Some of you may have noticed the title of “Reign of Christ Sunday” in your bulletin, which we have celebrated – or at least acknowledged – for several years now in this congregation. I’ve been asked in the past why we would bother, since the Feast of Christ the King was instituted in 1925, well after the Protestant Reformation, by Pope Pius XI.
The simple answer is that many other denominations – including ours – have agreed over the years that acknowledging the reign of Christ over sin and death is a good way to end the liturgical year, which ends this Sunday and begins next Sunday with Advent. More than that, this feast day (as our Roman Catholic siblings call it) was instituted in response to the rise of nationalism which was leading Italy toward fascism and totalitarianism and eventually engulfed the world in violent conflict.
Unfortunately, the sin of consolidating power and claiming it for ourselves seems to repeat itself, and it remains a good idea to close one year and begin another with the acknowledgment that Christ alone is the head of the church, and God alone is sovereign.
Woo, but there I go again with those big churchy words. Let’s see what the scriptures have to say about all of this. Our first reading from the Prophet Isaiah may have seemed a little out of place, but if they can play Christmas music in the grocery store before Thanksgiving, by goodness, we can talk about the promise of the Wonderful Counsellor, right?
The interesting thing about this passage is that it wasn’t written about Jesus. God may have had it in mind to be about Jesus, but Isaiah didn’t. He was talking about Hezekiah. He was telling them that even though their relatives in Nephtali and Zebulon (which were in Judah) had been overrun, they had a King who would be like David – a wise shepherd who counseled and cared for the people – and they would be safe.
In fact, all the garments of war would even become fuel for peace! Let’s stop there for just a minute because we know that this promise was eventually overturned by the downfall and captivity of Israel. Not only that, we know that wars continue without ceasing. We know that our nation has been at war more than it has been not at war. We know that even our recent, abrupt pullout from Afghanistan does not leave us without conflict or potential conflict on the national stage.
Yet we hear these words, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness — on them light has shined.” And we hear these words, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.” And we remember that those words follow right after the challenge, “Let the one who is without sin cast the first stone.”
I don’t know about you, but when I take those words to heart it makes me realize how much time I spend in the darkness. By that, I mean that most of the time I think I have a good handle on what is just and right and good, and then something happens to challenge my understanding of the world and I want so bad to pick up a rock, to post that meme, to comment on that person’s angry post, to share that video that calls out injustice even while I benefit and am protected by the same system that creates the injustice that I see.
Maybe you don’t feel that way. That’s fine. Regardless of how we feel about it, the reality is that violence and oppression, and injustice is still active and present, even in a society that is based on the rule of law, and it’s always been that way. We can even go back to 500 BCE and find the writings of Solon the Lawgiver, a statesman of Athens, who once wrote that “Wrongdoing can only be avoided if those who are not wronged feel the same indignation at it as those who are.”
Wrongdoing – oppression and injustice – can only be avoided if those of us who have not been harmed by the wrongs that have been done become just as upset about the wrongs that have been done as the ones who have been harmed by them. In other words, I have to begin to see that the harm that is done to you is also done to me in order for me to really do anything about the harm that has been done to you.
That may sound complicated, but it’s pretty much the basis for a civil society based on the rule of law. It’s the reason we have child labor laws and safety standards, and it impacts the way we spend money on everything from public transportation systems to the tax we just passed in support of our library.
Most of the time it works out pretty good, or at least it seems that way to me – as a white, middle class, clergyperson – and yet even within our own denomination a recent survey of clergy revealed that 63% of the women surveyed have experienced some form of discrimination, especially for those who were not white or under the age of 50. Again, that’s just talking about the experience of Presbyterian Pastors within the PC(USA).
What’s it like on our campuses, in our places of business, in our schools? I imagine that most of you know better than I do, but I can tell you that anytime I’ve asked a person of color to tell me of their experience it has not been the same as mine. Likewise, yesterday was Transgender Day of Remembrance, a day that acknowledged the violence that people who are gender non-conforming face, which has increased in recent years, and many people of faith held vigils, including the PC(USA)’s Office of Gender and Racial Justice.
While I would say that vigil is certainly a source of light in the present darkness, we still have to ask where and how God’s word can be the light that we need to cut through the darkness of the present age. Strangely enough, or maybe not so much, we find it in the places we least expect – in Zebulun and Naphtali.
