Readings: Jeremiah
23:1-6 Luke 23:33-43
We pray: may the
words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight
O God, our rock and our sustainer. Amen.
There is a hymn,
an old one, an anonymous one that goes like this:
Thou shalt not know him when he comes,
Not by any din of drums,
Nor by his manners, nor his airs,
Nor by anything he wears.
Thou shalt know him when he comes,
Not by crown or by gown,
But his coming known shall be,
By the holy harmony
Which his coming shall make in thee.
Thou shalt know him when he comes. Amen.
I think it could
be said that Jesus is the most paradoxical wielder of power in the history of
the world.[1]
He came to this world not with crown or drum but in a dark dank stable. He
promised the world but ended up on a dirty old cross alongside criminals, a
disappointment to those who had high expectations of his power and might.
He restored others
to life but could not seem to save himself.
Yet on the cross,
in his suffering and weakness, he wielded more power than any earthly
ruler. He was the highest above all yet
was treated as the lowest of scum at his death.
King of the lowlands might have been another apt inscription for
him. He was mocked for aspiring to
titles that he never claimed, yet in the cruel jibes of the leaders and the
soldiers the truth of his greatness was made known.
But Jesus had
begun this story of upside down power from the beginning. Born humbly, he was visited by the venerable
wise sages from the east. An innocent
babe, he was perceived as a threat to his crown and hunted down by the powerful
Herod. A simple family became refugees
through the warnings of the heavenly hosts.
This was an ordinary child, yet the power of kings could not destroy him
and the power of heaven watched over him.
And throughout his
ministry, his power always seemed topsy-turvy to those around him. For it healed the weak and not the important,
it sought out the unclean and not the holy, it beckoned to table the tax
collector and threw over the tables of the temple. He saw kingship as best understood by the
role of shepherd caring for the flock, even the least and the lost.
If he was the
messiah he was behaving in a most unexpected way, confusing and counter
cultural.
For there was no
doubt that the long awaited messiah was reckoned in worldly terms as a
dangerous threat to the establishment– Judas thought so, the temple authorities
thought so, Herod thought so too. All
from their different perspectives, they expected someone who would overthrow
the rulers of the world and replace them. While this man didn’t quite fit the
bill, they were taking no chances.
So they killed
him. Put him on the cross, belittled
him, humiliated him, certain that that was end of that.
Yet their mocking
inscription held true –in a truly revolutionary way. King of the Jews.
You know if you
were to do that word association thing – I say a word and you come back with
the first thing it makes you think of, what would be your response to
king? It would be different to each
person and certainly different to those people Jesus was speaking to 2000 years
ago. ‘King’ for us today does not hold
as much of the menace or outright authority that it used to. For them it was an instant connection with
full and unassailable power, privilege and right. The only thing that could possibly challenge
it would be an even greater show of power, privilege and right. That still happens today of course – ‘my bomb
is greater than your bomb’ is heard in its many variations still. Yet this was not the way that Jesus taught or
exemplified – not in life or death.
Jesus, the most
paradoxical wielder of power the world has ever known.
He seemed to be
submissive – and so he was – to his Father.
He seemed to be
have lost his assertiveness – but he spearheaded a revolution of love and
grace.
He seemed to
abdicate kingship in this world – yet he created a new understanding of kingdom
not just in the yet to come but also in the now.
Jesus was
dangerous, make no mistake about that, he was a true revolutionary, a
subversive – but just not in the way everyone expected.
And that is our
legacy is it not? How might we live it
today?
Well perhaps first
is the understanding that in we do not live bowed down by the accusations of
the world – neither do we throw the accusations back with a louder voice and a
better aim. We offer a different way of
living out the kingdom – love and compassion, justice and kindness are the laws
we live by. We are the kingdom that Jesus established, by our living and our
witness.
Then there is the
thought that we are not helpless or hopeless, powerless just because we choose
to walk the path of peace rather than war.
Jesus was born to show the world the power of love – yet we shy away
from being that power in the world. The
words of Marianne Williamson, slightly adapted, challenge us to be more
forthright and confident in the strength of the light of Christ in us:
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our
deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens
us. We ask ourselves: ‘Who am I to be outspoken,
confident, brimming over with hope, trusting in God’s
presence in my life?’ Actually who are you not to be?
You are a child of God. Your playing small does not
serve the world. There is nothing
enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure about you. We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God within
us. It is not just in some, it is in everyone.
And, as we let our light shine, we consciously give other
people permission to do the same.
So let us not be
cave dwellers, people of the dark – let us take on a bit more of the confidence
that what we do in the name of Christ, in the name of love, has the power to
make a big difference.
Another
question: do we have a bit of the subversive in us, challenging the ways of the
world that hurt and harm, especially the powerless. Challenging also the ways
of the church when they honour not Christ but the kingdoms of exclusion,
judgement, self righteousness, hypocrisy.
Coming
at the woes of the world with new solutions, different answers, taking the
revolutionary path of love and compassion.
Where is our subversive meter reading sitting at right now and does it
need a wee nudge up the way?
It
seems fitting to finish by coming back to those words of the old hymn we
started with – the assurance that in the
coming of the baby Jesus to our world, and in this child’s unhesitating walk
all the way to the cross, we are healed, we are made whole, we are made
complete in his holy presence and power.
Thou shalt know him when he comes,
Not by crown or by gown,
But his coming known shall be,
By the holy harmony
Which his coming shall make in thee.
Thou shalt know him when he comes. Amen Margaret
Garland
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