Delivered on Sunday 25 November 2007 in St George's Chapel

Mark 8:27-33

In one particular episode of Yes, Prime Minister, Jim Hacker is involved in the selection of a Bishop. He has had a meeting with the Appointments Secretary but he thinks that the two candidates before him are hardly ideal. So - and I read from his diary:

'I asked Sir Humphrey if there are no other suitable candidates. He said that there aren't at the moment. Apparently there were a couple of better jobs available recently. I couldn't think what could better than a bishop, other than a rook! But apparently the Dean of Windsor is a better job.

It was all becoming clear to me. 'So being a bishop', I summed up, 'is simply a matter of status. Dressing up in cassocks and gaiters.' Humphrey nodded. 'Yes, Prime Minister. Though gaiters are now worn only at significant religious events - like the royal garden party. ...

Humphrey explained to me that I can turn both candidates down, although it would be exceptional and not advised. 'Even if one candidate wants to get God out of the Church of England and the other wants to get the Queen out of it?' 'The Queen,' said Humphrey, 'is inseparable from the Church of England.' 'Is she?' I asked. 'And what about God?' My Permanent Secretary replied 'I think He is what is called an optional extra,'[1]

Lynn and Jay, wrote sketches that seem timeless. The picture of the Prime Minister considering an Episcopal appointment seems all too contemporary. Who should he choose? The role of kingmaker is not an easy one. For Jim Hacker the question is: which of these two men should be king? For our second reading today the question is: what does it mean to say that Jesus is king (an appropriate question on the feast day of Christ the King)?

Jesus turns to his disciples and asks, 'Who do people say that I am?' They answer truthfully, 'Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, others one of the prophets'. I say truthfully because when Herod Anitpas was asked that question he too noted that while some said this Jesus is Elijah, others said that he is one of the prophets, but Herod himself claimed 'This is John, whom I beheaded, raised from the dead'.[2] So this is what Herod thinks, this is what the people think but who, asks Jesus, do you say that I am? With confidence Peter answers: You are the Christ. Pretty good answer you'd think especially given that the gospel of Mark opens with these stark words: 'The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ'. But this title - Christ or Messiah, depending on how you translate it - is a politically loaded term.

A politically loaded term - you're kidding, this is the New Testament not The Spectator. But yes, a politically loaded term. Where is this conversation taking place? In Caesarea Philippi, the seat of Philip the Tetrarch, half brother to Herod Antipas. Here was a man who realizing that the chief city was named after the Roman Caesar thought he could add a little something by lengthening the name to include his own - hence, Caesarea Philippi. Philip was no favourite of his people. He may have been a Jewish leader but he was a Roman puppet and he could see no personal value in political liberation. Things were just fine under Roman rule. But there were many who disagreed. Certainly Peter, when he described Jesus as the Christ, was not thinking of Jesus gentle, meek and mild, he was thinking bloody revolution. He had a picture in his mind of Jesus the King, the new leader of the new state - a kind of King David, mark 2. And he may even have harboured the hope that he himself might have been the King's private secretary.

So you can imagine the consternation when Jesus explained that he 'had to endure great suffering and to be put to death'. No, no, no, no, thought Peter, that's not quite what I had in mind. He didn't just think it, he actually said it. And this was Jesus reply: 'out of my sight, Satan! You think as men think not as God thinks'. Ouch. None of your softly, softly man management skills here - straight between the eyes: Satan! As soon as he heard this rebuke the parable of the sower must have rung in Peter's ears: 'The sower sows the word. With some the seed falls along the footpath; no sooner have they heard it than Satan comes and carries off the word which has been sown in them'.[3] Peter, you have heard the word but you just haven't understood it.

But then, have we? That question 'But who do say that I am?' that question first addressed to the disciples, is addressed also to us. 'Who do you say that I am?' I don't suppose we think of Christ as a potential political rebel, in the way that Peter might have. But who do we say that he is?

We may be happy to describe him - as the Church does today - as Christ the King. But in doing so we need to recognise that there is a difference between a king and a king. This king did not ride into Jerusalem on a strong horse but on a dopey donkey. This king had no throne other than the throne of the cross. This king did not come with armies and weapons but with healing and submission. If we do call him a king, then we are using the word 'king' in a remarkably unusual way. But let's for a moment suppose, that we're happy to speak of Jesus as 'king' is this remarkably unusual way. Does that really make any difference to the way we go about our daily lives?

Note - and note carefully - that when Peter described Jesus as the Christ or the Messiah, Jesus modified the title; he did not respond by saying that he was the Christ, rather he claimed to be the Son of Man. He did so, knowingly and purposively. 'The Son of Man' is an ancient Hebrew title - you find it in Daniel and Ezekiel; it's a funny old term but it is intimately connected to the Jewish ideology of justice and righteousness. What I'm saying is that Jesus was using a term that entailed a calling to us all to share in his understanding of kingship. It is not a question of wealth - it is a question of justice and righteousness. It is not a question of worldly status - it is a question of heavenly status. It is not a question of worldly power - it is a question of worldly weakness. At the very centre of existence is the weakness that - seen in the cross - is the weakness that rules the universe. If this is true, if this is true, then what are we to say about our economic systems or our political systems or our own ideological commitments? On this the last Sunday of the Christian Year, The Book of Common Prayer, yet again, puts it neatly, 'Stir up, we beseech thee, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people; that they, plenteously bringing forth the fruit of good works, may of thee be plenteously rewarded'.[4] May our wills be stirred up to follow the King that is Christ.

[1] Jonathan Lynn and Anthony Jay, The Complete Yes Primer Minister, (London:BBC Books, 1989), pp. 220-222

[2] Mark 6:14f

[3] Mark 4:14

[4] Collect for Sunday next before Advent