Qualities of a King
Matthew 25: 31-46 / Christ the King Sunday 2002
Well, Christmas seems to be rapidly approaching. The decorations and gifts are up in the stores, trees
have been delivered to Lowe’s and Home Depot, and by the look of traffic yesterday on Wendover
shopping has started in earnest. The world is already attempting to claim our thoughts, our money, our
time, and our loyalties. But this morning the Church calls our attention and our focus to something
very different. Today is the last Sunday in the Church year, Christ the King Sunday. Next Sunday
marks the beginning of a new ecclesial calendar with the first Sunday of Advent. We are called in the
midst of this increasing frenzy, to recognize, to celebrate, and to revere the kingship of our Lord and
Savior, Jesus Christ. In today’s representative democracy of the United States, we don’t easily relate
to the idea of having a king. This position of royalty seems archaic and far removed from our modern
life. Only those crazy Brits have a king (or queen) these days and their governing power is minimal.
They are mostly just ceremonial relics of an older time. It is curious then that the Church asks us to
remember Christ in this old-fashioned and outdated role, and especially at this, the end of the Church
year.
Why? What is the Church trying to get at?
To help us along the way to answering that question, we are given today’s scripture lesson from
Matthew’s gospel. It is that ever familiar appeal to care for the “least of these,” those people whom
society, luck, and life have placed in unfortunate and undesirable circumstances. As the Son of Man
separates the sheep from the goats, those sheep that cared for these untouchables are taken into the
kingdom by the great Shepherd. We as Christians are expected to visit, to feed, to clothe those who are
less fortunate than ourselves. Will Willimon, Dean of Duke Chapel, said “Something about us loves to
hear that sermon.” Because, after all, most of us are people of some means. We may not be all that
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rich, but we are not poor either. So we have the means to help those who need help. Furthermore,
most of us are basically good people. When we see someone in need, we like to respond. There is that
part of us deep down that believes that we are sheep and not goats.
But, this morning, if we fool ourselves into thinking that is all there is in this story, we may all be sadly
mistaken. This parable demands much more. The parables of Jesus are meant to shock us, to surprise
and dislodge us, not to confirm and reassure us. For example, we expect that the poor man in the ditch
will be helped by someone who is thoughtful and kind, some good religious person like us. To our
surprise and the surprise of those listening to Jesus, he is helped by a no-good Samaritan. This parable
of the last judgment is no less shocking, no less surprising. The last couple of weeks, in the parable of
the talents and the parable of the bridegroom, we have heard parables about “masters” coming back to
hold their “servants” accountable for their actions while the master was gone. Though in the parable
today, the master, the Son of Man, the Christ is already present, we see him hold his servants, his
followers, accountable for their actions, their lives. He has come to judge them as a king would judge
those of his kingdom. As Willimon also said, “In our world of nonjudgmental, “my conscience is my
guide morality,” this parable makes a great enough shock upon us in its simple, but vivid assertion, we
shall be judged.” In our focus on the “least of these,” we tend to gloss over the reality that the King of
all creation, our Lord and our master will one day judge us. We will stand before the throne and have
to give answer to our lives. There is nothing more shocking, nothing more disillusioning than to
realize we will be held accountable for our lives.
But what will be the criteria for this final judgment? On what basis will we be judged? The irony of
the situation is that the judge provides the content for the judgment. Jesus, the King, shows us in his
life and being how we are to live. We are to live Christ-like lives; we are to live kingly lives.
However, the kingly qualities of Christ are somewhat different than worldly kings. We can better
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understand our own call to discipleship by remembering how the fully human and fully divine Son of
God faithfully lived out his Father’s plan for his life. I would like to briefly suggest to you three
kingly qualities of Christ that as disciples we are called to embody: Self-denial, Sacrifice, and
Obedience.
