Jesus takes pains to describe his kingship as anything but. He is not like the kings of the Gentiles who puffed up with pride lord it over their subjects. His kingly procession into the holy city is on a borrowed donkey. He wore a purple robe but once, and then only for the amusement of his executioners. His kingdom is not of this world, but if he wanted to he could rain down a boatload of hurt on Pilate’s head. Unless we reject the image of a larger than life, kick down the door, superman savior, our celebration of Christ the King Sunday is more about us than the one to whom we sing “Crown him with many crowns.” He only wore one crown and it hurt. He was crowned for sheep whose shepherds like those described by Jeremiah destroy and scatter the flock. He was crowned for people who like the psalmist are in need of a very present help in times of trouble. He was crowned to rescue people like the Colossians ensnared by the power of darkness to transfer them to the kingdom of light and love. And he was crowned Christ the King for you and me when in desperation we pray the prayer of the criminal that is plea, Jesus, remember me.
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