In John 7:52, Nicodemus is ridiculed for supporting a prophet from Galilee, yet it turns out that Nazareth is in what was Zebulun and Capernaum is in what was Naphtali. It only makes sense that followers of the way of Jesus would have heard this and remembered that Isaiah also said, “in the latter time he will make glorious the way of the sea, the land beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the nations.”
More than that, they would have heard the names “Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” and realized that even though Isaiah was describing what Hezekiah could be, he was also proclaiming who Jesus would be. The question for us today is not whether or not there is any light from the claim of Isaiah, it is whether or not we are going to let that light expose the darkness we live in.
This passage was written to encourage people who were living in fear, people who lived under the authority of others but who knew that the only true and real authority was God – the author of life itself.
The beautiful thing is that the rule of law, and even a reasonable and compassionate thinker like Solon the Lawgiver, is never going to do for us what the zeal of the Lord does for us. Isaiah 9:7 says, “His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. He will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time onwards and forevermore. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.”
There it is again – mishpat and tzedeka – justice and righteousness, and the zeal of the Lord will make it happen. It’s not all up to us, but we’ve been invited to be a part of it. All we have to do is stop picking up rocks and stop trying to establish ourselves, our ideals, and our expectations as right and good without considering the way it impacts those around us. The next step is to realize that when there is injustice for some, there is injustice for all, and finally, we must realize that there is a light at the end of the tunnel – and it is not an oncoming train!
The light we are moving toward is nothing less than the unfolding of the Kingdom of God, which is already present in those places where justice and righteousness flow like life-giving waters. As we close this year in the life of the church, it’s important to acknowledge how far this world feels from the Kingdom of God, but it’s even more important to acknowledge that we are not alone in our longing.
The good news is that we have a savior who calls the oppressed and the oppressor to the same table and offers the same invitation to each, “Go and sin no more.” May it be in the coming year that we choose to let the light of God’s love shine on those places that separate us from one another. May it be that each of us is so offended by the things that benefit us while causing harm to others that we demand the end of all wrongdoing, to the end that the Reign of Christ becomes clear to all – not as one oppressive regime replacing another, but in the presence of endless peace upheld by justice and righteousness; all to the glory of God. Amen.
The simple answer is that many other denominations – including ours – have agreed over the years that acknowledging the reign of Christ over sin and death is a good way to end the liturgical year, which ends this Sunday and begins next Sunday with Advent. More than that, this feast day (as our Roman Catholic siblings call it) was instituted in response to the rise of nationalism which was leading Italy toward fascism and totalitarianism and eventually engulfed the world in violent conflict.
Unfortunately, the sin of consolidating power and claiming it for ourselves seems to repeat itself, and it remains a good idea to close one year and begin another with the acknowledgment that Christ alone is the head of the church, and God alone is sovereign.
Woo, but there I go again with those big churchy words. Let’s see what the scriptures have to say about all of this. Our first reading from the Prophet Isaiah may have seemed a little out of place, but if they can play Christmas music in the grocery store before Thanksgiving, by goodness, we can talk about the promise of the Wonderful Counsellor, right?
The interesting thing about this passage is that it wasn’t written about Jesus. God may have had it in mind to be about Jesus, but Isaiah didn’t. He was talking about Hezekiah. He was telling them that even though their relatives in Nephtali and Zebulon (which were in Judah) had been overrun, they had a King who would be like David – a wise shepherd who counseled and cared for the people – and they would be safe.
In fact, all the garments of war would even become fuel for peace! Let’s stop there for just a minute because we know that this promise was eventually overturned by the downfall and captivity of Israel. Not only that, we know that wars continue without ceasing. We know that our nation has been at war more than it has been not at war. We know that even our recent, abrupt pullout from Afghanistan does not leave us without conflict or potential conflict on the national stage.
Yet we hear these words, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness — on them light has shined.” And we hear these words, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.” And we remember that those words follow right after the challenge, “Let the one who is without sin cast the first stone.”
I don’t know about you, but when I take those words to heart it makes me realize how much time I spend in the darkness. By that, I mean that most of the time I think I have a good handle on what is just and right and good, and then something happens to challenge my understanding of the world and I want so bad to pick up a rock, to post that meme, to comment on that person’s angry post, to share that video that calls out injustice even while I benefit and am protected by the same system that creates the injustice that I see.
