The Reign of Christ
24/11/13 05:26
We’ve come to the end of another year in the Christian Calendar. Next Sunday, we start all over again with the First Sunday of Advent. The traditional name for the last Sunday of the year is “Christ the King.” In recent years, many congregations have shifted the language to call the day “Reign of Christ.” The shift in language is a reaction to what some perceive to be an overuse of English titles and hierarchy that might lead believers to have misperceptions about the ways God works in our world.
The roots of the holiday are deep. In Roman Times as people felt the burden of the oppression of the empire, believers reminded each other that there was an authority that was higher than the Emperor. Similar language was used among the faithful living under the oppression of the European feudal system in the middle ages. During the years of the slavery of Africans in the United States, the concept found expression in song and powerful preaching.
There have been, however, times when the same notion has been twisted into a kind of triumphalism expressed by those who have power. There is a kind of “our religion is better than your religion” attitude that forms.
In the church, we need constant reminders that although God is in charge of this world and Jesus reigns over all, the way that God participates in human life and the way that Jesus leads is not the way of earthly politicians and rulers. It is a tradition to read the story of Jesus’ crucifixion on this day as a reminder that temporal concepts such as winning and losing and even life and death are redefined in the the encounter with the divine.
Jesus’ first disciples struggled with the concept. Mark reports that Jesus said to the twelve, “If anyone wants to be first, he shall be last of all and servant of all.” (Mk 9:35). A parallel text reads, “Not so with you. Instead, however wants to become great among you must be your servant.” (Mt 20:26). The idea is repeated several times in the Gospels. Christ’s way in this world is not the way of earthly rulers and decision makers. The dynamics of power are not as they are in human politics.
The greatest role for a human is to serve and to sacrifice for others.
We have a fascination with royalty. Even in the United States members of the the British Royalty are the subjects of news stories and countless conversations. We seem to enjoy speculating about what it might be like to be a member of a royal family. Articles and stories about the rich and powerful in our country are the stuff of our tabloids and many blogs because people seem to be fascinated with those lifestyles.
It is as if each one of us carries within us a bit of Tevye, the father in the play Fiddler on the Roof, as he sings and dances his dream about what it would be like to be a rich man. What is a lottery ticket if not a dream of becoming wealthy.
Christians, however, follow a different kind of leader. Jesus was never rich in the goods of this world. He never accumulated a lot of possessions. He didn’t serve with acts of philanthropy. As he was dying, some mocked him calling out for him to save himself by coming down from the cross. He submitted to the authority of earthly rulers and powers. He suffered and died under Roman rule. We know that the story doesn’t end at this point, but we also know that the path of following Jesus is not a path that leads to earthly recognition, fame or fortune.
Ours is a road of service. Jesus warned, “If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross daily and follow me.” (Lk 9:23). The path of a disciple is not an easy path, nor does it lead to recognition, wealth or power.
It has been called the great reversal.
Meaning and faithfulness don’t necessarily lead to places of honor in this life. For the faithful, however, there is always more to the story.
Still, we don’t really know how to celebrate this day in the contemporary church. A message reminding people that they are called to serve and suffer doesn’t sell very well in the marketplace. Churches have succumbed to the pressures of this world. They want to succeed. People are attracted to churches that have large buildings and full parking lots. And the places that draw the crowd aren’t doing so by promising people pain and suffering and a life of service. I have yet to see a television ad for a church that promises that those who attend that church will become servants of all. What we celebrate today doesn’t sell well in the marketplace.
So many congregations have turned to a kind of triumphalism on this day. They preach about power and about Jesus reigning over all the world. They talk about some imagined future day when Christ will come in the form of an earthly ruler and sit on a throne and lord it over all the others. I guess the presumed, but unspoken, message of such a vision is that somehow those who believe, or perhaps those who participate in the right church, will somehow have a place of privilege in the new hierarchy that will be established by Jesus.
Not being an expert in predicting the future, I prefer to look at the traditions and stories of our people for clues about what I am called to do and to be. And there I discover a path of quiet service that doesn’t lead to fame or wealth or any other things that might be seen to be rewards by the standards of this world.
