I have a dear friend who is the CEO of a large and prosperous company. He has a marvelous expression that he loves to use every now and then – often, that expression morphs into a toast that he gives as he raises a glass of fine wine at a wonderful dinner. He will raise the glass and say, “It’s good to be King!”
Indeed, in virtually every culture, the power and prestige of leadership, of being the boss, is something to be valued above all else.
So often the symbols of national leadership include a prestigious desk in an oval office, surrounded by secret service agents, and an army of supportive staff. In business, leaders enjoy the perks of the company private jet, the executive washroom, the corner office, and a healthy golden parachute retirement plan. It’s good to be a leader, it’s good to be King! huh?
But eventually the question emerges for every leader, “How will I be remembered?” In ancient Egypt, the Pharaoh would try to be remembered by carving his story and name on large buildings, pyramids, and obelisks. In modern America, ex-presidents write memoirs and establish presidential libraries. In sports, leaders try to set records and hope to be enrolled in the Hall of Fame for that sport. Maybe this is the Achilles heel of all famous people; they must live with the growing realization that their present position of prominence is fleeting. The next leader is already waiting in the wings, eager to take their place on center stage. And so leaders, like everyone else, must wrestle with the basic fear, “Will I be forgotten after I am gone?”
Our gospel lesson today is a snapshot taken on the darkest day in the life of Jesus—the crucifixion. But even on that dark Friday, there is enough light to see that Jesus remained true to his identity, true to his heavenly Father, and true to his love for humanity. At Calvary, Jesus turned a cross designed for torture and death into a throne from which his true kingship and reign flowed. This Sunday we celebrate that Christ is King, and on that triumphant note the Church concludes another liturgical year. Let’s look today at the brief conversation between Jesus and the thief hanging beside him another cross, for in that verbal exchange is a light of hope for us all.
First, look at Jesus on the cross. Even here he is the supreme leader, the King of all Creation.
It is one of the great mysteries of our faith that the suffering and indignity of the cross would nevertheless prove to be a coronation of the Kingship of Jesus. Unlike our political candidates who wave to cheering supporters, Jesus was surrounded by crowds of people who scorned him and mocked his kingship. What a motley crew they were, this crowd of witnesses! Soldiers assigned to the messy execution detail. Religious leaders seeking the death of a heretic and threat to their power base. And others who were simply part of the curious mob that gathers to stare at any spectacle of human suffering. And flanking Jesus on two other crosses are two thieves who just happened to be scheduled for execution on that same day. All of these people mocked Jesus, adding to his shame and pain and isolation. They pick up the voice of the tempter in the wilderness, “If you are the King of the Jews . . .if you are the Messiah, save yourself!” According to the other gospel records, even the thief who later repented originally joined in the mockery against Jesus.
It doesn’t look much like a coronation of a King, does it? And yet, even in the midst of this derision, Jesus spoke words of forgiveness for those who did not deserve it, and who did not even ask for it. And maybe it was those words that turned the penitent thief around. For the only more potent force in the universe than hate is love. And even on the cross, Jesus continued his ministry of reconciliation, and showed the true character of his kingship and reign over human souls. As a woodworker will tell you, the best way to see the true grain of a piece of wood is to split it open and reveal its heart. On the cross, we see God’s heart laid bare. And what we see and hear is love; a love that is so strong that even hate and fear cannot extinguish it.
This is the sign of Jesus’ power as King. It is not armies at his disposal, nor posh seats of prestige, nor perks of personal comfort. The sign of Jesus’ reign is God’s redeeming and reconciling and transforming love. And never did we see it so forcefully displayed as on the cross. That is why the cross can be a throne from which Christ reigns.
But notice also today, the penitent thief on the cross beside Jesus. He represents all of us who might follow Christ as King in the midst of our own infidelities and sins.
Here is the great hope of this story for each of us. This unnamed man in Scripture, known to us only as “a thief”, is dying for crimes he committed. How many people did he rob? How much money did he steal? We do not know. But he is guilty as sin, nonetheless. And he is at arm’s length from Jesus on that dark Friday. From that close range he saw and heard a new way of life as he watched Jesus live those final hours. He did not know much about Jesus when he spoke that kind word and made his petition. His faith hung by only a slender thread, that somehow and in some way, this tortured Jesus beside him would still be alive before God after this terrible day ended for them both. And in that hope, he asked simply to be remembered. He did not ask for a mansion in heaven. Just to be remembered. It is mercy at its purest form he seeks, for he knows that justice is what he is getting on that cross.
My friends, we are that thief. When we have cheated on our taxes, or padded an expense account, we have stolen. When we have held another’s body in our lustful minds, we have stolen from their dignity by making them an object for our lust. When we have raised our voice in anger we have robbed the world of some of its peace. When we have harbored bitterness or spread gossip, we have been thieves against someone’s reputation. We are all this thief. Guilty as sin.
But there is hope for thieves like us. Just an arm’s length away is the mercy of Christ. Before we even ask, he offers forgiveness to us on the basis of his love. And if we but let him, he will meet us in a place of his Father’s care, both in this life and the next.