November 24, 2019: "A Different Kind of King"
November 24, 2019 Rev. Rhonda Blevins, DMIN
A Different Kind of King
Luke 23:33-43
When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” And they cast lots to divide his clothing. And the people stood by, watching; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!” The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” There was also an inscription over him, “This is the King of the Jews.”
One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
______
A song I learned when I was a kid . . .
Oh, you can’t get to heaven (Oh, you can't get to heaven)
On roller skates (On roller skates)
Oh, you can’t get to heaven (Oh, you can’t get to heaven)
On roller skates
Oh, you can’t get to heaven on roller skates
‘Cause you’d roll right past those pearly gates.
All my sins are washed away
I’ve been redeemed
. . . Oh you can’t get to heaven in a limousine,
‘Cause the Lord don’t sell no gasoline.
There are plenty more lyrics; I’ll spare you the rest.
I don’t know the backstory of this song, but it seems to poke fun of those who love to draw dividing line, convinced they’re going to heaven and those who don’t think just like them are damned to an eternal hell. “Sorry about your luck if you’re wearing roller skates when you kick the bucket.” So much of religion is caught up on “who’s wrong/who’s right” and “who’s in/who’s out.”
Just recently I spoke with a devout Christian convinced that I am on the highway to hell—I apparently don’t have the right theology to earn a place in heaven. I take no offense and in fact, find it pretty humorous. Two advanced theology degrees, a lifetime devoted to the church, usually pretty passionate about the faith—and in his mind, condemned to an eternal barbeque with Judas, Hitler and Beelzebub. Kanye West: in. Rhonda Blevins: out.
Now, I don’t fault the person who is happy to see me burn in hell for eternity. It’s the natural conclusion to an un-evolved theology that’s less Christo-centric (Christ-centered) than ego-centric (self-centered). It’s playground soteriology (“soteriology” being the $5 word meaning the “doctrine of salvation.”) The rules of this playground soteriology allow us to pick and choose who is on our team—those we like, those who can run or kick or throw—the rest be, well, damned.
The problem is, this kind of playground soteriology runs completely counter to the nature of the one we claim to follow as Christians.
Today is “Christ the King” Sunday—the last Sunday of the church year. Today the church around the world thinks of Christ in terms of royalty. Our Catholic friends refer to this day as the “Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe.” Imagery that comes to mind: a golden crown, a throne, a scepter, long, flowing regal garments, subjects genuflecting and kissing rings. Today we celebrate Christ the King!
But Jesus is a Different Kind of King.
Today, on the Christ the King Sunday, our lectionary text presents Jesus not wearing a golden crown, but a crown of thorns. Not sitting a throne, but hanging a cross. Not holding a scepter, but with nine-inch-nails piecing his hands and feet. Not wearing a long, flowing, regal garments, but naked and ashamed. Not with subjects bowing and kissing rings, but scoffers laughing and mocking.
If this Jesus is a king, he is surely a Different Kind of King.
A Vulnerable King
Think about it. Imagine yourself in the crowd that dark Friday morning on Golgotha. Or maybe, if you dare, you can imagine being one of the criminals hanging on either side of Jesus. Or take your place as a dutiful Roman soldier, carrying out the wishes of your commanding officer, gambling for the clothes of the one you’ve nailed on a cross.
From your vantage point there at Golgotha, do you see someone you’d call a “king?” Sure, the sign over Jesus’ head read, “King of the Jews,” but in mockery, to shame him, as if the shame of being hung completely naked in front of his mother wasn’t enough.
“If you’re the Messiah, if you’re the King, pull yourself down!” they jabbed.
While earthly kings display power, Jesus epitomizes weakness.
Jesus is a vulnerable king. Who could recognize this frail, shameful, figure of a man as king? Only those with eyes to see. Somehow, someway, one of the criminals dying next to Jesus saw something the others couldn’t see, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
A Forgiving King
Not only is Jesus a vulnerable king, he is a forgiving king.
Allow me to tell you a story about a pastor friend of mine named Christa—she’s someone I’ve known for several years. Christa is one of the most talented, gifted pastors and preachers I know. When I grow up I want to be like Christa!
A few years ago, Christa took a new church in a town with a thriving seminary, and there was a young, female seminary student in her church whom Christa befriended. The young woman was sharp in many ways, but she dealt with tremendous social anxiety and crippling insecurity. Christa wanted to help her, so she took the young woman under her wing, made her a pastoral intern at the church, showed her the ropes, introduced her to other clergy, and occasionally allowed the young woman try her hand at preaching (which was painful for everyone). Christa even invited the young woman into her home at holidays because the young woman’s family was far away in another state.
