Sermon for Coronation Weekend (and the Fifth Sunday of Easter) - John 14:1-14

Whether you got up at 4:00 a.m. yesterday or watched the highlights later, the coronation of King Charles did not disappoint. The event was British through and through, with all of the pomp and circumstance one could hope for. The details were extraordinary. The crown jewels, the outfits and uniforms, Kate Middleton and Princess Charlotte’s head pieces, the horse drawn carriage covered in gold, the crowds with their Union Jacks and toy crowns, the air show with a fly over, or fly past as the Brits call it, the immense military parade greeting Charles with three cheers, the BBC with its understated commentary, the protest signs conveniently kept off camera - it was all a glorious spectacle. Commentators were quick to talk about how uplifting it all was, especially during a cost of living crisis. Even those interviewed who are, say, lukewarm at best about the monarchy, were surprisingly emotional throughout the event.

But for the church nerds among us, all of that paled in comparison to the liturgy at Westminster Abby. The setting was magnificent, of course, as the site for coronations since 1066. The objects were a feast for the eyes, too, from the orb and scepter to the vestments. The service was a complicated one, with detailed choreography and medieval prayers that haven’t been used in 70 years. And the music. Those in my household who did not wake at 4:00 a.m. asked me what the highlight was, and I knew immediately. It was the choir singing “Zadok the Priest” by Handel, which was composed for the coronation of King George II in 1727. Zadok was the priest who anointed King Solomon in the bible. As they sang yesterday, screens were moved to shield Charles for his anointing by the Archbishop of Canterbury, a biblical tradition. The moment was ancient and sacred. Anglican hearts around the world were surely fluttering, even for those of us who aren’t particularly keen on the idea of the divine right of kings.

Throughout the service, the Archbishop did his best to stay focused on Jesus, the true King of kings as he reminded the world yesterday. His words about community and humble service and accountability to the Kingdom of heaven stood as an important corrective to the complicated event and its opulence. I think those words were pleasing to God.

A coronation is a good reminder of how complicated we Christians can make things. Kings and commoners alike can lose sight of the love and humble service that Jesus modeled for his disciples. For that reason, I was glad that there was communion yesterday. At an altar covered in bejeweled and golden objects, the priest said words from the night of the Last Supper, when Jesus broke bread with the disciples, washed their feet, and gave them a new commandment to love one another. We heard a portion of that same farewell discourse from the Gospel of John today. The church sees fit on the fifth Sunday of Easter to take us back to Maundy Thursday. Perhaps we need reminding in the midst of our Easter pageantry that our faith has roots in a such a simple evening.

I feel sure that the human propensity to complicate and lose sight of what matters most was weighing on Jesus that night. He needed a strategy that would be hard for his followers to complicate. He was all too aware of the shadows that lurk in the human heart, the propensities that would lead to his arrest later that evening. John tells us that he knew the storm that was raging in Judas and the betrayal to come. He knew the confusions of Peter. He knew the disciples’ aspirations for power in a story that was unfolding beyond their understanding and control. And Jesus, knowing that his betrayal and execution were at hand, had one more chance to break through to his friends. This was not a moment for theology or predictions or pageantry. He tied a towel around his waist, washed their feet, and told them to break bread in his name. And he told them to love one another, as he had loved them.

If there is an essence to Christianity, I believe this is it. Jesus chose ordinary stuff at hand to teach it to us, knowing that simple bread and wine and water would always be available. Which means, of course, that we would have weekly if not daily reminders of him, calling us back routinely to the heart of Christian faith, so that we can love as we have been loved by Christ.

It would be easy to lament the unfortunate truth that we need to be called back so often, back from our complications and love of spectacle. But I don’t think the intention in Jesus’ instructions was for us to be feel bad about ourselves. The intention was a gracious, life-giving one, a loving sacrifice made to us in our ordinary needs. The reminder of God’s love is not simply meant to convict us, it is meant to renew us, time and time again. I don’t believe that a God who continues to offer us this renewal is a menacing God who keeps score about how many times we need the reminder.  The Gospel tells us that Jesus loves until the end. Maybe we shouldn’t try to complicate that.

So on this coronation weekend, filled with all the splendor one could hope for, may we also find ourselves renewed by the Christian message. May we be reminded about community and humble service and the true King of kings. May we honor the simplicity of Jesus’ actions on the night he washed his disciple’s feet and broke bread with them and taught them how to love. May we give thanks that we have such simple reminders week after week. Let this service of Holy Communion be a refuge from the complications of our lives and of the world around us. Let this time shine with simplicity, and most of all, with the love of Jesus. Long live the King of kings.