B- The Reign of Christ: 26 November 2006

2 Samuel 23: 1 – 7’ Psalm 132: 1-12

Revelation 1:4b – 8;  John 18: 33-37

 

King of Hearts

A Sermon by John C. Bush, Interim Pastor

First Presbyterian Church

Birmingham, Alabama

 

                For the most part we Americans are not very big on royalty.  Oh, we are fascinated enough with the trappings of royalty, and can’t seem to get enough of the private lives and foibles of the British royals in particular – though we’ve heard somewhat less about all that since the death of Princess Di.  But when it comes closer to home we really don’t want much to do with royalty and inherited special privilege.

            What we know about royalty, though, is limited.  Some of us know about chess kings.  They may have limited movement and ability to protect, but they are the focus of the game, the center of what chess is all about, the primary element on the board despite their limitations.  And we’re familiar with Burger King, of course, where they say you can Have It Your Way.

            One day, just before the annual Feast of Passover, certain high religious authorities brought Pontius Pilate and unwelcome surprise in the person of a messianic pretender whom, they said, aspired to be king over Judea.  (The word king is more or less the Roman equivalent of the Hebrew word messiah.)  Pontius Pilate was the Roman administrator of the southern Province of Judea under appointment of the Roman Emperor Tiberius Caesar. Based in Jerusalem, Pontius was a man who knew his prerogatives and enjoyed his privileges immensely.  He didn’t look kindly on anyone who threatened his position.

            The Northern Province of Galilee already had a king in the person of Herod Antipas, who served the purposes of Rome quite well.  But the more restive Province of Judea had log seethed with a spirit of revolt, and the Romans preferred to have their own man in control there.  Pontius Pilate was that man, and he didn’t welcome competition from a Jew who would be king.

            Our Gospel reading today is a fragment of the interaction between the local religious leadership, Pilate and Jesus.  The charge brought against Jesus is treason, and Pilate is feeling the pressure.  He calls Jesus to him and says, “So, you are the King of Judea?”  “Those are your words,” responds Jesus.  ”Are they original with you, or did someone else put such thoughts in your head?”

 “Do you think it would ever occur to me that the like of you could possibly be a threat to the Empire?” asks Pilate.  “This is all coming from your own people.  What have you done to get them so upset?”

            When Pilate asks a political question he gets a theological answer.  I’ve used that tactic myself.  Earlier in my career I often represented the interests of churches in dealing with Kentucky legislators and government officials, most of whom were lawyers.  One of my favorite mind games was to respond to the questions they asked me in legalese, with answers framed in religious language – church talk.  The result, almost always, was to change the fundamental nature of the discussion.

            That’s the approach it often takes if you are going to be serious about applying the principles of the faith to everyday life: you can’t let yourself get sucked into letting the culture, the society, the world around you, set he rules for the discussion.  You have to be prepared to use the language of faith.  Which is why continuing adult Christian education is so important.  You have to know both the language and the stories of the faith in order for them to have meaning and application as you face the moral dilemmas and quandaries you encounter every day at work, at school, and in your personal relationships.

            Liturgy, too, plays a role.  Participation in the ritual and language of worship rescues us for a moment at least from imperial, secular language and images.  It affirms that life comes to us as a gift – is not generated by us.  It is a time when we don’t have to think about strategies or resources or effectiveness or adequacy.  It is a time when we don’t have to ask about us --  because this isn’t about us.  It is about another – about the King of Hearts – who is oddly available to us in these moments.  It is a time when the deep and powerful passions of God are enacted before us – enactments tat connect our life to a buoyant, unambiguous purpose that is far beyond our capacities and capabilities. Connections made vivid for us in words you don’t have to think about or conjure up for the occasion but that spring readily to the mind lips.  Words like, “The Lord be with you.”  Words like, “Thanks be to God!”  Concepts like, “Let us bring the offerings of our life and labor to the Lord.”

“My reign is not like any kingship you ever heard of,” said Jesus to Pilate.  “If it were, not even Rome would have the power to put it down.  The charges against me originated from Judea, but my reign is not from here.”

