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My name is Ian. Sometimes I write things.

Tuesday, November 27, 2018

Not of This World

[note: This is a sermon I preached at Dulin United Methodist Church in Falls Church, VA, on Sunday, November 25, 2018 in celebration of Christ the King Sunday. The texts preached on were Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14 and John 18:33-37. ]


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The Text:

Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14
As I watched,
thrones were set in place,
    and an Ancient One[a] took his throne,
his clothing was white as snow,
    and the hair of his head like pure wool;
his throne was fiery flames,
    and its wheels were burning fire.
A stream of fire issued
    and flowed out from his presence.
A thousand thousands served him,
    and ten thousand times ten thousand stood attending him.
The court sat in judgment,
    and the books were opened.

John 18:33-37
Then Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” Pilate replied, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?” Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” Pilate asked him, “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”


Vivat Regina!

I managed to find myself in Paris earlier this year. I was co-leading a trip of young adults on a pilgrimage to the monastery in TaizĂ©, but we incorporated a two-day stay in Paris before taking the train into the countryside. I was excited because this was my first time in Paris, and I was looking forward to seeing all the sights and doing all the touristy things. You know. Walking by the Seine with a croissant in one hand and a glass of cabernet sauvignon in the other—living my best life and all that.

And to be fair, most of the other people on that trip were also excited to do all that. However, there were also quite a few people on this trip who were also excited because our first morning in Paris happened to coincide with the wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan, the now Duke and Duchess of Sussex. See, France and England are a lot closer to each other time zone wise than the U.S. and England, so these folks were excited to be able to see the royal wedding live without having to wake up at 3 in the morning to do so.

Vivat Regina!

It was something that I just couldn’t wrap my head around. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m not standing here judging anyone who is fascinated by the life of the royals. After all, I’m an ardent fan of football, so I don’t really have a leg to stand on when it comes to judging people for liking problematic things. No, for me it’s more of a curiosity as to how we can, as Americans, be so fascinated by, of all things, the British monarchy. I mean, we fought a war over this! There was tea and everything!

Of course, it should be mentioned that the British monarchy today has nowhere near the same amount of power as the British monarchy did in the 18th century. In fact, save for a few notable examples, the same could be said for just about every royal family that’s still around today. Gone are the days of tyrannical monarchs ruling from a transcendent throne. Kings and Queens are largely symbolic these days. The age of Kings and Queens has come and gone.

Vivat res publica! Long live the Republic!

Perhaps this is why I have difficulty with the liturgical feast day we’re celebrating today: Reign of Christ, Christ the King. Today and throughout history, monarchs have been benign at best and despotic at worst.

Not exactly the imagery you want to associate with the object of our faith.

And yet I have to admit that we find this kind of imagery for God all throughout our scriptural witness.

The LORD is king, he is robed in majesty. (Ps 93:1)

Your decrees are very sure, holiness befits your house, O LORD forevermore. (Ps 93:5)

One who rules over people justly, ruling in the fear of God, is like the light of the morning, like the sun rising on a cloudless morning gleaming from the rain on the grassy land. (2 Sam 23:3-4)

And He is the radiance of His glory and the exact representation of His nature...He sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high (Heb 1:3)

The LORD will extend your mighty scepter from Zion, saying “Rule in the midst of your enemies!” (Ps 110:2)

O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! (Ps 8:9)

But few are quite as powerful or as vivid as our Old Testament passage from Daniel.

His clothing was white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool; his throne was fiery flames, and its wheels were burning fire. A stream of fire flowed out from his presence. A thousand thousands served him, and ten thousand times ten thousand stood attending him…To him was given dominion and glory and kingship, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not pass away, and his kingship is one that shall never be destroyed.

Now that’s a king I can get behind. Vivat! Vivat Rex! 

I have to admit that even I find some sense of comfort in that kind of imagery. After all, if God is sitting on the throne, then what do I need to worry about? Everything is going to work itself out in the end. God’s got this.

However, a problem arises when we seek out earthly rulers and leaders who emulate this kind of a reign. Because as easy as it is to sit back and say that God’s got this, it’s just as deceptively easy to sit back and say that the powerful elite are in control—so long as it’s our guy that is.

It should go without saying that no human being is God. We have only one savior and it’s not any human ruler, president, CEO, or king—past, present, or future. When we deify our rulers, it’s far too easy to look past the heinous actions they take under the guise of protecting the realm. And the problem is that by and large, these types of policies really harm the kinds of people who are already suffering and oppressed.

