Readings

Colossians 1.11–20 – May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light. He has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.

Luke 23.33–43 – When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. [[ Then Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.’]] And they cast lots to divide his clothing. And the people stood by, watching; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, ‘He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!’ The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, ‘If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!’ There was also an inscription over him, ‘This is the King of the Jews.’ One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, ‘Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!’ But the other rebuked him, saying, ‘Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.’ Then he said, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’ He replied, ‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.’

Sermon

The crucifixion in November? What’s that all about? I think you’d be forgiven for asking the question on this day that we call the Feast of Christ the King. And I completely understand the question being asked. It seems strange that on the last Sunday of the church year we are again watching Jesus on the cross. Most of us are probably already focusing on Christmas. Besides we’ve already heard the Good Friday story once this year and that’s usually enough for most of us. Why do we need to hear it again?

Maybe we need to hear it again because the injustice and violence revealed in today’s gospel are an everyday occurrence in our lives and the world. Maybe we need to hear it again because we too often and too easily ignore or accommodate that injustice and violence.

So today, on the Feast of Christ the King, the Church draws our eyes to the true nature of Christ’s kingship. It is a kingship unlike any other the world has known—a kingship revealed not through conquest or splendour, but through reconciliation, mercy, and self-giving love.

Our readings hold these truths before us with vivid clarity.

In Colossians, St Paul paints a breathtaking portrait of Christ:
“He is the image of the invisible God…”
“In him all things hold together…”
“Through him God was pleased to reconcile all things.”

These are words full of cosmic grandeur. Christ is the One through whom all creation came into being. He is before all things; he is the head of the Church; he is the fullness of God dwelling among us as one of us. If ever there were a passage meant to lift our hearts in awe, it is this one. Christ is King not simply over a nation or a people, but over the whole universe.

And yet—having heard this majestic vision—we then turn to Luke’s Gospel, and we find this King enthroned on a cross.

There he hangs between two criminals, exposed to ridicule and agony. The leaders sneer, the soldiers mock, and one of the criminals hurls insults. The sign above his head reads “This is the King of the Jews”—intended as a taunt, but truer than anyone realised.

Here, at the place called The Skull, two visions of kingship collide.
The world expects kings to rule with power; Christ rules with sacrifice.
The world expects kings to be served; Christ serves.
The world expects kings to save themselves; Christ saves others.

And it is in this place of suffering that we witness one of the most beautiful moments in all of Scripture. One of the criminals turns to Jesus and says, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” In those few words he recognises something far greater than the scene of defeat before him. He sees a King whose kingdom is not abolished by death, but established through it.

Jesus replies, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
It is a royal proclamation—an announcement of mercy, restoration, and welcome.

This is what Christ’s kingship looks like:
A King who will not turn away even from a dying criminal.
A King whose authority is expressed through forgiveness.
A King who conquers not by inflicting suffering, but by bearing it.

When St Paul speaks in Colossians of God reconciling all things—making peace through the blood of the cross—it is this moment on Calvary that reveals how that reconciliation is accomplished. Christ the King gathers the lost, breaks the power of sin, and opens the way to life by giving himself fully and freely for the world he loves.

So what does this mean for us, as we celebrate this feast?

First, it reminds us that Christ’s kingdom is not built on the values that often dominate our society—ambition, status, self-protection—but on compassion, justice, and humility. To serve this King is to let go of the need to be first, to win, or to appear strong. It is to follow the way of mercy.

Second, it invites us to trust. Colossians tells us that in Christ all things hold together. Even when the world feels chaotic – and it surely does right now, – even when our own lives feel fragile, Christ remains sovereign. His kingship is not threatened by the darkness around us. He holds us, and he holds creation, in hands marked by sacrifice.

And finally, this feast invites us to hope. The criminal on the cross had nothing to offer—no record of achievement, no good works to present—only a plea: “Remember me.” And Christ answered him with immediate, overflowing grace. If that is how the King receives a dying criminal, how much more will he receive us when we turn to him? This is a kingdom of hope for the broken, the weary, the repentant, and the lost.

Christ is King—not in spite of the cross, but because of it.
A King who reconciles.
A King who forgives.
A King who remembers us.

And so today, as we proclaim Jesus Christ as King of kings and Lord of lords, we do so with gratitude, with reverence, and with renewed commitment to walk in his way—the way of the crucified and risen King, who reigns in love now and forever.

Amen.

Readings

2 Thessalonians 3.6–13 – Now we command you, beloved, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to keep away from believers who are living in idleness and not according to the tradition that they received from us. For you yourselves know how you ought to imitate us; we were not idle when we were with you, and we did not eat anyone’s bread without paying for it; but with toil and labour we worked night and day, so that we might not burden any of you. This was not because we do not have that right, but in order to give you an example to imitate. For even when we were with you, we gave you this command: Anyone unwilling to work should not eat. For we hear that some of you are living in idleness, mere busybodies, not doing any work. Now such persons we command and exhort in the Lord Jesus Christ to do their work quietly and to earn their own living. Brothers and sisters, do not be weary in doing what is right.

