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Luke 23: 33-43

Some time ago I watched a television show called "Reasonable Doubts". It was one of those lawyer-type shows that today seem to be seen endlessly most evenings on the major networks.

This story was about a female defense lawyer who drew the unpleasant job of representing a man who had been convicted of two brutal killings as he went before the parole board. It seems he was seeking his release from prison after serving 14 years of his sentence and the lawyer succeeded in getting him released.

A police officer who was present at the original crime scene gave this young female lawyer a rough time after the hearing, telling her that she should not be representing such people, that the man she was defending was nothing but scum.

Later that day the police officer discovers that the lawyer's mother had died from cancer the night before the hearing and so, the next time he sees the lawyer he says, "I'm sorry, if I had known your mother had died I would have gone easier on you."

Another character in the story - the deaf prosecutor who was the star of the show, also gives the lady lawyer a hard time for representing the killer before the parole board - and she too, later hears about the mother's death.

The next time the prosecutor sees the defense lawyer she also says to her - "Sorry, if I had known I would have gone easier on you."

And this got me to thinking just how often we, in fact, do and say such things. It happens all the time - in the normal hustle and bustle of daily living - when we are moving all too fast, or feeling in need of help. We fail to recognize what is happening around us, we forget what it is that we should be about,

Sometimes we load up other people with our burdens and pains, we pour out all our complaints and troubles on someone else, only to discover later that the person is dealing with their own emotional burden, a burden often far heavier than our own, .

Sometimes we ask someone to do this or that thing without considering their work load. We just assume that the other person is, or should be, willing to assist us, only to discover later on that they have just worked a double shift at work, or that a relative of theirs has just been in an accident.

Other times we may, in good, well meaning humor, tease someone about something, thinking that we know them well enough to have a bit of fun with them, only to discover later on that he or she is very sensitive about the things we thought it was safe to tease them about,

And we realize that we have blown it - that we have acted inappropriately, and we seek out the person concerned and in almost every case we say something like:

- if I had known, I would not have asked you that,

- if I had known, I would not have said that,

- if I had known, I would not have bothered you.

If only I had known…

I mention this today, because as we come to the end of this church year, we are asked to remember that Jesus, when all is said and done, is our King, and I can't help thinking that when it comes to our obedience to our King, when it comes to our willingness to show him our respect and honor, many of us end up making the same mistake with him that we make with other people: we blunder ahead on a business as usual basis, being casual, abrupt, and insensitive - until, all of a sudden it seems, we realize that something special is going on.

What is this - “If I had known” excuse anyway?

I think it is a genuine kind of excuse; most people are very sincere when they offer it, but does it really count for a lot in the long run?

Shouldn't we be caring and loving and respectful all the time? Shouldn't we always pay attention - before we say or do something, to know where a person is at - to who the person is - and to what the situation is?

Shouldn't we honor our Lord and King all the time, and not just at special times like Sunday morning?

Think of the crucifixion of Christ for a moment - that passage we heard read from Luke's Gospel just a few minutes ago. Just about everyone there from the guards to the Pharisees, to the thief on the cross next to him, taunted Jesus. They chided him saying, “If you are the messiah, if you are the king, then save yourself - and us.”

It is pretty obvious from the gospel story that none of these people recognized Jesus for who he was: And this - it seemed - meant to them that they could abuse him as they might abuse any other convicted criminal.

To them, nothing special was going on - it was business as usual, business without thinking, business without considering what it was that God would want out of them whether or not this man on the cross was the Messiah - or simply some misguided fool.

I believe that if those who acted this way at the foot of the cross could come back and stand before Christ today - as we stand before him today - they would say to him:

“Sorry, Jesus, If I had known I would have gone easier on you. If I had known I would have taken your part like the other thief took your part, I would have wept for you instead of jeering at you.”

What does it mean to claim that Jesus is our Messiah, our-King, our Lord. If it does not mean that we are to act differently? To show him our respect? And to strive to honor him and obey him and serve him at all times? And never more so - so some would say - then when he is actually here with us?

But what happens when we fail to recognize that our God and King is actually here i among us? What happens when the King is not sitting on his throne, or announcing his presence among us with trumpets and waving flags?

Do you remember what the prophet Isaiah said about Christ? About our God and King?

He had no form of majesty that we should look at him,

Nothing is his appearance that we should desire him,

And so it was that he was despised and rejected by others,

A man of suffering and acquainted with grief.

If only I had known!

The story is told about an old Guru who was meditating in his mountain cave. When he opened his eyes he discovered an unexpected visitor sitting before him - the abbot of a well known monastery.

“What is it you seek” asked the Guru?

The abbot recounted a tale of woe. At one time his monastery had been famous throughout the western world. Its cells were filled with young aspirants and its church had resounded to the chant of its monks. But hard times had come on the monastery. People no longer flocked there to nourish their spirits, the aspirants had dried up, and the church was almost silent. There were only a handful of monks left and these went about their daily duties with heavy hearts.

Now this is what the abbot wanted to know -“is it because of some sin of ours that the monastery has been reduced to this state?”

“Yes,” replied the Guru, “a sin of ignorance.”

“And what might that sin be?”

“One of your numbers is the Messiah in disguise and you are ignorant of this,” replied the Guru - and having said this he closed his eyes and returned to his meditation.

Throughout the long journey back to his monastery the abbot's heart beat faster as he thought that the messiah - the Messiah himself - had returned to earth and was right there in his monastery. How was it he had failed to recognize him? And “who could it be? Brother Cook? Brother Sacristan? Brother Treasurer? Brother Prior? No, not he; he had way too many defects! But then the Guru had said he was in disguise. Could these defects be a part of the disguise? Come to think of it, everyone in the monastery had defects. And one of them had to be the Messiah.

Back in the monastery the abbot assembled all the monks and told them what he had discovered. They looked at one another in disbelief. The Messiah? Here? Incredible. But he was supposed to be here in disguise. So, maybe. But what if it were so and so? Or the other one over there? Or…

One thing was certain. If the Messiah were here in disguise it sure wasn't likely they'd recognize him. So the only idea was to take to treating everyone with respect and consideration. “You never know,” they said to themselves when they dealt with one another, "maybe this is the one.”

The result was that in the weeks and months ahead the atmosphere of the monastery became vibrant with joy. Soon dozens of aspirants were seeking admission to the order. And once again the church echoed with the holy and joyful chant of monks who were aglow with the spirit of love.

Jesus, our Messiah, our King, is here today somewhere in this church, somewhere in this community.

He has no form of majesty about him that we should look at him, nothing about his appearance that we desire him - but he is here.

And we owe him - for he is our King - and our savior and we owe him our praise,
our obedience, and special honor and care, not just in the times of prayer - when we address him on his throne, but in each minute of each day as we meet him as we go about our normal lives and business.

None of us can really say to him - if only I had known, for we do know - and we are called to show our respect and our devotion each and every day. Amen.