Above him there was an inscription: “This is the king of the Jews.” The other criminal said: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus replied to him: “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.” Luke 23: 25-43
Every single one of us has a philosophy of life, whether or not we are aware of it. It is what we use to make meaning of how we want to live and the guidelines we use for living true to ourselves and for relating to others. In addition, if we believe in a God, we have a theology, a concept of who we think God is. The set of prayers and practices we use for relating to our God embodies the image of the God to whom we repeatedly go. Perhaps we still hold to the image of the God to whom we were introduced in our primary school religious education classes or the God we were taught to fear in the Parish missions we attended where we were informed that God was keeping a record of all the sins we commit and for which we will be called to account at the last judgement. Our personal theology is what motivates us as we turn our attention to expressing our religious faith and relating to God in prayer.
Every time we pray the Lord’s Prayer – the prayer that Jesus taught to everyone who would be his disciple, we address God as Father and pray: “Thy kingdom come”. That’s a way of living which Jesus preached and modelled. That’s the Kingdom of God which Jesus ushered into our world for all of humanity. – a way of relating to everyone we encounter with compassion, mercy, forgiveness, justice, kindness and care. When we give Jesus the title of “King”, we are stating that he is the sovereign and leader of that kind of kingdom. It is not about power, status and control, but is about leadership that identifies with the poor, the forgotten and rejected; it is about admitting personal vulnerability. It is the very opposite of the kind of leadership displayed by many of the political leaders and potentates of our present world.
The feast of Christ the King, which we celebrate this Sunday, is the climax of the liturgical year. It is worth our stopping to look at the three gospel-readings that have been chosen for the three cycles in our liturgical calendar. In Year A, we hear from Matthew the parable of the Last Judgement in which Jesus identified with those who are most in need: the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick, the naked, and prisoners (Matthew 25: 31-46). In year B, John gives us an account of the verbal joust between Pilate and Jesus that took place just before Jesus was handed over to those who wanted him crucified. Pilate confronted Jesus with the issue of his having had attributed to him the title of “king”: ‘Are you the king of the Jews?’ Pilate asked…Jesus replied: ‘Mine is not a kingdom of this world; if my kingdom were of this world, my men would have fought to prevent my being surrendered to the Jews. But my kingdom is not of this kind.’ ‘So, you are a king then?’ said Pilate. ‘It is you who say it’ answered Jesus. ‘Yes, I am a king. I was born for this, I came into the world for this: to bear witness to the truth; and all who are on the side of truth listen to my voice’ (John 18: 35-37). Only Luke (Year C) takes Jesus to the throne of the Cross where Jesus revealed the true nature of the kingship that is his. It is a kingship whose foundation is vulnerability and a commitment to hold to his integrity by living and dying for the mission God had entrusted to him. It was on the cross that he listened to taunts from those who equated kingship with power and self-interest. Those taunts came from soldiers who served leaders who based their leadership on the power of suppressing all who challenged or disagreed with them; and from religious leaders who were convinced that a Messiah would have to demonstrate his authenticity by saving himself and by using violence to overcome anyone intent on harming him. Those who taunted Jesus on the throne of his Cross believed in a leadership built on power, violence and self-interest. Jesus’ style of leadership was diametrically opposed to the prevailing concept of leadership alive and well in the world in which he had lived out his commission from God. Worthy of note is that his final act of healing was to a criminal who had recognised his innocence and the true nature of his sovereignty: “Indeed, I promise you, today you will be with me in paradise” (Luke 23: 43). It was on the Cross that Jesus demonstrated that he was every bit as vulnerable as the poor, the downtrodden, the neglected and the discarded to whom he had shown preference in the course of his ministering.
Many of the readers of this weekly reflection would be familiar with the name David Frost (1939-2013}. Frost was a prominent English journalist, writer and satirist. For years he had hosted the British TV programme That Was the Week That Was. He was so successful at what he did that he was invited to host a similar programme in the United States where he interviewed all those who had held the office of President in the period 1969 – 2008. He conducted five 90-minute interviews with Richard Nixon. In the course of those interviews, when he questioned the former President about the Watergate scandal, Nixon admitted: “I let the American people down and I have to carry that burden with me for the rest of my life.” Frost went on to ask: “Could the President do something illegal in some situations?” Nixon replied: “Well, when the President does it, that means it is not illegal.”
While we are baffled by statements such as this from leaders we have elected at the ballot box, we seem to have joined together to create a climate in which we expect leaders to be always right. At the same time, we express longings for the day when leaders such as Putin, Netanyahu and Trump will say something like: “I’m sorry, I made a mistake.” Yet, researchers into the qualities required by leaders in banks, corporate business, local government and politics state that an essential quality for leaders is an ability to admit to being vulnerable (see for example Patrick Lencioni, The Five Dysfunctions of a Team, Jossey-Bass, 2008)
Today’s gospel-reading and the last two paragraphs above confront us with whether or not we are open to imitate the kind of leadership Jesus demonstrated in his life and from the Cross just before he died. We are all asked to accept leadership roles during our lives. They may be in our places of employment, in social and sporting clubs, in parish and/or the communities of our neighbourhoods or apartments in which we reside. Admitting to personal failure, mistakes and inability to do everything in the role description will contribute to building trust among those whom we serve. Any leader in commerce, business or church who cannot openly admit uncertainty, weakness or failure contributes to creating institutional distrust among those around him/her. On the Cross, Jesus, as he embraced our humanity in all its humiliations and limitations, displayed the fullest possible expression of God’s vulnerability. Our world would be in better shape if its leaders, from presidents to prime ministers, to parish pastors, to principals of schools, to us, too, were to own our flawed humanity instead of boasting power and authority. If that were to happen, the reign of Christ would slip from the calendar and infuse life into our world, our Church, our places of work and our homes. Can we be courageous enough to acknowledge our vulnerability to those whom we are called to lead?