Christ the King

the Rev. Peter C. Schellhase • November 20, 2022

Sermon for Sunday, November 20, 2022

Of this Sunday, which is often called “Christ the King Sunday” or “The Reign of Christ,” one Anglican priest whom I will not name had the following to say:


“The Reign of Christ is a chance to think what the world might look like if everyone behaved like Jesus.”


This sentiment is completely wrong, in the worst way possible. The Reign of Christ is not about wishing for a better society, if only people would behave themselves. There are no ‘ifs’ about the reign of Christ. This Sunday's observance is not about better living through ethics, but about a King who rules the nations with a rod of iron, and who will bend all things to his gracious will.


Of course, it is tempting to compare the way the world is, with the way we would like it to be. You may have noticed that all is not well with the world today.


I want to explain something about the specific times in which we live. You may already have a sense of this, or have wondered about what is going on.


Our country, our society, in fact, the whole modern world, is experiencing an extended and acute crisis of authority, a crisis of institutional decline. This has been going on in some form for most of our lifetimes, but it is getting worse and worse.


For many in the postwar generation, raised in the righteous afterglow of the Second World War and the heroic fight against fascism, the Vietnam War was the first time they began to suspect that the people in charge were wrong, or didn't have the country's best interests in mind, or perhaps were simply wicked and cruel. And those veterans who returned from that conflict received, not the heroes’ welcome enjoyed by the GIs of 1945, but suspicion, abuse, and ostracism from their fellow citizens. Our society was divided.


For many of the baby boom generation, the real heroes, the real role models, were not elected officials, but activists, truth-tellers, iconoclasts; those who stood up to the power structures of the government, of polite society, even the church, to support justice and equality.


But while the civil rights movement of the 1960s and 70s achieved many of its goals, the various and sundry social movements which followed it were neither as successful nor as unifying—nor, indeed, as clearly righteous. Activist heroes and gurus who emerged from the 60s milieu proved no less fallible than other authority figures. Many became corrupt and abused their power and goodwill, and were co-opted by powers no less insidious than the ones they had opposed.


In the prosperous 80s and 90s, America abandoned idealism and turned to capitalism and consumerism as our cultural uniting values. Hippies became Yuppies, fretted about the antisocial tendencies of Generation X, and gave birth to my generation, the Millennials.


The reputation of capitalism took an initial hit with the collapse of the dot-com bubble in the year two thousand, followed by the Enron scandal, and government-chartered financial institutions went morally bankrupt less than a decade later in the subprime mortgage crisis.


In 2001, a new, external crisis in the form of terrorism provided a temporary infusion of confidence in our national institutions, particularly the military and the agencies of American interventionism. “Regime change” became fashionable again, even as the American regime embarked on unprecedented surveillance of its own citizens, domestic police forces adopted military weapons and tactics, and an ever-escalating series of supposedly high-stakes elections made political civility a fond memory, and both major political parties were captured by the lunatic fringe. Beginning with the 2000 election it became normal for the losing party in every presidential election to level allegations of systemic election fraud and voter disenfranchisement by the winning party.


A year after 9/11, the Boston Globe broke the story of the massive abuse scandal and the even more scandalous systematic cover-up in the Roman Catholic Church. The abuse, of course, was something we already knew about on some level, often emerging within our social consciousness as the subject of dark humor. But the cover up shook the faith of many Catholics who had been raised to believe in the authority of the Catholic Church and the infallibility of the Pope. Protestants and evangelicals, whose churches lacked the same degree of centralized authority, at first blamed these problems on the distinctive practices and structure of the Catholic Church, until all too soon they discovered flagrant abuse and cover-ups in their own midst. Today, the moral authority of all churches and religious leaders, not just Catholics, is in tatters.


By the second decade of the present century, people had lost their faith in Government, in the Church, in schools and institutions of higher learning, and in the free market.


But at least there was one trusted authority still above the fray: the voice of Science.


