This text is always difficult for Lutheran pastor’s to preach. A former professor of mine, Karoline Lewis, illustrated it like this:
As a kid, you go up to your mother or father and say, “My neck hurts when I go like this” – and then demonstrate the pain-inducing move. Our parent’s response: “Well, then don’t do that.” A similar conversation occurs in the minds of preachers for this Sunday. "When I try to preach Christ the King Sunday, my neck hurts." The answer may be something like the following, "Well, then don't preach Christ the King Sunday."
One of the reasons we find this text so difficult to preach is because it is so heavily judgmental, and leans so heavily towards what we would call “works righteousness.” And let’s face it – we don’t like to talk about Jesus as a judge. We don’t exactly name our churches “Judging Jesus Lutheran,” do we? We want a Jesus who overlooks our being lazy, overlooks everything we do and turns a blind eye to sin, neglect, and inaction. After all, it’s faith—not works—that saves…right? This is what we preach as Lutherans.
However, “works righteousness” isn’t exactly what this parable is about. And it certainly isn’t about Jesus turning a blind eye to the injustices of the world. Quite the opposite. However, what this parable does do is it begs the question: What does it mean to have faith in Christ?
Is faith just an intellectual assent that something is true, or is faith something more than that? Does faith mean we sit idly by while God does his thing, or is faith actual participation in God’s Kingdom? Does faith mean that we ignore the things that were important to Christ, or that we pick up our crosses and take an interest in the things Christ was interested in? Do we live our lives in selfish, unproductive ways, or do we live our lives in faith—faith that Christ has not only redeemed us from our sins, but that God actually wants us to be a part of His Kingdom? That we aren’t just observers in the Kingdom of God, sitting on the sidelines not playing, but that we are active participants in helping bring God’s kingdom to earth? We pray this every week, do we not? Thy Kingdom come? And God has invited us and said, “YOU can help!” Do you have faith in God’s kingdom? Then let’s get to work on bringing it about.
If you go back and read Genesis, you’ll find something interesting—God created us not to be slaves, not as some accident like many of the other near eastern myths that were floating around at that time, but to partake in “kingly” duties. Not only does God hand creation over to us to care for, but it says God created us “in his image,” and part of God’s image is the image of a King. Because a king, while yes, is a ruler, is also a servant. Luther described a Christian as being “Lord of all, servant to none; servant to all and Lord of none.” This is what Christ is saying: those who have faith in my kingdom will also be a part of bringing my kingdom about. And in my kingdom – we clothe the poor, feed the hungry, and work for justice.
Because the problem is, when we stop partaking in being a part of building God’s kingdom, not only do we get lazy and selfish, but we start forgetting who exactly our King actually is. We forget who we belong to. It’s for this very reason that Christ the King Sunday was instituted.
Christ the King Sunday is actually a fairly new “holy day” on the church calendar. It was started by the Pope in 1925. Now you have to realize what was going on in Italy in 1925. Mussolini became Prime Minister of Italy in 1922 and by 1925 had declared himself the “supreme leader” of Italy. During Mussolini’s reign, he committed unspeakable atrocities against his fellow human. The King of Italy turned a blind eye, however, because he was fearful of Mussolini and his party. Of course, we also know Mussolini was followed by someone who became an even bigger “supreme leader” – Hitler. The atrocities that were carried out throughout both Italy and Nazi Germany were allowed to happen for one reason and one reason only – people forgot who the true “Supreme Leader” really was. They allowed swastikas to adorn their pulpits and sat silently as millions of Jews, misfits, and what society considered “undesirables” were carried off and killed in concentration camps. They stayed silent as Germany engaged in a war that killed millions more. These Christians forgot who they were, or more importantly, they forgot who they belonged to. Because they never gave their time to become builders of the Kingdom, they didn't know what to do when the time came to truly "live their faith."
Something else was their king—fear. And fear can be a fierce tyrant. I found it interesting this year in the elections the mantra that kept going around was “choose hope over fear.” While I do not doubt some people truly were doing this, I saw the majority of people not choosing hope – but choosing one fear over another a fear. Four years ago, fear of terrorism was what drove us. This year, it was fear over a failing economy. It’s interesting that these things are mentioned in John’s Revelation. John speaks of four things that we sometimes try to put our trust in and try to feel secure about – and if we’re not careful, fear of these things can run our lives. Fear of national conquest, fear of war and violence in our neighborhoods, fear of economic instability, and then ultimately—the fear of death itself.
These are the fears that drove the people of Italy and Nazi Germany as well. And that fear can sometimes paralyze us into inaction. Our active faith becomes an inactive faith, frozen by fear of worldly rulers.
Now this is not to say there weren’t Christians who stood up—there were, and many paid the price. What they didn’t do, however, is they did not let fear rule their life. It doesn’t mean they weren’t afraid—I have no doubt that they were. But fear was not what ruled them. They didn’t let fear of arrest and even death dissuade them from doing… the human thing. They did it because they remembered one thing—they remembered who their supreme ruler really was. They remembered who the true King was. And they remembered that their King was not a tyrant—but a servant. Their king was a king who entered into the depths of hell rather than causing it. Their king was a king who invited them to partake in helping bring heaven to earth. Their king was a king who didn’t seek to escape the harsh realities of life. In fact, their king did the opposite – he entered into those harsh realities—even to the point of death. Their king was a king who didn’t turn a blind eye to the suffering and unpleasantness in life. A king who did not worry about what the rulers of this world were going to do to him. A king who did not seek to save his own life at the expense of others. In fact, he handed his life over in order to save others.
Now this passage naturally instills a certain amount of nervousness in most of us—because we begin wondering, have I done this?—am I going to be a sheep, or a goat? Have I done enough? How frozen by fear and selfishness have I been? And, to be honest, it was designed to do just that. Jesus didn’t say this to make us think that ignoring God’s invitation to be partakers in the kingly responsibilities of caring for and serving others was any small deal. While God certainly doesn’t NEED our help in order to bring about His Kingdom, he has chosen to let us be helpers. It's a gift. In fact, he created us for that very purpose. We are created to be builders! He says these things to move us into action.
While this judgment seems terrifying—let us also remember the nature of our judge and King… the one who rules with love. Instead of ruling from a distant Heavenly throne, he enters into the “hell” of being human. Not only does he enter into the sometimes hellish human experience, but look at the throne he rules from: a cross.
Thus a passage like this is both a warning, and a promise. A warning that neglecting our part in building God’s kingdom, of allowing fear to rule our lives rather than Christ, of caring only for ourselves, being blind to the problems of the world, means that the possibility exists we will then not share in what we did not help build. For if we neglect all these things, we have not been living in faith.
And as much as we hate those kinds of warnings, they do serve a purpose. The purpose is to bring about change. It’s the old story, if a Mack truck is headed your way – wouldn’t you appreciate the warning to get out of its way? Change your route or direction? This is what Jesus is doing—giving a warning so that we jump out of disaster’s way. He does this not for the sole purpose of reprimanding and instilling fear, but because – he loves us. He cares about where we’re headed and what we do. If Jesus didn’t love and care for us, he wouldn’t warn us. Like our mother who warns us, “Look out, that stove’s hot!”
But the amazing promise that is given is those who live out their faith, who have helped build that kingdom, share in everything that the kingdom has to offer. Even if we screw things up most of the time.
Faith is a way of life, not just acknowledgment. Faith is not an “inactive” faith. Faith drives us, it pushes us, it causes us to see Christ in others. It causes us not to be paralyzed into inaction because of fear. Because faith comes from the Holy Spirit, and the Holy Spirit is anything but inactive.
