Sermon: John 18: 33-37/Revelation1: 4b- 8

Today is Christ the King Sunday, the last Sunday before Advent, and so our readings are about Jesus as king and our focus is on God's kingdom.

Of course, we live in a kingdom! And our king, as his mother before him, calls himself a servant of the people – he is in his role to serve us. This is a model from our faith, from Christianity – the model of the servant king.  But, still, how different to the way Jesus lived out his kingship.  In spite of all that King Charles does and all the places he visits and his heart for our planet.  In spite even of his recent cancer diagnosis and treatment, King Charles remains insulated from the pain and suffering in the world.  He lives in palaces and travels in entourages and eats banquets and receives the best care for his medical needs.

Already then, we start to identify the differences between King Charles and King Jesus.  No palaces for Jesus.  No luxuries.  No privileged lifestyle that sets him above those around him.  Jesus is not able to walk away from pain.  It is all around him as he teaches and heals, and the climax of his time on earth finds him unable to avoid one of the most painful deaths that humans have ever invented.  This is a very different king and a very different kingdom.

 
Our Gospel reading today gives us John’s version of the conversation between Jesus and Pilate.  There are not many words here and yet so much is said. You can feel the space between these two men as they respond to the situation they find themselves in.

Let’s look at Jesus’ words in verse 36.  He says: My kingdom is not of this world.  If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jews.  But now my kingdom is from another place.

When we think of God’s Kingdom – the kingdom of which Jesus is king – these words are vital.  Jesus’ kingdom is not of this world. Jesus says that if his kingdom was of this world his servants would be fighting.  But this is not what God’s kingdom is about: we do not need to fight to protect Jesus, to stop him being hurt or killed.

Jesus’ coronation was with a crown of thorns that pierced him.  Of course, this crown was given to Jesus to mock him.  But it is also a potent symbol of his kingdom.  He is a king who does not leave others to suffer – he suffers with his people.  It is very apt that our suffering servant King’s first crown is one of thorns that brings him pain. 

We are not Christians to avoid pain – that is not how it works. As we reflect over the past year I know that suffering has been quite central in the experience of some of us. Suffering is never easy, it is never something that we choose for ourselves and it is not what God desires.  But I wonder if we can find some encouragement as we recognise that Christ’s kingdom is born out of pain, and suffering, and poverty. 

For me this raises a question: where is Christ’s kingdom being born into our world at the moment?  In the suffering that we see on our TV screens and hear on our radios, God seems absent.  I do not believe for one moment that God causes any of that suffering and pain.  I do not believe it is his will.  But I do believe that his kingdom can be found there – that Christ himself can be found in that pain: he is there with the suffering; with the injured; with the maimed; with the hungry; with the naked; with the poor and homeless.  If Christ feels absent to us, we may need to look for him in a different place: we may need to look for him amongst the suffering and find him in our own suffering.

Even in these difficult times, when we see suffering all around us, God says to us:  Be still and know that I am God. 

Are you a Miranda fan?  Over the past few years Miranda has struggled with chronic fatigue.  She had to give up the work which she loved and face up to some difficult realities.  I am a fan and on the day I was writing this I listened to an interview with her on the program ‘Young Again’. It was not a big part of what she said but in explaining what she went through and what she learnt she mentioned ‘being still’ – not running from the emotion welling up in her but being still in it.  To find God’s presence in these times of suffering we need to still ourselves: God is always there.  Don’t beat yourself up if God feels absent – that is not what God wants.  Still yourself; just be still; and just trust.

Later in our passage Jesus says (verse 37): You are right in saying I am a king.  In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.  Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.

More powerful words.  Jesus says that the reason he came into the world was to testify to the truth, and that everyone who is on the side of truth listens to him.

And Pilate responds, ‘What is truth?’

We live in a world where truth is constantly compromised.  We live in a world where we can not trust what our public figures say; where we can not trust film and photographs.  It feels like there are many, many people in the world currently who would echo Pilate’s words and say, ‘What is truth?’

Different versions of the Bible translate the last words in verse 37 slightly differently, but I wonder, what does it mean to be ‘on the side of the truth’, or to ‘belong to the truth’, or to ‘love truth’?

The opposite of the truth is lies.  We all know how destructive lies can be.  In personal relationships lies destroy trust and love.  This translates and magnifies when lies happen on a community and national level.  Lies undermine love; they undermine trust; they divide people.  God is love and God is one.  God is the opposite of lies: God is truth.  Of course this is one of the descriptions Jesus gives of himself:  I am the way, the TRUTH and the life.

One thing we do as we come to church each week is to confess.  Again, here we find the truth.  We need to bring the truth of our failures to God to mend that relationship with him.  Truth can be difficult to say, and painful to hear, but there is something about the truth that liberates us and cleanses us.  Earlier in John, Jesus talks of ‘knowing the truth and the truth setting us free’.

