Christ the King, 11.00am Sung Eucharist, 23 November 2025

Walking along the seafront a week ago, as I approached Southsea pier I could see banners and placards, and hear drums and chanting.   I assumed it must be a protest outside the Royal Beach Hotel, against it’s housing of asylum seekers.  As I came closer, however, I saw something more complex was taking place.  On one side of South Parade was a group with a variety of flags, and banners saying, ‘Welcome refugees’ and ‘Celebrate diversity’.   On the other side, directly facing them but separated by the road, the traffic and watching police, was another group emblazoned with union jacks, and a man shouting through a megaphone.  With the mixture of amplified music, live drumming and general hubbub, I couldn’t make out a word he was saying but  it was pretty clear what he thought of the other lot.

It all made for a vivid image of division, irreconcilable opinions and an absence of listening, and the kind of implacable hostility between two groups often characterised as ‘tribalism’.   Us vs them.   All the good is on our side and none with those over there.   Is this the kind of thing the Home Secretary was referring to when she said that illegal migration is ‘tearing the country apart’?   Could it also be the kind of human behaviour Christ came to save us from, and show us a better way?

Our second reading, from the letter to the Colossians, has a lot of highflown language about Christ as the image of the invisible God, in whom all things in heaven and earth were created.  It ends, however, with an image of violence and blood, connecting the crucifixion with the vital business of ‘making peace’ and of ‘reconciliation.’  Christ is also described as the ‘head of the church’, so not some distant, cosmic figure, but present in the life and work of that church, which is nothing less than his own body.  As we worship here this morning, Christ is with us.

So what chance of those on either side of South Parade making peace and being reconciled?   How might that be achieved, and what role might the body of Christ have to play?  

There is much to learn from today’s Gospel, with the crucified Jesus first being taunted by some of the onlookers, before having an extraordinary conversation with a convicted criminal who has also been sentenced to death.   But first, although it pains me, I must acknowledge the failure of the Church of England to offer a better model of peace and reconciliation in the face of its own internal divisions.  

Many of you will be aware that following a recent House of Bishops statement, the long journey within the church to better include and support those in same-sex relationships has more or less ground to a halt. Here at the cathedral, our governing body - the Chapter - unanimously agreed some time ago we would offer prayers of blessing to same-sex couples if asked to do so.   At the time, the ruling was we could only do this as a sort of add-on to another service, such as this one.  Chapter’s decision was taken in expectation that provision to offer a stand alone service would duly follow; that will not now be the case, at least not for the foreseeable future. 

What is particularly dispiriting, in my view, goes beyond the lack of progress on this issue, into what it reveals about the way forms of tribalism have infected the church.  Many have argued, for example, that if the church goes a particular way, and their bishop has views they disagree with, they would refuse to accept that bishop’s authority and demand alternative provision.  On this model of the church, unity depends on agreeing with the opinions of your fellow Christians, including your bishop.  This is misguided and shallow.   For the unity of the church ultimately depends on Jesus Christ himself, and on learning to trust that other members of the body are all doing their best to be faithful disciples – including when they come to different conclusions to you.  After all, no parish or cathedral was ever going to be forced to offer same-sex blessings against the will of their governing bodies.

If the church is going to model peace and reconciliation in the face of the Southsea tribalism I witnessed a week ago, it will need to do better than this.   And there are more hopeful aspects to draw on, fortunately.   The two bishops of Portsmouth, for example, one Church of England, one Roman Catholic, took the trouble to issue a joint statement recognising the real and legitimate concerns about migration in our society today, but also their horror at the intimidation, blaming and scapegoating of asylum seekers and refugees: each of whom, they pointed out, is a person with a name, and a story to tell.

There are no quick fixes, the bishops declare, before ending with a focus on the way Jesus Christ himself modelled care for the outcast and marginalised.  Which brings us back to the Christ of this morning’s Gospel: a passage deemed especially appropriate for the feast of Christ the King.  

In this part of Luke’s Gospel, Jesus comes to the moment of crucifixion, and is taunted with the words, ‘If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself.’

Early in his ministry, the devil tempts Jesus, who is fasting in the wilderness, in similar fashion.  Three times Satan offers a shortcut and an easier route if only Jesus will take his advice: beginning with, ‘If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.’  Each time, Jesus prioritises faithfulness to his calling, faithfulness to God his Father, over convenience, safety and the quick fix.   

And now, on the cross, Jesus reacts in the same way.  Saving himself, however tempting it might have been, is not the way forward.  So it is that the foundational event of the Christian faith, where, in the language of Colossians, we really do see the one who is the image of the invisible God, is not a power play following the practices of ordinary rulers and kings.  Jesus does not go in for self-protection, retaliation, competition, revenge, or blame.   Instead, Jesus dares to trust in what, by the grace of God, will unfold and become possible if he does not save himself. 

For a start, if Jesus had responded to those tempting taunts, and come down from the cross, that exchange with the criminals alongside him would never have happened.  One of them derides and taunts Jesus as the onlookers have done.  The other one seems to be the only person present who sees what is really going on: Jesus is innocent, he is guilty.   Jesus will enter into his kingdom, not by self-preservation but by dying.  And he pleads with Jesus not to be forgotten: ‘Jesus, remember me.’

What a place for that criminal to find reassurance and friendship, in the last hours of his life, hanging on a cross!  But so it is, as Jesus promises that he will be with him in paradise.  This is a promise not based on shared opinions or tribal loyalty, but on the love and grace of God, who forgets no-one, and longs to see peace and reconciliation here on earth, as it is heaven. 

Each of those protesters, on both sides of South Parade, have a name and a story to tell.   They, like all of us, like all the residents in the Royal Beach Hotel, do not want to be forgotten, ignored or dismissed.  All of them, to quote Colossians again, ‘have been created through him and for him’ and are members of the same human family.  In Christ, ‘all things hold together’.   He is not ‘King of the Jews’ in any narrow, nationalistic sense, but the servant king of every nation and people, who shows us the ways of mercy, peace and reconciliation. 

There is no quick fix to the issues around migration.  Bishops Jonathan and Philip call for informed engagement, meeting asylum seekers, pressing politicians for real reform, and local and international collaboration in reaching a fair, long term solution.   But above all, they invite their own Christian communities, and people of all faiths and none, to act justly and kindly.  And so, on this feast of Christ the King I invite you to resist the language of taunting and division, to find our true unity in him, to look for signs of our common humanity in Christ across all differences of opinion, and above all to give thanks that in Him none of us are forgotten; we too, in our darkest hour, can pray, ‘Jesus, remember me’ and know that he will hear us.  AMEN.