In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Today is the Feast of Christ the King. This is sort of a typical Sunday to bring in one of us newbie preachers, because today falls at an odd in-between time. It’s at the end of the season after Pentecost, the end of fall and not yet winter, usually the end of stewardship season, always right before or right after Thanksgiving and all the Harvest-time hooplah. But it’s still not yet Advent, not yet pageant-time, wreath-time, carol-time. A good day for the priest to have a day off of preaching duty. An in-between day.

But you know, today is also an in-between day on the whole sweep of the church calendar, too. I once heard a priest friend call it a hinge day.
Here we are at the Feast of Christ the King on the last Sunday of the Church Year, and we’re about to begin the whole thing over again, the whole sweep of stories, next week with Advent. We’re at a tipping point.

Some people say that this Feast of Christ’s kingship doesn’t belong theologically here at the end of Pentecost. And in fact this celebration might fit just as well in Advent or Easter.

In Pentecost we celebrate the present coming of the kingdom through the Holy Spirit and the life of the church, which is the body of Christ our King.
But we could celebrate it in Easter season, when we mark X’s kingship over the new creation he has wrought with his resurrection.
And you know it could just as easily fit in Advent, when we await the three comings of Christ, and in fact we get some pre-Advent stuff today in the song of the priest Zechariah, who proclaims this at the circumcision of his son, the boy who will become John the Baptist.

So The Feast of Christ the King could fit in a variety of different places. I actually think that’s part of why it’s placed right here, alone at the tipping point of the year. It’s at this in-between moment because it’s like a quick glimpse deep into the heart of the whole story, the power behind the whole sweep of stories we’re about to hear in the coming year.

At Diocesan Convention, Bishop Tom reminded us that God has all the power, even as we pass through the turbulent waters of this life. Even when we’re pushed around or hurt, none of this, ultimately, has power. Only God does.

I should probably end my sermon here, with Bishop Tom’s wise words, as that’s really what this day is about. Christ is king, the cosmic power behind the longing of Advent and the wonder of Christmas; the power and strength behind the terror of Lent and the revolution of Easter; the power and voice alongside the rush of the Holy Spirit in Pentecost. The true power that lies obscured within our everyday reality.

I should end there, but just so that I don’t get in trouble for too short a sermon I’ll share with you two more thoughts unpacking this idea that Christ has all the power.

The first, most notable thing is that Christ’s power is not what the world expected. It is unlike anything else.

“He has come to his people and set them free,” says Zechariah, who was the priest in the Temple in Jerusalem, and the soon-to-be-father of John the Baptist. Before the birth of his son, he said, “In the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break up on us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.”  This is Christ. Zechariah may not have been expecting his son, “you my child the prophet of the Most High,” to look like a wild man in the desert. He may not have been expecting that this salvation would look ultimately like the Crucifixion. Christ our King, the image of the invisible God, suffered a slow and painful death, and even as he died he asked for forgiveness for those who killed him. As he died he had mercy on the criminal hanging beside him, and promised him a place in his kingdom. This kingdom is simultaneously a place close to God that we cannot yet reach, a place where Christ is and where this criminal is, AND a place or alternate reality here, among us, amidst us, that Christ in us brings about.

The true glory of this king’s power has never been in places or institutions or people with lots of power, people with money and the ear of the strong, people with learning and culture. Christ’s power and his kingdom lie with the meek, the vulnerable, the weak, the sorrowful—and with those who serve them. The weak and the vulnerable are not always visibly so—often we’re serving them when we speak a kind word to a stranger, when we’re patient despite our stress, when we ask a friend how they’re doing, when we really listen empathetically with all our attention, to someone’s words.

My second thought for you is that if Christ is indeed the king, then his voice is ultimately the only one that matters. This unseen kingdom with its alternate displays of power and glory is the reality underlying our daily lives. Christ is our king and we, as Christians, live in a different world than the people around us. Saint Paul’s letter to the Colossians was about this, that’s why he spends so much time talking about the cosmic truth, because he was reminding them and us of the profound reorientation required of us as followers of this king. Even if we’ve been raised in the church, we’ve still got work to do! We still need to pay more attention to the words of our king.
Much of this world says to us, Succeed. Be popular, be liked and admired by all. Win. Be the very best. Be the most impressive. Have nice things. Live the most comfortable life you can.

Now, these are all fine things! There’s nothing bad about them, nothing wrong with wanting them. The problem is, they shouldn’t be the first voices in our heads. They shouldn’t take up most of our attention.
Here’s what should take and keep our attention, here’s what should be riveting to us: Love God with all your heart, mind, and spirit, and love your neighbor as yourself. Be kind. Be patient. Be generous. Be loving.

If Christ is king, then doing this matters more than being successful. And what Christ thinks of us matters more than what our boss, our friends, our family think of us. And loving matters more than looking good.

We know that this is what should take up our attention first because of Christ himself, in whom “all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, though whom all of creation was reconciled to God.” He is the image, the icon, the voice of this invisible God. “In him all things hold together” (says Saint Paul). His words and his life show us what his kingdom—our kingdom—means.

So I wonder if today we might think about what voices in the rest of the world could be getting in the way of the voice of our king. Is there something that distracts us from being kind to the people around us? What distracts us from being patient? What draws our attention away from the relationships in our lives? What draws our attention away from doing the will and desire of Christ our King?

All of what I’m trying to say can be more neatly and eloquently summarized in my favorite blessing: Life is short, and we haven’t much time to gladden the hearts of those with whom we walk this earth. So let’s be swift to love, let’s make haste to be kind, and may the blessing of Christ our Almighty King be with us now and always. Amen.

A Sermon preached by Emily Garcia, Parish Intern
For St. John’s Episcopal Church
On the The Feast of Christ the King, Sunday 24 November 2013