When my son was on his motorcycle trip around the US, he stopped at Graceland in Memphis. Matthew said he had expected the home of" the King" to be really kitschy - kind of Disney meets Gone with the Wind. Maybe I'm too oriented to the US Constitution, too anti-monarchist, but I've never understood calling Elvis" the King." Do we really need a king? Especially one like Elvis. What is it with Americans? We fight a war of independence to get rid of kings, and then we insist on making entertainment heroes into kings.

This is the Reign of Christ Sunday, the Sunday in the church year when we celebrate Jesus as king. But really--what kind of king? The only thing actually written about Jesus during his lifetime was that sign over the cross: " This is the king of the Jews." Some king. His worldly belonging is disposed of by a single throw of the dice by bored soldiers. He endures a public degradation ceremony, and as if that isn't enough, Luke says he is mocked, taunted, despised and humiliated. This is the same" king" whose birth was heralded by angelic choirs singing" a Savior is born this day in the city of David." As a week-old baby he is brought to the temple, where the old prophet Simeon calls him the salvation of Israel. And now this: nails pounded into his hands and feet and only thorns for a crown. When he is finally called" the Messiah of God, his chosen one," it is by people who find an obscene level of humor in his situation.

That kind of king. The kind of king God chooses. How can Americans hope to under-stand how very unking-like Jesus is? The very idea of" king" is incomprehensible to us, steeped as we are in constitutional checks and balances. We are heirs to a revolution fought 200-plus years ago for the privilege of never having to bend our knees to any monarch. We think of kings as bad guys. The obscenity of the gallows humor that caused Jesus' tormentors to put up a sign calling him" king" is that what a king is supposed to do is care for the people. A king makes things safe, so people can prosper. When crimes are committed, the king provides the system in which the people are judged and pay for their crimes. A king is the final appeal for acquittal or clemency. A king has life and death power over the people.

This king is hanging on a cross. Dying. People taunt this" savior," egging him on to save himself. When he finally acts to save someone, it is a fellow criminal. A king's subjects are supposed to show him reverence. The only one who does also has nails in his hands and feet, and what he asks for is a place in this king's kingdom. This seems like such an ironic text for celebrating Reign of Christ Sunday! Here is a hymn that points out the irony even more. Join me in singing #147," Blessing and Honor" verse 1 only.

How ironic those words sound, in comparison to how this king is treated in today's text. Where are the perks of monarchy? Instead of a king like Elvis - surrounded by fans screaming in ecstasy at the sheer joy of seeing him and he giving lavish gifts to his favorites - instead of a rich, charismatic king, this king is a dead man walking. Some king for Reign of Christ Sunday: a dead man walking. A man as good as dead, with his arms outstretched, listening intently to the ones who humiliated him, forgiving them. Listening just as intently to the felon who saw him for who he really was - the only one who could see that he was innocent, the only one who believed enough in the coming of his kingdom that he asked for a place in that kingdom. In that context, what could possibly motivate the king's response to both his tormentors and his only supporter? Sing with me hymn #76," My Song is Love Unknown" verses 1, 2.

What motivates this king is love. Love so powerful it is willing to be a dead man walking - even if it is supposed to be kingly blessing and honor and glory and power. A king willing to be a dead man walking, only because of love. I haven't seen the Harry Potter movie yet, but I've read some of the books. Harry is an orphaned 11-year-old boy who finds out that he has magical powers and is sent to school to train them. Harry has a reputation, because his parents were killed by the most powerful evil magician in the world. Harry survives, even though he is a baby, and that is the source of his tremendous powers - powers so potent that they frighten even those who practice evil magic. Do you know what the source of his power is? Someone loved him enough to die for him. Harry's mother dies in his place, and that is the source of his power. Think about that when you think about what kind of king we celebrate today. A king who died in our place. There is tremendous power in that: loved enough to be died for. Even though, as king - as creator - he had the power of life and death over us.

What are we supposed to do about this? First, we are supposed to be defined by this king. That seems so foreign to Americans. We think that, since we vote and elect our leaders, we can un-elect them. A leader doesn't define us. We define the leader - literally. The need to be elected and re-elected motivates a great deal of our government. The purpose of the kind of king we are talking about is to provide peace and safety so that we can prosper into who we are supposed to be. That is what Jesus-as-the-Reign-of-God-Incarnate provides. This is about God in Christ, and this God-in-Christ reign is about making room for us to be who we are created to be.

What God created us to be, first and foremost, is human. Fully human. Which, ironically, is the hardest thing in the world for humans to be. We spend a lot of time and energy avoiding acknowledgment of our flaws, denying our vulnerability, our essential humanity. Compassion is one of the ways in which, even in our humanness, we are in the image and likeness of our Creator. If you have been attending Sunday School in November, you will know that this has been our topic for discussion. The class has come up with a definition for compassion. The Reader's Digest Condensed version of the definition is that compassion is" the necessary, yet difficult, work of God's love poured out for all." Fluffing that out, we find that compassion means interconnectedness with each other, empathy with joy and misery, sharing in suffering that makes us to work to alleviate it. Spending the middle of one rainy November day handing out bowls of chili to tree cutters - because it's cold and wet out there. Reading with grade schoolers one afternoon a week - because some kids don't have anyone to show them how much fun reading is. Praying for each person who died September 11 as the story appears inside the front page of the Oregonian - because that person was God's own beloved. Buying and wrapping presents for ESL kids we've never met - because it's hard to have so little in the land of abundance we call Oregon.

When we allow ourselves to be defined by our king, we become more human. And in becoming more human, we develop compassion. But if we just leave our humanity at acting compassionately we are not fully and completely human. To be really human, we also need to worship. My seminary experience was with people who were very diverse - culturally and ethnically, theologically and politically. There were class discussions when sparks really flew. But we worshiped together every Wednesday. I remember one of my classmates saying that it was hard to stay mad at someone when you worshiped and took communion together. As human beings, as subjects of this same king, one of the most important things we can do is to create worship space for each other. Not just literally - that's important - but also psychologically. Give each other room to approach God as each is able. Then, be sure to create space for worship in your own lives. As your pastor, you can be sure I'm going to say make space for Sunday morning. But as your pastor, I'm also going to say make space for worship at home, in your private lives. Make a home for faith. Allow rituals to develop in your personal life that create openness to hearing what God has to say to you. Time for prayer. Time for scripture. Time for quiet listening to God.