Christ our only King

Sermon preached on November 25, 2012 (@ 8.00 and 11.15 am) at St. David’s Episcopal Church, Washington, DC

Proper 29: Daniel 7:9-10; 13-14, Revelation 1:4-8, and John 18:33-37

Both my children tell me that I would have made a good history teacher, I haven’t worked out yet whether that is meant as a compliment. Now is an opportunity to try out this role, at least for some of the sermon. Today we celebrate the feast of Christ the King, or as it is sometimes also called, the Reign of Christ and I want to tell you some of its history. This is not an ancient feast. It was originally instituted by Pope Pius XI in 1925 in response to the growing nationalism and secularism of his day – Fascism and Communism were the two big trends of the 1920s. Pope Pius wanted to remind Christians that their primary allegiance was to their spiritual ruler in heaven, and not to some pretty ugly earthly rulers like Mussolini. In 1969 another Pope, Paul VI, moved it to its current date: The last Sunday in the liturgical year, before our new year begins with the First Sunday in Advent. You won’t find this feast in our 1979 BCP but over the last 20 years most Anglican churches have adopted it as a major feast and in the Church of England’s latest prayer book, Common Worship, it is one of the “red letter days.”

I get the feeling however, that a lot of Episcopalians have come to regret the decision to adopt this festival. As I said earlier some calendars rename it – for example as the reign of Christ - to avoid the use of the word King. There are some very good reasons for this.  Some find the metaphor of Christ the King inappropriate for churches in the United States of America. This country is a republic, you elect your head of state and don’t have a hereditary monarch, your national identity is even bound up in the fact that you rebelled against a king. As a UK national and proud “subject” of her majesty Queen Elizabeth II I don’t have a problem with a monarchy, but I can understand the problems some Americans might have. Though just as an aside – elected leaders can be oppressive too!

Others go beyond just this particular Holy Day and are generally reluctant to use "lord" and "king" for Christ or to talk of “God’s kingdom.” Lord and king not only stand for something oppressive, they are also exclusively male. So in the newer prayer books of other denominations and in our alternative liturgies we find “God be with you”  instead of “the Lord be with you,”  the “word of the Lord” after the lessons and the gospel announcement “The Holy Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ” are replaced by “Hear what the Spirit is saying” and “The Holy Gospel of our Savior” and instead of the “peace of the Lord” it is the “peace of Christ” that we exchange with one another. None of these other terms are theologically or scripturally incorrect. I agree fully with the need to watch our use of language and make sure that it is inclusive. God is not male.

But are these the only reasons why so many people have a problem with the words and the concept of Lord and King? I don’t think so. I think there are two other more problematic ones.

1. There is a misunderstanding of what these terms meant for Christ and mean for us as Christians and 
2.  There is a reluctance to accept the higher authority words like ‘king’ and ‘lord’ stand for.   

So how should we understand the idea of Christ the King? Although Jesus frequently used the word kingdom – kingdom of God and kingdom of heaven – for the new state of life he came to institute, he never applied the word king to himself. In most gospels that word does not occur until it is used by Pilate when he questions Jesus after his arrest. Only in John’s Gospel is the word used a little earlier in the story of the feeding of 5000. Right after that episode we read that “when Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself.” (John 6:15) Clearly Jesus did not want to be a king on their terms, nor have anything to do with a reign instituted by force. Even then the nature of his kingship was misunderstood. The crowd wanted a national liberator, a political and earthly king. And Pontius Pilate has the same wrong idea. Are you the King of the Jews, he asks? At that time there was no such king; Rome had not allowed King Herod’s successors to bear that title. So what Pilate wants to know is whether Jesus is claiming this political title in opposition to Rome and as a national liberator.

Jesus doesn’t reply and by asking Pilate a question instead, he demonstrates that he does not accept the authority of this earthly ruler! And when Jesus gets round to defining and describing his kingdom we learn that it is “not from this world.” Nor will it any way be initiated or defended by force: “If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over.” The followers are actually quite literally ‘armed attendants’ – it’s the same word used for the temple police: The ones who had just arrested Jesus the night before. So Jesus is not only making clear that his kingdom is different, his followers are too. He neither wants, nor needs an army. Then finally when Pilate again asks him directly: ‘So you are a king?’ We learn one more important aspect about Jesus’ kingship: ‘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.’ Jesus came to witness to the truth of God’s love. Those who accept this truth are obedient to Jesus Christ as a king, a king of truth.  To sum up the message in this passage: Jesus’ kingship does not conform to worldly standards; it is a kingdom of peace and of truth: a very countercultural kingdom. Jesus says something similar in Mark’s Gospel (10:42-45) in a passage we heard just a month ago:

“You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognized as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.” This king or ruler is a very strange one indeed. His rule is defined by humility and service, and instead of using violence to obtain or maintain power, this king, our king, is willing to sacrifice himself for his subjects. Pope Pius made a similar point when he instituted this celebration: "'Christ,' he says, 'has dominion over all creatures, a dominion not seized by violence nor usurped, but his by essence and by nature.'"

