The feast of Christ the king.

In Luke 23:33-43 this morning we hear Jesus being named King: “There was also an inscription over him, “This is the King of the Jews.” 

It is usually pretty easy to distinguish a king from his subjects.  The king is the one with power and authority, the king is the one in charge, the one in whose name laws are made and enforced.  But in Luke, when Jesus is named king, he has no power, no authority, no strength even to save himself. 

 For most of those watching the idea of a king with no power was ridiculous, they scoff and mock and deride him.  Christ’s kingship is clearly not the kind of kingship we expect.  Jesus does have power yet he chooses never to exert it over others, even to save his own life.  In doing so he reveals how power is used and abused: in Luke the soldiers, the religious leaders, the national leaders, even the criminals executed alongside him, make a choice whether not to use the power they have for good.  

As we hear again the story of Christ named king on the cross we reflect on the power we have in our own lives. When we choose to use our power to serve, not those with power but those without power; when we give voice to the voiceless, champion the weak and care for those in need, we too become kings with Christ, sharing with him in leading and serving God’s people.

For many of us God is an emergency service that we only contact when we are in dire need.  This is true for the people in Jeremiah 14:7-10, 19-22.  The land is suffering from severe drought and famine.  Earlier in Jeremiah the well-off and the comfortable are criticised for carrying on without a thought for the impact of their actions on the poor but in this reading all the people are united in their suffering.  Finally, they understand that they are ALL dependent on God, that they cannot be saved by their own efforts. 

It is this acknowledgment of need and dependency that Jesus praises in the tax-collector in Luke 18:9-14.  He knows that he is a sinner, he knows that he cannot remove his faults and weaknesses on his own.  The pharisee, in contrast, is criticised.  The pharisee is not a bad man.  By most people’s standards he is a far better man than the tax-collector.   He is giving away a tenth of his income in charity whereas the tax-collector was fleecing people for his own profit.  Why, then, does God not justify him?  It is not because his sins are worse than the tax-collector’s nor is it because God is any less ready to forgive his sins, it is because he doesn’t think he needs it.  He thinks that his own actions have already justified him.  God is ready to justify him – he is just not ready to ask or to receive.

The pharisee’s belief that his own actions make him perfect separates him from others, he judges them for not achieving what he has achieved.  In just the same way, the well-off in Jeremiah had previously separated themselves from the less fortunate.  If we have all, in St Paul’s words, fallen short of the glory of God, there is really no point trying to prove that some have fallen shorter than others.  Religion is not a self-improvement programme.  It is a relationship with God that draws into a relationship with others.  We are all united in our radical dependency on God.  The tax-collector comes to God pleading for help because he knows that he cannot save himself.  In the words of Pope Francis, “blessing does not require moral perfection to be received”, it is given “to those who ask for he

During this season - and to coincide with the national church’s Generosity Week - we celebrate God’s generosity and reflect on how we respond to the divine gifts upon which we depend for all that we are and all that we have.