So we cut and split and haul firewood. It is a dirty job. We come home with our pockets filled with wood chips and bark. There are cold days when the wind bites at our cheeks and dusty days when our eyes sting. And in the midst of it all we find the joy of service. It is a path worth following.
The roots of the holiday are deep. In Roman Times as people felt the burden of the oppression of the empire, believers reminded each other that there was an authority that was higher than the Emperor. Similar language was used among the faithful living under the oppression of the European feudal system in the middle ages. During the years of the slavery of Africans in the United States, the concept found expression in song and powerful preaching.
There have been, however, times when the same notion has been twisted into a kind of triumphalism expressed by those who have power. There is a kind of “our religion is better than your religion” attitude that forms.
In the church, we need constant reminders that although God is in charge of this world and Jesus reigns over all, the way that God participates in human life and the way that Jesus leads is not the way of earthly politicians and rulers. It is a tradition to read the story of Jesus’ crucifixion on this day as a reminder that temporal concepts such as winning and losing and even life and death are redefined in the the encounter with the divine.
Jesus’ first disciples struggled with the concept. Mark reports that Jesus said to the twelve, “If anyone wants to be first, he shall be last of all and servant of all.” (Mk 9:35). A parallel text reads, “Not so with you. Instead, however wants to become great among you must be your servant.” (Mt 20:26). The idea is repeated several times in the Gospels. Christ’s way in this world is not the way of earthly rulers and decision makers. The dynamics of power are not as they are in human politics.
The greatest role for a human is to serve and to sacrifice for others.
We have a fascination with royalty. Even in the United States members of the the British Royalty are the subjects of news stories and countless conversations. We seem to enjoy speculating about what it might be like to be a member of a royal family. Articles and stories about the rich and powerful in our country are the stuff of our tabloids and many blogs because people seem to be fascinated with those lifestyles.
It is as if each one of us carries within us a bit of Tevye, the father in the play Fiddler on the Roof, as he sings and dances his dream about what it would be like to be a rich man. What is a lottery ticket if not a dream of becoming wealthy.
Christians, however, follow a different kind of leader. Jesus was never rich in the goods of this world. He never accumulated a lot of possessions. He didn’t serve with acts of philanthropy. As he was dying, some mocked him calling out for him to save himself by coming down from the cross. He submitted to the authority of earthly rulers and powers. He suffered and died under Roman rule. We know that the story doesn’t end at this point, but we also know that the path of following Jesus is not a path that leads to earthly recognition, fame or fortune.
Ours is a road of service. Jesus warned, “If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross daily and follow me.” (Lk 9:23). The path of a disciple is not an easy path, nor does it lead to recognition, wealth or power.
It has been called the great reversal.
Meaning and faithfulness don’t necessarily lead to places of honor in this life. For the faithful, however, there is always more to the story.
Still, we don’t really know how to celebrate this day in the contemporary church. A message reminding people that they are called to serve and suffer doesn’t sell very well in the marketplace. Churches have succumbed to the pressures of this world. They want to succeed. People are attracted to churches that have large buildings and full parking lots. And the places that draw the crowd aren’t doing so by promising people pain and suffering and a life of service. I have yet to see a television ad for a church that promises that those who attend that church will become servants of all. What we celebrate today doesn’t sell well in the marketplace.
So many congregations have turned to a kind of triumphalism on this day. They preach about power and about Jesus reigning over all the world. They talk about some imagined future day when Christ will come in the form of an earthly ruler and sit on a throne and lord it over all the others. I guess the presumed, but unspoken, message of such a vision is that somehow those who believe, or perhaps those who participate in the right church, will somehow have a place of privilege in the new hierarchy that will be established by Jesus.
Not being an expert in predicting the future, I prefer to look at the traditions and stories of our people for clues about what I am called to do and to be. And there I discover a path of quiet service that doesn’t lead to fame or wealth or any other things that might be seen to be rewards by the standards of this world.
So we cut and split and haul firewood. It is a dirty job. We come home with our pockets filled with wood chips and bark. There are cold days when the wind bites at our cheeks and dusty days when our eyes sting. And in the midst of it all we find the joy of service. It is a path worth following.