"SOME KIND OF SHEPHERD"

Jeremiah 23:1-6; Colossians 1:11-20; Luke 23:33-43

Twenty years in ministry,

and I've never really gotten it

about this day on the church calendar

called "Christ the King" Sunday.

Advent, I get.

We're preparing for the birth of Jesus.

Lent, I get.

We're preparing for the resurrection of Christ.

Pentecost - Trinity Sunday -

so many of those other days make total sense to me.

But, Christ the King?

Of course Christ is the King.

Anyone with the sense God gave them can see that.

I never really got it, that is, until this year.

For the longest,

I just thought that "they" put it here on the church calendar

because they needed something good

to end the church year.

I've gotten away with not preaching on it all these years

because, most of the time,

Christ the King Sunday

falls on the Sunday before Thanksgiving

and I'd rather preach about gratitude any day!

But this little "bonus week" we're getting this year

forced the issue.

And I discovered

that when you look at all three of these readings together,

you begin to see the layers present in this day,

and you can see why it is somewhat of a big deal.

Who would ever have thought

that a shepherd would be a king?

Shepherds were at the bottom of the totem pole.

They were not highly educated,

not highly paid,

and not hygienically inclined.

(after days out in the field with the flock,

alone,

not much reason to bathe or shave,

they didn't smell very good)

What was God up to,

saying that a new kind of shepherd,

a "righteous branch,"

would replace that other kind of "shepherd"

who was charged with taking political care of the people?

Shepherds may not smell very good,

but they smelled better than some of the actions

of those who understood their call in life

to be one who takes advantage of the least of these.

Putting a shepherd in charge

and calling a shepherd a king

was certainly novel on God's part.

But who in their right mind

would put a king on a cross?

Kings are supposed to have everything at their disposal:

money, property, power, you name it.

The king is supposed to be the one in charge.

What the king says, goes.

Death on the cross

is one of the most humiliating ways to die.

Shepherds aren't traditionally supposed to be kings,

but kings certainly aren't supposed to die in that way.

And why do we have to read about the crucifixion,

much less talk about it,

on the Sunday after Thanksgiving,

when we're only four weeks away from Christmas?

Couldn't they have saved this until Lent?

Crucifixion is such a downer,

especially in a time when we're more inclined to celebrate.

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Maybe it has something to do with this.

Back in Jeremiah's day,

the Messiah they were expecting WAS a king.

They were expecting God's Anointed One

to be a triumphant power

who could and would overcome all evil,

like the Lone Ranger, or a Power Ranger,

swinging in to clean up the mess.

They were looking for someone

who was obviously a hero.

No wonder they thought that Jesus couldn't be the one.

He always hung out with the wrong crowd.

He didn't know how to keep polite company.

He didn't seem to be very interested in winning anything

except for the love of the One he called Father.

And he never seemed to question even that.

He didn't try to keep everyone happy.

He offended just about everybody,

even his own family.

Everyone, that is, except for children,

and the outcasts,

and short little tax collectors,

and widows,

and people who in our society would be considered invisible.

If anybody was a perfect candidate for crucifixion,

he would be it.

Luke tells us in vivid detail

about the last day of Jesus' life on earth:

the sour wine,

the mocking he received from those in power,

being flanked by criminals at the very last,

putting him squarely in the middle of his own kind.

But even in the midst of the ugly reality

that Luke portrays,

Colossians gets it.

The letter to the Colossians understands

that Jesus triumphs as king

especially because of his extraordinary life

and sacrificial death.

That's some kind of shepherd.

But the entire witness of scripture

intersects at this point, on this day,

to show us that real power comes from God,

that when it comes to God's good intentions for the world,

our little intrigues don't amount to a hill of beans.

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So what about you?

What kind of Messiah are you expecting?

Are you even expecting one?

We say in the Nicene Creed

that we believe "he will come again with glory

to judge the living and the dead,

and his kingdom will have no end."

Do we really?

Maybe you're expecting a shepherd

who will comfort and care for the flock,

a messiah who can point us in the right direction

without goading us too much.

Or maybe you're expecting what Jeremiah called

"a righteous branch,"

a standard against which we can compare ourselves

to see if we measure up.

Or perhaps you're looking for a crucified Jesus,

whose death was necessary

because of our serious human condition.

Or maybe a risen Christ,

splendid and glorious, who trumps every time.

Friends, the good news of the gospel

is that, in God's economy,

we get all of that.

Jesus says in John's gospel

that he is the Good Shepherd,

who came to lay down his life for the sheep.

That would be us.

Jesus also says in John

that he is the vine and that we are the branches,

and that apart from him we can do nothing.

John of Patmos tells us in Revelation

that Jesus is King of Kings and Lord of Lords,

and he shall reign forever.

The Good Shepherd,

the Righteous Branch,

the person we called Jesus

and the Lord whom we call Christ -

this is the kind of Messiah

that God in God's great mercy

has provided for us.

That's the good news of the gospel.

And the good news of this particular day

is that we don't have to DO anything.

As the Shorter Catechism tells us,

our chief purpose in life

is to glorify God and to enjoy God forever.

That's it!

We don't have to double our pledge,

though I won't argue with you if you do!

We don't have to say some number of "Hail Marys"

or bake some number of cookies

or, actually, anything.

We're just called to acknowledge Jesus as King

for who he is.

We don't have to earn it,

we don't have to announce it,

we don't have to trump it up or tone it down.

All we really have to do

is to try and wrap our head around it:

soak it up, and take it in.

Yes, we're called to share the Good News.

Yes, we're called to deeds of mercy and grace.

But if we can just stop and comprehend for one minute,

without doing anything at all,

that the glory of this day is for you,

and for me,

and for everyone not in this room today,

and for all of us,

the rest will take care of itself.

It takes a giant leap of faith,

no question about it.

It will make your head hurt

if you think about it too long.

But it will make your heart sing.

This is why we exist.

This is why we do what we do -

why we make pledges

and serve on committees

and practice with the Praise Team or the Choir

and put on Christmas Pageants

and come to something called COW

and order poinsettias

and get up early on Sunday.

It will take us a lifetime

to even come close to comprehending it.

We will have to keep practicing until we die.

And with God's grace,

we'll get to do just that.

Christ the King Sunday

reminds us that the King whom we serve

and the King whom we await

looks and thinks and acts nothing like us,

and like nothing we would ordinarily expect.

And, thank God,

that's exactly what we need.

Amen.