All week I've been asking myself, "What sort of king?" What kind of king today? British gossip tabloids are again asking whether Charles is fit to be king., while serious commentators raise questions about an institution whose only apparent function is to provide the archaic and elaborate manners that render someone important enough to visit hospitals and to open Parliament. An American understanding of monarchy makes a funny context for the newest Christian church festival, one less than 100 years old-Christ the King Sunday. Christ the King Sunday, instituted during the least monarchic century in 2,000 years. Not Christ the CEO or Christ the President or Christ the therapist or Christ the philosopher or Christ the Really Good Guy. Christ the King Sunday.

In the past, I was front and center in favor of calling this day, "Reign of Christ Sunday." It was less patriarchal. But lately I've been favoring the title "Christ the King Sunday." I struck me that, to celebrate the reign of Christ was to celebrate an idea, an institution-yet-to-come. Why would I devote my life to an abstraction, ambiguous at best? Would an idea-even a good idea-be worth giving up a well-paying job I enjoyed, leaving my family at the other end of the earth, starting life over because of a 2,000-year-old idea that still hadn't happened yet? Would I love an idea that much? Not likely. I discovered I was more inclined to count on the One behind the idea, the One who was and would be the cause of that idea. I would be willing to spend three years in school for Someone, the Person of a savior and God. That makes more sense. That's why this year I'm celebrating "Christ the King" Sunday, not "the Reign of Christ."

It was Pilate who got to me. Maybe I'm homesick, but I've come to recognize in Pilate an early ancestor of the Scandinavians who settled Minnesota. Why else would he talk like a Minnesotan? "So," he says. "So-you are a king?" He asks this like a Minnesotan, as if it's the final clincher of his argument, his final response to Jesus' question. If I were filming this scene, I'd have Jesus snap his question to Pilate. "Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?" Is this your own question or are you part of a plot? Are you just the patsy or do you really want to know? I'd angle the camera so that Jesus was facing the audience, his eyes leveled right at the viewers. Are you asking this question? Are you trying to understand me and the coming kingdom, or are you trying to destroy it? "Are you the King?" It's not necessarily an impertinent question. It can be a faithful question. "Are you my King?" What sort of King? Are you worth staking my life on? Are you worth the teasing and harassment I'll get from the kids when they find out I go to Sunday School? Are you worth getting out of bed 15 minutes early so I can listen for your hopes for my day? Are you worth a "yes" to the nominating committee, which means I'll serve on a committee and go to session meetings? Are you worth my commitment to spiritual discipline? Is it important enough to me, being part of your kingdom, that I'm willing to be associated with these people, devote time and resources to helping them, doing fun as well as work with them?

What sort of king would even inspire those kinds of questions? We all ask them in one way or another. Not the king of a geographic place. Not the sort of king whose people share an ethnic gene pool. Not the sort of king whose people share one cuisine and one kind of music and one kind of dancing and the same football team. The Beavers. No, the Ducks. No, the Gophers. The sort of king we are celebrating today is one who forms "a people." We are not this king's people by virtue of living between certain rivers or on specific islands. We share a common story. I was lost but now I'm found. I was hopeless and discouraged, hated myself-but my story has a new plot line. I was stuck in old addictions-alcohol or tobacco or food or video games or chocolate-but now I'm free of their hold on me. This king's people shares food and meals, and I don't just mean this one with the tiny piece of bread and sip of grape juice. That's an important meal, but it's not the only one we share. At Springwater we've been calling it "food, fun, and fellowship"-things like the Round Up, the Trail Band concert, Feast of Fools, potlucks, Christmas caroling, stewardship teas and desserts. These f's-food, fun, fellowship-shared in the name of our king makes us a people. By virtue of these f's, we become a people with shared experiences and hopes that endure over the years and that hold us together. This king makes a community, with commitment to "the good of the whole," rather than a conviction that "I've got to prove my point, come hell or high water." A people always interested in expanding the family itself. A people that helps others in need, even when they aren't part of the family. We are a people staking our lives on the same hope, that there will be a future, that what we do makes a difference, that justice will be done, that fairness will win. As a people and as individuals, we believe we are known for who we are-and loved. Period. Because we are a people, we recognize our fellow travelers, people who also stake their lives on the incredible hope that God doesn't see us as improvement projects. Not, "I will love this person as soon as she gets her act together," but the radical, terrifying, gracious conviction that God meets us where we're at. And that God doesn't leave us there. Our king-the one we celebrate today-our king says his kingdom "is not from this world." He's not saying, "we have nothing to do with this world and what goes on here." Jesus' answer to Pilate means, "My kingdom is not determined by nor grounded in the values of this world." Christ's kingdom exists for those outside it. It's not a kingdom based on illusions. ("Pay no attention to the man behind that curtain.") Like the Wizard of Oz, Pilate's kingdom is based on the smoke and mirrors of power in this world-violence, exploitation, power over. Jesus' rule is established in truth, bounded by love, ruled in justice. This is a Reality with a capital R.

I wouldn't blame you if you were asking yourself, "What's in it for me?" Here's where the significant rubber meets the earth-shakingly significant road: being part of a people, part of this kingdom, means it doesn't all depend on you. There is so much freedom in understanding you aren't in charge, that you can trust the One who is. Belonging to an earthly realm means "obey, move away, or suffer the consequences." This kingdom isn't about "obey because you must." This kingdom is about "obey because it is right and true." Vatican II in ratifying this festival day said that Christ was the goal of history, the focal point of our desires, the joy of all hearts, the fulfillment of all our aspirations.

Are you going to believe this? Or are you going back to believing it all depends on you-that your life has meaning because of the things you accomplished. That who are you is determined by your addictions to substances or what people say about you. Hoping that your kids are going to care about you when you're old-because of what you gave them when they were little. Or are you going to stake your life on being known for who you are and loved. Period. It's up to you. Christ the Therapist or Christ the Boss or Christ the Philosopher or Christ the Pretty-Good-Idea-As-Long-As-It-Doesn't-Expect-Too-Much-From-Me. Christ the King who already loves you. It's up to you.