Until 2020, when the scientific and medical establishment proved that it, too, was both subject to fallibility and ethical failure. After months of contradictory public health recommendations and crippling lockdowns and mandates—all of which had little apparent effect in fighting the COVID-19 pandemic—the reputation of our public health authorities, and even of the medical profession, was also circling the drain.


The crisis of institutional authority has been brewing for a long time, but it is clear that we have entered a new and acute stage. If I can sift all this down to a single fact, what we have learned over the past 20 or so years is that those institutions we thought were built on a sound foundation were in fact resting on sand, and had in fact been undermined for years. Those who we assumed had our best interests in mind do not; they are cynical operators, in it for their own power and gain.

The fall of a great institution always seems sudden, but its causes are usually of very long standing.


And what all of these crumbling institutions and their leaders all seem unable to grasp is that they are entirely responsible for their own demise. They continue to this day to blame their difficulties on external factors, completely blind to the reality that they no longer live in a society that trusts or believes anything they have to say.


Our political and media establishment claims that “election denial” and “radicalism” are the greatest threat to our political order. This is complete nonsense. These kinds of things are symptoms of a greater problem, the inevitable result of decades of mismanagement, when people no longer trust our political institutions or the people who run them.


Similarly, the church looks at the world and blames “secularism” for the wholesale abandonment of religion. Rubbish. It is not atheism or secularism that have driven so many people away from the church. It is corruption within, so acute that, for instance, generations of Episcopalians grew up under pastors who did not believe in the scriptures and the doctrines of our faith they were entrusted to teach; or who were morally unfit to lead the church; or who wasted their own and the church’s energy on vain and irrelevant programs and pursuits.


The shepherds themselves have scattered the flock.


So it was in the day of the prophet Jeremiah, who lived in times not so different from ours.


The reading from Jeremiah opens with a declaration of woe, a curse on the authority figures of the day, who have abused their position and their trust, just like so many leaders of today. “Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture! says the Lord. Therefore thus says Lord, the God of Israel, concerning the shepherds who shepherd my people: It is you who have scattered my flock, and have driven them away, and you have not attended to them. So I will attend to you for your evil doings, says the Lord." There is a crisis of authority, of leadership, and God warns that he will intervene on behalf of his people, but this will be a hostile intervention toward those rulers, priests, and authorities who have incurred his wrath. They will be removed and replaced.


Good things are coming for God's neglected and scattered flock. “I myself will gather the remnant of my flock out of all the lands where I have driven them, and I will bring them back to their fold, and they shall be fruitful and multiply. I will raise up shepherds over them who will shepherd them, and they shall not fear any longer, or be dismayed, nor shall any be missing, says the Lord.”


What God promises is not a democratic revolution or ‘regime change’ in the usual sense, but a new and worthy King who will be as worthy, wise, and righteous as their present leaders are unworthy, foolish, and corrupt. He will be the true heir of King David. “The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In his days Judah will be saved and Israel will live in safety. And this is the name by which he will be called: ‘The Lord is our righteousness.’”

The season of Advent which begins next week is a time when we join the ancient Israelites in waiting for the appearing of this righteous and worthy King. He has already come, and he will come again at the end of days to rule not only over Israel but all of the nations of earth.


In this way, Jesus is the answer, not only to our personal problems, but to the big problems which afflict us as a society. It is he who sets up rulers and puts them down; he reigns now from heaven, and all the nations are judged in his sight.


When we pray for our own leaders, we pray that they would imitate Christ in wise and righteous rule. We pray this because we know that they will be held accountable to him for how they have acted. Forget about the court of public opinion; the accountability our elected officials, judges, and priests should fear above all is not the people but the unquenchable fire of divine wrath. There will be, literally, hell to pay, both in this life and in the next.


Over the next four weeks of Advent, I will be preaching on what the Church calls the "four last things," which are the subject of traditional Advent sermons: the four last things are Death, Judgment, Heaven, and Hell. As I explore each of these four related subjects, I will seek to help us meet Jesus in each of them, and show how his promise of salvation is worked out in the midst of these scary and upsetting facts (and yes, I include Heaven along with the other three in the category of scary and upsetting, as you will see!)


