The Moors, Jesus, and Christ the King
The Rev. Mark Sherwindt, Pastor
Zion Evangelical Lutheran Church
Christ the King Sunday, November 19-20, 2005
So, there I sat on an old, wooden bench alongside of the Chapel of Saint Mark, Santa Ana, and John the Baptist inside one of the great Muslim wonders of the world, the Mezquita in Cordoba, Spain, an architectural masterpiece and historical monstrosity at one and the same time. It stood on the site of what once was a Roman temple and a Visigothic shrine until the Moors, taking advantage of Christian squabbling, established their rule in southwestern Spain, coming across Morocco through the Rock of Gibraltar into Andalusia. In 756 C.E. work on this famous mosque began, breaking new ground architecturally and making Cordoba one of the most glorious medieval cities in the world. In 1492, the last ruling Moor standing in Europe was defeated by Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, and the two great landmarks of Moorish rule - the Alhambra in Granada and the Mezquita in Cordoba - would soon fall under the rule and reign of Charles V. We learned about Charles V on our walk through Reformation history, since Charles V was the King and Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire who defeated the German princes, but eventually had to concede to the Germans (and Luther), and then to the Swiss (and Calvin), and then to the Scandinavians and even the English the political ground that allowed the evangelical faith of Protestantism to flourish. I had never thought much of Charles V, except as an antagonist in Reformation history, until I was able to see his reign from the seat on which he sat in southwestern Spain. What a view Charles enjoyed from Andalusia. There he was the instrument of Catholic victories over the Moors, building a palace right on the site of the defining glory of seven centuries of Moorish rule, the Alhambra in Granada, and building a cathedral right in the center of what was the most glorious mosques in the world at the time, the Mezquita in Cordoba.
So, what has any of this to do with Christ the King Sunday, and why should the folks at Zion care? Christ's kingdom is larger than the nine-acre site of Zion Lutheran Church. Its reign reaches beyond the English-speaking world of America and well beyond the time-frame of the modern world. Sitting in the splendor of a space whose pillars, almost nine hundred of them, bore the handiwork of Roman, Visigothic, Muslim, and Catholic artisans and worshipers, offered a humbling perspective on what we normally take to be the problem of the day and the challenge of our time. It puts the significance of our lives in a wider, longer, and broader context, historically, culturally, and religiously speaking. "Without a doubt, Pastor, humility is a good thing, and a little perspective certainly can't hurt. But what does any of this have to do with the Festival of Christ the King Sunday, and why should Zion care?" It's not so much about humility, as it is about the sweep of history. Don't you ever wonder about how we got here and why we're here? There I sat pondering the rise and fall of entire cultures - the Roman Empire, the Visigothic hordes, seven centuries of uninterrupted Muslim rule symbolized by the pillars of this historic mosque, replaced by the Catholic Monarchs in Spain, whose commitment to the Inquisition of Counter-Reformation peaked with the condemnation of the modern world at Vatican I in 1869. But again, the question remains: while a sense of history is a good thing, as is humility, why are we talking about the sweep of history, the rise and fall of cultures, the virtues of personal humility on Christ the King Sunday? When Christ returns, all the stories of every culture will fade in significance as the reach of Christ's love sweeps away the differences people have lived and died for. Here's my question. What kind of kingdom does Christ rule, when his being Christ the King is not compromised by the sweep of history and the political realities of the day? Christ was King when Seneca spoke to Rome about the philosophy of virtue from his birthplace in Cordoba, Spain not long after Jesus was crucified at Calvary. Christ was King when the Moors crossed over into Spain and established their reign at the Alhambra in Granada and their worship in the Mezquita in Cordoba. Christ was King when Ferdinand and Isabella forced the defeat of the Nazrid Dynasty and the surrender of Granada. Christ was King as the Reformation flourished in northern Europe and the Counter-Reformation raged in the South - Italy, France, and Spain. Christ was King as the Spanish conquered the Americas south of the border, and the English pushed the indigenous peoples off the map in the north. Yes, I know that folks worshipping in Spain and Portugal are as narrowly focused on their own lives as we are on ours. I could tell, for instance, that the older Portugal woman, who inadvertently jostled the wooden kneeler on front of her