When truth is painful, or awkward, the temptation is to sweep it under the carpet, or bury it, or ignore it, or to numb ourselves from the pain it causes.  Can I may be just give one example of this?  Climate change is real – it is happening and it is already having a huge impact on people’s lives across the planet.  But it is a hard truth to face.  To be honest, it is an overwhelming truth to face.  So, what do we do?  We ignore it.  We pretend that it is not our problem.  We convince ourselves that there is nothing we can do about it, that we have no responsibility.  We may numb ourselves from the pain it causes, by drinking alcohol, or booking holidays, or going to concerts – we throw ourselves into something else.  I completely understand this.  But I believe also that God wants us to face the truth – it will be painful; it is painful.  We may need to mourn and grieve together but Jesus didn’t just say he was the truth, he also said he was the way and the life.  And here is his model to us: his way is not to avoid the pain and suffering.  His model is to go through the pain and suffering, facing and being the truth, and find the life that is on the other side of this.  Life in all its fullness and colour.  That seems difficult to believe, it may seem impossible, but God’s kingdom is an ‘upside down place’ where truth is found in contradictions: where suffering can bring joy and where death leads to life.
How do we testify to our faith in our current age? We need to seek the truth and face the pain. 

Is there a truth you have swept under the carpet? That you have numbed yourself to.  In God’s ‘not of this world’ kingdom maybe that is something that you need to go away and start facing.  It may bring pain, but God is in that pain, and I believe he will show you the way through it.

Verse 7 of our Revelation reading says:  Look, he is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see him; and all the peoples of the earth will mourn because of him.

When I read this, I thought: why will we be mourning? The answer that came to me is that I will be mourning because I have missed the point of my life here on earth.  Jesus will come with his truth, and I will see my life for the sham it often is.  I will see that I have not faced the truths in this world, I have not grieved, and I have not let myself suffer to find that deeper relationship with my God.

God invites us into his kingdom.  His kingdom which is born in suffering, that abides in his truth and ultimately brings the love and life which we all seek.  I encourage us all to face the truth Christ brings us, to not shy away from the suffering it might bring: to seek that deeper life with our God who is love and longs for us as we long for him.

 

Musing #9: Reality

“Our hardest and holiest work is to not look away”

Yesterday evening I went to the shops and when I got home my 15-year-old daughter was watching a Dispatches program on Channel 4 entitled, Kill Zone: Inside Gaza.  The graphic footage of what has happened and is happening to people in Gaza was harrowing.  There were no advert breaks during the program but, where the adverts would have been, a notice warning viewers that they may find some of the images distressing and that they included footage of injured children. I asked my daughter: Do you want to watch this? She nodded.  So, I sat with her, and we watched the horror that is reality for so many unfold before our eyes.  Knowing that this reality is only one of many around the world which seem impossibly inhumane and unliveable.

What should I do as a parent?  As a mother my primary concern was for my daughter: how would she respond to these images?  And yet I watched children with multiple injuries and listened to them talk of the multiple family members they had lost.  Their reality is so bleak.  As I went to bed I looked out my window and thought that in another part of the world, somewhere I can not see, that reality continues.

A couple of days ago I was listening to a radio discussion about a novel set in the near future, or may be the present, which deals with climate change.  In the novel one of the characters observes people laying out their towels on a British beach in the sunshine and says to another character: How can they do this?  How can they carry on as if nothing is happening? Don’t they realise that this is our planet falling apart? (or words to that effect).  In the discussion the author and the other participants talked of how we live in two different realities: most of us are fully aware of the effects of climate change and the suffering and radical changes they will bring, but at the same time we have to carry on with life, so we do. 

The realities of our own life in the here and now tend to supersede any other realities that we know of.  We tune out some of the news we hear: we numb ourselves to the pain that we know exists.  And, often, we have pain and anxiety in our own reality which can not be easily brushed aside: it is as real as the suffering on the other side of the planet and as real as the suffering that is coming.

The quote above is from Rabbi Sharon Brous.  These words - our hardest and holiest work is not to look away – struck me as true on so many levels.  It is easy to look away; to carry on as if nothing is happening; to let things happen to other people; to ignore the person I had an argument with.  But is it right? What is hard is also holy work: when we face the ugliness of humanity something shifts in us.  If we can stay with that pain we open up cracks that let Love in, even in the midst of the suffering.

We can not function and take on all the realities that exist on our planet at the same time: the pain would break us.  But neither do I want to ignore them.  I know that when I sat down to watch that program last night – doing so not because I wanted to but because I wanted to see what my daughter saw – I opened myself up to the suffering of other human beings.  I witnessed other lives and, in some intangible way, I let their souls speak to mine.  Did anything change?  In the horrendous situation I was watching, the news this morning would seem to say a resounding no.  But, did anything change?  Somewhere inside me I think something did, because I recognised and acknowledged another human being in pain.

At the beginning of Rabbi Sharon Brous’ reflection that I read this morning she says: A Rabbinic text from the ninth century declares that every person is accompanied, at all times, by a procession of angels crying out, “Make way, for an image of the Holy One is approaching.”

Every person… My prayer is that we will know that for ourselves, and that we will honour it in each person we meet and in those that we see in their suffering on our screens.  Let us not turn away from them but do the hard and holy work, reaching out – in what ever way we can – into the pain of our kin.