Rev Dr Sarah Mitchell
If you were to have eavesdropped on my conversation with one friend, it would have sounded something like this:
“Christ the King? Sarah, how can you possibly find anything of good news to preach about on that Sunday? The idea of Christ as a King has been fully corrupted by society. Kings and Queens have had their day – and thank goodness as many if not most of them have been immoral, scheming and corrupt. I can’t even begin to imagine anything helpful about considering Christ as a king in today’s world. It may have made sense in earlier times, when calling Jesus a King was a subversive act – to show that Jesus was completely different from human royalty. But, today, there are enough people in the world – and in the church – who want to play king – and they are anything but Christ-like. Why would you want to preach on Christ as King?”
“But” I said, “there’s a magnificent stained glass window at the front of Knox Church. It depicts Christ in Glory – it is Christ as King. The people at Knox look at that stained glass window every morning and every night. The colours are spectacular – they change with the changing patterns of the sun. It’s a wonderful focus for this beautiful Church.”
“Hang on a minute, Sarah, you mean you want to preach on something because it’s beautiful? You want to draw attention to a window just because it has spectacular colours? Form is all very well, but what about the content of the window. It doesn’t take much to imagine what it would look like – I bet it has Jesus looking like a cross between a priest and king - with arms outstretched, probably with some sign of blessing – and dressed in a brilliant colourful robe
(richer than anything a wandering Galilean preacher might have worn),
haloes and crowns in abundance – oh yes I can imagine it.”
“Well, yes, you’ve got the picture and you do have a point. I have to admit, it’s even more than that - there are some theological difficulties with the window too. It’s based very much on the idea of heaven being up in the sky somewhere – and that poses some problems for those of us who know that isn’t literally true. And it doesn’t relate much to the life of Jesus, which is after all the tangible part of the gospel story that people can make good connections with. Actually, when I think about it, there’s also a lectionary problem for me - the window of Christ in glory is probably closer to the description of John’s vision of the new heaven and new earth in Revelation, than it is of Christ in glory as described by Matthew, which will be the gospel reading for the day. The window has the Alpha and Omega (21.6), the Holy City Jerusalem (21.2) and the emerald rainbow (4.3) – all images from the book of Revelation.”
“So, you’re not going to preach on Matthew’s gospel on that Sunday? You’re going to preach from Revelation?”
“No, I’d like to preach on the gospel passage. In fact, I think I’d like to entitle my sermon “The King at the Ironing Board””
“You’ve lost me Sarah. Don’t tell me there’s an ironing board in that magnificent window at Knox!”
Well, perhaps we better leave that conversation there. You know, and I know, there’s no ironing board pictured in the window. How could I have made such a jump?
Well, let’s look a little more closely at one section of the window – the lower middle section – let’s look at the feet of Christ in Glory. The feet are placed on a sphere, which represents “the universe”. As I have continued to study the window, over these past weeks I have found myself wondering about balance – any person poised so low on a sphere is unlikely to remain in that position for long. It appears that in no time at all, the feet will slide downward – and where do they land? In a manger scene – God dwelling with us, God risking everything to be with us, God Immanuel. All the glory of God, centred in the most vulnerable place, time and person. Perhaps this is the true focal point of the window.
Not very far below that manger scene is a brass plaque which reads “To the glory of God and as a tribute to the women of Knox Church 1860-1960. This window was erected 1964.” And it’s that plaque that takes one step closer to the ironing board …. Many of the stories of the women (and men) of Knox will be forgotten. However, there are many that do remain in our memories – I have heard several of those over these past weeks as people have shared with me the stories of their involvement with this congregation. For those of us whose connections with Knox go back 40 or 50 years, one of the women we will remember is Sister Gladys Smith – deaconess of this congregation from 1952 to 1966 – and a wonderful example of the many nameless women who are remembered by the installation of this window. My most vivid memory of Sister Gladys was one Saturday afternoon, when I came into the church on some errand, and there she was, surrounded by white communion cloths which she was ironing, here in the sanctuary, just below the pulpit. That picture has stayed with me. There was something about this woman, who took upon herself any task, no matter how menial, apparently without complaint, in the service of other people – because of her love for them, and for God. Whether it was caring for the sick, welcoming new immigrants, teaching children, visiting at Ross Home, or ironing the communion cloths, Sister Gladys was one of the faces of Christ in this congregation. The King at the ironing board? – perhaps?
Bruce Prewer, Australian minister and poet, challenges traditional understanding of Christ as King in his reflection “You call me king?”
When I was hungry you gave me food;
when thirsty, you gave me drink;
when I was a stranger you gave me a home,
when I was naked, you clothed me,
when I was ill, you came to my help,
when in prison, you visited me.
King is your word, not mine.
I am the hungry crowd
weary and underfed,
I am the willing boy
sharing five rolls of bread.
King is your word, not mine.
I am the thirsty rabbi
waiting by Jacob’s well.
I am that thrilled woman
with the good news to tell.
King is your word, not mine.
I am the prodigal son,
stranger in foreign place.
I am the waiting parent
full of prodigious grace.
King is your word, not mine.
I am the mugged traveller,
left naked by the road.
I am the good Samaritan
ready to bear the load.
King is your word, not mine.
I am the crying leper
outcast to lonely lands.
I am the wounded nurse
with healing in my hands.
King is your word, not mine.
I am the condemned man,
alone in prison cell.
I am the sinners friend
sharing the deepest hell.
King is your word, not mine.
When I come in glory
my sheep will all know me;
branded with my own love
which sets the captive free.
King is your word, not mine.
If you must give me a title,
before you find some rest,
let king describe your servant
and that will serve you best.
Copyright: B.D.Prewer 2004
On this day, the climax of the Christian year, Matthew’s gospel also reaches a climax – depicting Christ in Glory. Who is this King of Glory? Not one mighty in battle, not one in dominion over others – but one who judges our attitude and our performance. Over these last few weeks, we have worked our way through the parables of Jesus in Matthew’s Gospel - these parables that have been placed between the triumphant entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, and the story of Jesus ‘passion and death. These parables have described the kin-dom of God – the kin-dom over which Christ reigns. And in these parables, there has been not a whiff of abusive power or battle. The one who reigns might be a judge – but a judge who offers compassion, generosity, love and transformation – a ruler who invites us over and over again to be part of this transforming life. The judgement comes for those who expect to be members of the kin-dom as of right – the judgement comes for those who show indifference to God’s invitation to be in relationship– the judgement comes for those who bury God’s gift – the judgement comes for those who do not live the kin-dom life. The king at the ironing board? Maybe?