Today the Church celebrates the Feast of the
Reign of Christ, alternatively known as The Feast of Christ the King. The
Feast was first enacted in the Roman Catholic Church and added to the
Western liturgical calendar by Pope Pius XI in 1925. That date is a rather
interesting one given it was also the year in which the United Church of
Canada was formed out of its previous founding denominations. It is also
significant that the Feast was initiated in 1925. Pius founded the feast in
an encyclical entitled Quas Primas (Who or What is First/Primary?). The
encyclical emerges in the wake of the horrors of the First World War and
during the time of the rise of existentialism, the Lost Generation, and a
period of malaise and soon on the cusp of the Great Depression.
Pius saw the world heading away from Christ as
King, from the moral rule of Christian values over the Western world. He
created the feast in part to remind the world who was in fact Ruler over the
world. Now he lived in an age and in a theological position in which the
Kingdom of God was essentially equated with the Roman Catholic Church and
that Roman Catholic Church almost exclusively with the Papacy. So you can
see where saying Christ was King was headed. In this church, growing out of
the same time period there was the movement towards Uniting Churches or
ecumenism as a way of re-uniting all the Protestant denominations under one
umbrella in order to make the 20th century in the words of the magazine,
"The Christian Century." Two world wars, genocides, decolonization, The
Cold War, among others and we see how well that vision turned out. And
worse the tendency to equate Christianity or the spreading of the Gospel and
its values with the spreading of European colonialism, to conquer the world
for Christ.
In 1969 growing out of the reforms of the
Second Vatican Council, Pope Paul VI moved the Feast from its earlier
position which was the Sunday before all saints to its current position,
namely the last week of the Liturgical Year, the last Sunday that is before
Advent which begins next week. Paul VI wanted to emphasize Christ's
Lordship or Reinging in a Cosmic sense, in the Final Age. Which is why the
gospel reading this morning is the story of Jesus as the Judge of the
Universe. Paul VI's moving of the feast overcame many of the problems of
its earlier incarnation—namely that Christianity would be imposed on all the
earth. However in so doing it sent Christ's Kingly or reigning nature so
far off into the future that it could become sorta etherealized and
disconnected from our current day to day existence.
We need I think to return this sense of Christ
as King as Reigning to our daily lives but not in a way like the earlier
versions of the Feast, in ways that are still practiced and understood by
some members of the Christian family. To conquer the world for Jesus. We
need a third way if this feast is to mean anything to us for our lives. I
think this Feast is a vital one or could be if we find a way of explaining
and proclaiming it that is both true to the tradition and true our day and
time.
If we lived in a world of persecution than we
would immediately grasp the significance of saying Jesus Christ is King,
that he reigns. We do not live in such a world, but it is worth remembering
today our Christian brothers and sisters—as well as those of any religious
background—who suffer persecution for their beliefs. In China, Egypt, parts
of India, in Palestine, Nigeria, Sudan, and countless other places across
the globe.
But that is not our reality. So how do find a
way of making this Feast our own? Let me suggest two interrelated ways.
The first. In the ancient traditions kings and monarchs were certainly
connected with government and rule. But there was another tradition
associated with this as well. The tradition of devotion. To be in the King
(or Queen's) company was to be blessed. It was a joy to be able to serve
them. A lightness in their presence. In the Christian tradition this form
of spirituality is often associated with saints and mystics like Francis of
Assisi, Dominic, Bridget of Sweden, and Ignatius of Loyola. There was a
sense in them of being like a roving band of troubadours, ministering and
minstrel-ing for Christ. Some who go ahead into the towns and proclaim that
the King was coming to the people.
The King that we serve, the one who reigns, is
a King of Peace. A King of Mercy and Humility. Who follows the way of
Wisdom, of Justice. Who divests himself off the normal notions we have of
monarchs. Who is a King in a way that critiques our notions of power. And
to be in his presence, to sit with him, to devote and surrender to him is to
learn his ways. To have The Spirit guide us in his footsteps. The first
way then is to have, as the evangelicals of old would say, Jesus as King of
our hearts.
The second way which is related to the first,
also strong in the tradition of a Francis, Ignatius, or the Wesley Brothers
is serving this Lord. This Lord who as the gospel stated asks whether the
hungry were feed, the naked clothed, the imprisoned visited. To be workers
in the Master's vineyard. Where life becomes lived through the interplay,
the polarity of being with the Lord and serving the Lord. What St. Benedict
called ora et labora: life as prayer and work as prayer. As we spend more
and more time we learn more and more what the Master desires. As we spend
more time in his presence and begin to see the Reign, the Kingdom that he
envisions, our hearts are moved to help make that vision real.
As Oscar Romero said, "He is the Master
Builder. We are the workers." Our churches and our spirituality has long
promoted a practice of the imitation of Christ. That line of spirituality
has a long and venerable tradition and I'm not here to disparage that
tradition. But sometimes I think that tradition can lead us to assume we
know what Jesus wants and the operative issue then is simply imitating him.
Not succumbing to temptation, not acting in ways contradicting what Jesus
would do. But that needs to be balanced with a view that has Jesus in front
of us and we following him, not necessarily needing to imitate or be just
like him but rather to place our trust in him, to be open to surprise, to
first come and see what he is about. To constantly re-learn and re-member
what it is that he is about. It's a more communal vision, a more corporate
one, more dynamic ultimately.
The Feast is his. He is King, he reigns. We
do not, and we need not. But we can be caught up in that reality,
participate in it, be drawn into it at deeper and deeper levels of our
being. There is a great freedom then in this realization, in this feast.
We don't need to have the whole vision. We don't need to see the entire
plans as Romero would say. We just need to see what are the next best
choices to be made from where we are. Without the first way, we can fall
into the notion that we are mini-Messiahs running around the world, having
to fix everything, save everyone. This leads to burn out. The first way,
through prayer, through worship, through reading of the Bible, reorients us
and puts things in the proper order. Without the second way, there is no
action, no energy flowing from the first. It can become far too
individualistic and far too centered in my subjectivity. He is King (the
first way) and there is a Kingdom (the second way). With both ways
connected, then this feast will be a proclamation, will announce a
counter-story to the dominant myths of our world. Will enact a community
that would seek the way of life that grows from this counter-myth. It will
then be real for our day and time and world. It will then have actual
meaning and meaning-making capacity.
The Feast will then rightly be placed at the
end of our liturgical calendar, for it will announce an end the old way and
the transition to a new. It will then announce a new vision and lead us
immediately into expectation of that new vision, to await its arrival, to
practice in other words, what begins next week Advent.