That brings me to my second point. The passage from Daniel tells us, at least in the translation I prefer, that the Ancient of Days gave one like the Son of Man “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.”

But many people, including many churchgoers, would rather not accept the absolute authority that goes with the word kingship. If we agree with the ideas, then sure, we’ll follow them, but only then. They are options, something to be considered. Neither God, nor Christ, is their ruler. We find this attitude all over the political and social spectrum. Many only accept the authority of the individual self, others might put their country, or their party first. It is far too easy and too common to substitute other allegiances or the pursuit of individual goals for the values Christ holds up for us, for the truth he came into the world to testify to. But as Christians we believe that Daniel’s vision has been realized in Jesus Christ, and that he is the one we are called to serve as king by choice. We choose to belong to the truth, we choose to believe and in doing so we choose to accept an absolute higher authority, one we “swear allegiance” to at Baptism, when we become citizens of his kingdom, and every Sunday in the Creed when we reaffirm this choice. That’s why the image of a King, albeit one without the usual trappings, is still a good one because Christ is not like a President we elect and can change every four years, the choice we make is for life and beyond.

So I really want to commend today’s Feast of Christ the King to you. I think Pope Pius’ intention to remind Christians that their primary allegiance was to their spiritual ruler in heaven is just as important now as in 1925. I want to appeal to you all to accept Christ as your King, a king who stands for the truths of love, justice, mutual service, and forgiveness and who invites us, to become citizens of his kingdom, and to witness to and live out these same truths.

Amen

The Widow's Example

Sermon preached on November 11, 2012 at St. David’s Episcopal Church, Washington, DC - Family Service

Proper 27: 1 Kings 17:8-16, Hebrews 9:24-28, and Mark 12:38-44

May these spoken words be faithful to the written word and lead us to the living word, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

On the surface this week’s reading from the Gospel according to Mark looks like a super text for a sermon on stewardship, which is what of course what NN (Rector) has been preaching about over the last weeks. Perhaps that should have been today instead? Not that I’m saying that his sermons were not good. 

Except on a second look … Jesus is praising the one who gives very little, just “two small copper coins, which are worth a penny” and not those who give much, those who are able to contribute out of abundance. And then we heard a warning about religious leaders in long robes, who have the best seats in church – right up front close to the altar and are greeted with respect in public, perhaps with a title like Rev.? That sounds like a warning not to give to the church, especially if all the leaders do is to “devour widow’s houses!” That does not sound like the basis for a good stewardship sermon, does it!

So what is going on here? Well, since Jesus arrived in Jerusalem (in chapter 11) he has had many difficult encounters with the religious establishment. First he upset them by driving the money changers and traders out of the temple, then they tried, unsuccessfully, to expose him as a heretic by asking a number of trick questions: where did his authority come from, should we pay taxes (sorry, yes), is there a resurrection, and which is the greatest commandment?

Having embarrassed and annoyed the Jewish leaders with his answers, Jesus now turns to their behavior, to the way they live out their faith. He is not impressed. Their aims are to be prominent, to be admired and respected, and to gain personal advantage. That’s certainly not what Jesus had been teaching. As we heard read a few weeks ago, his ideals were servanthood and humility, “whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all” (Mark 9:35), and self-denial, “if any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves.” (Mark 8:34) Nor was it just Jesus’ teaching they were ignoring, but their own. According to Jewish law and tradition, orphans, strangers, and widows were to be protected and provided for, not exploited (Deuteronomy 10). Conspicuous piety: saying long and loud prayers and giving generously in public were not enough. You might remember the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (Luke 18:10-14), one boasting of his piety and generosity, the other humble and contrite. For Jesus it was the tax collector who went home justified.  

And in our story, if the widow is the positive example, what qualities does she exhibit that make her so?

-   Her humility: She didn’t make a big show of her giving. In fact she might even have been a bit embarrassed because it was so small. Her act of giving is so unobtrusive that only Jesus notices and calls to the disciples’ and our attention.