But today, as we observe the solemnity of Christ the King, or the Reign of Christ, fix your eyes on the one who reigns even from the accursed tree. The repentant criminal said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." But Jesus did not promise to remember him at some future point when he would enter into this kingdom. He said, "Today you will be with me in Paradise." Though tortured and bleeding, dying, crowned with thorns, Jesus was consolidating his rule; even at that moment he was achieving victory over the enemies of his people; over their corrupt rulers, over their unholy priests, and over the spiritual forces of wickedness which lie behind the visible evils of the world. Even death and hell could not stand before him; those tombs of the righteous, which Jesus accused the religious establishment of building for those their fathers had killed, trembled and gave up their martyred dead.


Even on the cross, Jesus was fully revealed as the anointed one of Israel, the son of David, and the great high priest, the seed of Abraham in whom all nations would be blessed, and the seed of the woman who would crush the serpent.


The icon of Christus Rex, “Christ the King,” which looms behind this altar, must be more than a static image, a figurehead like the carved mermaid on the prow of a boat. It must not represent a future hope only; far less should it be viewed as an aspiration for what the world might look like if we simply tried harder. No! If Christ the King were simply the totem of something we desire to create for ourselves in the world, that would be idolatry. Christ the King means that Jesus Christ rules over the nations now, in actual fact, as well as over the Church, despite her low condition. Only if we truly believe this, can we pray faithfully, as he has taught us: Thy kingdom come; thy will be done, on earth, as it is in heaven.

