood of Christ.

We are being renewed and reinvigorated with a life force…grounded in love…to resist the powers of this world that want to break us.

When we take in Christ we are being given the strength to meet the needs of our community in the mission of God to love those who are lost…alone…or afraid. 

It is through us and our resilience to live into that love that we wear the crowns of our royal priesthood.

And it is in this way…working through us… that Christ reigns as a true king on earth as in heaven. 

In the name of our One Holy and Undivided Trinity.

 

 

Saintly Guidance

Oopsie: I realized that I never posted my sermon text from November 2nd aka All Saints Sunday. There's just been a lot going on and I haven't been thinking about sermons because, well, I've been blessed with having TWO...count 'em...TWO whole weeks off from preaching! 

So here's the text from All Saints Sunday. And you can look forward to a new sermon text for Christ the King this coming week.

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About a month ago…on my drive home from Valdosta…I saw something I’d never seen before.

On an otherwise clear day as the sun was setting…I spotted a rainbow…very faintly stretching up over the trees and disappearing into the scattering of clouds.

There hadn’t been any rain.

It wasn’t even particularly humid.

And yet this rainbow appeared.

Curious…I pulled off the road to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me.

They weren’t.

Although it was very faint…there clearly was a rainbow emerging near the Georgia-Florida state line.

And as I looked at this amazing sight…I was reminded of the verse in Genesis…the one where God says that the “bow in the clouds” would be the reminder of God’s everlasting covenant…that promise God has made to every living thing…that never again will God try to annihilate us.

I thought about the symbolism of a rainbow.

That colorful spectrum of light has served as a sign of hope to so many.

It’s the mark of pride and assurance of goodness…and the visible symbol of that pledge that we are never alone.

Such a graphic message in the sky seems an important one for all of us to remember in these times when we are witnessing cruelty in our cities…both near and far… and as we bear up under the burdens placed on us spiritually…mentally…and financially.

Yes…we are living in dark times.

And Jesus…in speaking to his disciples…both then and now…also wants us to remember that in our moments when we are feeling despair and at our lowest…He is still with us.

He is that member of the Godhead who has been there…done that…felt that…been rejected and betrayed…beaten up and killed….and yet…as the Maya Angelou poem says…like air…he tells us “I rise.”

I am not defeated.

I am not dead.

I am Love…and Love always wins.

It may not feel like it now.

We may not be able to look around and see it…or experience it… at this time.

But Love does win.

Our saints…those lives that we look to and celebrate on this Sunday…have known and lived by this type of assurance.

They’re trust and connection to this life…ministry…death and resurrection of Jesus was that critical element that kept them going…even in the face of adversity and hostility and even danger.

Those of us who have played along year after year with the Forward Movement online game Lent Madness have had the benefit of reading and learning about some ordinary people celebrated for their extraordinary ability to keep on the path with God when it might have been easier or simpler just to give up.

Naturally…we have those well-known saints of the church: Paul who became one of the major writers and shapers of the Early Church.

St. Francis of Assisi who found a true kinship with all living creatures…and we remember and celebrate him with our Blessing of the Animals each year.

And St. Mary Magdalene…a towering figure…who has been called “the apostle to the apostles” as the first witness of the resurrected Christ at the tomb.

But in our Episcopal Calendar…we also remember those a little closer to our time…who endured suffering and many setbacks…and yet remained persistent in standing for what was the good…and right…and joyful thing.

Two years ago…we celebrated the 50^th anniversary of women being ordained in The Episcopal Church.

But long before there was an Allison Cheek or a Carter Heyward…there was the Reverend Florence Li Tim-Oi…who we remember on January 24^th.

Li was born in 1907 in Hong Kong…one of five children.

Her father was the principal at an English school and Catholic nuns had taught her mother.

While her dad had hoped one of his sons would become a pastor…it was Li who was drawn to the Gospel.

She graduated from seminary as the Sino-Japanese War broke out in 1937.

She was working with refugees at the Morrison Chapel of the Anglican Church in Macau when the Anglican bishop of Hong Kong and Maucau….Ronald Owen Hall…needed a priest.

Maucau was in social disarray and there were no men to serve the church.

And so Hall took it upon himself to ordain Li to be first a deaconess and then made her the first woman ordained to the priesthood in the Anglican Communion in May, 1941.

Word of this ordination was not well-received…and the Archbishop of Canterbury ordered Hall that either he would have to give up his holy orders…or Li would have to give up hers.

Florence Li Tim-Oi decided to take the fall…but continued to do work in schools in China…but she was not safe.

In 19-61…she was forced to undergo re-education and embraced Chinese socialism…and was sent to work in a factory making syringes and medicine cabinets.

The Red Guard would raid her home periodically over the next several years…taking valuable possessions and causing her physical injury.

In 19-82…she finally left China and moved to Toronto…where the Canadian Anglican Church embraced her and reinstated her orders as a priest.

She died in 19-92 at age 85.

In our own diocese…we celebrate the life and Christian witness of St. Anna Alexander…the daughter of former slaves of the Butler Plantation on Georgia’s coast.

Even though Georgia Bishop C.K. Nelson ordained her as the first Black deaconess in the Episcopal Church in 19-07 …Anna had to accomplish her mission of educating children without much help from the Church.

And she did it against the backdrop of the Georgia of the early 20^th century… when Jim Crow laws were in full swing…and “good” Christians would leave their white churches on Sundays to attend a lynching in the afternoon.

Despite the bigotry and hatred of the day…Anna refused to let other people’s prejudices stop her.

And to this day…she is remembered for her commitment to the people of Pennick…Darien and Brunswick…and for inspiring so many to seek higher education and better opportunities.

And she grounded all her work in the Bible and the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer.

And no doubt…Luke’s version of the beatitudes…spoke to the heart of her task.

Because when the Jesus of Luke talks about blessed are the poor…the hungry…and the sorrowful…he’s not saying:

“Yippee! Isn’t this fantastic to be the outcast!”

To be “blessed” in this case is to be with Jesus…with those who are left waiting and wanting at the gates.

To be “blessed” is to be with the Florence Li Tim-Ois’ and the Anna Alexanders…caught in the systems that fail to stand with them…and in a world that denigrated them.

And yet…they faced the challenges…and with the strength of Jesus… they stood up…rose up… and refused to let bitterness sour their spirits.

This version of the beatitudes from our Gospel captures the truth of the saints…and all of us…who are striving to stick close to God in times that test and challenge our faith.

It’s the message to that our pains are seen…felt…understood…and will be vindicated.

It’s the “bow in the clouds” that the Spirit is still with us in thick of things…and continuing to call us into action.

We are empowered to turn our suffering into a drive to make things better.

Because out of our pain…we have been given the gift of empathy.

And our ability to empathize …our willingness to help one another through difficulty…to do to others as we would like them to do to us…is the way we stay in a right relationship with God.

It’s that understanding that leads us to take care of those who came here seeking a better life…just like our ancestors did.

Make sure that we feed people…and give them shelter…because that’s the right thing to do.

It’s what keeps us working for a just society…where all may have the opportunity to live with one another in peace.

We may not be sainted yet…but the lives of the saints…from throughout the course of time…can point us in the direction of a life well lived…making a difference for another person.

And with each act of kindness…we are making this a better place on earth.

In the name of our One Holy and Undivided Trinity.