“No Kings:” What kind of King is Jesus?
Wonderings:
I wonder: what does “No Kings” mean to you?
I wonder: who is the most consistent, reliable person you know?
Reflection based on these wonderings + the readings assigned for the Palm Sunday in Year A of our Lectionary.
The Passion according to Saint Matthew.
That’s such a tough story.
I’m going to be very brief here.
This is a whiplash liturgy. Along with the crowds, we sing “Hosanna! This is our king!” All glory, laud, and honor! And then 20 minutes later we are part of that same crowd, shouting out about the same person—“crucify him! Release Barabbas and nail that sucker to the cross!”
Jesus turned out not to be the king they wanted—maybe not the king that some of us want, deep down. Jesus doesn’t fit our familiar template for kingship. We’re familiar with kings who seek to dominate, or seize control. We’re familiar with kings who demand fealty, or gifts given in tribute.
And knowing what we know, many of us would say, have said or shouted, or painted on a sign this weekend—No Kings.
No Kings yesterday—and then Hosanna today… So we have to ask, what kind of kingship does Jesus embody? Once Jesus is acclaimed as king, what does he do?
He turns kingship inside out and upside down. He is an ironic king. A subversive king. He makes us wonder what leadership should be. He makes us wonder what kind of authority is worth our trust.
As the heir of David in this triumphal procession, did he make his dramatic entrance into Jerusalem on a warhorse, as many would have expected? No, he came in on the humblest possible animal: the colt of a donkey.
Did he come armored for battle, to kick the Romans out and set the world to rights? No, because Jesus doesn’t live by the sword. Jesus doesn’t dominate. He doesn’t take control, or kick butt and take names. He empowers others to make their own choices. And when he has choices, he consistently, reliably chooses to heal, to liberate, to reconcile, to mend.
Unlike many of the other kings we know, and unlike many pretenders to the throne, Jesus doesn’t demand fealty, or accept tribute. He doesn’t hide behind others, , he doesn’t make them give themselves up to him. He gives himself away. He gives his life, in fidelity to his friends, and to the loving, liberating, and life-giving God he calls “Father.”
He walks the way of love all the way to the end.
And out the other side. But that’s getting ahead of the story.
Let’s stay in this moment, in this part of the story we hear today. I find it so moving—we see that this isn’t easy for him. We talked last week about how Jesus in the gospel according to John often seems transcendent, invulnerable. Nothing surprises him, nothing scares him.
But in Matthew’s telling we hear that Jesus is scared. He doesn’t want to go where he knows this path will lead. He needs his friends to support him—and he’s hurt when they let him down. His faithfulness, his integrity, his consistency—it requires sacrifice, and courage. It costs.
Still, Jesus is faithful to the vision of a world in which everyone has what they need to heal and grow, a world in which no one is ever reduced to one part of their story, where everyone is shown the care they deserve as an image-bearer of the living God.
Jesus spends his life showing people what that world could look like. And because Jesus is consistent, that is also how he spends his death.
Jesus refuses to condemn the friends who betray him; he refuses to engage in the show trial; he refuses to hate the mob who calls for his death.
He lives the way of love all the way to the end.
And we have not yet heard the end of the story.
Amen.
