A Sermon for the Last Sunday after Pentecost: Christ the King (Proper 29, Year B)
November 21, 2021
Text: John 18:33-37
I speak to you in the name of our loving, liberating, and life-giving God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Good morning, friends. I’m so glad you could join us this morning at church as we celebrate the Last Sunday after Pentecost, also known as Christ the King Sunday. This is the last Sunday of the liturgical year. Next Sunday, we’ll begin a new year as we celebrate the First Sunday of Advent and turn our attention to preparing for Jesus to be born again—not only in our celebration of Christmas but also in his second coming.
It’s appropriate, then, that we take time on this day—as we come to the end of one year and prepare to begin another—to consider what it means for Jesus to be our King.
I want to share with you a story about something that happened to me this past week.
As many of you know, I spend most of my Wednesday mornings at Panera Bread in Alabaster doing a ministry called Coffee with the Priest. The idea behind this ministry is very simple. For a couple of hours each week, I make myself available for anyone in the community to come and speak with me about anything that may be on their hearts and minds. Or, if they’re going through a difficult time in their lives and they want someone to simply listen and offer a prayer, I’m available for that, too.
I do this each week because I want our neighbors to know that, yes, I am the parish priest here at Holy Spirit, but I’m also available for anyone in the community who may need someone to come and talk to, someone who really cares about what they have to say. It’s one way that we can reach out and share the love of Christ with our brothers and sisters in the wider community.
Often, people will come up to me randomly and thank me for what I’m doing, which is always nice to hear. But, on occasion, someone will come and ask to speak with me or ask me to say a prayer with them, which I’m happy to do. I also make my presence known on social media so that I can let people in the community know that I’m here for them if they need me. You’d be surprised by how many complete strangers have reached out to me through social media to ask for prayers.
This past Wednesday, I woke up feeling tired and overwhelmed by the thought of so many big events coming up at church. I thought to myself, “I’ve got to prepare for the Annual Meeting. I’ve got to prepare for the Bishop’s Visit, which is coming up soon. I’ve got to get ready for Advent and Christmas. I don’t have enough time to do Coffee with the Priest this morning. I’ve got more important things to do than to go and sit at the coffee shop, waiting and wondering if anyone will show up.”
I was prepared to skip it altogether and go straight to the church.
But, then a thought occurred to me. “What if there’s a reason I need to be at the coffee shop this morning?” So, I thought about it for a moment, and then I decided that I needed to go and make myself available.
So, I went.
And, when I arrived, there was a long line of people who were waiting to place an order. So, rather than waiting in line, I went and found a table and set all my stuff down, including a small sign that I bring with me each week, which reads, “Good morning! I’m a priest. How may I pray for you today?” I sat down and posted where I was on social media. I checked a few e-mails, and by the time I was done with that, the line to order was shorter. So, I went and got a cup of coffee and sat back down at the table.
As the morning went on, I spent some time answering prayer requests on Facebook. I worked on editing worship bulletins for upcoming services at church. And, after a while, I finally decided that no one was coming to talk or ask for prayer.
But, then something happened.
A young man in the coffee shop saw what I was doing and walked over to my table, carrying a small child with him in his arms. He asked me if he could sit down, and I said, “Of course. Please do.” The young man told me his name, and he told me his son’s name and how old his son was. He was six months old, by the way. And, he told me that his son was born with a heart defect and that he was going to Children’s Hospital the next day to have bypass surgery to fix the problem. About this time, the young man’s wife walked over and joined us, and I reassured them both that Children’s is a wonderful hospital, full of amazing doctors and nurses and that they’ll be well cared for. I asked them if they would like me to say a prayer for their son, and they said, “Yes, please.”
So, we bowed our heads, and I prayed for God’s blessing and healing to be upon that six-month old child. After it was over, the couple thanked me for my time and walked off. And, immediately, I bowed my head again and, with tears in my eyes, I thanked God for sending me to the coffee shop that day and for allowing me to do this work.
It’s been a difficult couple of years for all of us—so difficult, in fact, that it would be easy for us to consider all that’s happened and ask ourselves, “Does it really matter?” “Does our faith in God mean anything?” “Does what we do or say make any difference?”
I can say without a doubt, dear friends, that it does.
I wanted to share this story with you today because what we do—as individuals and as a community of faith—really does matter. It may not always feel like it. Sometimes, it may feel like we’re wasting our time or not making a very big impact at all, but the things we do and say and the decisions we make—no matter how small—have the power to change peoples’ lives in ways that we may not ever know. I was reminded of that this past week at the coffee shop, and I want you to be reminded of that as well.
No matter where we go or what we do in our lives, God has the power to work through us and use us as instruments of his love and mercy. All we have to do is be willing to take a risk and show up for Christ. God, through the power of the Holy Spirit, will take care of the rest.
In our Gospel lesson for today, which takes place after Jesus is handed over to the Roman authorities to stand trial, the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, interrogates him and asks him if he is indeed the King of the Jews. Jesus doesn’t provide Pilate with a simple, “yes” or “no” answer. Instead, he says to Pilate, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”
Jesus has no concern about being an earthly king or ruling over others with an iron fist. His purpose is clear and simple. He came to “testify to the truth,” and it’s through his testimony—his revelation to the world of God’s healing and redeeming love—that he is glorified as “King of kings” and “Lord of lords.” Jesus came, not to rule as a fierce king, but to tear down the walls that divide us and to help us heal our broken relationship with God. “Christianity,” as one author writes, “is in a profound sense the end of all religion.” It is the consummation of God’s dream for humanity.
It’s God’s dream that we’ll no longer allow the barriers that divide us to stand in the way of peace and reconciliation. It’s God’s dream that we’ll overcome the dark corners of this world with the Spirit of truth by sharing the love of God in Christ with all our brothers and sisters, not only when it’s convenient for us but also when it’s inconvenient.
It’s our call, as Christians, to love and serve those whom the world has rejected; to be examples of God’s grace and mercy; to provide for those who are hungry and thirsty; to welcome the strangers among us; to clothe the naked; to care for the sick; and to visit those in prison. It’s our call to protect and care for the least among us and the most vulnerable. One way we can do this work is by boldly proclaiming, through our words and actions, that Jesus Christ is our King and that his kingdom is one of love and truth, not fear.
My brothers and sisters, what we do and say, in Jesus’ name, really does matter.
So, we continue to pray as Jesus has taught us, and we continue to be vigilant as we seek to fulfill the vows that we’ve made in baptism, trusting that, with Christ as our King, we’re being led closer, each day, to glory everlasting. Amen.
A video of this sermon is available below, beginning at the 21:20 mark.
The Rev. Eric Mancil 