One day Pastor Christa made a decision that her young intern didn’t like, and everything changed. The young woman began telling lies about Christa, even accusing her of harassment. Many within the church believed the young woman. And though the church board found no evidence of harassment, Christa’s reputation was so sullied in that church that she had to resign.
I sat down with Christa over pumpkin spice lattes shortly after her resignation. Her tears flowed as she described the situation, the pain and humiliation of the church board’s investigation, as well as how betrayed she felt by this young woman whom she had tried to help.
As I listened, I felt her pain—it was palpable. Trying to offer some words of encouragement and comfort, I said to her, “My prayer is that you’ll be able to forgive the young lady in time.” Christa’s response left me gob smacked, “Oh, I’ve forgiven her. I’ve never NOT forgiven her. I’ve known all along that her actions are simply result of her brokenness.”
As Jesus hangs on a cross, his body broken, bloody, pierced, humiliated and shamed—his prayer leaves us gob smacked, “Father, forgive them. They don’t know what they’re doing.”
How could Christa forgive her young intern for trying to ruin her career and tarnishing her reputation? And a more confounding question—how could Jesus forgive those who drove nine-inch-nails through his hands and feet? There’s only one answer . . .
Jesus is a forgiving king.
An Inclusive King
Jesus is a vulnerable king. He is a forgiving king. He is also an inclusive king.
From time to time in my line of work, someone will want to talk about a loved one, and there will be a deep concern about that person’s eternal fate because that person has never been or was never baptized. In these conversations, I’ll sometimes open up the Bible to this passage in Luke in which Jesus assures the thief on the cross next to him, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.” Was the thief baptized? No. Did the thief repent? No. Ask forgiveness? No. Say the “sinner’s prayer?” No. We don’t know much about his fellow except that he committed at least one crime and believed himself to be guilty unto death. Maybe he was a fine person, arrested for stealing bread to feed his hungry nephew like Jean Valjean from Les Miserables. I wouldn’t mind spending eternity in heaven with Jean Valjean (especially as played by Hugh Jackman!) On the other hand, this “thief” just as easily might have been a horrible person. Maybe he committed heinous crimes against humanity. I’d rather not spend eternity with him in that case.
See my playground soteriology at work there?
It doesn’t matter whether I want this guy on my team or not—Jesus wants him on his.
Thief: “Remember me when you come into your kingdom?”
Jesus: “Yes! Of course!”
No questions asked. None.
We don’t understand—we can’t fathom this kind of radical inclusivity. Our world is so transactional. We teach our children: “to have a friend you’ve got to be a friend.” We operate in life and in business with, “you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.”
This openness, this radical inclusivity Jesus displays toward this criminal makes us uncomfortable. We’d rather Heaven be a gated community where we can keep the riff raff out.
News flash: heaven will be full of riff raff (even you, even me, even Kanye).
What a strange kind of King our Lord is! Jesus is a Different Kind of King: vulnerable, forgiving, inclusive. This truth is so hard for us to handle.
Now, unlike a lot of preachers, I don’t claim to know much about what Heaven will be like. Whatever it’s like, I’m convinced we’ll share Heaven with the people we love and miss—that’s a hopeful idea. But I’m also convinced we’ll share Heaven with the very soldiers who nailed Jesus to the cross. We’ll share Heaven with this common thief executed alongside Jesus. The guy who is certain I’m going to hell? We’ll see him there too. I hope I beat him to Heaven so that I can be standing right there grinning and waving when he gets there. Maybe he’ll take his place in one of the larger mansions because his is the “right” theology. That’s OK—I’ll be happy with a little bungalow near the Crystal Sea.
If our Catholic friends have it right, and Jesus is the “King of the Universe,” (and I think they are) that means that Jesus isn’t just the King of you and me, but of all those people we’d rather not meet in heaven, even people wearing roller skates.
And speaking of that little song, I’ve revised the lyrics to perhaps better reflect the Heaven that’s home to a vulnerable, forgiving, and inclusive King (changes in bold):
Oh, you can get to heaven (Oh, you can get to heaven)
On roller skates (On roller skates)
Oh, you can get to heaven (Oh, you can get to heaven)
On roller skates
Oh, you can get to heaven on roller skates
‘Cause Jesus don’t discriminate.
All our sins are washed away
We’ve been redeemed