Crown him with many crowns, the Lord upon his throne!
“Are you the King of the Jews?” Pilate asked, somewhat cynically we presume. “Are you the King of the Jews, Jesus?” (Remember that Pontius Pilate and Herod were co-conspirators in this arrest of Jesus, son of the Herod who had all the children slain in Bethlehem after Jesus’ birth, that Herod’s son who in the Gospel according to Jesus Christ Superstar precedes Pilate’s cynicism or sarcasm with his own, “Prove to me that you’re no fool, walk across my swimming pool!” “King of the Jews.” What a joke. And today, how retro. The only kings we have left today, at least in the Western world, are the last vestiges of monarchies that have value only insofar as public opinion provides them with value. “Are you the King of the Jews?” Pilate mocks. “Are you the Queen of England?” the English populace mocks in light of the unfeeling, uncaring royal response to Diana’s death that was held up to public scrutiny. “Diana was our princess, you old, shriveled-up, tax-sucking Elizabeth II!” It’s a good thing Helen Mirren plays that role and reveals that there was some warm blood in that Queen’s body and soul after all.
Frederich Buechner has a wonderful recollection that ties the Queen of England to the King of the Jews:
At 27, living alone in New York, trying with no success to start a novel and in love with a girl who was not in love with me, I went to hear a famous preacher one morning although I had no idea at the time that he was famous and went only on impulse—I was not a churchgoer—because his church was next door. It was around the time that Elizabeth II was crowned at Westminster Abbey, and the preacher played variations on the theme of Coronation.
All I remember of what he said was the very last, and that not well, just one phrase of it, in fact, that I’m sure of. He said that Jesus Christ refused a crown when Satan offered it in the wilderness, or something like that. He said that the Kingdom of Jesus was not of this world. And yet again and again, he said, Jesus was crowned in the hearts of those who believed in him, crowned King.
I remember thinking that this was a nice enough image, as images in sermons go, and I remember how the preacher looked up there in the pulpit twitching around a good deal, it seemed to me, and plucking at the lapels of his black gown. And then he went on just a few sentences more.
He said that unlike Elizabeth’s coronation in the Abbey, this coronation of Jesus in the believer’s heart took place among confession—and I thought, yes, yes, confession—and tears, he said—and I thought tears, yes, perfectly plausible in the coronation of Jesus and the believing heart should take place among confession and tears.
And then with his head bobbing up and down so that his glasses glittered, he said in his odd, sandy voice, the voice of an old nurse, that the coronation of Jesus took place among confession and tears and then, as God was and is my witness, great laughter, he said. Jesus is crowned among confession and tears and great laughter, and at the phrase great laughter, for reasons that I have never satisfactorily understood, the Great Wall of China crumbled and Atlantis rose up out of the sea and on Madison Avenue at 73rd Street, tears leapt from my eyes as though I had been struck across the face
Frederich Buechner, The Alphabet of Grace
New York, The Seabury Press, 1977
I suppose, not having followed up with Fred Buechner, that this was a turning point for him, that this was a moment when he might say he was converted, or born again, or simply that for whatever reason, Jesus became real for him. What an amazing stretch—accepting a king into your heart, giving this particular king the keys to the door of your tear ducts, which is to say the door of your heart. What an amazing moment in anyone’s life, a moment of complete surrender to someone you’ve never met in the flesh. It’s not as if this is someone you’re marrying—flesh and blood and much, much more—but tangible, face to face, “I will love you for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. I surrender or at least set aside my own wellbeing for your wellbeing.” That’s what we do in marriage, or at least it’s what we’re supposed to do, never perfectly, but our intention, and a moment for any of us we’ll never forget.
In this case, however, it is Jesus and, moreover, it is Jesus at his weakest moment, just before he is to be crucified, that he offers us a chance to crown him in our hearts.
He tells us that his kingdom is not of this world, and so it’s not as if Prince Charles is begging us to support his wannabe status, but rather the sort of kingdom that can only be understood as we aspire to a childlike faith. That’s what Jesus said. “Unless you receive my kingdom as this child does, you shall never receive it.” How long has it taken the Church to figure that out? Why do we put up such obstacles to children when Jesus says they’re the Gold Standard? But you know, it’s not just children in church Jesus identifies with, it’s every child dying every third second around the world Jesus identifies with, and at the risk of being overly dramatic, it’s like nailing every one of those children to a cross, dying because of our ignorance, our greed, our indifference.
Jesus says “I want your heart to break for love of me and for love of my children. I want the crown of my love to adorn your heart with the knowledge that I live there and would live in the heart of all people, my brothers and sisters, my mothers and fathers, my sons and daughters. They are my kingdom and you are my kingdom. Now, and forever.”