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How was your Thanksgiving? For me, it was great to be with my family and close friends who gathered at my parents’ home to celebrate. My parents especially enjoyed spending time with their grandchildren, especially baby Jane who they’d hardly seen. At the same time, the difficulties and broken relationships within our family were felt through the absence of some. Four of my siblings and their families joined us in person, and two others who live far away tuned in through Zoom. But my youngest sibling was conspicuously absent. A cousin’s marriage, I learned, has fallen apart. Sadly, he wasn’t there, nor were other members of his family. Another older couple has celebrated Thanksgiving with us for several years after being shunned and cut off by their own adult children, boys I grew up with. We love these friends and are glad to have them with us, yet together we grieve these circumstances. So the holidays are a time when we experience both the joy of togetherness and the pain of loss and brokenness. They are also a time when it is easy to be caught up in frenetic consumer activities. A consumer survey (from Nerdwallet) reports that American gift-buyers expect to spend an average of $1,107 on holiday gifts this season, and those who journey for the holidays expect to spend an average of $2,586 on travel. All told, these shoppers and travelers will spend over $552 billion during the holidays. My generation, the Millennials, will spend the most, and Gen Z, the youngest generation of American adults, will spend the least. However, both younger generations are most likely to drink to excess at holiday parties, with Americans in general likely during the holiday season to imbibe twice the amount of alcoholic beverages they normally consume. I don't think anyone has published how much Americans are spending on inflatable Grinches, but judging from our neighborhood it must be a few billion at least! Christmas is a wonderful time, especially when we are able to keep the main thing—the birth of Jesus—in view. We can and should celebrate! But for many, holiday shopping, decorating, and partying may be less about remembering the Incarnation of our Lord, and more a way of coping with our feelings of pain and emptiness. A friend of mine put it like this: we’re stringing up artificial lights in the darkness of our lives. And today, God, through the Holy Scriptures, has a word for all of us: Wake up! The Lord is coming! Be prepared! First of all, this is a word of comfort and hope for those who have little else to hold on to. The prophet Isaiah directs our attention to the future state, when the Lord will have established his kingdom on earth. In this vision, the dwelling place of God will be exalted on earth, and all nations will be drawn there. We tend to think of “judgment” as a bad thing, and it often is, especially when sinful human beings attempt to wield it. But Isaiah shows us a future world in which people, all people, are attracted to the perfect judgment of God. They want it, they seek it, they need his law to make peace among the nations and peoples of the earth. In those days “nation shall not lift up sword against nation.” Think of it—a world in which nations not only seek to avoid conflict, but the arts of war are forgotten. “Neither shall they learn war anymore.” In one of the greenhouses attached to our church there is a little figurine on a pedestal, depicting a muscular figure hammering a sword into a plowshare. This is modeled on a statue of heroic proportions by Evgeny Vuchetich which stands at the United Nations, a gift from the USSR in 1959, a few years after this church was founded. It’s revealing how even that officially atheist regime could find no better emblem for its propaganda campaign than this striking image from the prophet Isaiah of a peace that comes about not by human effort but by divine rule. In the nearly 70 years since, neither Soviet collectivism nor American capitalism nor any other human agency has shown any ability to turn from making war to making peace. Ironically, in the ’80s the image and title of this sculpture was used as the badge of a Christian pacifist youth movement in East Germany. They were of course persecuted by the Stasi. Witness the contradictions of the regime that promoted “peace movements” abroad but hounded the children of peace at home! Yet in the days prophesied by Isaiah, God’s people will be honored by all the nations of the earth because the Lord will make his dwelling-place among them. His justice and his rule will go forth from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth. Though this future state is not something they can bring about themselves, Isaiah encourages his people to “walk in the light of the Lord” in hope and expectation of that day, and as witnesses of what is to come. If they walk in God’s light, God will be present with them as Lord and lawgiver, and many peoples will be attracted by the holiness and the power of God that is manifested among them. But the final day of peace and justice will not come but through tribulation. It is, after all, the day of judgment. Jesus himself teaches his disciples to soberly expect this day—though not to fear it. He says that the final day will come much as came the flood upon Noah's unwary neighbors who had refused to see or hear his witness to the righteousness of God. And if we're not careful, we may find ourselves in that same condition. To help us make ready, the Church gives us this season of Advent. While all around us it is a time for shopping, partying, traveling, getting ready—although people hardly know what it is they are supposed to be getting ready for—we are to conduct ourselves differently. “Stay awake,” Jesus tells us, “for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.” Advent is the season for preparing, not so much for the celebration of our Lord’s Incarnation, as for his second and final appearing at the end of days. How do we prepare? St. Paul says, in unison with Isaiah and our Lord, that it’s time to wake up and walk in the light. The world is dark both symbolically and literally; nights are growing longer and days shorter. Yet the eternal day is coming; Christians are to live now as if the day of God has come; we are to live as those who belong to that kingdom which has yet to be revealed on earth. Christ’s judgment and his gracious law of love is manifested here and now, not in the world at large, but in and through his Church. Where the world practices carousing and drunkenness, we are to be sober, self-controlled, and filled with his Holy Spirit. While people in the world are divided and alienated from one another by fighting and envy, we are to love our neighbor as our own selves and forgive as we have been forgiven. While the world pursues personal gratification no matter the cost, we are to be faithful, chaste, and content with our lot in life, knowing that we await the inheritance of the redeemed, washed in the Savior's blood. In short, as Paul says, we are to “put on the Lord Jesus Christ,” the whole and perfect Man who does away in us all that is unworthy of him. May his gracious judgment purge us of all that is unworthy, and his law of love be written forever on our hearts!
