Luke 23:33-43. Colossians 1:11-20
“Expectations”
Today is Christ the King Sunday. This means it is the last
Sunday of the church year. Next Sunday Advent begins and with it a new church
year. So today is the culmination of the past year. It began with waiting in
anticipation of a birth, then Christmas, and then the events of the life of
Jesus, a journey to the cross, an empty tomb, resurrection and then the
building up of the community of Christians beginning with Pentecost and tongues
of fire. Then we journeyed through the teachings of Christ and now today …
Christ the King Sunday.
An entire year of build-up- story after story, parables,
miracles, teachings, prayers, healings, doubts, conversions, baptisms, promises,
revelations all leading up to this. This moment of recognizing Christ the King.
It’s as if we have been turning the pages of this cosmic story, sitting on the
edge of our seat, surprised, delighted, frightened, wondering what will come next.
The pages remaining becoming thinner than the pages read and our excitement
building … how will it end? As we turn the pages with anticipation we come down
to the very last one and with hands shaking with excitement, eyes opened wide
prepared for wonder and awe, we come to this … this lesson read today from
Luke’s Gospel. The words painting the picture on this final page of our church
year and the picture is of Jesus, hanging from a cross, being mocked.
Is this what we were expecting? Is this the glorious image
we hoped for when we pictured Christ the King? Perhaps you find yourself
slumping into the seat you once sat on the edge of, loosening the wide-eyed
gaze of excitement and shaking your head with a puzzled brow … asking “is this
it?”
It is a very unflattering picture. Jesus has had his
clothes taken, he has been beaten and he has been hung on a cross for all to
look at. He is next to criminals. This passage that was read is not one of
celebration and praise that one might expect for a king, but rather one of
mockery. The heart of the passage is teasing, humiliation … let down. Instead
of a royal banner pronouncing him king, the only titles we hear are said with
cruelty. We hear it from the people who say “let him save himself if he is the
Messiah of God, his chosen one!” Then the soldiers saying “If you are King of
the Jews, save yourself!” And then one of the criminals next to him saying “Are
you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” This embarrassment, this cruelty,
this heartlessness … is this what you were expecting on this Christ the King
Sunday?
Expectations can be a beautiful thing, an opportunity to
live in the excitement of anticipation, something to hang our hope on … or they
can be a painful and disappointing thing. Expectations may come from our
convictions and hopes. Or they can come from our fears and insecurities.
My husband is in a position of leadership; he is the Bishop
of the Episcopal Diocese of Albany. This means that he oversees 105 churches
and represents the Diocese to the wider church. A few weeks ago he got a very
well-written letter full of sincerity and passion. The writer of it laid out
all that he saw happening in the country that was upsetting- people living in
fear, violent arrests, injustices and dangerous language deepening divisions.
He then asked “Bishop, what will you do?” and implored my husband to “do
something” to use his position and voice to speak against the President, the
leaders and make a change. That very same week my husband received another
letter that was again full of sincerity and passion. This writer laid out what
he saw as the upsetting things happening in this country- people attacking the
president, violence against Christians and dangerous language deepening
divisions. He too implored my husband to “do something” to use his position and
voice to change things, only this writer believed that means speaking for the
President and fighting for the actions that the other person is so horrified
by. As I looked at these letters from my position as spouse to my husband, I
felt the weight of expectations on him. So much expectation on what he can do,
what he should do. And I understand because I too wish there was a hero to come
and save the day, but I also recognize that placing that expectation on one
single human is likely not the best bet.
It brought up a memory for me from some time ago, I was a
newly ordained pastor, about 25 years old and serving in my first appointment.
I was an associate pastor and the senior pastor was out of town. We received a
request for a funeral and I responded. I met with the family and felt that
something was “off” as they looked at me and barely said a word, but I was
grateful for an “in-law” who was open and shared all kinds of stories and
memories of the loved one who had died. On the day of the service, I walked
into the funeral home and it was like one of those moments in a movie where
someone walks into the bar and the music stops and everyone turns and glares
with suspicion at the person who walked in. It was me, I was the one they were
glaring at. I didn’t have to wonder long because some folks were thoughtful
enough to whisper loud enough for me to hear as they expressed their
disappointment that the pastor was a woman … and even worse … a young woman. I
continued on, telling myself that the expectations were so low that surely I
could disappoint no further. But the weight of expectations … crushed
expectations was felt.
We all live with the weight of expectations. And, let’s be
honest, the heaviest of them all are the ones we likely put on ourselves. We
walk around under the weight of our own expectations of the kind of employee,
parent, spouse, friend, Christian, human we should be. And then also the weight
of our own disappointment when we, of course, cannot meet those … because we
are human and we are not perfect.
We look in the mirror and ask ourselves “is this what I was
expecting?” And we probably also look at our world and ask the same thing. And
there is pain in that. I look around and see a world I was not expecting or
hoping for. A world of inequality, fear, pain, discrimination, hatred,
violence, environmental destruction and war. This is not the world I hoped to
raise my children in. This is not the world I thought we were working toward.
This is not the world of realized hopes of peace, love, kindness and justice.
And sometimes that is scary, sometimes it breaks my heart and sometimes I want
to cry out for a hero. So I too sit with hope and longing as we turn the page
to find our Messiah, the one promised by God, longed for, the chosen one, the
Savior.
But what I find doesn’t look anything like the story book
expectations I have for a hero. Actually, it’s so much better than that. Jesus dying
on the cross is not a pretty picture. It is painful and it is heart-breaking
but it is real and it is exactly how he told us it would be. It is a divine act
of love to bring each of us into a restored relationship with God. A divine act
of love for our broken and violent world. A violence and brokenness that Jesus
knew deeply and yet, he still came for us. As Jesus was hanging from the cross
being mocked as the air left his lungs, one of the criminals beside him said
“Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” This criminal knew he had
done wrong, he knew he was a criminal, he saw Jesus on the cross next to him,
saw the mocking, saw the pain and yet he asks for Jesus to remember him. And
Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
The one being mocked says these words to the one who is being
punished for crimes, showing us that there are no barriers separating us from
God’s love. Jesus gives assurance to this criminal, this man who surely did not
meet the expectations of others. Christ the King is not a hero just for the
lucky few, the privileged ones, or those who are perfect, he is a savior for
the world. He knows that we are human, that we sin, that we make mistakes, that
we fall short, that we get lost in the pain of the world and yet, he assures us
of salvation. He calls us to lift our gaze from the hopelessness and despair to
a place called Paradise, to a restored relationship with God, to a peace that
cannot be earned.
And living in that love we are called to hold on to that
hope, to persevere in the darkness, to bring light into the world. We are
called to make this earth look like the kingdom of God and have courage to live
not for the expectations of the world, but for the love of Christ.
As the reading from Colossians says, “May you be made
strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, and may you be
prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to
the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in
the light. He has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into
the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of
sins.”
Perhaps not what we expected …but so much more.
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