Jeremiah 23:1-6 Benedictus Colossians 1:11-20 Luke 23:33-43
Priests and preachers, the world over, hope and pray they say something memorable. But
they realise the sad truth that most of us – while maybe finding a sermon enjoyable or engaging at the time – barely remember more than 3 or 4, across a lifetime. We know this. Sometimes it feels depressing, other times it is a massive relief! But today’s gospel passage, reminds me of one of the sermons I really do remember from many, many years ago.
The preacher’s name was Steve. He was a Baptist minister, turned charity CEO, turned TV and radio celebrity, and he was preaching at a large Christian conference in the UK. It must’ve been around 2002, and he was talking about the great London landmark, Trafalgar Square.
Built in the early 19th century, with Nelson’s Column in the centre, it commemorates the victory at the battle of Trafalgar. Nelson’s Column stands over 50 meters high and is flanked by fountains and brass lions and in each of the four corners of the square are four other columns, each standing 5 meters high. Three of them have large statues atop – some the same height again. And until 1999 the fourth plinth stood empty, due to funding running out. And so, for 150 years the column stayed that way. Over that time there was much discussion, even plans drawn up, of which famous world hero might adorn the 4th plinth. Suggestions came and went but neither consensus nor funding was found.
Then, just before the turn of the 21st century, it wasproposed that the Fourth Plinth be used for temporary contemporary art, instead of another permanent statue. A huge competition ensued, and the winner was a relatively unknown artist, only 40 years old and not wildly experienced at the time. His name is Mark Wallinger and his piece of artwork is called Ecce Homo. Behold, the man — the phrase Pilate used when presenting Jesus, bruised and bound, before the people. Just before the crucifixion passage today. The one the lectionary chooses for Christ the King.
Now consider this. Wallinger’s Jesus is placed on a plinth 5 meters high, alongside Admiral Nelson, whose statue is 10 times bigger…45 meters taller. The other statues are made of brass and Ecce Homo is made of simple scrubbed resin – deliberately marked and streaked.
When Wallinger won the commission, he sat in his London bedsit and looked across at his housemate, an inch or two taller than me, and decided he was plain and ordinary enough to become the Jesus he wanted on this plinth. Using the bedsit’s bath he made a cast of his housemate and created his artwork from there. Less than 2 meters tall, alongside 50 meters of Nelson Grandeur.
The world’s press turned out for the grand unveiling – the first hero to be placed in Trafalgar Square for almost 200 years and they indeed saw an Ecce Homo – behold the man. Nothing but a man. One reporter summed it up perfectly and said, ‘he looks miniscule’. And that was the point. It’s a piece about vulnerability and truth, set high on a plinth built for power.
And, as Revd Steve spoke about this to a crowd of 5000 Christians I was transfixed.
Jesus is our King. And his Kingdom is unlike any other. He refuses power and instead is vulnerable. And this is what his sermon said; the message of our God is that you win, looking like you’re losing. You win, looking like you’re losing. And that phrase has come back to me again and again over the last 2 or more decades. With the Kingdom of God, and with Christ as King, we win looking like we’re losing.
This man, this God-man, is beaten and whipped and tortured. He is spat at and stripped naked. He is wrongfully convicted, in some botched trial, deserted by his friends and taken out and killed. With criminals who mock him. And he is our King?
This man, this broken, humble, dominated man, to quote St Paul, is the image of the invisible God? What are we supposed to do with a King whose throne is a cross and who’s jewels are a crown of thorns? How do we follow and worship a King who looks like he’s losing rather than lording it over this kingdom? And what does it mean to be the citizens of this kingdom?
Christ, our King, is not a monarch enthroned over the world, but is Love enveloping it. Enveloping us. And that is what we are called to, too. To live as citizens of this upside-down kingdom means standing beside those the world overlooks, speaking peace into shouting places, choosing mercy over might. God keeps turning the plinths of power into stages for grace, and calls us to see holiness where the world sees failure.
And as I said last week, and many times before, every time we come to this table and break bread, we remember again that brokenness is not the end. Out of brokenness and death comes resurrection and life. And that changes everything, because death no longer wins, even though it looks like it won’t lose. We win, looking like we’re losing. Yet, actually, in this dimension, winning isn’t even the point. Loving is.
Outrageous grace and mercy is the currency of this Kingdom and, that changes everything, because when we fall on our knees before this King we look up and see He isn’t there looming over us, at all. He is alongside us, knelt too, in humility, washing the feet of his friends and offering to wash us.
When we call Christ “King”, we are not bowing to domination.
We are saying yes to a reign of love — to let kindness have authority, to allow forgiveness to rule our hearts, to let peace become our law.
And let’s face it — the world has tried the alternative. We have crowned domineering kings, obeyed despotic rulers, followed power-hungry presidents — and made a right mess of it.
So maybe what we need is something entirely different. And that is what our King offers.
This is the gospel.
God shows us a different kind of majesty — the kind that bends low, carries the cross, meets us where we are and calls us beloved. May we choose, again and again, to be faithful citizens of this kingdom, to whom all glory and worship and Kingship belongs, now and forever, Amen.
Holy Adventures 