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Daniel was born a prince of Jerusalem, but went into captivity after the Babylonian conquest, probably as a teenager, and lived as an exile in a foreign land for the rest of his life. Daniel rose to high influence when Nebuchadnezzar the king had a troubled night. None of his soothsayers could tell him what his dream was or what it meant. Daniel did both. He described the king’s vision as a great image of a man, made of a series of materials that grew more and more base as it progressed from head to foot. Finally, a stone struck the image and blew it to smithereens, and the stone became a mountain that filled the whole earth. This, Daniel said, was a vision of the kingdoms of men, of which the finest was Nebuchadnezzar's own, which would be followed by a succession of various empires until finally the God of heaven would “set up a kingdom that shall never be destroyed, and it shall stand for ever” (Dan. 2:31-44) Nebuchadnezzar raised Daniel to a high position and relied on him to help govern the empire. But after the king died, his son, Belshazzar, ascended the throne, and Daniel was put out to pasture. Now Daniel himself receives a vision. The things depicted in the vision is very different, but its ultimate meaning is the same as in Nebuchadnezzar’s dream. It is not sent to a Babylonian king drunk on his own power. It is sent to an old and worried man, an exile whose influence has waned in the new administration. This time, no golden statue. Instead, four rough and gruesome beasts. Unlike in the vision of the giant statue it is very clear these beasts are not glorious but brutal and bestial. The vision evokes the turmoil and chaos of the world as the churning waters of an angry sea from which these beasts emerge. Our reading today skips a bunch of verses that talk about their fearsome appearance and blasphemous deeds. Yet in the end, these great powers are subdued under the reign of “one like a son of man,” “the ancient of days.” Who can this be but Jesus, the eternal Word of the Father, who is both “eternally begotten of the Father,” and who for our sake “was made man,” according to the creed, and who will come again in glory. The consequence of his triumph over these powers is glory and exaltation for his holy ones. “The saints of the Most High shall receive the kingdom, and possess the kingdom for ever, for ever and ever,” the interpreter tells Daniel, the repetition emphasizing the finality of these eternal victory. Daniel is especially disturbed the vision of the fourth beast the one with ten blasphemous horns, which is greater and more terrible than all the others, and the vision is recounted and interpreted a second time. Notwithstanding these things, he is told, this fourth beast will be utterly destroyed and the Lord will reign forever. And now for something completely different. For our offertory hymn today we’ll sing that fun little children's hymn, “I sing a song of the saints of God.” I have a love-hate relationship with this song. It’s so English—so early 20th-century English—that it seems maybe a little too cute or even inaccessible to our culture: “You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea, in church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea.” Of course, that's also its charm. Go ahead and smirk. I do. Just don't let the smirk distract you from the very serious point this cute little song is making: The saints of God are are indeed ordinary, everyday people, people like you and me. In fact, they are you and me. By faith, we are to receive this sainthood as our true identity and vocation: men, women, and children called to be saints to the glory of God. St. Paul puts it like this: “In him” (Jesus), “according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to the counsel of his will, we who first hoped in Christ have been destined and appointed to live for the praise of his glory. In him you also, who have heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and have believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, which is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of his glory.” What a great promise this is. What do we bring to the table here? Hardly much. Only that the Word of God has come to us, the word of truth, the gospel of salvation, and we have believed in Jesus as the fulfillment of all God’s promises. In this faith we are sealed, marked with the gift of the Holy Spirit, who enfolds us in the reciprocal love of the Father and the Son. This is as much a present reality as it is a future hope. It is true both now and to eternal ages. That doesn't mean that life for the saints is all cottage gardens and cream teas with the Vicar. Again, that cute Sunday-school hymn goes pretty hard: “Who toiled and fought and lived and died for the Lord they loved and knew.” And then in the next verse: “And one was a doctor and one was a priest and one was slain by a fierce wild beast”—probably a reference to St. Ignatius who was thrown to the lions, but could just as easily refer to thousands of Christian martyrs throughout the centuries. But what about that cheerful, jaunty tune? The music is actually very well matched with the text, because these hardships in no way diminish the tone of celebration. To suffer for the sake of Christ, even to die, is to participate with him in his conquest of the world, the flesh, and the devil. Well may the Psalmist declare: “Let the faithful rejoice in triumph; let them be joyful on their beds. Let the praises of God be in their throat, and a two-edged sword in their hand.” That sword, of course, is not the human weapons of war but the word of truth that proceeds from the mouth of God. So today, on the Feast of All Saints, we can hardly do better than to remember and celebrate all those saints of God who follow in his triumphal procession, singing his victory chants, raising his cross as their standard, clothed in the seamless garment of his righteousness.