Choral Evensong 24 Nov 24 Feast of Christ the King
Readings: Daniel 7: 9-10, 13-14: Psalm 95: 1-7; John 12: 20-33
Once upon a time there was a king. His name was Ferdinand, and he was King of Portugal, then as it is now a rather small country by Australian standards. Even today its population is less than half that of Australia’s. Actually, Ferdinand was German prince, a member of the House of Saxe-Coburg and therefore related to just about all of the royal families of Europe. He had married Maria the Second of Portugal and had, in accordance with Portuguese law at the time, only become King on the birth of their first son in 1837. Ferdinand was by all accounts an intelligent and artistically minded man with modern and liberal ideas. In 1838, he acquired a former monastery on the top of the hill above Sintra near Lisbon. The monastery was in poor condition, but the chapel, built in 1511 had somehow survived the great earthquake of 1755. He began by refurbishing the monastery, but then the king decided to enlarge the palace by building a new wing (the New Palace) with even larger rooms. The new building has been described as a wild architectural fantasy in an eclectic style full of symbolism that compared, some say, with the castle Neuschwanstein of King Ludwig II of Bavaria. There were stunning external colours of blue, gold, ochre and the palace was visible from great distances. Sadly, Maria never lived there – she died during the birth of their eleventh child. Ferdinand, no longer King on her death, married an American opera singer. She too lived in a cultural world – she spoke 7 languages fluently and together they were patrons of the arts. Eventually he died, she moved to Lisbon and the place gradually deteriorated losing all its colour and fading to an amorphous grey. When I discovered this and couldn’t find too much about how Ferdinand related to the common people over whom he was king, I felt there was an isolation, a sadness, an impermanence about it all. At the risk of judging Ferdinand too harshly, it put me in mind of the final lines of the hymn “Glorious things of you are Spoken,”
Fading is the worldling’s pleasure,
All his boasted pomp and show;
Solid joys and lasting treasure
None but Zion’s children know.[1]
Thankfully Pena has been restored in all its stunning colours and is now a UNESCO World Heritage site. Libbie and I count ourselves fortunate to have seen it a couple of weeks ago,
Centuries before there was a small middle eastern country that had been settled by a grouping of tribes. The Book of Judges in the Hebrew scriptures describes the story of Israel's judges, who weren’t legal figures, but military leaders chosen by God to protect the Israelites from external threats. Nevertheless, it was a time of moral decline and self-destruction for the Israelites. The Book of Judges doesn’t make for comfortable reading. As the period of the Judges ends, Samuel arises as a great prophet and leads the disparate tribes into a relative period of peace. As an old man, he appoints his sons to succeed him, but they proved unworthy as they accepted bribes and perverted judgement. The Israelites rejected them. The Israelites cast longing eyes over their borders. They are worried about external threats and decide there is a need for a more unified, central government, and demand that Samuel appoints a king so that they can be like other nations. Samuel interprets this as a personal rejection, and at first is reluctant to oblige, until he’s reassured by a divine revelation. He agrees but first warns the people. “You want a king?” he says. “OK, but these will be the ways of the king who will reign over you.” And he lists them in great detail in 1 Samuel 8, beginning with conscription “he will take your sons…” and ending with servitude “he will take one tenth of your flocks and you shall be his slaves.” The word “take” appears several times. The word “give” does not appear at all. The people refuse to listen and say “No! We are determined to have a king” Saul is chosen, and his reign proves disastrous. By Chapter 12, the people realise their mistake. They say to Samuel “Pray to the Lord your God for your servants that we may not die; for we have added to all our sins the evil of demanding a king for ourselves” “Pray to the Lord, your God”. Not our God. Where do their allegiances lie now? They have exchanged the living God for humans with, it turns out, feet of clay. The rest of the Books of Samuel and the Kings tell, despite their achievements, of mostly ruinous reigns of various kings, how the people turn away from their true king, and eventually end up in exile themselves. “Human pride and earthly glory. Sword and crown betray our trust, all we build with care and labour, tower and temple, fall to dust. But God’s power, hour by hour, is my temple and my tower.”[2]
I think we’re led inexorably to think about power and how it is exercised. I spoke this morning about the reading from Daniel and the verses that precede it – about Daniel’s vision of the ten headed beast and the little horn speaking arrogantly, and about how this was a denunciation of those who would use royal power to dominate, control and destroy. The Book of Daniel has many similarities to the Revelation to St. John. Along with e-Pray, I frequently use the Church of England’s Daily Prayer app for my Morning Prayer. On Friday, the second reading was from Revelation Chapter 13[3]. Like Daniel, John sees a beast rising out of the sea. He says the beast is given a mouth uttering haughty and blasphemous words and is allowed to exercise authority for forty-two months (not a literal figure). John writes that in amazement, the whole earth followed the beast. Like me, you may have watched in amazement in recent years at how people seem to follow those (there’s been more than one) who utter haughty and blasphemous words. What is it that leads people to place their faith and trust in such figures? John writes at the conclusion of the passage “Here is a call for the endurance and faith of the saints”. Perhaps that’s a call for us too as around the world we see the rise of populist demagogues who would be kings.
“Lord keep us steadfast in your word,
curb those who by deceit or sword
would wrest the kingdom from your Son
and bring to nothing all he’s done.”[4]
The passage from John 18 read this morning[5] contrasts the way of Jesus and the way of Caesar, embodied in the actions of Pilate – and upon the other ways on which we reflected this evening. Christ’s realm is not grounded in this world’s values of imperialism, coercion, violence, and oppression. Jesus tells Pilate his kingdom is not of this world. He takes the pathway of Philippians 2:5-11, (read). Every knee bows out of love rather than fear.
Perhaps we can be reminded too of the Pauline affirmation from Romans 12:2: “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern the will of God – what is good and acceptable and perfect.” Alfred North Whitehead, the English philosopher who influenced the beginnings of process theology criticised Christianity for defining God as primarily a divine king who imposes his will on the world, and whose most important attribute is power. As opposed to that Whitehead emphasized an idea of God that he called "the brief Galilean vision of humility” He wrote:
“It does not emphasize the ruling Caesar, or ruthless moralist, or unmoved mover (or, I might add, remote monarch, isolated from the needs of his or her people). It dwells upon the tender elements in the world, which slowly and in quietness operate by love; and it finds purpose in the present immediacy of a kingdom not of this world.”[6]
This is our God, The Servant King
He calls us now to follow Him
To bring our lives as a daily offering
Of worship to The Servant King[7]
[1] Together in Song No 446
[2] Together In Song No 560
[3] Revelation 13: 1-10
[4] Together in Song No 436
[5] John 18: 33-37
[6] https://www.patheos.com/blogs/livingaholyadventure/2012/11/the-adventurous-lectionary-the-reign-of-christ-sunday/
[7] The Servant King by Graham Kendrick
© The Reverend Bill Crossman