Isn't It Ironic?

(Scriptures:       2 Samuel 23:1-7; Revelation 1:1-8; John 18:33-37)

 

Today is Christ the King Sunday, or in inclusive language Reign of Christ Sunday.  It’s the last Sunday of the church year, in which we lift up the reign of Christ, over our lives, over the church, over the cosmos.

And yet, the Gospel texts which the Lectionary associates with this lifting up of the Reign of Christ, portray Christ as a most unusual king.  On this Sunday last year – when our brother Chuck became a member of Emanuel church – the reading from Matthew’s Gospel was Jesus’ account of the judgment of the nations, in which the Son of Man will sit on his throne of glory and divide the sheep from the goats, and all will find that this isn’t their first encounter with the King.  Both sheep and goats ask the King: “when did we see you?” and both sheep and goats are told, “Whatsoever you did – or did not do – for the least of these my sisters and brothers, you did – or did not do – unto me.”  So we’re given a picture of a king who goes about in disguise, incognito, you might say.

 Next year, we’ll be reading a section from Luke’s account of the crucifixion, when Jesus is on the cross, and the title over his head, “the King of the Jews” is a title of mockery.  In this account, the King’s agenda forgiveness; from the cross he prays, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do”, and tells one of those crucified with him, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”

 This year’s reading for Christ the King Sunday, from John’s Gospel, describes part of Jesus’ trial before Pilate – and John’s Gospel gives us quite an extended description of this trial, of which today’s reading is only a small part.  Scripture scholars have noted that in all the gospels, but especially, especially in John’s Gospel, there’s often a divergence between how the characters in the narrative understand reality and how we, the readers, are intended to understand reality.  This ironic sense of contrast between what is and what appears to be starts as early as the first chapter of John’s Gospel, the prologue, in which we are told that “the world came into being through him, yet the world did not know him.  He came unto his own people, and his own people did not accept him.”  This sense of irony continues at various points throughout the Gospel – we might remember Jesus’ healing of the man born blind, where it turns out the formerly-blind man is a whole lot more perceptive than the religious authorities.  And we encounter this sense of irony again during the trial and crucifixion of Jesus.  We see the religious authorities perfectly willing to turn Jesus, the Saviour of the world, over to Pilate to be crucified – but they’re not willing to enter Pilate’s headquarters because Pilate is a gentile and the religious authorities didn’t want to defile themselves by entering Pilate’s headquarters.  We see the religious authorities accuse Jesus of fomenting rebellion against Rome – and yet they call for the release of Barabbas, who really did commit insurrection against Rome.  In today’s reading, the religious authorities and Pilate believe that Jesus is on trial before Pilate, but we the readers may well ask who’s really on trial – Jesus or Pilate and the religious authorities?    Jesus says that he was sent into the world and testify to the truth, and Pilate asks, “What is truth?”  And yet – the ultimate irony – John goes on to tell us that the Pilate’s inscription over the head of Jesus – “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews” – is written in Hebrew, Latin, and Greek, so that both Jews and Gentiles will be able to read it.  So while Pilate intended it as mockery, it ironically turns out to be – guess who? – Pilate, Pilate the gentile Roman governor, Pilate who dismissively asked “What is truth?” who ends up being the very one unintentionally proclaiming the truth about Jesus to all the world, in the three great languages of the day yet, so that nobody would miss it!

 And so, as we lift up the Reign of Christ, lift up Christ as King, we see that Jesus is a sovereign who at every turn confounds and turns upside down our expectations of what power and glory look like.   At various points in John’s Gospel, Jesus speaks of the hour of his glory, and compares himself to the bronze serpent lifted up by Moses in the wilderness, drawing all to himself.  In both cases, these are references, not to the Ascension, but to the crucifixion.  What religious and secular authorities intended to end the good news of Jesus, ended up being the way in which the good news of Jesus was completed in such a way that it is proclaimed to the ends of the earth.

 Jesus turns our worldly expectations of greatness and glory upside down – so – in the spirit of John’s Gospel, we may well ask, what’s truly upside down – Jesus, or our worldly expectations.  In John’s Gospel, it is the religious authorities, those who we would expect to understand, who misunderstand Jesus at every step; and conversely, it is those we would least expect – the Samaritan woman at the well, the man born blind whom Jesus healed – who are most receptive to the truth.  And so we must constantly question our assumptions, must be willing always to try to dig beneath the surface, and, like Pilate ask, “What is truth?” 

John’s Gospel is also unusual in that it is the only Gospel in which Jesus, at the Last Supper, is recorded as having washed the feet of the disciples.  In those days, when travelers came a long distance over hot, dusty roads to visit someone, a house servant might wash the feet of the guests to provide for their comfort.  And yet, in John’s Gospel, it is Jesus himself, the Logos, the Word, present from the beginning, through whom all things were created, Jesus the Word made Flesh, who provides this act of hospitality and in so doing sets a pattern for his disciples to follow. It is Jesus, present from the beginning of all things, the Word made flesh, who provided wine for the wedding feast at Cana, healed the official’s son, fed the multitudes and healed the man born blind.  It is Jesus, present from the beginning of all things, the Word made flesh, who loved you and you and you and you and you so much, that he laid down his life for each of us.  Remember the service of anointing earlier this morning, as we came forward one by one, and consider that Jesus, the Word made flesh, cares for each one of us, lived and suffered and died for each one of us.  Truly, the power and the glory of Jesus, so different from earthly power and glory – and the tender love of Jesus for each one of us - is beyond our comprehension.

 Most Sundays, as part of the assurance of pardon, I read the familiar words from John’s Gospel: God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believes in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”  To believe in Jesus is – to trust him, to trust Jesus enough to live our lives as his disciples.  And so, on this Reign of Christ Sunday or Christ the King Sunday, whichever wording is our preference, may we believe and trust Jesus enough to allow Jesus to reign in our hearts, in our words, in our actions, and in all the words and actions of the gathered congregation of Emanuel United  Church of Christ.  Amen.