pew, sending a thunderous sound echoing throughout the cavernous cathedral, was as embarrassed as I was when I did the exact same thing a few minutes later! So, I'm not implying that others across the Atlantic are more faithfully focused on these important issues than we are here in northeast Ohio. But I am suggesting that the key question is not what my sitting in Cordoba's Mezquita has to do with Christ the King Sunday; rather, the key question is what does Christ the King Sunday have to do with our sitting here in North Canton? I mean, what are we really doing praising Christ the King when Christ's ruling has nothing to do with the politics of the day, the military realities on the ground, the economic prosperity we enjoy, or the democratic freedoms we value? If Christ is King, whether Augustus is Caesar, or Boabdil is the last Kaliph of the Nazrid Dynasty, or Charles V is the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, what are we saying, or singing, or praying about with the Festival of Christ the King Sunday? My point is that the fundamental claims of our worship are the same for us worshipping in America at a time when America, whose history is rooted proudly and deeply in our Judeo-Christian heritage, is the most powerful nation on earth, as they were for the earliest generation of Christians, who were a powerless minority, mistaken by many as just another crazy cult in the highly fragmented community of Judaism. We are not making a claim about our world, whether the king is Christian, pagan, democratically elected or born into royalty. We are not making a statement about time or history, be they glories of the past or hopes for the future. In short, the Festival of Christ the King Sunday is proclaiming our faith that the crucified Christ is the truth about God. Christ's kingdom and reign are not of this world. They transcend everything worldly. Whether we are weak or strong, rich or poor, free to speak or bound in chains, God has chosen to reveal the truth of His eternal glory in the humble service of the lowly Jesus of Nazareth, whom the worldly wise crucified; but God raised him from the dead, setting upon him the divine seal of approval, declaring him to be the promised Christ, God's own Son, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, the full and unreserved revelation of the glory of God the Father. [Philippians 2: 6-11] Look, I firmly believe that the life Jesus lived offers some real-world wisdom for how we should live our lives, as individuals and even as nations. I'll have more to say about that during the Sunday School hour. But I want to spend what time I have left during this sermon pointing out what I find so very interesting about the scene of the last judgment described in Matthew 25. The Son of Man does not separate the sheep from the goats based on what the world regards as signs of great glory and sweet success. The defining question was not how many servants set your table so that you and your guests might eat, but who were the hungry ones you fed. It was not the name-brand clothes in our closet, but the naked that we clothed, the plight of the homeless we bothered to notice, the needs we were determined to meet. And what is more, we are told that the Lord God Himself is present, not in the splendor of kingly courts among the rich and the famous, but in the faces of those who need our help with food, clothing, shelter, friendship and advocacy. I find this fascinating and revealing about who God is telling us He is, how God measures success and what real faithfulness looks like. God's measure is not how many persons are enamored by us or beholden to us, not how much purchasing power we've accumulated, not how large our home is or how big our bank account may be. God's measure, God's being, is found in the faithfulness of humble service and the simplicity of love lived and compassion practiced. Our Hymn of the Day says it so well. "Lord, whose love in humble service bore the weight of human need, who upon the cross, forsaken, worked your mercy's perfect deed; we, your servants, bring the worship, not of voice alone but heart, consecrating to your purpose every gift which you impart. Still your children wander homeless. Still the hungry cry for bread. Still the captives long for freedom. Still in grief we mourn our dead. As you, Lord, in deep compassion healed the sick and freed the soul, by your Spirit send your power to our world to make it whole." Matthew 25 is the true measure of God's glory and the true measure of ultimate success. That's what Christ the King Sunday celebrates, that the Creator of all that is, seen and unseen, wasn't just trying to surprise us when his Son was lifted high upon the Cross at Calvary. That's who God is. That's how God loves. That's what glory looks like. That's the form that faithfulness forever takes, among those who are brave enough to open our eyes to the needs that abound around us, and bold enough to offer our help … in Jesus' Name. Amen