            There is a story, attributed to James Caroll, about a king who disliked the ceremony and trappings of his office.  He reluctantly wore a crown and was uncomfortable when forced to sit on a throne.  It began on his coronation day when they brought him a magnificent robe.   “Where did this robe come from?” asked the young kind.  “From Persia,” he was told.  “No; where did it come from?” he insisted.  “It was taken from the castle of a defeated king by some of our allies.  They present it to you as a gift.”  “How can I wear such a robe?” the king blurted out.  “It was obtained through bloodshed and violence.”

            Another time a prince brought the king a pearl of immense value.  “I present this gift as a tribute to you,” said the prince.  “Why is it so valuable?” asked the king.  “Because of its perfect, moonlike shape,” replied the prince.  But the king persisted asking questions until the flustered prince confessed that pearls like this one are valuable because they come from very deep in the ocean and many slaves die trying to retrieve them.  Sadly the king refused the gift.  “How can I wear such suffering and cruelty as jewelry?”

            At Christmas the king canceled the traditional royal feast when he learned that the food was taken as an additional Christmas tax laid on the peasants of his land.  People – especially the knights – began to complain that the king was too gentle to be a ruler.  He agreed that this was so, and one day his simply walked away from the palace and did not come back.

            A group of cruel knights seized power.  They love the trappings of royalty and increased taxes to support their luxurious lifestyle and the armies that kept them in power.  As taxes rose, less was spent on roads and services for the people.

            Meanwhile, the gentle king traveled the countryside eeking out a living as a tinker, sharpening knives and tools and fixing pots and pans.  Most of his work was among the peasants.  He listened o their stories and learned of the knights’ cruelty.  The people loved him because he listened to them and consoled them in their grief.  Some thought the tinker looked a bit like the old king, but he always passed off such suggestions by asking, “Do I look like a king to you?”

            One day the tinker was sharpening the knives and tools of a family whose son had died in the fields while working long hours to pay a new tax to the rulers. “Who did this to your son?” the tinker asked.

“The heat did it,” the father replied.  “Working hard in the heat killed my son.”

            Again and yet again the tinker asked the question, until finally the father cried out, “The knights did this.  The cruel knights killed my son!”  People rushed hush up to the grieving father; such words are dangerous!  The tinker remarked, “The truth is always dangerous.”

            The people asked the tinker what they should do, since the kings were so powerful and cruel.  He told them that these people had no always ruled the country, and that one day they, too, would be replaced.  The tinker said that when that day finally came the people would not need weapons, only stout sticks and poles, and encouraged them to begin collecting such poles.

            A few days later the tinker set up shop outside the castle.  Seeing that he was a tinker, one of the knights took him captive and dragged him into the castle with orders that he must sharpen all their swords and knives and other weapons.  For days the tinker worked until all the weapons were so sharp they could cut paper.  The knights were pleased with his work and let him go.

            Upon returning to the village, the tinker gathered the people and told them it was time for them to gather their stout sticks and poles and challenge the knights’ rule.  Next morning a mass of people gathered before the castle, the tinker in the lead.  When the gates were opened the knights laughed at the peasants who stood before them.  They people were afraid they were about to die, but the tinker encouraged them to stand tall.  And they did.

            Some of the knights drew their sword and charged into the people, but their swinging swords came in contact with the stout sticks and pole, and broke into pieces.  Not only had the tinker sharpened the swords, he had put such an edge on them that the metal was weakened and the weapons no longer had any strength left in them.

            The battle ended quickly, without injury or death to anyone.  The people gathered around the tinker’s cart, and a spokesperson asked, “We have to know.  Are you a king?”

“Yes,” said the tinker, “but I do not come to rule over you.  I have come to show you that we are all connected to each other, and we must live peacefully and justly together – that we mush serve one another.  Those who would be the greatest among you must be the servant of all.”  And with that, the tinker king slipped quietly away.

            As the years passed the people who lived in peace with justice told the story from generation to generation, about how their way of life had been changed by the one the came to call “the tinker king.”

“Pilate asked him, ‘So you are a king?’  Jesus answered, ‘You say that I am …”

 

[Copyright 2006, JOHN C. BUSH;  The Tinker King was adapted from STORIES FOR THE JOURNEY, by William R. White, where it is attributed to James Caroll; copyright 1988, Augsburg Press; used by permission; all rights reserved.]

 

NOW TO THE RULER OF ALL WORLDS,

UNDYING, INVISIBLE,

THE ONLY WISE GOD:

TO GOD BE HONOR AND THANKSGIVING

FOREVER AND EVER.  AMEN.