As I prayed over the story of the penitent robber I found myself mired in deep theology. I am afraid that I am not far enough removed from my seminary days to get out of my head and preach from my heart on major feast days like Christ the King. I had a stack of 30 pages of research at my disposal, just waiting for me to dive head first into a systematic study of what it means to say Jesus is King. And then, as God does to me often, He caused a set of synapse to fire and I recalled a blog post I read last week.
I am not far enough removed from my seminary days to forget some of the wonderful people I met there. One of my favorites, I nicknamed Fabs. She is in Qatar with her Foreign Service husband and their two year-old daughter. She wrote this post last Saturday entitled, “When one meets a member of the royal family”.
We were doing some research shopping at Toys R' Us this evening, right before we headed off to a McDonald's "So Loud, So Much Sugar, So Much Hype!" birthday party for a neighborhood kid. The research shopping was for Grandma and Grandpa since they are coming for Christmas.
Well, we moseyed through the Pepto-Bismol Pink baby doll section, complete with baby doll strollers, baby doll baths and potties, and baby doll beds. At every turn, Lil' Bug would say, "Ooooh!" The kid was in material heaven.
Then we made our way to the bigger ticket items: slides, play cars, trampolines, outdoor play houses, indoor kitchens complete with running water, working dishwasher, and wait staff. Okay, that last one wasn't totally true, but gosh, some of these play kitchens were really lovely. I sort of wanted to have one of my own.
Lil' Bug was having fun going in and out of the little houses, and got a real kick of out us squatting down and peeking in the windows at her and knocking on the door. Another little girl, about two years old, came over and starting looking in the windows too. I said hi to her, and then I noticed her family standing around, encouraging this little girl to greet Lil' Bug, give her a hug, and sing songs to her.
But I couldn't figure the family out at all. There were two guys, one more African-looking and the other who looked Arab, dressed in thaubes and kefiyahs (the traditional Qatari dress of long white robes and white head scarves). There was also a woman who I thought was Indian, and she was wearing a sari. Then there were two Filipino nannies, dressed in blue uniforms. Now, it's really normal to see a wealthy Qatari family out with their nanny. But still. I couldn't figure out how they were all related. I just assumed that the Indian woman was the little girl's mother, and that one of the Qatari guys was her father. Except a marriage like that would never happen here. And that didn't account for the African guy hanging around or why they needed two nannies.
Big D started engaging the non-African Qatari guys, talking to him in Arabic. He asked him, finally, point blank: "Is this girl your daughter?"
"No," he replied.
"Oh."
They continued to talk in Arabic, while the rest of us continued to play with the houses and dote on the girls. Then the man asked Big D where he worked, and when Big D told him that he worked for the American Embassy, the Qatari man loosened up a bit. That's when he told Big D that he was this girl's escort.
Huh?
As it turns out, the little girl was royal. She lives in the palace here. I'm not sure where she is in the whole scheme of things "royalty-wise," but still.
This gang of folks that accompanied her on her trip to Toys R' Us was with her detail, complete with two bodyguards (the men); her personal doctor (the Indian woman); and at least two of her nannies. Wow. Not a parent in sight.
Now, I hadn't overheard a lick of the conversation that Big D had with the bodyguards, so I was still just playing along, singing with the two girls, helping them go in and out of the houses, and engaging the woman that I thought was her mother, praising the girl to her ("Isn't she sweet? So kind!" etc.).
As we walked out, Big D said to me, "Do you know who that was? She's an al-Thani (the royal family). She's royal."
Well, at least Toys R' Us could outfit us all with pink, bejeweled tiaras!
I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting royalty in Toys R Us or anywhere else for that matter. I’m not really sure how I’d respond. Knowing how dense I can be I’d probably be like my friend and have no clue, just go about my business as if nothing were different. For me, that is part of the oddity of Christ the King Sunday. I couldn’t spot royalty if it were sharing a play kitchen with me at Toys R Us. Also, I’m an American, and we still have a certain Revolutionary War understanding of royalty. Also, I’m an Episcopalian and I know that the first American Prayer book was a copy of the English 1662 with references to the royal family crossed out. Royalty is suspect at best in my world.
In the world in which Jesus was crucified however, royalty was something entirely different. Caesars were worshiped as the sons of god. Those who were offered a place in the government were a very elite group. Herod the Great, king of the Jews as Jesus was born, made his claim as the Messiah by rebuilding Solomon’s temple. Royalty and godliness walked hand in hand in first century Palestine. And so the inscription of the charge against Jesus as “King of the Jews” carried all sorts of weight; politically and spiritually.
The reactions to this royal figure hanging from a cross were mixed to say the least. The people, literally the people of God, stood and watched. Presumably they wondered what they had done; had they really missed the Chosen One of God? The rulers, those who had handed Jesus over to Pilate, made fun of him, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Christ of God, the Chosen One.” The soldiers too poked fun at this supposed king with the same snide comments, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” Even one of the men hanged beside him is said to have “hurled insults at him.” Luke chose that word very carefully as it held a meaning as blasphemy, speaking against God directly. His insult seems to carry more weight. He has recognized Jesus not merely as a supposed king, but as King, capital K. His insults were aimed not at the man who hung on the cross but at the God who had sent him; the God whose Messiah Jesus was.
But then there was the other robber. He too in the direst of predicaments can see Jesus as more than the mocking charge that hung above his head. He sees Jesus as an actual king with all the political and spiritual power that goes along with it. Instead of insisting that Jesus save them all, he seeks compassion. “I deserve my fate,” he says, “but please, your royal majesty, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” To him alone Jesus responds, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise, literally the Royal Garden.”
Royalty is a funny thing. Members of royal families look just like you and me. There are those of us who wouldn’t know them from any other Toys R Us shopper. There are those of us who might recognize them, but only from tabloid fame, and then only to poke fun at their lavish lifestyles and apparent hypocrisy. And then there are those who are faithful followers; those who recognize royalty and bow before its presence. Like the penitent robber it is they who are remembered as faithful and who share in the rewards. As we celebrate Christ the King Sunday it is important to note how we respond to the royalty of Jesus. Do we approach him coldly; expecting him to save us like the first criminal? Or is our awe such that all we can hope for is remembrance; praying not expecting, hoping not coercing? How do you respond to Jesus as King? Amen.
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