-   Her total trust: She gave all she had, just like the widow of Zarephath in the story from Kings. That widow had used her last handful of meal and her last drop of oil to make a cake for Elijah, her son, and herself. She trusted, as Elijah had promised, that God would provide, and God did: “the jar was not emptied, neither did the jug of oil fail.” In Mark’s gospel we don’t hear what happened to the widow after she had put her money in. But she certainly trusted that God would provide.

-   Her consistency: In her case there is no contradiction between her outward piety, her actions, and her inward surrender to God. Nothing is just for the sake of appearance.  

-   Her sacrificial attitude: She has given all she had to live on. I don’t think that it is a coincidence that this the last story before the Passion narrative starts. In Mark’s gospel this ends Jesus’ public ministry, after this he only speaks to the disciples until his arrest. So in some way the widow’s sacrifice is a prelude to Jesus’ sacrifice.

What does it mean for us today, is as always the key question?

-   Is St. David’s going to turn down “large sums that you want to put into our treasury” in future? Well no, as our treasurer Bruce will no doubt be glad to hear.

-   Do we expect you to give everything you have? No, we don’t want you to give all you have to live on.

But actually that last phrase, “she has put in … all she had to live on” would be better translated as “she has put in her whole life.” That may not be what St. David’s expects of you, but it is what God expects. We are not supposed to hold back part of ourselves because becoming and being a Christian is supposed to transform all of what we are.

Imitating Christ often seems a very tall order. But surely we are able to imitate the poor widow he holds up as an example in this passage? Her example calls us to humility in our dealings with others, to trust in God, to consistency in our behavior, and to a sacrificial giving of our time, talents, and treasure.

Amen

Sticks and Stones (sermon preached on September 16, 2012)

Sermon preached on September 16, 2012 at St. David’s Episcopal Church, Washington, DC. 

Isaiah 50:4-9a, James 3:1-12, and Mark 8:27-38

Does anyone know the following nursery rhyme?

Sticks and stones
May break my bones
But words will never hurt me.

And do you think that it is true? I don’t. My experience has been that words can be extremely hurtful. As a child, until about 12 or 13, I was quite small, difficult to believe I know, and very bad at sports – totally uncoordinated – and the other kids certainly let me know that. Unco’ was the name they called me. I can relate much better to the refrain of another song called ‘sticks and stones’ by a songwriter called Dave Barnes, it goes:

I'd rather have sticks and stones and broken bones
Than the words you say to me,
Cause I know bruises heal and cuts will seal
But your words beat the life from me.

And so I also agree with James, the author of today’s epistle. He has a lot to say about the power of words, how they, and the tongue that produces them, can be dangerous, harmful, and very hurtful. That makes this letter another good example for Biblical teaching that is both current and timeless: it is still just as valid today because we haven’t changed that much since it was written. There are also a couple of key theological insights hidden in what seems to just be a rather polemic passage about guarding our tongues!

So what are James’ main issues with our use of words, with the way we use our tongues? He starts off by focusing on those who have a particular responsibility as church leaders, here specifically as teachers of the faith, which of course includes preachers. They “will be judged with greater strictness,” he writes. They, we are trusted to tell the truth, to be correct. Yet it is so easy to make a mistake, so easy to teach something wrong: none of us can really achieve that perfection that would be needed to make no mistakes at all. The problem of course with the sort of mistake or error James is referring to, and had experienced in the early Church, is its impact. Erroneous or false teaching affects not just the teacher, but all those who are taught. It could – and did and still does – lead people astray. But if we cannot avoid making many mistakes, if perfection is not attainable, what is the solution? We find an answer in the OT reading from Isaiah: God’s servant has been “given the tongue of a teacher, that he may know how to sustain the weary with a word.” But this teacher is also called “to listen as those who are taught.” Those who teach must always be ready to learn and so humility, the recognition that we do not know it all and need to learn, as much as to teach, is a mark of a good teacher, leader, or preacher. It’s no wonder James recommends that “not many of you should become teachers!”

But before you all relax because you think this can only refer to Robin, or myself or Susan as the official “teachers” here at St. David’s I’m afraid James does not restrict his warnings and his message to those in leadership positions, they apply to all Christians. As followers of Christ we are all expected to at least try to attain much higher standards of behavior than others!

