Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is Luke 23:26-43
Today is the Last Sunday of the Church Year. It’s also called Christ the King Sunday. These last Sundays of the Church year, we especially focus, as we say in the Creed, that “He will come again with glory to judge the living and the dead, whose kingdom will have no end.” And, when we think of Christ’s return we think – rightly! – of the pictures painted in the Scriptures of what that day will be like. In those pictures we have in our minds, we think of a glorious and majestic event with trumpets, and lights, and angels, and all the heavenly host in attendance as Jesus descends. And every eye shall see and every ear shall hear and every one – faithful and unfaithful, in Christ and outside of Christ, the body of Christ and those who separated themselves from Christ – everyone shall know Christ is Lord.
But our Gospel reading does not take us to the glorious return of Jesus. Last week, we heard Jesus’ words direct us to a tree, to the tree, as He drew closer to the cross. Today, St. Luke leads us to that very tree, to the foot of the cross, where we see and hear the narrative of Jesus’ crucifixion. Strange scene, isn’t it, an odd picture to be given to us on the day we proclaim Christ the King to instead see Jesus as Victim, the sacrifice. Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.
The world expects glory in parades, pomp and circumstances. Christ shows His glory in the exact opposite: in His innocent suffering and death. The world expect a king to reign from behind the walls of an expansive castle while sitting on the finest of thrones. Christ reigns outside the city walls, near the town dump, with his throne being the lonely place of the cross. The world expects a king to wear a crown made of the finest of gold, silver and precious jewels. Christ wears a crown made of thorns – the curse of the garden of Eden literally coming to rest on His brow.
A king is surrounded by his subjects, bowing and scraping before his feet. Jesus is surrounded by the crowds who mock and jeer. A king stands with soldiers at his side, ready to do his bidding. Jesus hangs with two criminals, one on each side. A king rules in majesty. Jesus rules in humility. A king rules by fiat and royal edict. Jesus rules in mercy and grace. A king threatens and punishes wrongdoers and, in Jesus case, even punishes the innocent. Jesus forgives not only the unwitting participants, but also the penitent sinner who only asks to be remembered. A king is heralded with trumpets and armies. Christ was mocked, with just a note to declare Him “The King of the Jews.” A king fights tooth and nail to live and to hold onto his earthly kingdom. Christ takes spear and nail to die and to surrender his life for the ransom of many. A king’s bedchamber is filled with the finest of pillows, the softest of beds, and faithful servants to minister to his every whim and need. Christ’s bedchamber was hewn out of stone, his bedclothes a grave shroud, and laid to rest hurriedly by faithful but frightened disciples. When a king dies, there is national mourning and heads of state offer words of consolation.
Where earthly kings enjoy every kind of service and servant, Christ came not to be served, but to serve. Where kings command and people die, Jesus gives His life as a ransom for many.
A strange king, this One who takes the place of His people. Abdicating His heavenly throne and divine royalty to take up human flesh. A strange kingdom, indeed: reigning to die. No one has ever done such a thing before.
That’s because no king has ever loved like this One. Christ, the King, does all of this to trade places with His people: one, innocent death to take the place of all people of all time. He does it to stand under God’s own judgement – judgement that otherwise would have fallen upon us.
In the Old Testament sacrificial rite, when an animal was slaughtered for sacrifice, the blood of the animal would be caught in a bowl. The animal would be prepared and placed on the altar and then half of the blood would be poured out on top of the sacrifice. Using a hyssop branch, the high priest would dip into the blood and fling it on the worshippers, sprinkling them with the blood of the animal. Life is in the blood, Deuteronomy says, and the collecting, pouring and sprinkling of the blood signified that the life taken from the animal is life given to the people.
But once a year, on Yom Kippur – the Day of Atonement – the High Priest would enter into the Holy of Holies in the Temple with his basin of blood. There, the blood would be sprinkled, not on the sacrifice, but on the Ark of the Covenant, the place where God promised to dwell among His people. This place, the lid of the Ark of the Covenant, was called the mercy seat. God would show mercy by receiving the blood of the sacrificial bull and remember His pledge and promise that He would not destroy His people. He would accept a sacrifice in their stead. Then, the priest would sprinkle the blood on the people of Israel. The covenant of God was signed in blood.
A moment ago, I said that the cross was Jesus’ throne. It also served as an altar, an altar upon which Christ is offered as the once-for-all sacrifice, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. In Christ’s crucifixion, the cross becomes a throne-altar, the mercy seat, where Jesus blood is shed, poured out for us for the sins of the world. It is, truly, the King's ransom for you.
As blood-covered and mercied people of God, we call out in repentant faith, “Father forgive us, for we know not what we do.” And, God, rich in mercy through the blood of Jesus, speaks to each of us: Today, you will be with me in paradise.
That sounds strange, to be sitting here in this sanctuary in South Texas on the Last Sunday of the Year. Today? As beautiful as this place is, it is hardly paradise. Paradise – that is, eternity in the presence of Christ in the resurrection of all flesh – paradise is yours, today. You are baptized, you are redeemed, you are made whole in Christ. Christ has died for you, Christ has fulfilled the Law for you, Christ has completed the Father’s will for you.
Christ is your King. But, here’s what’s remarkable: He makes you royalty as well so you can be an active part of the Kingdom. “You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for His own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who called you out of darkness into His own marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people. Once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.” (1 Peter 2:9-10)
Here’s why that’s important. You are made holy for a purpose. Not just for your own salvation, but for sharing the news of the King with those around you. Some people hear that and think they have to be missionaries, or pastors, or at least Sunday school teachers. No. You are proclaimers of the King in your daily vocation. When you stand in line at the grocery store, when you attend your grandson’s concert, when you make the kids’ lunches, when you change someone’s diaper, when you are pumping gas, when you eating lunch at the Barn, when you and your family eat together – in any of those moments, in what you say and do, you proclaim Christ and His mercy and grace. You, who received the King’s ransom, now share it with those around you.
In the name of Christ, the King.
Amen.
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