The Reign of Christ

It has been twenty-five weeks since we celebrated the Feast of Pentecost on the last day of May. Six months of what the Church sometimes calls "Ordinary Time." 

But these past six months have been anything but ordinary! This time of pandemic goes back to the beginning of Lent. So we have celebrated the Paschal Mystery: moved through Holy Week and the Fifty Days of Easter to Pentecost, followed by this long stretch of so-called ordinary time. This Sunday is the last Sunday of the liturgical year, traditionally called “Christ the King Sunday" and sometimes called “The Reign of Christ.” 

The icon shown on the left is of Christ the Pantocrator, Greek for "Almighty." It comes to us from the Byzantines. Talk about Jesus as king of kings and lord or lords can be confusing; we remember, after all, the crown of thorns and the way he was mocked in a purple robe. We remember that he comes among us as one who serves. And yet, lately my prayer has been drawing me to this part of the tradition, which also has roots in the Bible- especially John's Revelation. Lately, I've been trying, one day at a time, to put my trust in Jesus, the Almighty, the Victorious, who shall reign forever...

If you can read a newspaper or if you watch the news on television or if you have feeds on your various devices, you don't need me to tell you that it feels like we are a long way from the Reign of Christ. It seems that there is only one thing the right and left agree on: that the system is utterly broken. The world's oldest democracy remains under siege weeks after the most recent presidential election. Ordinary times? Not even close...

38.1 million Americans live in poverty in the United States of America, defined as an income of less than $33.26 a day. (That's about $12,000/year.) As I write these words, over 250,000 people have died of COVID in the United States alone. In the midst of this public health pandemic, 27.5 million people are without health insurance. There are currently 2.2 people incarcerated in this country, a five-hundred percent increase from forty years ago. A disproportionate number of those are people of color. 

It is a violent world we live in, and the evils perpetrated can give us nightmares. In the midst of this time of unrest, a record seventeen million guns have been purchased in this country.  Every time we seem to make some progress in the Middle East, it seems that there is a setback. We pray at Holy Baptism that every child of God will know the gift of joy and wonder in all God’s works. Yet a few broken and sick adults can do so much serious damage to that joy and wonder. 

But no one reading these words needs me to tell you about the violence and degradation of the world we live in. Ordinary time? Heaven help us. 

And yet, we dare to proclaim that Jesus is Lord. And that is a political statement. We are called to remember that, so that by God's grace we are empowered and equipped and encouraged to act as instruments of God’s peace: to do justice, and love mercy, and walk humbly with God. We remember who we are in order to be awakened to the reality of what it means to be the Church in the face of so much pain, and to dream of a world where the Almighty reigns.

This year, the gospel reading appointed for this coming Sunday comes from Matthew 25:31-46. (You can read it here.)

In this particular text, on this particular day, the words from Matthew’s gospel are addressed to the nations, not just to Jesus’ disciples. And the criteria by which the nations are judged as either “sheep” or “goat” is not about a theological claim, but about ethics. And quite specifically: about how the poor and vulnerable are treated in any given society.

So it isn’t about whether a nation is, or claims to be, a Christian nation. (Many will say, “Lord, Lord.”) In fact, Jesus’ parable seems to presume a good bit of confusion among the sheep and goats about which group they belong in. Some say “Lord, Lord…we love you Jesus” but they are in truth goats masquerading as sheep. Why? Because they ignored the poor. And some may say, “Praise be to Allah” or “Namaste”—but if they do justice and love mercy and care for the hungry and the sick and those in prison, they discover in the end that they were really sheep. Karl Rahner called these folks "anonymous Christians" and while I'm not sure I agree with that way of saying it, his intent is rooted in an honest reading of this chapter in Matthew, especially. There are people out there who, even if they don't do these things in the name of Jesus, they are doing it to Christ himself. That is what the text says, after all. It is what Jesus says, or at least what Matthew records Jesus as having said.

In any event, our work is not to be the King or the Judge. That job is taken. We don’t get to decide who is a sheep or who is a goat: the Almighty does. But for people who do claim Jesus as Lord, we have an even greater obligation to listen to his words and to act according to his command. We have an obligation to behave like sheep in the meantime. 

For that is where we live…in the meantime. We are called to respect the dignity of every human being. in the meantime We are called to work for justice, in the meantime. We are called to feed the hungry and clothe the naked and visit those in prison, in the meantime. This work can feel discouraging when we see how great the needs are. Visiting those in prison is now 500 times harder than it was in 1970, The work can lead us to burnout if we think we are the only ones, the only hands and feet and hearts to do this work. There will never be enough... 

But the truth is, we do not do this work alone. It is among the many, many reasons, why we need each other: why we need community. We need ecumenical and interfaith partnerships and the "nones" who are willing to do justice and love mercy. This text reminds us that it is the work that matters, and that work (along with our confession of Jesus as Lord) defines who we are, and invites us to get clearer about being sheep who know the Good Shepherd rather than goats who simply mouth the words.

Today’s gospel reading can leave us feeling paralyzed and guilty. But by God’s grace, it can also awaken us to our true vocation as followers of Jesus, just in time for Advent, when sleepers are called to awake. 

Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?' And the king will answer them, `Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.