Christ the King Sunday
"Aslan?" said Mr. Beaver. "Why, don't you know? He's the King. He's the Lord of the whole wood, but not often here, you understand. Never in my time or my father's time. But the word has reached us that he has come back. He is in Narnia at this moment. He'll settle the White Queen all right. It is he, not you, that will save Mr. Tumnus."
"Is—is he a man?" asked Lucy.
"Aslan a man!" Mr. Beaver said sternly. "Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea. Don't you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion—the Lion, the great Lion."
"Ooh!" said Susan, "I'd thought he was a man. Is he—quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion."
"That you will, dearie, and no mistake," said Mrs. Beaver; "if there's anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they're either braver than most or else just silly.
“Then isn’t he safe? Said Lucy.
“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver. “Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”
Today, we don’t get baby Jesus in a manger. We don’t get the picture of Jesus healing and teaching. We don’t get the picture of Jesus offering compassion to the downtrodden. In Ezekiel, we meet God as shepherd, and in Matthew, we meet Jesus as judge. And he isn’t safe. These claims are dangerous; they are the last words Jesus speaks before his arrest, they are one of the last “teaching moments” before we follow Christ to the cross. Sometimes, I think we forget how dangerous it is to have a God, how dangerous it is to have a King, how risky it is to believe. The Messiah is not just good news; it is incredibly threatening. If we don’t have chills as we listen to these words of indictment and judgment, we aren’t listening. We have a story, and we have a story that will have an ending. “And he will come to judge the living and the dead.”
And he will place the sheep on his right and the goats on his left, and the ones on his left, “these will go into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.” And our excuses come, fast and furious. But we’re the sheep, right? We’re in, right? “But Jesus, I do this and this and this and this…” “But Jesus…” “But Jesus…” “But Jesus, I don’t want to be a goat! I just want to be a sheep!” Jesus in a manger or Jesus on the cross, in some ways, are much more palatable than Jesus as judge. I don’t like Jesus as judge; it makes me scared of my sin and doubt that I will be able to recognize the voice of my savior. It makes me wonder: why the manger and the cross, both symbols of utter powerlessness, to begin and end Christ’s earthly life? “He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit, and born of the Virgin Mary. He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried,” but “Anytime you did or failed to do this to the least of your brothers, you did or failed to do it unto me.”
The question of both the righteous and the damned are the same: “But Lord, when did we see you hungry and give you food, thirsty and give you drink, naked and clothe you, sick and in prison and visit you?” Neither of the sheep nor the goats know why they have done right or wrong, respectively. Neither group was aware that there was a test. Christ as judge surprises us, ripping the air out of our lungs. “He descended into Hell.”
Because, really, we are all just a bunch of goats, garden variety sinners, who aren’t so horrible we believe ourselves broken beyond repair yet not so good we believe ourselves outside the need of redemption. Herein lies the problem. Part of the reason the sheep and the goats have the same question is they exhibit a lot of the same behaviors. Modern breeding has gotten us away from how these words would have sounded in 1st Century Palestine. In the ancient world, the word for sheep and goat was actually the same; it was even difficult to tell the difference between the two. So it is only appropriate that Jesus would anticipate the questions of the crowd: “How will we know the difference between us?” The truth is, we can’t. Without a reference to sin, Jesus indicates one group will be given an eternal reward and the other eternal punishment, suggesting he himself will be doling out the reward or punishment. “On the third day he rose again. He is seated at the right hand of the Father.” It isn’t safe to have a Messiah. It isn’t safe to have a king.
It may not be safe, but it is the only thing that will save us. Any time we place anything we have done between our sin and Christ, we erect a wall that prevents us from seeing Christ. We either receive Christ, or we do not receive Christ. To trade Christ for anything other than Christ is to trade salvation for something other than salvation. Like the woman with the flow of blood, if we only grasp the robe of Christ, we will be healed. We doubt ourselves because we don’t think it should be that simple and, indeed, grasping Christ’s robe is complicated.
When we read of the sheep and the goats, we want to perform whatever action necessary to move from being a goat to being a sheep, or to ensure we are in the “sheep” camp. “Jesus, look: I have fed the poor. I have given the thirsty drink. I have clothed the naked, I have visited the sick and the imprisoned!” All of these things matter, but they do not matter for the reasons we want them to. None of these actions move us from being a goat to being a sheep. Perhaps we should refer to Jesus as the Good Goatherd, because we cannot move ourselves from goat to sheep, from sinner to saint.
You’re right: we know how the story ends. Jesus is the Judge who was judged in our place. Jesus is the shepherd who became the lamb. Jesus is the one who took the whole story and turned it on its head. And so, Christ the King Sunday is a Sunday of celebration: that we have a savior and that we have a king. It is a Sunday of confession: it is a confession of who we are not, that we cannot save ourselves, that we are scattered, and that we have placed our efforts and abilities between our sin and his cross, trying to be saved by our own excuses of righteousness. It is also a confession of who Christ is: a confession that he alone gathers, that he alone saves, that he alone is our Lord. Here, we trade all of the things in our lives that are “not Christ” for Christ.
I believe in Jesus Christ, God’s only son our Lord,
Who was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit,
Born of the Virgin Mary,
Suffered under Pontius Pilate,
Was crucified, died and was buried.
He descended into Hell.
On the third day he rose again.
He ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father.
He will come to judge the living and the dead.
When read in order, the confession of who Christ is teaches us more than the story of Christ’s life; it teaches us the shape of God’s reign. Born of the Virgin Mary, Christ meets us as one naked, hungry, and thirsty. Suffering under worldly powers, Christ meets us as one imprisoned. Descending and rising, Christ meets us as the stranger on the road to Emmaus. Having met us in the least of these, we meet Christ as our risen Lord, our Judge and our King.
“Then isn’t he safe? Said Lucy.
“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver. “Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”
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