My first thought on reading the second paragraph of the Epistle was that James is overdoing it a bit. “No one can tame the tongue,” which is a fire, a restless evil, and full of deadly poison. But good things come out of our mouths too, surely? Hopefully some of what I have to say right now is good! And don’t we have countless examples in the Bible of words doing good? The word that creates: “Then God said, let there be light,” (Genesis 1:3) the word that heals: “Only speak the word, and my servant will be healed,” (Matthew 8:8) the word that strengthens: “I sustain the weary with a word,” (Isaiah 50:4) or the word that saves: “The Word was God … and became flesh and lived among us.” (John 1: 1; 14) But even if God’s word, the word of life and truth, is always good, are ours? No they are not. As I said a moment ago our words can often be dangerous, harmful, and very hurtful or as James puts it, “from the same mouth comes blessing and cursing.” I’m sure we have all experienced and can remember plenty of examples of hurtful, harmful, and untruthful words in both our private, as well as professional lives. As the current election campaign shows, public speakers and politicians are also not immune to this vice, regardless of whether they identify themselves as Christians or not.

“My brothers and sisters, this ought not to be so,” is how James sums up his feelings about this sort of behavior. Well, it’s certainly not polite, and it’s certainly not what we have been brought up to do, but what is wrong theologically? James places great importance on the practical application of faith. “Faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead” was the last line of last week’s reading from this epistle. Which by the way is why Martin Luther disliked this letter so much, an Epistle of straw, was what he called it, as James’ letter seemed to contradict the concept of salvation through faith alone that was one of the rallying cries of the Reformation. In this case I’m siding with James. Faith and works, word and example, are not opposites: they complement each other. “With our tongue we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God,” is the example James gives for a faith without works in the context of the use or abuse of words. The problem is not just that this behavior is hypocritical. 
Blessing and praising God while cursing, denigrating, or hurting others is more than that, it is blasphemous. The other human, James reminds us, is made in God’s likeness by God. We cannot claim to love God if we do not love what God has created in God’s image. This is behind the idea of the innate dignity and value of every human being that is such a central part of Anglican theology. It is not earned, it is not dependent on their behavior or whether we agree with them, it is given by God in creation: “God created humankind in his image, God blessed them.”(Genesis 1:27-28) So how can we curse what God has blessed, is James’ question?  If we truly follow Jesus’ summary of the law and the prophets, to love God and to love our neighbor as ourselves, then we can’t.

I started this sermon today with a question about a nursery rhyme, what’s worse I asked: sticks and stones or words? Well that is as much a false and misleading choice as is the choice between faith or works. Any form of harm to another, either physical or verbal, is wrong of course and an example of the sin of not loving our neighbors as ourselves that we will all confess to in a moment. In our Baptismal Covenant we are called to “proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ.” 

What this reading from James also tells us is that sometimes the words we use can be the example with which we proclaim the Good News.

Amen   

Things we don't like to hear (sermon preached on August 26, 2012)

Sermon preached on Sunday, Aug. 26  at Emmanuel Church, Chestertown, MD.
Proper 16: 1 Kings 8:1, 6, 10-11, 22-30, 41-43; Psalm 84; Ephesians 6:10-20; John 6:56-69

We all have things we don’t like to hear, don’t we? Congregations sometimes do not always like what the preacher has to tell them – but not here of course. Children don’t always want to hear what their parents have to tell them. Husbands, and I speak only for myself of course, do not always pay attention to some of the things their wives say. I’ve just spent eleven weeks fighting, with some success, my own tendency to ‘subjective hearing.’ I have just finished my Clinical Pastoral Education, 11 weeks of hospital chaplaincy training, at Georgetown University Hospital. I did not always want to hear what the patients were telling me, especially not the bad news, their pain, their fears: I was afraid that I wouldn’t have the perfect answer or response. And I often did not want to hear everything my colleagues or supervisors had to say. My strengths were fine, but my growing edges? Do I want to be told what needs improving? Why I might have to change something; I might even have to stop doing something I like doing or start doing something new, God forbid! Thankfully that thought did not prevail and I did listen and act on the feedback I was given. Otherwise the experience would have been a waste of time!

Well, in the passage we just heard from the Gospel according to John, the last section of what is called the Bread of Life discourse, it would seem that the disciples were struggling with a very similar problem. They did not want to hear all of what Jesus had to say: ‘This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?’ they said. And it’s true that they had just heard some pretty weighty messages: Jesus was the bread of life, the bread of heaven, the source of salvation, they were to eat his flesh and drink his blood, he was sent by the Father. 

