When I first started seminary, I was back home in Chattanooga, having coffee with a friend of mine who directed community theater. She was planning to do a production of Jesus Christ Superstar, and some of the board members were worried that it would be too blasphemous. Now, in actuality, they were worried that sponsors would be mad, but they wrapped it up and presented it to her as blasphemous. Seriously, this was the mindset. This was Chattanooga at its weirdest.
So she asked me, what did I think.
I thought back to the early 70's. I had vague memories of the mainstream churches being all up in arms about it when it appeared on Broadway. The city council even passed a resolution condemning it (though it was beyond anyone – even the staunchest conservatives in town – what good they thought that was doing, since the folks up in New York City probably didn't have a clue what a Chattanooga was).
But then later, it was made into a movie, and the Eastgate theater decided to show it – for one weekend. People were too afraid to go and be seen at it with all the protesters and news media out front. It came back again later in the 80's and made it's way to the 99 cent movie house. By then the nation had moved on and was more worried about the Soviet Union and welfare queens and the gays and such. I had gone to see it then and thought it was ok. The music was better than the movie, but hey, for 99 cents I could endure it.
What I never saw in it was blasphemy. I mean, sure they stopped at the burial of Jesus in a borrowed tomb, and they weren't too big on miracles on display, but that was never the point of the musical to begin with. It was about a single person, driven by God, to stand up for the poor and oppressed.
Other people disagree with that opinion. Some of you may disagree with that opinion. And that's ok.
In fact, that whole conversation with my friend, reminds me that as individuals and as communities of faith we are still sorting out just who Jesus was and is. Given that there are thousands of Christian denominations in the world, it comes as no surprise that there is more than one way of thinking about this. And this question is one that is ours to ponder in a particular way as we come upon Christ the King Sunday once more.
What, in fact, does it mean to say that Jesus is King? Especially in a country that, most of the time, sneers at any whiff of royalty here. At least we think we do. And moving beyond this purely academic conversation, how does all of this matter in the midst of our lives in this world that seems to be getting harsher, and if not harsher, then at least louder? What does it mean in 21st century America to claim that Jesus is King?
Especially when Jesus as King runs contrary to how the world today – how leaders today – usually think about kingship.
It's all about power, right? You can call a king anything: Caesar, El Jefe, El Presidente, Archbishop, it's about power and how that power is used...for and against.
So often, today, power is a trophy, used to distinguish someone from everyone else. Power is money, stacks of it, and power is using all the tricks and grifts to get more of it. Power is being able to exploit those without it, convincing them that their bare subsistence is the result of the powerless “other” trying to have more of it than they do.
Power is often the privilege of some false identifier: skin color, gender, where you were born, anything that sets you apart. Power is violence and willingness to use it against the vulnerable. Power is fear...and the joy that comes from causing others to be afraid. Power is, frankly and so often, the life blood of a bully.
The power of a king ultimately resides in the power to force others to bend the knee, to swallow their own dignity and honor, their own independence...to use their own free will to give away their own free will.
This is so often the power of our world.
And so it is so hard to see a man on a cross, dirty, sweaty, bleeding and broken, and think, this is my King. And yet, there he hangs. Christ the King. Powerless.
Maybe.
Because, y'all, Jesus surely held power. Only his power was always bent toward justice for the poor, the downtrodden, the outcast. His power was never self-serving, rather it was always exercised on behalf of others. Some might say, wasted. Indeed, the power that Jesus had led him right into being placed on trial for blasphemy. One where he wound up being judged by both the authorities of the temple and of the state. Jesus' power led him to a shameful death on a cross. A wasted man with today's (dare I say it?) socialist ideals, begging people to toss aside their fears and focus on love, to give of themselves to respect and honor the dignity of those in the shadows of the powerful.
But to the powerful, then and now, there is no evidence of power in Jesus as we encounter him standing before Pilate. It is not Pilate bound in chains. Instead Pilate is so sure of his own power that he is able to have a bit of fun with this wretched fool standing before him, playing a little cat and mouse with Jesus, no doubt rolling his eyes when he is first brought before him. And here stands Jesus, speaking truth, unwilling to bend the knee to injustice and hatred and bigotry. So in the end, I do wonder which one held the power that mattered here?
I don't know. Is that a King? What do you think?
Here's what I think. Through it all, when I read the Gospels, I find courage in my own journey of seeking to be a disciple of Jesus when I see a life lived by a Jesus who was fully human. A Jesus who must have struggled to be all he was meant to be in the hardest times: like the place we encounter him today. Like the place we find ourselves today. I know that I am more likely to follow one who has been 'down in the dirt' with me, so to speak. I am more likely to believe I can find my way out of a world of powerful people abusing their power if I can follow the one who has come into that place to be with and teach and love sinners like me, who has shown that true kingship is not found in royal robes or high offices but in caring bandages, not in the gold of the land but in the Golden Rule, not in laws of condemnation but in words of charity.
Oh, I might admire an occasional leader who shows remarkable compassion or whose very presence evokes a sense of history. But I won't drop everything to follow him or her unless I believe they understand where I am and have been and hope to one day be. And I certainly won't bend my knee in worship if I don't believe they can touch and change my soul. And in all of history I can only think of one person worthy of that.
My friend went on to direct “Jesus Christ Superstar,” and not a single person batted an eye. All that worry was for naught. People had moved on to other outrages, they had divided themselves over other trivial matters.
As for our conversation that day, I think it was a good and important one...and still is. Who is worthy of being a king? And who is not? And y'all it's all just talk until our following Jesus as king makes a difference in the hard and frightening decisions and choices each of us will be called to make in the world today. Until it begins to impact how we live in the midst of the same challenges of this hurting, hopeful world where Jesus lived as well.
Is that a king? This man who healed the sick, not demanding proof of insurance and punishing those with pre-existing conditions? This man who embraced strangers without questioning their status or demanding their papers? This man who fed the hungry, not complaining that his taxes were paying for their loaves and fishes? This man who loved the poor and the oppressed, who never said “This is your own fault”?
Yeah, y'all, I think that's a king. At least it's my king.
Amen