Self-Denial. That is a character trait that is foreign to almost all of us. In this world of instant
gratification, when it is all about what we want, putting the self second can be an almost impossible
challenge. This is what Christ did over and over again in his ministry. When he was tired, worn thin,
busy with other things and demands of the kingdom, he always fond time to heal one more person, talk
to one more child, or preach one more sermon. More than though, Christ is, as today’s parable tells us,
found in those we meet after we deny ourselves. To deny ourselves means focusing on others, others
that may need to experience and life the love of Christ in their lives. Christ is present among the
outcast and the lowly. They become his designated representatives, so that in serving them one serves
the incarnate Lord.
Sacrifice. This seems initially like a very un-kingly thing to do. But if you think about it, nothing
could be farther from the truth. It is in sacrificing one’s self, comfort, even life that others around you
know the depth of your belief and being. Christ the king, the Son of Man who has done nothing wrong
except befriend those who society shunned, paid the ultimate price and sacrificed his life for the likes
of the criminals that hung by each side of the cross. The Judge has himself been the victim of human
judgement; the King of the universe has been mocked as the king of the Jews. The one who renders
verdicts is not less than the Jesus who “will save his people from their sins” through the sacrifice of his
own life. Christ, the judge and king, expects nothing less from us, his disciples, at the final judgment.
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Obedience. This seems Christ subjected himself to the will of the Father. This very one who went into
the desert to be tempted by Satan and could have turned rocks into bread to quench his hunger and
could have thrown himself down for the angels to catch to prove Satan wrong instead simply obeyed
the will of the Father. Even on the eve of the crucifixion, Christ prayed to the Father that he might not
have to endure the ultimate price for our sins. Yet, Christ obeyed the will of the Father again. We,
too, are expected to obey the will of the Trinity. It is not always easy to discern, but through prayer
and community, we can accept the grace that comes from obeying God’s will for our lives, the will that
we strive to become like Christ.
As we face the throne of God, at the end of time, we must, along with other things, have lived a life of
self-denial, sacrifice, and obedience. We must depend on the grace and love of God through the life,
death, and resurrection of the Son, Jesus Christ.
I want to share with you some words by a wonderful preacher, Barbara Brown Taylor. This is her
reaction on visiting the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C. and its relation to our passage in
Matthew. “Perched on the highest hill in town, it is like something out of a dream, with towers so tall
they seem part of the sky, adorned with all kinds of scrollwork, fancy finials, and wild looking
gargoyles … to enter the cathedral is to enter a sacred cave, filled with whispers and footsteps, … To
see the high altar you have to ravel past all the monuments of the faith, past all the monuments to
human achievement and long-gone saints, … only after you have taken that walk do you arrive at the
high altar, where Jesus sits on his throne at the end of time, surrounded by the whole company of
heaven as he balances the round earth on the palm of his hand like a ripe fruit. It is Christ the king,
preparing to judge the world, preparing to evaluate everything that has happened since all things came
to be, and that is the brilliance of that cathedral space. Even the most casual tourist enters through the
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doorway of creation and winds up at the altar of the last judgment, moving from the beginning of time
to the end, to stand before the One who will sort out everything that has happened in between.
That is where we stand every year on the last Sunday of the Christian year, the Feast of Christ the King
… Sobering, isn’t it? Like the sign over the cash register at the National Cathedral gift shop says, “We
may not have seen you take it, but God did.” God sees. God knows. And according to this gospel
lesson, what God will do with that knowledge on the last day is to sort us into two groups – goats to
the left and sheep to the right.”
One of you, I think it might have been Ed Norton, mentioned to me last week that you never hear
ministers preach hell, fire, and brimstone sermons anymore. He asked did I ever preach any? Well,
here it is. One day we shall stand before the throne of God, we shall hold our lives in our hands, and
we shall render an account of who we are and what we have done: our self-denial, our sacrifice, and
our obedience. God will consider all that we have been given, in judging us, all of our opportunities
and advantages, and we shall be judged. And the judge is Jesus, the Christ, the one who loved us, even
enough to die for us, who returned to us even after we had betrayed him and forgave us. Jesus shall
judge. And what shall his judgment be?
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