These were difficult words, for some of them even offensive ones, about who Jesus really was and is. Clearly he was not just the moral teacher some had taken him for, nor was he just a prophet like Moses, for Jesus’ bread was something much greater than the manna Moses had got God to provide their ancestors with. The passage does not tell us exactly what the anonymous disciples did not like. Perhaps it was the identification with God? Perhaps they were taking the call to eat his flesh and drink his blood too literally? Or maybe it was the importance Jesus attached to the Spirit over the flesh, something some might have understood as a criticism of their being too focused on what they thought the world needed, like overthrowing the Romans and liberating Israel from their occupation. Many scholars think for example that this was Judas Ischariot’s main aim and the reason for his disappointment with Jesus that turned into his betrayal.

Whatever it was, perhaps a combination of all of the above, the result was that “because of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him.”  In fact it seems that for a time at least Jesus was down to the Twelve, and Jesus even asks them “Do you also wish to go away?”

What about today, what about us? Do we accept everything that Jesus stands for and that he taught? Or are there parts that offend or embarrass us?  For some Jesus’ prophetic message, the call to speak against the evils of this world, is just fine. But his moral teaching? No, that’s not relevant anymore and let’s tone down Jesus’ divinity a bit shall we. That just doesn’t play well to today’s audiences.

I fear that that approach would be just as wrong as those who focus exclusively on the moral teaching, about marriage for example, especially when they do not take the context in which it was written down into account. They often ignore Jesus’ clear call to speak the truth and to work actively at bringing the kingdom of God into effect in this world.

And it would be equally one-sided to just focus on the spiritual, on worship and prayer life. What it comes down to is we cannot pick and choose, we cannot ignore what offends us or the teaching we find difficult, and we cannot put together our own personal Jesus. All of his words are words of eternal life. The Christian life is social action and example; prayer and proclamation; individual devotion and shared communion.

Paul writes in a similar vein when he tells the Christians in Ephesus and us, to “put on the whole armor of God!” He goes on to explain just what he means, put all of it on: the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shoes of proclamation, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit. Without the whole armor we are not fully protected, but instead open and vulnerable to evil, and without all the equipment we are not ready to do all of what God calls us to do: to speak the truth, to act righteously, to proclaim the faith, to assist in salvation with the help of the Holy Spirit. Only the whole armor of God, all of the teaching, all of the words, guarantees success. Paul talks of needing this armor in a fight or a battle with the somewhat mysterious forces he calls the cosmic powers of this present darkness. But it seems to me that the battle is also with ourselves and our own subjectivity, with our tendency to pick the best, and leave the rest, to ignore what is difficult, offensive, or embarrassing.

I am not in any way advocating that we take everything in the Bible literally or without thinking about it first. As I said a moment ago we must always look at the context in which a particular teaching was written before we decide how – but not whether – we can apply it today. And Jesus taught people to think. That’s why so much of the teaching the Gospel authors have passed on to us is not a simple command, though we have them too, especially in the call to love one another. Instead the teaching has most often been passed down as parables or as metaphors like the metaphor of the bread of life or the armor of God. Their purpose is to make us think, to reflect, and to discuss with one another what this teaching, what this story, what this image means today, for us, and for our situation. That can be difficult, but it’s a difficulty I am glad to have to deal with.

There might not even be one single meaning for a metaphor. Earlier in chapter 6 of John’s Gospel the bread from heaven stands for the revelation or teaching of Jesus, for his words. Later, especially in the section we heard today, the bread that came down from heaven is Jesus himself: both as the incarnated Word or presence of God in the world and as the Eucharist we celebrate today at his command. And I don’t think that these two meanings contradict one another, they are complementary. The proclaimed word and the Word in the Sacrament are the two basic, complementary components of our liturgy. We believe, however difficult it may seem at times, that what we have received from God is not just words, but the Word made flesh, God made human. And just because something is described using a metaphor does not mean that it has no real meaning, no effect on us, no impact. Paul’s metaphor of God’s armor is a much stronger way of telling us what we have to do than a series of commands to speak and act truthfully and righteously. Telling us, as Jesus does in John’s Gospel, to eat and share the bread of heaven is a much more powerful way of telling us that we are to be a community of believers: a community that by sharing both the words of the Jesus, as well as the Word in the flesh and the blood of the Eucharist, is fully in relationship with one another and with God, and a community that shares one common set of beliefs and acts on them.

So, let us focus on the things we don’t like to hear. We must not ignore what is difficult, offensive, or seemingly embarrassing, instead let us embrace it. I don’t think we really want to follow a teaching that is just easy or a faith that is inoffensive. What we want is a teaching and a faith that compels us to change, to change both ourselves and the world we live in.

Amen