St. Luke's Episcopal Church
Cleveland, Tennessee

Twenty-fifth Sunday after Pentecost
November 18, 2007
Luke 21:5-19
The Reverend Deacon Art Bass

I’m sure many of you here have had occasion to either visit or worship at All Saints Chapel in Sewanee. Probably the most outstanding feature of the chapel is its stained glass, and the most impressive of these glass panels is the one immediately above the high altar. It symbolically depicts Christ reigning in heaven, enthroned in glory.

All the trappings of monarchy, everything we normally associate with kingship, are there shown with Christ. He is dressed in royal robes, a crown is upon his head, he holds a scepter in his hand, and he is attended by heavenly host.

Beneath his feet, and very diminutive in comparison to the towering figure of Christ is a small mountain peak, and atop that mountain peak is All Saints Chapel itself.

Today is the Last Sunday after Pentecost. Next Sunday, Advent begins. If we were today in a Roman Catholic Church or a Lutheran Church, this would be observed as festival or feast day, the feast of Christ the King. Our liturgical readings for today are the same as in those churches, and indeed our theme on this Sunday each year is the Kingship of Christ; we just don’t call this day by that name.

But what has today’s gospel to do with kingship? The Jesus we encounter in today’s reading is not seated on a throne and dressed as a King. Instead, he is stripped naked and fixed upon a cross. He is dying what was considered a most shameful death, a death reserved for condemned criminals, and indeed two criminals are there, dying with Jesus in the very same manner.

Ironically, the Romans had placed an inscription on the cross above Jesus, which proclaimed the truth. It read “This is the King of the Jews.” But the Romans were not interested in the truth. Their motive for the inscription was sarcastic mockery. To them, kings were like Caesar and Herod, and they could see nothing in this man which remotely resembled either of those persons.

The Jewish leaders, those in authority, who were supposed to shepherd the people in their religious faith, scoffed at Jesus: “He saved others; let him save himself if he really is God’s chosen one.”

And the people themselves, just stood there watching. In Luke’s gospel they are presented as silent and passive witnesses to the Crucifixion, speechless and dumbfounded.

It had not always been so. When Jesus had come to Jerusalem for the Passover a week or so earlier, it could not have been with greater fanfare. He had ridden into town surrounded by a huge and noisy crowd, shouting “Hosanna” and laying palm branches before him. On that day, the crowd had been active and vocal, and they were quite willing to proclaim Jesus as their king. But not now.

Probably the King they had been looking for was a King like David of old. They could not find anything reminiscent of David and his glory in the man who now hung before them on the cross.

In the movie, “The Passion of the Christ”, Mel Gibson presented to us, in graphic fashion, all the bloody horror of Roman crucifixion. But like his fellow gospel writers, Luke did not care to stress that aspect of Jesus’ death. What Luke did want us to grasp, however, was the lowliness, the shame, the humiliation attendant to that form of execution. He wants us to see that there is nothing at all in a crucifixion which the world might interpret as a sign of kingship, much less divine kingship.

And everyone who is there at the crucifixion of Jesus either mocks him, rejects him, or turns their back on him. Even one of the criminals, who is there, being crucified alongside Jesus, derides him, saying in effect, “Aren’t you supposed to be the Messiah? If you are, why don’t you save yourself - - and us!”

But then in a story which is unique to Luke’s gospel, in that most unlikely of circumstances, from a most unlikely source, comes a profession of faith that is absolutely profound.

Throughout Jesus’ ministry, especially after seeing or being the beneficiary of one of the miracles of Jesus, there were persons who accepted and proclaimed Jesus to be the Christ. But now at the Cross everyone seems to have given up. Even the Twelve have abandoned Jesus and scattered.

But the second crucified thief rebukes the first for his mockery of Jesus, asking him: “Do you not fear God? We are condemned justly, we deserve this punishment for our deeds.”
But of Jesus, he says, “This man, however, has done nothing wrong.”

Then he speaks directly to Jesus, and in absolute faith, trust, and sincerity, he says, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And in response, Jesus says: “Truly I tell you, today, you will be with me in Paradise.”

The word “paradise” comes to us through Latin and Greek from a Persian term meaning an enclosed garden. In the time of Jesus, those Jews who believed in an afterlife, used “ Paradise” to refer to the abode of the righteous dead.

A thief, a common criminal, was not the kind of person the Pharisees would have considered a candidate for Paradise.

But this thief confessed his guilt, he repented, and he bore witness to a Messianic kingship in Jesus when there was nothing to reveal it except faith alone. And so, Jesus pardoned and forgave the repentant thief (which was itself an act of divine kingship), and Jesus accepted him that day into his kingdom.

In today’s Epistle to the Colossians, Paul reminds us that we too, through our baptism, have been rescued from death and darkness and have been accepted into the kingdom of Christ. And there, Paul tells us, Christ reigns over all creation, things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible. Christ is the king, the head of the body, and we are that body, the church.

The challenge before us is, like the repentant thief, to always be aware of the Kingship of Christ, no matter where we are, no matter what the circumstances, and to always be aware of our role in the kingdom.

This is relatively easy to do on Sunday mornings, when we all come together in this beautiful place to share God’s love as a Christian family. Here we have one another present to support us in our witness and in our ministries, and this is as it should be.

But Sunday is only one of seven days in the week, and most of our opportunities to realize the kingdom of God and to make it known in the world come on those other six days and in other places.