"Christ the King Sermon" by Elizabeth Myer Boulton

As soon as the sun comes up, the woman with the raven hair comes in.
Her voice is so loud - yet he can hardly hear her.
Through the haze of sleep he can see her hair,
the color of a raven,
spilling out of her barrette.

She’s wearing a green uniform.

“Upsy-daisy,” she says,
“It’s time to get up, Mr. Johnson.”

Mr. Johnson wonders if he is having a visitor.

“Here are your glasses, Mr. Johnson.
Here are your hearing aids.
Can you hear me, Mr. Johnson?
Open your mouth, Mr. Johnson,
let’s put in your teeth.
You don’t want to forget your teeth.”

All this getting ready, he must be having a visitor.

“Time to get up, Mr. Johnson.
Time to go the bathroom.
Give me your hands, Mr. Johnson.”

With one big tug, he’s off the bed and standing on the cold floor.

“Here’s your wheelchair, Mr. Johnson. Sit down in your chair…”

He wonders where they’re going.
“We’re going to the bathroom, Mr. Johnson.”

Slowly they walk to the bathroom.
The woman with the hair the color of a raven helps him to sit down on the toilet.
As she waits, she looks quickly into the mirror,
Tucks her hair behind her ear.

Mr. Johnson wonders why she’s there,
Why he’s sitting on the toilet in front of this woman he hardly even knows.

“Ed’s coming in a minute, Mr. Johnson.
He’s going to come and give you a shower.
He’s going to make it nice and hot; he’s going to use that soap you like.”

All this getting ready, thinks Mr. Johnson, I must be having a visitor.
He wonders who it might be.
His wife, his brother, his best friend Arthur, they were in the war together…
They both went to Japan,
Then they came back, found wives, bought houses,
and then settled into a life of hard work and pot roast.

Maybe Arthur was coming.
Maybe his son was coming.

He looked up at the woman with the hair the color of a raven and asked her,
“Am I having a visitor?”

She answered him briskly:
“No, Mr. Johnson, no visitors today.”

What about my wife, he asked.
“Your wife passed away six years ago, Mr. Johnson.”

What about my son?
“We don’t know where your son is, Mr. Johnson.
Remember when he came by to tell you he was moving?
That was three years ago, and we haven’t heard from him since.”

Mr. Johnson looked perplexed.
The woman with the hair the color of a raven did not.

After he finished his business on the toilet,
After he finished being washed in the shower,
After he finished his breakfast,
Then someone rolled him and twenty others over to the Common Room,
There just to the right of the nursing station,
There right in front of the TV.
And that’s where he stayed.
Alone, abandoned really, no friends, no family…

Christ the King Sunday.
You know, sometimes I think we’re celebrating the wrong thing.
When Jesus was alive, he flatly refused the role of king.

“Blessed are the poor,” he said.
“It’s easier for a camel to get through the eye of a needle
than it is for a rich man to get into heaven.
You need to humble yourself,” he said.
“For the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

Christ the King!
Jesus would never wear a royal robe.
If someone asked for his coat, he’d give it to them, and his shirt too.

Christ the King!
Jesus would never wear golden crown.
Instead he wore a crown of thorns.

Christ the King!
Jesus would never have servants attending him.
Instead there were criminals, one to his left and one to his right.

No one else was there.
Everyone had left him.
He was all alone, abandoned really,
Left to die by himself.

You know what?
Instead of celebrating Christ the King Sunday,
Why don’t we celebrate Christ the Nursing Home Patient Sunday?
Because the Jesus I know would be much more comfortable
sitting in a wheelchair than he would be on some cosmic royal throne.

And yet, this is what the Apostle Paul says, writing to his new churches:
”I never cease to give thanks for you
as I remember you in my prayers.
I pray that you will continue to grow in wisdom and in faith.
I pray that you will know that you are called to hope.
I know you look around the world, and you get discouraged.
I know you look around and see war, and hear rumors of war.
I know you see the violence, and all the loss.
The rich getting richer, the poor getting poorer.
I know you look around and see all kinds of people getting left behind,
All kinds of people being abandoned...

But have faith!
For the one who was abandoned,
The one who was rejected,
The one who was left alone to die,
That one God raised from the dead,
That one God seated at her right hand side.
That’s the one who had rule and authority and power
and dominion over everything in this world and in the next!”

Here’s the good news, Paul says:
Poor little Mary’s boy is the King of Kings and Lord of Lords!
The last will be first and the first will be last!

And here’s the thing:
The one who was rejected,
the one who was despised
the one who was left to die alone,
that one will rule with love and compassion and mercy,
and that one will be constantly on the lookout for the least of these!

Christ the King Sunday, you know what?
I’ve changed my mind, I’m glad we’re celebrating today,
I’m glad we’re celebrating Christ the King Sunday because everytime we celebrate it,
Everytime we confess that Christ is King,
This is what happens:

The sun comes up again.
And as soon as the sun comes up, the woman with the raven hair comes in.
She’s wearing a green uniform.

“Upsy-daisy,” she says.
“It’s time to get up Mr. Johnson.
Here are your glasses, Mr. Johnson.
Here are your hearing aids.
Can you hear me Mr. Johnson?
Open your mouth, Mr. Johnson.
Let’s put in your teeth, you don’t want to forget your teeth.
Okay, now get ready, this is a bit heavy,
I’m just going to put it on your head.
Here’s your crown, Mr. Johnson, it’s all polished and ready to go.
Now just let me get your robes.
Do you want the silver one, the purple one, or the red velvet one?

Okay, red it is.

Now let me take your hands.
Here we go - Upsy-daisy!
I’m going to sit you down in your wheelchair.

Now take your scepter.
There you go.

After we’re finished getting you dressed,
Ed is going to wash your feet,
And then we’re going to eat.
And after we eat, Mr. Johnson, we’re going to wheel you right over there -
not to the right of the nursing station this time,
but just there - do you see? - to the right of God herself!

I guess it’s true what they say, Mr. Johnson:
The last will be first and the first will be last...
Thanks be to God!”

+ Elizabeth Myer Boulton