One of my favorite philosophers is Homer…Simpson. He is so
wise, this eternally middle-aged man from Springfield. One of my favorite of Homer moments occurs as he inexplicably finds himself floating down a river
in a cherry picker while his daughter Lisa looks on helplessly from the
shore. Homer clasps his hands in his
hour of need, and looks up to the heavens and says:
Homer was praying for a superhero to
save him, and I understand why.
Superheroes rescue us from the muck that we get ourselves into. I’m a pretty big comic book nerd, as you all well
know—although I personally would have called on Batman. Still, I get the appeal of the hero or heroine who
swoops in at the last possible minute, finding us in the
worst set of circumstances, as everything around us is falling apart. Superheroes are powerful beings, who use their power (for the most part) to save us. They are saviors. This is who Homer cried out for: a literal savior, who would use his power to
fix Homer's problem.
Earlier this week we celebrated Christ the King Sunday, a day in which we reflect on the power of Jesus Christ. This day was created by Pope Pius XI in 1925
as a reminder of that Jesus is the King of the Universe, greater than any other ruler. It is a day to consider Jesus’ dominion and power over all humanity. Yet when we think about power, I wonder what
the first image is that comes into our minds. If you weren't sitting in a church, or if you weren't reading this on a priest's blog, what would you think of if you heard the word 'power' being uttered? Would you think of a conquering warrior like Alexander the Great? Or a strong ruler like Catherine the Great, seated on a lush and lavish throne?
Alexander the Great Catherine the Great
Or would you, perhaps like Homer, think of a superhero; maybe Power Man, also known as Luke Cage?
Luke Cage, aka Power Man
Christ the King Sunday gives us a chance to really think about power and to see what real power looks like, and it doesn't look like a conquering warrior, an empress, or a superhero. Each year, a different Gospel writer paints a picture of
Jesus’ power on Christ the King Sunday.
In Year A, we hear from Matthew, who gives us Jesus’ words that “whenever
you do something to the least of these, you do it to me.” Last year, in Year B, we heard the story of
Jesus meeting Pontius Pilate in the Gospel of John, mirroring images of two kingdoms—the kingdom of man and the kingdom of God. Here in Year C, the evangelist Luke gives us an image of the power of Jesus by showing the king on his throne: he shows Jesus on the cross. (Luke 23: 33-35)
In the moments before his death we see Jesus hanging there, and to add insult to injury we see the religious authorities spit upon him, while he is surrounded not by loyal subjects but by two criminals. The message that Luke is sending is clear: if you want to see what real power looks like, it looks like this. It looks like a poor man hanging on a tree between two dregs of society, wearing a crown of thorns. This right here, brothers and sisters, is our king.
In the moments before his death we see Jesus hanging there, and to add insult to injury we see the religious authorities spit upon him, while he is surrounded not by loyal subjects but by two criminals. The message that Luke is sending is clear: if you want to see what real power looks like, it looks like this. It looks like a poor man hanging on a tree between two dregs of society, wearing a crown of thorns. This right here, brothers and sisters, is our king.
Our King on his throne.
This doesn't make any sense! It flies in the face of everything we are taught about power and kingship. Yet, here it is! Here is our king! I have had many conversations with folks who tell me that they indeed believe Jesus is their Lord and King, and yet when we talk about prayer, their prayers sound more like Homer's prayers to Superman. They clasp their hands and pray with all their might for Jesus to swoop in and fix their problems. And when he doesn't, they get mad. Why didn't he do it? Isn't that what someone with power is supposed to do? Isn't that what a king is supposed to do? Isn't he supposed to save his people?!
Absolutely! And that
is what our king does. Jesus does save us! Each and every one of us! But it’s not the kind of saving that Homer was
asking for. Jesus does not save us from
the disappointments of our lives. He saves us from the fear that comes with living by the standards of this world. He saves us from the tyranny of accumulating more and
more, and lording it over those who have nothing. He saves us from the oppression of being
judged by others because we don't look or sound or act in a certain way. He saves us from the
false narrative of us vs. them. He saves us from these things because these are the thoughts and feelings and the ways of being that we have
given power to. They have no real power on their own, but we have given power to them. We have empowered the agents of fear that hold sway over us, and we have done this
for a very, very long time. Go back to the Exodus story. Way back then, God brought the children of Israel out of
Egypt and showed them a way of being that was different from the top-down power model of
pharaoh's Egypt. Jesus does the same thing. He showed the people in his own day
that the power models of Rome and of the world were not God's; that
occupation, military might, and the emperor had nothing on self-sacrifice,
love, and the cross. He did it then, and he is still doing it now! We are no longer
subject to the power structures that have held us captive for millennia. By reigning from the cross, and hurling all common sense out the window,
Jesus has saved us, and has thus redefined kingship and power for all time.
If we want to know what power looks like, we need not look
to a celebrity or a politician or an athlete or even a superhero. We only need to look to the cross. This is what power looks like. Self
sacrifice. Love personified. Here is our king.
Here is the one who stooped down to take the servant’s part. Here is the one who said to the Samaritans, to the adulterous woman, to Zaccheaus the tax collector, and to Jairus the Roman
official, "You are loved by God, so come
and feast with me, and be a part of my kingdom!" Here is the one who shows us
what God looks like, and in doing so he shows us how to be fully human. For he is Emmanuel, God-With-Us, and in him
we not only see the power and majesty of God but we see ourselves. In Jesus, we see that we too have the potential to redefine power in our own day. We are reminded that he does not call us servants, but friends. And if we are his friends, then we are his partners in his kingship, the truest kingship.
When we gaze upon the cross and see the Lord of Life hanging from the tree, we are saved and are given the grace to exercise his brand of power in the world. We can be self-sacrificing, we can be love
personified. We can give away our possessions as he told us to, because we
can have treasure in heaven. We can
throw down our swords and beat them into plowshares, because he said if we love
by the sword we'll die by it. We can
follow his command to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind, and
strength and love our neighbor as ourselves because he said that on these two
commands hang all the Law and the prophets.
With him as our king we can live our lives in such a way that we actually believe
that familiar prayer of dear Francis of Assisi:
it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are
pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. These are contradictions in terms, but so is a king
reigning from a tree. Sure, they're contradictions as far as the world is concerned, but not Jesus. And not us!
