Let us pray: Be in our hearts and in our minds, O God, and may these words I speak be ones which help us to know you more clearly. Amen.

I will admit to an uneasy relationship with this last Sunday in the church year, a Sunday that is known as Christ the King Sunday, or perhaps in an attempt to sound a little less patriarchal or regal, Reign of Christ Sunday. Regardless of that change in nomenclature, the designation leaves me unenthused. Perhaps this attitude is an outgrowth of my uneasy relationship with anything royal. I can remember earnest discussions with my father about the inherent injustice of a monarchy, where people are born into a life of privilege and power. My father was a pragmatist. He could understand my concerns about the established injustice of royalty, but he would argue in favour of the monarchy because in his estimation there wasn't anything better in terms of governance. He would say, it's working better than many or most other systems, so why try to fix it. I will admit that he had a small point, but that did nothing for my concerns about the injustices.

This attitude created a dilemma for me this past summer when we heard that Kate and William were making a stop in Yellowknife. I'm not a frequent or conscientious Facebook person, in fact I've often called myself a Facebook fraud, because I give the impression I use Facebook by having an account, but I only check it out perhaps a couple of times a month, and post something there even less frequently. However on that day in July I watched the gathering crowds out of my office window heading over to Somba Ke park to see the young royals and felt the draw to go and watch, while at the same time having the sense that by going I was betraying my sentiments about the aforementioned injustices represented by a monarchy. So I posted on Facebook that I was heading over to the park with mixed emotions, wondering what kind of statement I was making by being seen there. I expect that I was reflecting on this more deeply than necessary, but I offer this story as an example of my uneasiness with anything royal.

So, with this in mind, you can probably understand why I find it difficult to get excited about a Sunday on which we are to celebrate Christ the King. I've managed over the past several years to be conveniently away on Reign of Christ Sunday, and our Youth Group has led worship, using the opportunity of the last Sunday in the church year to offer a journey through the church seasons. I was tempted to do the same, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised that I should just face the issue straight on and hopefully offer a different perspective for consideration.

As you heard, the scripture passages this morning offer other challenges besides the one I've already described. The passage from Ezekiel and the gospel passage both describe judgement, that may be hard to accept, even if they also describe a way of compassion and social justice. In the Matthew passage there is a stark contrast between the idea of Christ reigning over us, and the Christ we meet in everyday encounters and especially in encounters with people who have specific and urgent needs – clothing, food, pastoral care and the need to be welcomed.

There is yet another concern that I have with this designation Reign of Christ. Christian triumphalism is perhaps the largest misinterpration of Jesus' life and ministry. This idea that Christianity is the one and only true faith, and that therefore Christ is King of the universe has gotten us into trouble time and time again. Unfortunately it has some roots in the kind of words that were part of the passages we heard today, judging between those who are in and out – the sheep and the goats is the way that the gospel passage described it, or the skinny and fat sheep as Ezekiel wrote. As I understand the story of Jesus, I don't see him telling people that they had to believe in him. He was Jewish, and his purpose in ministry was to lead people to more faithful following of God's way according to the Jewish faith. Of course it was a compelling message, made even more compelling to his closest followers by the events surrounding his execution as a political threat. But something happened as this compelling message spread around the Mediterranean, largely because of the evangelism of Paul and his friends, a message that moved beyond the Jewish faith and Jewish people. Rather than being a new way of finding insight and inspiration into the way of God, it became “the” way, with the messenger Jesus placed on a throne as the leader of this new religion. This is a vast oversimplification, but aided by the conversion of Constantine – the Roman Emperor – to Christianity, the message moved from being a counter-cultural faith movement to a state-sanctioned religion. Christianity in part became a religion of belief in a person rather than in the message of that person. We can see hints of this in the passage from Ephesians. Belief in Christ was the message much more than believe in the justice and deep faith in God that Jesus demonstrated and preached. These different understandings are very much evident today. If you've ever heard people talking about Jesus as their personal saviour, that is about belief in a person, more than belief in a way of being in the world. It's also about a concern for what happens after life on earth is over. One of the questions that faith tries to answer is a question about the afterlife – and having a personal saviour is one of the ways that question is answered – assurance that we are cared for in the present and in our future life. But another question that faith tries to answer is our purpose on earth – the way we need to treat each other, what God wants us to do and how God wants us to be.

I just don't think that Christ the King does it for us anymore. The day and age when we think our purpose as Christians is to convert the whole world to Christianity is over. The day and age when we can imagine Jesus the Christ ruling the universe from a cosmic throne I believe is also over. The day and age when Jesus – the historical Jesus, the Jesus of Galilee, the Jesus who revealed the presence of God in new and surprising ways, by pointing out the faith of people who were among the outcasts, by people who would by many standards not be considered among the best examples of faithful living, that day and age is still here. There is ever more to learn, more to take into our being, more to incorporate into our own faithful journey.

One of the well known gospel verses has Jesus asking Peter – who do people say that I am, and then moving beyond the general answer to ask Peter specifically, who do you say that I am? Christ the King is one of the ways that question has been answered, but I believe it is an old, unhelpful answer. There is much we can learn from the history of the Christian faith – how the historical Jesus became the Cosmic Christ, how the servant leader became known as the princely monarch, how a counter-cultural movement became culturally normative. Yes, there is much to learn, and part of the learning is to understand how our Christian faith fits in a world that is much different today than it was even a few decades ago. Some of the things that we thought worked in times past don't work now. The example of Jesus and his critique of the status quo is one that is always current. It is just as valid for us now as it was in Jesus' time. That's the part I want to hold on to, that's the value I draw from the story of Jesus and the way in which he challenged us to see beyond the expected and accepted. Christ as King doesn't do it for me. Jesus as leader from among, pointing us to the way of God, is more like it for me. Who do you say, Jesus is? Hymn writer Sylvia Dunstan asks more than answers the question in the words of her thoughtful hymn, the tune name of which is perhaps the best description of the message of the hymn. I close today by inviting us to sing together....Number 210 in Voices United.