Jesus or Prince Charles
 

Several years ago when Mary and I visited Wales, we found ourselves in the port town of Conwy on a day when Prince Charles was to visit to dedicate a new boat for the Royal Navy. So after a lunch of fish and chips, we made our way down to the wharf area to see if we could catch a glimpse of this royal personage. We found that the dedication was taking place a ways up river, but that the excursion boats were taking people up there to get a look, so we bought a ticket and found ourselves on a small tour boat with about 20 twelve year old girls from a Roman Catholic Girls School in Manchester.
 

We headed up river towards the excitement and as we drew near we were met with a Navy inflatable speed boat occupied by four Royal Navy seamen, dressed in armored wetsuits, and each carrying a machine gun. They pulled alongside, gave us a look over, and told the captain to go no further than a buoy about a half mile from the dedication site. I was reminded of the terrorism Britain had experienced, and of the degree of protection this Royal Head of State was due. “Sure”, the captain said, and the sailors left to tell another boat, at which point the captain slowly started drifting closer and closer towards the action, leaving the buoy far behind, till we were just a couple of hundred yards away.
 

Soon, a helicopter landed and here came Prince Charles. A cheer went up on shore, and then the girls on the boat started chanting: “Charlie! Charlie! Charlie!” as only preteen girls can do, with the enthusiasm they would give to the latest Rock Star or Movie idol. Their teachers weren’t amused but we got a kick out of it and egged the girls on. Then Mary and I noticed Barry Morgan, then Bishop of Bangor and now Archbishop of Wales (who is movie star handsome, by the way) walking behind down the plank, who we’d been with the day before. One of the girls saw overheard us say, “Hey, that’s Barry” and asked us who we were pointing at. “Barry Morgan, Bishop of Bangor”, I replied, at which instance the chant changed. “Barry! Barry! Barry!” they went on and on.
 

Even Prince Charles gets only a moment of fame, it seems. Such is the fate of monarchs in this egalitarian, entertainment obsessed era. Even royalty is relegated to the sidelines when another, more attractive personage comes by.
 

This Last Sunday after Pentecost is the day we have come to know as the Sunday of Christ the King. It celebrates the reign of Christ as King of Kings and Lord of Lords; It proclaims a wholeness on the Christian Year which includes the promise of the triumphant reign of Christ which will one day be seen by all. It is a triumphant image, but one which may seem archaic and perhaps even irrelevant in our day and time. After all, we prefer to elect our rulers and even Britain, the last hold out among first world modern countries, is debating whether having a monarch is worth all the expense and bother. They don’t actually do all that much, do they? I was asked.
 

Things were different in Biblical days when the image of kingship conveyed order, power, status. Kings were an essential part of the life of nations, and even though they were mainly bad news for the common people, they were seen as necessary. The functions of the kings were essentially three-fold: law, war and taxes. Royal power and royal law was the basis of an ordered society and even if it was unfairly exercised it was better than chaos. The king was the state and social structure was maintained by the king waging war and protecting from attack. And if conscription was the way an army was formed, well, that was just the price you paid for the king’s security. As for taxes, well, they are inevitable, aren’t they, and Kings were kings because they were chosen by God to be kings. They ruled by Divine Right and were due their privilege, and subjects were expected to be loyal followers, because, after all, kings can brook no rivals.
 

If you want to get a powerful image of this go see Elizabeth—The Golden Age. It is the story of Queen Elizabeth the First, at a crucial point in British history. It is a very well done movie and the cinematography highlights the centrality of the Queen in the people’s identity. Elizabeth is the heart of the British people. She moves freely throughout her castle and world, with all the other cast revolving around her. It is as if she is the sun and everyone else the stars, moons and planets, with her gravity defining their motion. The same is true of Felipe, the Spanish king in the movie, although Elizabeth is benevolent where as Felipe is ruthless and willing to sacrifice even the forests of Spain to build an armada to overcome his enemy. Elizabeth and Felipe are antithetical images in some ways. Elizabeth is caring, benevolent, intelligent and humorous whereas Felipe is depicted as twisted, humorless, heartless, superstitious, yet each represents an aspect of kingly power that was the norm of their day.
 

Power like that was in the popular understanding of kingship in Jesus’ day. The people were awaiting a Messiah, (literally, One anointed by God to be king), and this is the sort of one they expected, a David not unlike a Prince Charles with charisma, who would restore freedom with military might. And along comes Jesus and presents a completely different picture of what kingship means.

Here is a king who has nothing to do with wars, rules or taxes. He is a king whose throne is a cross, whose crown is a crown of thorns, whose garments are torn and bloodied. Jesus is a king who comes not to be served but to serve, who doesn’t take prisoners but gives his life so that prisoners may be freed. Where earthly kings depended on the loyal support of followers and the force they offered in his service, this Messiah drew his support from God alone and sought to control human conduct by controlling the hearts and wills of human kind with the authority of love.
 

Several years ago a government of a South American country decided to register all religious bodies in the country, with the aim to exercising greater control over their activities. One of the key questions asked was: “Who is the head of your church?” Imaging their consternation when most of the churches responded: “Jesus Christ.” How would we answer if we were asked that question? Would we respond and say, “The Bishop”, or “The Rector”? Or would we say, “Jesus, the Christ” is?
 

This feast tells us that there is only one faithful answer, “Jesus Christ”. To proclaim Christ is king is to say that Christ and the pattern of life he lived is what governs our life, what we are about. It means that everything we do, whether it be a program, an outreach, pastoral care, our fellowship, even our budget making, is subject to the will of Christ and the pattern of his salvation. That is to say, that all that we are and all that we have witness to the reign of a resurrected life that makes all creation new.
 

The triumphant reign of resurrection grace is something that can be grasped only by an act of faith. Paul Tillich, brilliant theologian of this last century said that there were three elements of faith. The first element was being opened up by the Spiritual Presence. The second was accepting this Divine grace in spite of the painful gap between the way we are and the way God intends us to be. The third element? Hope. The hope that the ambiguity of this life–the brokenness and alienation of a self-centered sinful world would be healed in Christ someday.
 

The first element requires openness and willingness–receptivity in other words. The second requires honesty and courage, manifested in the human will to persevere, and the Godly strength to do so. The third element requires imagination, which is faith turned toward the future. 
 

Hope comes as a result of being grasped by Grace. Hope affirms that Christ is King–that Christ is the final destination, the final Word over all, the final certainty and unambiguous reality in a world fraught with uncertainty and ambiguity.