Recorded
Version Christ the King

David Orendorff · Luke 23:33-43 · November 25^th, 2007

Today is the last Sunday of the Christian calendar year. Next Sunday is the first Sunday of Advent and the new year of the Christian calendar.    Over the last year we have followed Christ from his beginnings in Advent and Christmas, through his suffering, death and resurrection in Lent and Easter, and in his life as he teaches us to live and to be church following Pentecost.  Now we end the year with the acclamation that Christ is King.

In today’s scripture all the respectable folks, the rulers, guards and crowd reject that Jesus is king.  He has no power to save himself from his immediate death and so certainly must have no power to save them. How could you call a man dying on a cross king?

On the very low end of respectability are two criminals.  These are thieves and murderers, the dregs of society.  One murderer, like the respectable folks does not see Jesus as a true king.  A real king can pardon thieves and set murderers free.  He too mocks Jesus.

However, the second criminal understands what no one else has understood.  While Jesus was being nailed to the cross, holding the screams in his lungs, the second murderer hears him pray, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”  And in these words of forgiveness the second murderer knows that it is not to late for him to find love, and that indeed Jesus is the Christ, Jesus is the King. He understands that Jesus offers what no king of this life can offer; Jesus offers eternal forgiveness even to murderers, even at the last breath.

Jacques Berthier of the Religious Community of Taizé, France made the thief’s finally words into a meditation hymn.

Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom (2X)

If the others had been listening when Jesus first spoke they would have known that in Jesus is an offer that no King of their world could ever give them.  If their eyes had been open they would have seen compassion dying for them and had their hearts and minds opened to loving forgiveness. Jesus is not a king that saves himself and others from suffering by commanding armies.  Jesus is the king of unconditional forgiveness and unconditional love. And by his sacrificial love he saves the world. Those who mock him betray themselves for they are rejecting infinite forgiveness and its compassion; they are rejecting the soul healing that can be theirs now.

Jesus is the king of forgiveness.  Jesus is king of love.  Jesus is the king that looks upon thieves and murderers with compassion.  Jesus is the king that sees lives not for their failures but for the promises they remain to be.  Jesus is the king that looks at rulers, and guards, crowds, and thieves with kindness and justice.  Jesus is the one king that prays for us “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”

Jesus is the king to whom we pray:

Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom (2X)

For the kingdom in which Jesus lives and to which Jesus goes is the kingdom that is our true home now and our promised land for then.  It is Jesus the King who answers our deepest prayers with, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”  So it is that the second murderer, who would never make the invite list to your birthday party, understands that Jesus is King of forgiveness, love and eternal life.

It is wonderfully often that those who are the least, the ones we would think would be the last, are the ones to whom God gives understanding.  Erik is a baby who understood what it means for Jesus to be King.  Erik’s mother writes:

We were the only family with children in the restaurant.  I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly eating and talking.

Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, “Hi there.”  He pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray.  His eyes were crinkled in laughter and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as he wriggled and giggled with merriment.

I looked around and saw the source of his merriment.  It was a man whose pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes.  His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed.  His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map.  We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled.  His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists.

“Hi there, baby; Hi there, big boy.  I see ya, buster,” the man said to Erik.

My husband and I exchanged looks, “What do we do?”  Erik continued to laugh and answer, “Hi, hi there.”

Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man.  The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby.  Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, “Do ya patty cake?  Do you know peek-a-boo?  Hey, look, he knows peek-a-boo.”

Nobody thought the old man was cute.  He was obviously drunk.  My husband and I were embarrassed.  We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid row bum, who in turn reciprocated with his cute comments.

We finally got through the meal and headed for the door.  My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot.  The old man sat poised between me and the door. “Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,” I prayed.

As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing.  As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby’s “pick-me-up” position.  Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man’s.

Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love relationship.  Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man’s ragged shoulder.  The man’s eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes.  His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor, cradled my baby’s bottom and stroked his back.  No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time, I stood awestruck.

The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms and his eyes opened and set squarely on mine.  He said in a firm commanding voice, “You take care of this baby.”  Somehow I managed, “I will,” from a throat that contained a stone.

He pried Erik from his chest unwillingly, longingly, as though he were in pain.  I received my baby, and the man said, “God bless you, ma’am, you’ve given me my Christmas gift.”  I said nothing more than a muttered thanks.

With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car.  My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, “My God, my God, forgive me.”  I had just witnessed Christ’s love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes.  I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not.  I felt it was God asking, “Are you willing to share your son for a moment?” when He shared His for all eternity.  The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, “to enter the Kingdom of God, we must become as little children.”1 from the internet as forwarded by Mae Walchuk

It is the love, the soulful beauty of Jesus’ forgiveness that makes Christ the King and the Queen.  We celebrate this Sunday because once in history there was a child who loved more profoundly and more deeply than any other.  This child loved so much that he died with forgiveness upon his lips and in his heart.  This child loved so much that his love carries others to infinite love and eternal life, in both this world and the next.  This child loved with such compassion that he was the first full child of God.  And so we sing:

Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom (2X) that we too might love and be loved, now and forever.

Shalom and Amen.