Take ancient Israel, for example.

Prior to the establishment of the monarchy, Samuel warned the people about what exactly they had to look forward to while living under a king:

He will take your sons and appoint them to his chariots and to be his horsemen, and to run before his chariots; and he will appoint for himself commanders of thousands and commanders of fifties, and some to plow his ground and to reap his harvest, and to make his implements of war and the equipment of his chariots. He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers. He will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive orchards and give them to his courtiers. He will take one-tenth of your grain and of your vineyards and give it to his officers and his courtiers. He will take your male and female slaves, and the best of your cattle and donkeys, and put them to his work. He will take one-tenth of your flocks, and you shall be his slaves. And in that day, you will cry out because of your king, whom you have chosen for yourselves; but the Lord will not answer you in that day.

He will take

He will take

He will take

He will take

And what happened? Every king of Israel and Judah would go on to live up to that prophecy. David took Bathsheba. Solomon took conquered people and conscripted them to build the Temple. The kings took and took and took. They amassed more and more power for themselves at the expense of their people. And before long, the people would find themselves conquered and thrown into exile. Because of their king, who they had chosen for themselves.

So we’re left with these two competing perceptions of monarchies in our scriptures. On the one hand, we have all this powerful, positive kingly language used for God. On the other, we find a subtle, but nevertheless present anti-monarchic strain throughout the scriptures. So if we’re going to attribute kingly language and imagery to Christ, we have to ask ourselves what kind of a king Christ was while he was yet with us.

Luckily, we find the answer to that question in our Gospel lesson this morning.

It’s a familiar passage. Anyone who’s had any involvement with a production of Jesus Christ Superstar probably had the music for “Trial by Pilate” running through their head as the passage was being read…or was that just me?

And yet

And yet in this passage, we see a clear picture of the kind of king Jesus was while he lived among us. But if we’re honest, this isn’t the kind of king we see portrayed elsewhere in scripture.

In this story, the gospel writer makes a point of showing Jesus as less than or weaker than Pilate.

Pilate summons Jesus.

Pilate interrogates Jesus.

And eventually, Pilate would torture and crucify Jesus.

The Gospels give us a king who was a brown, homeless, itinerant preacher living under foreign occupation who would eventually be killed as an enemy of the state. The Gospels give us a king who constantly stood with the marginalized and oppressed and at every turn, stood opposed to those who used their power and privilege to enrich themselves. The Gospels give us a king who spoke truth to power, even though it would cost him his life.

That’s our king.

Our king forsook his place of ultimate power and privilege at the right hand of the Father to be with us and live as one of us. And the life he lived was a life of self-sacrifice.

That’s the Christ the King we serve, and that’s the Christ the King who every knee shall one day bow down to.

And so we have to ask ourselves, where do we see that kind of leadership today?

Or perhaps the better question is, do we even see that kind of leadership today at all?

By and large, the age of kings has come and gone. Most monarchies don’t have absolute power anymore, and many countries throughout the world hold elections to select their rulers.

And yet, around the world we see a frightening trend of people choosing rulers who employ nationalistic rhetoric, who create for themselves a strongman persona, and demonize a vulnerable group of people as an easy scapegoat for their subjects to cast their fears and anxieties on. Authoritarianism is, once again, on the rise throughout our world. And in the midst of all this, it’s really easy for us to become dejected and give up. What can we possibly do?

But as followers and subjects of Christ the king, that's a luxury we cannot afford.

There’s a key scene towards the beginning of 2012’s The Avengers in which the villain first reveals himself to Earth through terrorizing a crowd. After compelling them to kneel before him, he remarks:

Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state? It’s the unspoken truth of humanity that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power. For identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.

And then something unexpected happens.

Something powerful happens.

An old, unnamed man in the crowd stands up and says five words:

Not to men like you.

Not to men like you.

The Christ the King we find in the gospels unequivocally stands opposed to the values held and espoused by would-be authoritarians. As subjects of Christ the King, we too must align ourselves with Christ and actively resist these values ourselves in whatever forms they present themselves. Sure, that means voting. But it also means holding our elected officials accountable once they’re in office. It means having hard conversations with our families and loved ones, and not writing them off wholesale altogether “because they didn’t vote the same way I did”. It means standing up to the powers and principalities of this world who would have you kneel before them and planting yourself like a tree and responding “not to men like you”.

That’s what it means to proclaim that Christ is our king.

Vivat Christus.

Amen.