Maybe you don’t feel that way. That’s fine. Regardless of how we feel about it, the reality is that violence and oppression, and injustice is still active and present, even in a society that is based on the rule of law, and it’s always been that way. We can even go back to 500 BCE and find the writings of Solon the Lawgiver, a statesman of Athens, who once wrote that “Wrongdoing can only be avoided if those who are not wronged feel the same indignation at it as those who are.”
Wrongdoing – oppression and injustice – can only be avoided if those of us who have not been harmed by the wrongs that have been done become just as upset about the wrongs that have been done as the ones who have been harmed by them. In other words, I have to begin to see that the harm that is done to you is also done to me in order for me to really do anything about the harm that has been done to you.
That may sound complicated, but it’s pretty much the basis for a civil society based on the rule of law. It’s the reason we have child labor laws and safety standards, and it impacts the way we spend money on everything from public transportation systems to the tax we just passed in support of our library.
Most of the time it works out pretty good, or at least it seems that way to me – as a white, middle class, clergyperson – and yet even within our own denomination a recent survey of clergy revealed that 63% of the women surveyed have experienced some form of discrimination, especially for those who were not white or under the age of 50. Again, that’s just talking about the experience of Presbyterian Pastors within the PC(USA).
What’s it like on our campuses, in our places of business, in our schools? I imagine that most of you know better than I do, but I can tell you that anytime I’ve asked a person of color to tell me of their experience it has not been the same as mine. Likewise, yesterday was Transgender Day of Remembrance, a day that acknowledged the violence that people who are gender non-conforming face, which has increased in recent years, and many people of faith held vigils, including the PC(USA)’s Office of Gender and Racial Justice.
While I would say that vigil is certainly a source of light in the present darkness, we still have to ask where and how God’s word can be the light that we need to cut through the darkness of the present age. Strangely enough, or maybe not so much, we find it in the places we least expect – in Zebulun and Naphtali.
In John 7:52, Nicodemus is ridiculed for supporting a prophet from Galilee, yet it turns out that Nazareth is in what was Zebulun and Capernaum is in what was Naphtali. It only makes sense that followers of the way of Jesus would have heard this and remembered that Isaiah also said, “in the latter time he will make glorious the way of the sea, the land beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the nations.”
More than that, they would have heard the names “Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” and realized that even though Isaiah was describing what Hezekiah could be, he was also proclaiming who Jesus would be. The question for us today is not whether or not there is any light from the claim of Isaiah, it is whether or not we are going to let that light expose the darkness we live in.
This passage was written to encourage people who were living in fear, people who lived under the authority of others but who knew that the only true and real authority was God – the author of life itself.
The beautiful thing is that the rule of law, and even a reasonable and compassionate thinker like Solon the Lawgiver, is never going to do for us what the zeal of the Lord does for us. Isaiah 9:7 says, “His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. He will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time onwards and forevermore. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.”
There it is again – mishpat and tzedeka – justice and righteousness, and the zeal of the Lord will make it happen. It’s not all up to us, but we’ve been invited to be a part of it. All we have to do is stop picking up rocks and stop trying to establish ourselves, our ideals, and our expectations as right and good without considering the way it impacts those around us. The next step is to realize that when there is injustice for some, there is injustice for all, and finally, we must realize that there is a light at the end of the tunnel – and it is not an oncoming train!
The light we are moving toward is nothing less than the unfolding of the Kingdom of God, which is already present in those places where justice and righteousness flow like life-giving waters. As we close this year in the life of the church, it’s important to acknowledge how far this world feels from the Kingdom of God, but it’s even more important to acknowledge that we are not alone in our longing.
The good news is that we have a savior who calls the oppressed and the oppressor to the same table and offers the same invitation to each, “Go and sin no more.” May it be in the coming year that we choose to let the light of God’s love shine on those places that separate us from one another. May it be that each of us is so offended by the things that benefit us while causing harm to others that we demand the end of all wrongdoing, to the end that the Reign of Christ becomes clear to all – not as one oppressive regime replacing another, but in the presence of endless peace upheld by justice and righteousness; all to the glory of God. Amen.
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