Luke 21.5–19 – When some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God, he said, ‘As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.’ They asked him, ‘Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?’ And he said, ‘Beware that you are not led astray; for many will come in my name and say, “I am he!” and, “The time is near!” Do not go after them. ‘When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for these things must take place first, but the end will not follow immediately.’ Then he said to them, ‘Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and plagues; and there will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven. ‘But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name. This will give you an opportunity to testify. So make up your minds not to prepare your defence in advance; for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict. You will be betrayed even by parents and brothers, by relatives and friends; and they will put some of you to death. You will be hated by all because of my name. But not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your souls.

Sermon

In our Gospel reading this morning, the disciples are admiring the splendour of the Temple in Jerusalem — the heart of their worship, the visible sign of God’s dwelling among his people. “How it is adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God,” they say. And Jesus’ response must have shocked them: “The days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.”

For the Jewish people, the Temple was the holiest place on earth. It was where heaven and earth met — the dwelling place of God’s presence. To suggest that it would be destroyed was not only distressing; it was almost unthinkable. How could God’s people live without the Temple?

Anyone ever been to Jerusalem? Only the base of the Temple remains – the Temple Mount on a part of which the “Dome of the Rock” is built. But that base of the Temple itself is awe-inspiring. The smallest stones in the structure weighed 2 to 3 tons. Many of them weighed 50 tons or more. The largest existing stone is 12 meters in length and 3 meters high, and it weighs hundreds of tons! The walls towered over Jerusalem, over 400 feet in one area. Inside the four walls was 45 acres of bedrock mountain shaved flat, and during Jesus’ day a quarter of a million people could fit comfortably within the structure. Imagine that.

But of course, we know now that 40 years later Jesus’ prediction came true. In 70 AD the Temple and Jerusalem were destroyed by Titus as the Romans took the city.

But also, Jesus knew something his disciples did not yet understand — that God’s presence would no longer be tied to one building, one place, or one city. Through his death and resurrection, the dwelling of God would move from stone walls to living hearts. The new temple would not be built of marble or gold, but of faith, and love, and the Holy Spirit.

The old Temple was indeed magnificent — but it was also limited in some ways. You had to travel to Jerusalem to draw near to God. Only priests could enter certain areas. And even then, the presence of God was veiled and separated. But Jesus came to tear down that veil. He came to open the way for all of us to become the dwelling places of God.

Saint Paul writes elsewhere, “Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?” This is the astonishing truth of the New Covenant: that the same God who once filled the Temple with his glory now chooses to make his home in our hearts.

And this brings us to Paul’s words in 2 Thessalonians. He reminds the church not to become idle, but to live faithfully, working quietly and persistently for good. Why? Because being God’s temple is not a passive calling. It is a living, breathing, daily commitment. The Spirit of God within us moves us to serve, to love, to persevere — especially in difficult times.

In the Gospel, Jesus warns that hard days will come — persecution, confusion, fear. Yet he tells his followers, “By your endurance you will gain your souls.” In other words, the true strength of faith is not shown in the splendour of buildings, but in the steadfast hearts of believers who trust that God is with them, even when everything around them falls apart.

And perhaps that is a word we need to hear in our own time. Many of our churches are beautiful — and rightly so. They are places of prayer, history, and hope. But the church’s true glory is not its stonework; it is its people, filled with the presence of God. The church is not the building — it is the Body of Christ, living and active in the world.

When Jesus spoke of the Temple’s destruction, he wasn’t dismissing the value of sacred space. He was pointing to something greater: that God’s dwelling is no longer limited to a single place. Wherever a believer stands in faith, wherever love is shown, wherever truth is spoken — there God is present.

So, whether we gather in a great cathedral or a small village church, whether we pray at home, at work, or on a quiet walk — the same Spirit fills us. We are the living temples of the living God.

Our calling, then, is to live as people in whom God truly dwells. To be patient in doing good, as Paul says. To be steadfast in faith, even when the world seems to shake around us. To show, by our lives, that the light of Christ still shines — not in gold or stone, but in human hearts made new by grace.

May we, then, cherish our churches, but never confuse them with the Church. May we give thanks for the beauty of our buildings, but even more for the beauty of holiness in our lives. And may we, the living temples of God, go out into the world bearing his presence, his peace, and his love.

Amen.

