Sermon Tone Analysis

Christ the King

Matthew 27:27-31

*Hail, King of the Jews!*

 

            Triumph.

Do you know what that word means?

I’m sure you all know how we use, but do you know where the word comes from?

In ancient Rome, a triumph was a parade.

When a conquering general came home, his army marched through the city pulling wagons loaded with plunder followed by enemy generals, nobles and kings in chains.

It was the ticket tape parade of the ancient world.

At the head of that parade, the conquering general rode while the crowds cheered: Hail, Caesar, victor and emperor!

From that cry came another cry that we hear Roman soldiers shouting today, a cry that touches our hearts and our souls: *Hail, King of the Jews*.

*I.*

Today is Christ the King Sunday.

And what a picture of our King God shows us today!

Today, our King stands before us a prisoner, while bullies weave branches of thorns into a crown and shove it down onto his head.

They strip his outer clothes off and spit on him.

Those soldiers wrap an old cloak around him, put a reed in his hand, and mock him as the King of the Jews -- and then hit him on the head with that reed.

2,000 years later, their cry is still ringing in our ears: *Hail, King of the Jews.

Hail King of Mockery.*

*            *What a horrible glimpse into the human soul!

Those soldiers didn’t know who they were beating and taunting.

They thought that he couldn’t do anything about it.

They didn’t even worry about him getting revenge later, because he would dead soon.

In these men we see the root that grew up into Nazi Germany and Kosovo.

These men hated Jesus because he was a Jew.

To their way of thinking, they were stationed in a god-forsaken, dangerous and rebellious corner of the empire inhabited by people that they considered to be totally incomprehensible.

The way they worshipped their God, the way they refused to work on Saturday, the way that ate their food to the Romans all seemed like proof that these people were badly in need of enlightenment.

But when the Romans did them the favor of conquering them, they revolted and treated the Romans as if they were unclean.

“Hail, King of the Jews” was more than just mockery of a helpless prisoner.

It was that, but it was also an expression of all the impatience and frustration that these homesick soldiers had for this arrogant little country.

It was blind, ethnic rage.

But  this little snippet of what happened on Good Friday is not about those Roman soldiers and their prejudice.

Not really.

It’s not about their cruelty.

These words are about Jesus.

They are about the horrors that he suffered all that morning, and all the night before and all the rest of that pivotal day in human history.

There in that corner of the praetorium, the governor’s palace, Jesus was paying for our sins.

Deep inside of all of us, there’s a Roman soldier just trying to get out.

There’s a bully in our hearts that enjoys seeing the feeling of power that making someone else suffer can bring.

Most of us have been taught since we were little that it’s wrong to hurt other people, and by the grace of God, as adults most of us have learned to be horrified by  human cruelty.

Yet, in this enlightened country, our schools are full of kids that are tormented because they don’t fit in.

They’re mocked.

They’re isolated.

They’re even beaten up once in a while.

And in a very few cases, they buy a gun and hit back.

All those things happen because we all are born with a rotting, festering nest of cruelty and prejudice in our hearts.

It’s human nature to hate what you don’t understand.

It’s human nature to hurt what you despise.

It’s human nature to take your frustrations out on any convenient target.

And an honest look at our own hearts would show that we, too, have that same cruel human nature lurking in us.

Even if you have never actually exercised it by picking on kids that don’t fit in, or by uttering racial slurs, that sinful, cruel nature lives in all of us.

Because it is there, we all deserve to spend eternity in hell.

That’s God’s punishment for bullies -- even if we’re only wannabe bullies.

That’s God’s punishment for hearts that are cruel.

We deserve that punishment just as much as the Roman soldiers who busted a gut laughing at the King of the Jews.

But Jesus wore that crown of thorns and that robe, Jesus endured being called the King of the Jews and being spit on, Jesus let those men drive thorns into his head and smack him with a reed so that we won’t have to go to hell.

Hell is the ultimate humiliation.

Rotting in hell will be God’s eternal proof that sinful human beings are worms.

You and I should suffer that humiliation.

But we won’t.

Because Jesus has already been humiliated for us.

Of course, this wasn’t the end of what he was going to endure that day.

But God shows us here, as clearly as anywhere, the depths of the humiliation that Christ had to go through to save us.

Because of what Jesus was going through, we are forgiven for every cruel word that we have spoken.

We are forgiven for every person that we have tormented.

We are forgiven even for act and word of discrimination against people whose skin color is different from ours.

And even if we have never acted out that kind of cruelty, we are forgiven for bully that lives in our hearts and wants to treat people that way.

We can be certain of that because Jesus paid for all the sins of all people who ever lived.

While they were laughing at him and spitting on him and striking him, Jesus was paying for the sins of those thugs who thought it was so funny.

And he paid for us to.

Because he finished the suffering that we see underway here, we will be honored.

Every mocking “Hail” that Jesus heard will come to us as God saying, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Every laugh at his “royal robe” and crown of thorns will come back to us as God’s smile of approval on Judgment Day.

All that Jesus suffered on that Good Friday means that we will suffer nothing for our sins.

While millions of others go to hell, Jesus will say to us, “Come into the kingdom of my Father.”

That is what this little snippet is all about.  .

*II.*

One thing strikes me about this text: how close mockery is to real honor.

Those soldiers could have just slammed Jesus.

They could have said something like, “Come here, you dirty Jew, and let me shove some pork in your mouth.”

But they didn’t.

Instead, they imitated the honor that a king ordinarily gets, because that was funnier and more cruel.

Kings wear crowns, so let’s give him a crown that makes blood run down into his eyes.

Kings wear robes, so let’s strip off his own clothes and put a beat-up old cloak on him.

Kings have scepters, so let’s give him a reed -- and hit him with it.

Kings receive honor, so let’s kneel and praise him.

But those actions are so poignant because Jesus truly deserved all the honor that they were mocking.

He really did deserve a crown and a scepter and a crowd shouting itself hoarse.

Today, we see that.

By a miracle that only God can do, that mockery is transformed into the highest praise.

Today, when we hear those soldiers shouting, *Hail, King of the Jews!*  we truly hear a shout of praise: *Hail, King of Peace!*

*            *The people that Jesus was dying to save mocked him.

The praise that he deserved was thrown back in his face.

But there’s an even greater irony here.

The greatest irony is that God has made the humiliation of Christ his greatest honor.

Today, Jesus wears this mocking and this brutality the way a soldier wears the Congressional Medal of Honor.

Only God could make that change.

He did it, because in the horrors that happened that day, Jesus demonstrated the greatest love ever realized.

He suffered all that to save us.

His mission wasn’t just to come here and be a great teacher.