The Reign of Christ
There’s already some excitement in the air for the approaching holidays. We Anglicans contain that excitement somewhat with the more contemplative, reflective, season of Advent. But before we greet a new church calendar year with Advent One next Sunday, we celebrate today! We celebrate Reign of Christ Sunday - originally and sometimes still called in Anglican circles Christ the King Sunday. This is the final Sunday in the Church calendar year.
All of our liturgical observances in the last 52 weeks, all of the Biblical readings we’ve pondered once again this last year, all the sermons and prayers we’ve offered, the hymns we’ve sung -- all have embraced the authority of Christ in our lives as saviour and sovereign. Today we affirm that designation with celebratory gratitude.
The Feast of Christ the King was first instituted by Pope Pius the XI. The year was 1925, not too long after World War I. We are told he was concerned about rising secularism and nationalism. Sound familiar? He hoped for humankind to seek the “peace of Christ” in the “Kingdom of Christ.” Many Christian denominations now observe this special Sunday, originally to be observed on the last Sunday of October. Not until 1970 was it moved to the last Sunday of the Church calendar year. I am guessing that is about the time Anglicans in Canada began observing it. My 1962 BCP still has a Collect and readings for “The Sunday Next Before Advent.” There is no mention of a Christ the King Sunday.
Our use of the more inclusive worded designation “Reign of Christ” allows us to avoid the word “King” which of course comes from a patriarchal world order. Besides, monarchs today are generally more figureheads than people with absolute power. And more importantly, the word Reign puts the focus more on what is taking place, what is happening, how believers – including you and me -- are living out our lives with Christ as Lord. Oops! There is another patriarchal designation. Perhaps a word on the use of the title Lord in our Judeo-Christian tradition would be helpful right here and now.
Jews, especially after about the time 300 BCE, tended to avoid saying God’s name aloud when reading Scripture. This was thought to profane or debase the name Yahweh. Instead, they substituted Adonai , the Hebrew word for Lord. The use of this term designating power and authority was then used also for Jesus. We find this use in the New Testament, and as well in early church liturgies and even in conversations between followers of Christ. Such usage could cost them their lives. Non believers considered it subversive. There was to be no Lord but Caesar.
We can give thanks for our freedom when we repeat the ancient responsive greeting at the beginning of the Eucharistic Prayer: “The Lord be with you. And also with you. Lift up your hearts. We lift them to the Lord.”
We are living in turbulent times. Every age has its own upheavals, but somehow, I guess because we are in it, our time seems the most threatening ever. How reassuring, comforting, empowering it is to celebrate the life giving rule of Christ in our lives. In the face of our climate crisis, the widening gap between rich and poor, abuse of the less powerful, wars and famines, even death itself, we are not alone. God is with us.
I don’t mean to be glib with these statements. Gordon Smith, one of the speakers at the Diocesan “We Together” conference over a week ago, talked about how Christians, in the face of extreme peril, can get caught in either of two traps. The first trap he called “toxic optimism.” Christians caught in this trap simply live in a chosen blind optimism. They deny the reality of suffering, keep their distance from this truth. Back in the seventies there was that expression “happy, clappy Christians.” Gordon did not use this expression, but I think that is what he was talking about. It is Christianity without the cross. It is toxic because it poisons and prevents what the body of Christ is to be about.
At the other extreme, Christians can get caught in the trap of despair, lose all hope in the face of catastrophe or overwhelming evil. Once despair gets a hold on us, we are useless. Gordon insightfully reminded us that despair is actually useless sin against the Holy Spirit. Despair is denying the ever present Spirit of God.
Avoiding these two extremes – toxic optimism on the one hand and despair on the other – is hopeful realism. Hopeful realism. Christians are to seek the truth, name it, lament what is not of God, and then discern the path forward. We are not called to do all this alone. There are no Lone Rangers in Christianity. Hopeful realism comes in community. That is why it is so important for Christians to come together, pray together, celebrate Eucharist together. We need each other to fulfill our calling.
Dorothy’s presence with us last Sunday, after about 8 weeks in hospital, was such a strong witness for us all. I was almost in tears when I realized she was with us. What an effort on her part, and on daughter Margaret’s, for the benefit of us all. We need each other.
Today’s readings are well chosen for Reign of Christ Sunday, as would be expected. Jeremiah reminds us that leadership worthy of God’s call cares for all of God’s people, not just some. This care is with justice and righteousness. The canticle that Mary led us through this morning is the well-known “Benedictus.” It speaks of God keeping Holy promises to save us.
Our reading from Colossians “lets out all the stops,” so to speak. It witnesses to who Christ is. The last five verses we hear today actually come from a glorious ancient hymn, a hymn to Christ. If you sensed, when Bob was reading, some resonance with the canticle about Holy Wisdom which we have been singing for the last few weeks, you wouldn’t be wrong. Very early followers of Christ used the Wisdom tradition to help them better comprehend who Jesus was and is. Another Scriptural passage influenced by the Wisdom tradition is the very familiar beginning of the Gospel of John: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God.”
As perverse as it may be, last week I thought about how Trump would love verses 15 through about the first half of verse 20 from our Colossians reading . . . Trump would love these verses to be sung about him. But then comes the conclusion of the hymn in verse 20: “making peace through the blood of his cross.” It is the crucifixion of our Lord, his willingness to give all he has, his attention to another’s need even when dying, that reveal holy majesty and power. All those who live only in kingdoms of this world, where violence can rule and death is the end -- they have yet to know the reign of Christ.
Yes, hearing the story of our Saviour and sovereign’s crucifixion belongs in our celebration of the Reign of Christ. We are reminded that in this reign, those in need are helped. Evil is not met with more evil but is met with good. And there is the offer of forgiveness and new life no matter how dark the day or night . The reign of Christ is now and is complete for those of us humble enough to say “Jesus, remember me.” Amen.