Readings

2 Thessalonians 2.1–5, 13–17 – As to the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ and our being gathered together to him, we beg you, brothers and sisters,not to be quickly shaken in mind or alarmed, either by spirit or by word or by letter, as though from us, to the effect that the day of the Lord is already here. Let no one deceive you in any way; for that day will not come unless the rebellion comes first and the lawless one is revealed, the one destined for destruction.He opposes and exalts himself above every so-called god or object of worship, so that he takes his seat in the temple of God, declaring himself to be God. Do you not remember that I told you these things when I was still with you? But we must always give thanks to God for you, brothers and sisters beloved by the Lord, because God chose you as the first fruits for salvation through sanctification by the Spirit and through belief in the truth. For this purpose he called you through our proclamation of the good news, so that you may obtain the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ. So then, brothers and sisters, stand firm and hold fast to the traditions that you were taught by us, either by word of mouth or by our letter. Now may our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father, who loved us and through grace gave us eternal comfort and good hope, comfort your hearts and strengthen them in every good work and word.

Luke 20.27–38 – Some Sadducees, those who say there is no resurrection, came to him and asked him a question, ‘Teacher, Moses wrote for us that if a man’s brother dies, leaving a wife but no children, the man shall marry the widow and raise up children for his brother. Now there were seven brothers; the first married, and died childless; then the second and the third married her, and so in the same way all seven died childless. Finally the woman also died. In the resurrection, therefore, whose wife will the woman be? For the seven had married her.’ Jesus said to them, ‘Those who belong to this age marry and are given in marriage; but those who are considered worthy of a place in that age and in the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage. Indeed they cannot die any more, because they are like angels and are children of God, being children of the resurrection. And the fact that the dead are raised Moses himself showed, in the story about the bush, where he speaks of the Lord as the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. Now he is God not of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.’

Sermon

Today we gather, as generations have gathered before us, to remember. We remember those who have laid down their lives in war — men and women who faced fear and hardship so that others might live in freedom and peace.

We remember the suffering of civilians caught in the crossfire of history. We remember the grief of families, and the long shadow that conflict casts upon communities. And yet we remember not only with sorrow, but also with gratitude and with hope — hope rooted not in wishful thinking, but in the promises of God.

In our first reading from 2 Thessalonians, Paul writes to a community that is anxious and uncertain. Rumours were spreading; fear was taking hold. The Thessalonians thought the end might already have come, that perhaps they had been forgotten or left behind. Paul’s response is pastoral and steadying. He says:

“Do not be quickly shaken or alarmed… stand firm and hold fast to the traditions that you were taught.”
And then he offers these words of comfort: “May our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father, who loved us and through grace gave us eternal comfort and good hope, comfort your hearts and strengthen them in every good work and word.”

Those are words we need to hear today. Because remembrance is not only about the past; it’s about how we live now and into the future. Paul calls us to “stand firm” — to hold fast to faith, to goodness, to compassion — even when the world feels unstable, even when evil and violence seem to prevail. That same steadfastness marked those we remember today — people who stood firm in dark times, often at great cost. Their courage reminds us that hope can endure even in the midst of great suffering.

And yet Paul’s message points beyond human courage to divine faithfulness. We are held, he says, in the love of God who gives “eternal comfort and good hope.” That word eternal is vital. It means that the hope we cling to today — for peace, for justice, for renewal — is not fragile or temporary. It is anchored in the very life of God, who brings life out of death.

That truth shines through our Gospel reading from Luke 20.

The Sadducees, who do not believe in the resurrection, come to Jesus with a question meant to trap him. They paint a rather absurd scenario about a woman who has had seven husbands, asking whose wife she will be in the resurrection. But Jesus sees through their argument. He tells them that life in the resurrection is not a simple continuation of this one — it is something new, transformed, beyond death’s reach. He ends with these extraordinary words:

“He is not God of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.”

Those words are at the very heart of Christian remembrance. When we name before God those who have died, we do not do so as if they are gone into nothingness. We do so believing that they are alive to God — held in his eternal love, beyond the reach of death or decay.

The crosses in war cemeteries, the war graves in our own cemeteries, the names carved on memorials, the faces we hold in memory — all of them are alive to him. And one day, in the fullness of God’s kingdom, all will be made new.

That is the hope we proclaim in this service, and especially as we come to Holy Communion. At this table, heaven and earth meet. Here, we remember the sacrifice of Christ, through whom life has conquered death. Here, we are united with all the saints and with all who have gone before us in faith — those we remember today among them. For in Christ, time and distance and even death itself are overcome.

So as we remember today, let us do so with faith, gratitude, and courage. Let us remember and give thanks for those who stood firm in their generation. And let us resolve to stand firm in ours — to be people of peace in a world still torn by violence, to be people of hope in a world still shadowed by fear.

And may the God who is not the God of the dead but of the living — the God who gives eternal comfort and good hope — comfort our hearts, strengthen our hands, and guide our feet into the way of peace.

Amen.