The Reign of Christ - The Rev. Gigi Miller
A bible translation called The Voice retells the sixth day in Genesis as “Now let Us conceive a new creation—humanity—made in Our image, fashioned according to Our likeness.” This version expands the idea of God making us in God’s image, by naming humanity as a new creation. We humans, in turn, sometimes fashion Jesus in our own likeness, which makes sense. It’s difficult to conceive of Jesus as both a man and God, so we’re drawn to see him through our own experiences. Think of some of the names we use to describe Jesus –teacher, son, friend, shepherd, servant, and mediator; they all reflect various aspects of our human nature.
Perhaps one of the more complicated terms by which we refer to Jesus, Christ as King, is the one we observe today on Reign of Christ Sunday – not to be confused with the kind of weather we’ve had lately. Both our Old and New Testaments are full of portraits of unjust kings who neglect their people and treat them with contempt.
Our reading from the prophet Jeremiah tells of just such rulers who, God says “have scattered my flock, and have driven them away, and have not attended to them.” One of the most important kings of the Israelites, David, abused the wife of one of his generals, then ordered that general’s execution. Herod, Israel’s vassal king under Rome at the time of Jesus’ birth, tried to murder male children in Bethlehem under age two, including Jesus. In our own history, the British colonies in America achieved independence from George III, an imperious king who famously intoned, “A traitor is everyone who does not agree with me.”
Jesus spoke frequently about the kingdom of God, but he very rarely referred to himself as its ruler. So how did we come to set aside the last Sunday of Pentecost – spoiler alert, next Sunday begins Advent and with it our new church year – to associate Jesus with kings and their monarchies? Reign of King Sunday, also known as Christ the King Sunday, did not originate, as I suspected, when Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire. Nor was part of the Church’s efforts to legitimize European empires’ quest to conquer fresh territory, like those of the Americas, and bring the native people under empire’s dominion.
It turns out that Pope Pius XI established the Feast Day of Christ the King a hundred years ago in 1925 after the devastation of World War I. Church attendance was dropping as folks searched for spiritual meaning outside organized religion; rising authoritarians, like Italian Benito Mussolini, demanded unquestioning obedience from their people. Pope Pius wanted Christ the King Sunday to remind Christians that our first allegiance is to God, in the person of Jesus, and not to any national identity.
Our Scripture readings tell us something about the kind of authority Jesus holds and the type of realm over which he presides, as they merge the anticipation of his birth with the circumstances of his death. Instead of a psalm, we have a canticle, which is a portion of Scripture not in our psalter. Today’s canticle is from Luke; in it, John the Baptist’s father Zechariah sings of the soon-to-be born Jesus, sent “to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.” Instead of requiring blind loyalty like earthly rulers, Jesus will “come to his people and set them free, free to worship him without fear.”
But concepts of freedom and peace sometimes threaten the status quo and the perceived control of those who wield power. In our Gospel reading, Luke’s depiction of Jesus’ final days on earth seem to negate all the promises in Zechariah’s joyful song. Here, the Roman empire appears to have the advantage. Since Jesus is not a citizen of Rome and was found guilty by Pontius Pilate of sedition against the emperor, he is enduring crucifixion, the most humiliating and torturous death sentence the empire can impose. The soldiers post a sign above Jesus’ head reading “The King of the Jews”, in an example of first century trolling. Monarchs were considered gods on earth, so the idea that a king could be put to death was ridiculous. If Jesus was really a king, why didn’t he save himself? Jesus continues to be mocked and scorned by everyone present, including one of the criminals with whom he is condemned.
But this suffering “king” points the way to a reign which reverses everything we know about how human kingdoms work. Rather than assume the privileges of his divinity, Jesus lives his life as a servant to all. Rather than calling for God’s vengeance on his tormenters, Jesus seeks their forgiveness, “for they do not know what they are doing.” Rather than denouncing the criminals with whom he is unjustly punished, Jesus offers mercy, telling them they will be with him in Paradise. Theologian Matthew Myer Bolton observes, “This is the ironic, revolutionary logic of the Gospels. In the very place that seems godforsaken — there, precisely there, God is present and active. Where God’s reign is mocked and Caesar’s reign seems triumphant — there, precisely there, God reigns.”
Recently, I joined several interfaith lay leaders and clergy, including Catholic bishops fresh from an audience with Pope Leo, for an evening prayer vigil outside the federal Immigration Court in downtown San Diego. You may have read about it in our Diocesan newsletter. As the article states, we weren’t there to protest immigration policies or their implementation. We were there to remind the people detained in the basement of the courthouse - a place designed for storage, not human habitation - that God had not forgotten them and that they were not alone. Jesus is with us whether we live in a palace, a condo, a car, or in a tent by the side of the road.
The apostle Paul uses the word “all” six times in his letter to the Colossians in describing who Jesus came to serve and how his supremacy works. Jesus, with God and the Holy Spirit, is “before all things” and “in him all things hold together.” In a few moments, we’ll share a meal celebrating Jesus’ presence among us here at God’s table. And in a few days, we’ll gather – with our families by birth or the ones we make – around other tables to observe the abundance of Thanksgiving. Let’s make time during the festivities to offer a prayer of gratitude to our God who responds to the bitter fear of this world with Jesus’ vision of a generous, all-embracing Divine kin-dom enthroned in love, hope, and peace.
