Sermons

The Reign of Christ
The Very Rev. Tracey Lind
November 25, 2007

"I die but God does not die. Long live Christ the King!" These were the last words spoken by Anacleto Gonzalez Flores before his execution in Mexico in April 1926. Bishop Flores was one of the most famous martyrs of the Cristero movement in Mexico, a spontaneous but sustained, grass-roots reaction to the suppression of the Roman Catholic Church in the 1920's by the Mexican government following its bloody revolution. The Cristero resistance movement got its name from the battle cry, "Viva Cristo Rey!" meaning, "Long live Christ the King!"

Following three exiles and a lengthy period of underground ministry, Bishop Flores of Guadalajara was arrested and sentenced to death by firing squad. Legend has it that as it he was taken to the execution wall, one of the members of the firing squad begged forgiveness for the act that they were about to commit. Rather than trying to talk his way out of the execution, Bishop Flores was said to have pronounced God's forgiveness on his executioners. Declining a blindfold, he faced the battery of bullets, shouting "Viva Cristo Rey!"

The doctrine of Christus Victor, Christ victorious on the cross, has helped many a Christian martyr face torture and death. Moreover, Christus Rex, Christ the King, has fueled more than one Christian resistance movement. And yet, the crucified but victorious Christ is a problematic symbol for lots of contemporary Christians, over the centuries, the cross has became analogous with Christian triumphalism, even at the expense of Christianity's sister religions, Judaism and Islam.

In the last fifty years, the cross and the accompanying doctrine of crucifixion has been a subject of heated debate and discourse. Equally fierce has been the conversation over the messianic claims made by Christians concerning Jesus of Nazareth, a crucified first century prophet whom we call the Christ, the Savior of the World, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

As 21st century Christians, how do we reconcile our central doctrine of crucifixion and our claim of messianic truth with the validity of other faith claims in an increasingly shrinking and volatile world? Perhaps, the simple answer is that we can't.

The crucifixion has often been called the scandal of Christianity. The crucifixion of Christ was scandalous for several reasons. In the first place, a decent, God-loving, innocent man was executed for crimes he did not commit. But that's not new; we execute innocent people all the time. Second, the crucifixion of Christ gave birth to a religious movement that literally changed the course of history. That's not really new either; martyrdom frequently stimulates resistance, reaction and reform. But third, (and this I think might be the most scandalous aspect of the crucifixion), according to Luke's Gospel account, it was on the cross that Jesus owned his "royal" identity, thus validating the messianic claims of his followers.

The hope for a messiah dates back to the prophets of the Hebrew Scriptures. In this morning's passage from Jeremiah, we hear the promise of a wise king who "shall execute justice and righteousness in the land." (Jeremiah 23: 5). As the longing for such a messiah increased, many a religious and political leader, including Jesus, was raised up for the role.

Throughout his ministry, Jesus vehemently denied any messianic or kingly titles. Even at his trial with Pilate, he refuted the title of king. Pilate said, "You are the King of the Jews," and Jesus responded, "You say that I am a king." However, on the cross, alone and abandoned, seemingly a hopeless failure, Jesus did not deny or negate his kingly authority. When one of the other condemned men hanging with him at Golgotha asked Jesus to "remember him" when he comes into his kingdom, Jesus responded "Today, you will be with me in paradise." Jesus, surrendering to death on the cross, offered royal hope to another dying man, the hope for a place where there would be no more suffering, no more pain, no more injustice, no more executions. This was the kind of kingdom that Jesus envisioned.

As evidenced by the crucifixion, it was not Jesus' majesty or position that gave him power. Rather, his unconditional love for his people that gave him the grace to forgive from the cross, his unshakeable fidelity to his mission that gave him the willingness to die on a cross, and his unrelenting faith in God that gave him the ability to promise paradise to another victim on a cross all distinguished Jesus as worthy of kingly honor – albeit hanging on a cross.

Jesus himself was a man profoundly committed to a vision of human life that would not allow him to be a king. He was born into poverty, lived simply, and died a poor man's death. He avoided all temptation for earthly power and rule. He preached good news to the poor, the broken, the oppressed and the outcast. He cleansed a leper, healed the hand of a slave, loved a woman with a questionable reputation, allowed himself to be touched by the unclean, gave sight to the blind and voice to the speechless, fed the hungry and sheltered the homeless. At every turn, Jesus resisted royal theology and kingly behavior; and yet, Christian history anointed him King of Kings. Luke's account of his crucifixion is an attempt to help us see the kind of king Jesus became.

All the gospel writers, including Luke, reported that Jesus rode into Jerusalem to the shouts of adoring crowds. The crowds called him a king and tried to make him feel like one. Why? Because they wanted him to be the king. As Rabbi Richard Block reminded us in our recent forum on Judaism, these oppressed people hoped that Jesus might be the long-awaited Messiah Meshiach (in Hebrew), Christ (in Greek) - the one anointed by God to overthrow Roman rule and usher in a new era of shalom. However, Jesus did not overthrow the governor of Judea, he did not become the high priest of the temple, and his public leadership was not affirmed by the masses. Within a week of arriving in Jerusalem, everything fell apart, Jesus got crucified, and the new era of shalom (God's eternal reign of peace) did not emerge. And that is why Jews do not believe that Jesus was, in fact, Meshiach or Messiah. And yet, most followers of Jesus believe that he was, in fact, the Messiah or the Christ, and someday he will return in glory.

So, what are well-intended, respectful 21st Century Christians supposed to do with this central paradox of our faith? What claims of truth can we make? Perhaps, Jesus' crucifixion and the symbol of the cross have less to do with Jesus' divinity, victory, and kingship, and more to do with our Lord's humanity, defeat, and servanthood.

Jesus with his arms outstretched on a cross, reminds us that when the powers and principalities of this world have smashed our earthly ambitions, we are not alone. When life appears to have defeated us, we are not alone. When our hopes and dreams diminish, we are not alone. When we stand at death's door, we are not alone. It is then that God embraces us in ways far beyond our imagination.

As I remember the story of Jesus' crucifixion, as I recall the tale of Bishop Flores' execution, and as I think about the martyrs of our faith down through the centuries, I wonder can we follow in their footsteps? Nobody knows for sure how he or she will react when the going gets real tough. Paul Moore, retired Bishop of New York, once confessed to me, if he had known in advance all the trouble he would get in because of his courageous actions of faith, he might not have been so faithful or so courageous. Fortunately, for the church, he didn't always know what kind of trouble he was getting himself into. And so it is with us.

When we work for the just reign of God, when we walk the way of Jesus (whom we called Christ) we will find ourselves headed into uncharted waters. There, perhaps in the middle of a storm, our character will be determined and our faith will be tested. May we remember that we are not alone, and may we imitate the grace of Christ as we face the trials of our lives, believing that defeat and even death is never the end of the story. Amen.