SERMON FOR THE SOLEMNITY OF CHRIST THE KING

Preached at the Church of St. John the Baptist, Eltham

at Parish Mass on November 24th, 2019

Jer. 23: 1-6; Col. 1: 11-20 and Luke 23: 33-43

‘The days are coming, says the Lord,

when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch,

and he shall reign as king and deal wisely.’ (Jer. 23 5)

 ª

INTRODUCTION
Today is the last Sunday of the Church’s Year: next week we’ll be starting the season of Advent when we prepare for the birth of Christ.  We give the title, Christ the King to this Sunday because it reminds us, at the end of the year, that we belong to Jesus.  He is the One to whom our attention is to be given; who’s life must inform ours; who needs to reign in our hearts.  He is that ‘Righteous Branch’ which Jeremiah spoke of, our leader who has adopted us as members of his reign.  So, I want to reflect on some of the things that means: what does it mean that we are members of Christ; that we belong to the Church; that we are to invite others into his reign?

MEMBERS OF CHRIST

The primary thing for all of us is that we have been chosen by God: we are His beloved.  For whatever reason we are members, not of some exclusive club (perish the thought) but of a divine body of women and men around the world and down through time, one with the saints who we have been reminded about over these past few weeks.  We’re as much members of the whole Body of Christ as we are of this particular church – something I was reminded of when we were in Jerusalem with Christians from around the world – and with those who have stayed faithful in that Land since the time of Christ.  Who are so easily forgotten, not least by those who support the State of Israel in its constant persecution of Palestinian Christians (as well as Muslims), something the President of the United States blatantly ignores.  

LIFE IN THE KINGDOM

And being there also reminded me that we’re all part of the mystical body that has existed throughout time – something that happens every time we celebrate the life of a saint – with John the Baptist, Francis of Assisi, Elizabeth of Hungary and Teresa of Lisieux  – with the martyrs of the early Christian era, the concentration camps of Nazi Germany or the deserts of north Africa and Arabia today.  The heroes of faith who have gone before us and are part of the eternal reign of Christ and with whom we are present as we celebrate this Eucharist.

The past few weeks were, for a while, called the ‘Kingdom Season’ when we were encouraged to remember that life to which we’re all – in the end – called.  Today’s feast is the high point of that season of remembrance and a final reminder of what it is we’re called to.  We cannot see those who have gone before us, but we believe that we dwell with them.  As St. Paul wrote in his Letter to the Colossians that’s just been read:

‘(Christ) is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation: for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible … He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the first-born from the dead. … For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell …’ (Col. 1: 15-19) 

Aren’t they such hopeful and encouraging words!  A bold statement that was intended to remind those early Christians, no doubt caught up in the issues of everyday life, of their amazing calling.   It is all about glory: Christ’s glory and ours.   When life seems to be getting us down, we need to remember these words, for you and I are ‘dust destined for glory’.  We have such a potential – and yet are so often satisfied with less.   And, sometimes (dare I say it?) we act as though we were less than that to which we are called.  That’s why making our confession is so important and something each of us needs to consider.  When did you last make yours?  Or have you never made one?  If not, maybe Advent is a time to consider doing so for, as St. Paul went on to say: ‘God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.’ (Col. 1: 20)

PRAYER IN CHRIST

In our prayer we should always begin by recalling ourselves in the presence of, and realise ourselves as part of, this divine body.  That’s why the opening of the Eucharistic Prayer invites us to lay aside our earthliness and realise ourselves before God: Lift up your hearts, says the priest.  We lift them to the Lord you reply and, in so doing, affirm that you desire to be one with Christ in glory.   And his invitation needs our assent.  It’s not a command; it’s an invitation of love requiring our loving response.  As St. Teresa of Avila wrote: “If you would progress (along) this road (to God), the important thing is ... to love much.  Do then whatever most arouses you to love.” (Int. Castle: Ch.1)

The road towards union with Christ our King doesn’t require us to pass any tests: it’s the royal road of loving desire for at-one-ness with God.  As St. Teresa’s great contemporary, John of the Cross, wrote in the opening lines of his poem ‘The Dark Night of the Soul’:

               On a dark night,

                  Kindled in love with yearnings

      – oh happy chance! –

                  I went forth without being observed,

                  My house being now at rest

                  In darkness and secure …

                  In secret where none saw me

                  Nor I beheld aught

                  Without light or guide,

   save that which burned in my heart.

WE BELONG TO THE CHURCH

The trouble is, for many people, the church seems more like a club than a living body seeking a loving union with God.   So, what does it mean to say: ‘we belong to the Church’?

Well, yes, there is great comfort in belonging to something.  To sense that we’re not alone but are part of a wider body of women and men.  Loneliness is a terrible thing: as someone once said to me, one of the reasons they came to Mass was to have someone hug them during the peace.  At 80 – a widow without children – there were few people who showed her intimacy. // Sometimes, people regard the Church as exclusive – a club for like-minded people.  But we know differently!   The Church is as full of differences as the people who belong.  And we’re not always going to see eye to eye.  Sometimes, we’re going to strongly disagree with each other.  As Bishop Rowan Williams wrote:

“If I conclude that my Christian brother or sister is damagingly mistaken in their decision, I accept for myself the brokenness of the Body (of Christ) that this entails.  These are my wounds, just as those who disagree with me are wounded by what they consider my failure or even betrayal.  …   How do I relate to them? … I don’t seek simply to condemn them, but to stand alongside them in my own prayer, not knowing how, in the strange economy of the Body, their life and mine may work together for our common salvation. …

And when I stand in God’s presence or at the Altar, they are part of the company I belong to.”

Thank God you, clearly, constantly welcome new people into your midst.  All are welcome, whether they’ve been coming for 80 years or just arrived.  We all belong, and our differences enrich the body. 

So, to those who have belonged for many years I ask: “How many new people have you got to know?  How are you making them know they belong?”  And, to those who have arrived more recently I ask: “How are you getting to know the wonder of becoming part of the Body of Christ?  How are you inviting him into your life?”

INVITING OTHERS INTO HIS REIGN

For the church does not exist simply to serve the needs of those who belong, but to be a herald of the kingdom – the reign – of God.  To be a sign of the depths to which God loves this, sometimes crazy, world.    When Jesus was dying on that cross which bore the inscription, ‘This is the King of the Jews’, love was crucified.  And because it was love that was being crucified it still embraced the stranger. To the dying thief who asked to be remembered in the new age, Christ replied: “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”  A church that’s not reaching out with that same divine love is always in danger of being what some say we are – a club for like-minded people.   But the Divine Mystery we celebrate is not about what goes on behind closed doors; it’s about the way the Sacred Heart our King reaches out and enfolds the world in life and death and would draw all into His Reign.  

CONCLUSION

In realising our union with the saints of all ages within the body of Christ, you can take heart from belonging to an amazing, living, diverse Body.  And we will be known by that which we have become: a member of that Body in whom people must find the invisible God.   

Let me end with a prayer of that great Carmelite saint whom I quoted earlier – Teresa of Avila.

Lord Christ,
You have no body on earth but ours,
No hands but ours,
No feet but ours.
Ours are the eyes through which your compassion

must look out on the world.
Ours are the feet by which you may still
go about doing good.
Ours are the hands with which
you bless people now.
Bless our minds and bodies,
That we may be a blessing to others.