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| Prince of Peace Icon by by Fr. Gabriel Chavez de la Mora, O.S.B., of Tepeyac Abbey |
First Reading: Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14
As I watched, thrones were set in place, and an Ancient One took his throne,
his clothing was white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool;
his throne was fiery flames, and its wheels were burning fire.
A stream of fire issued and flowed out from his presence.
A thousand thousands served him, and ten thousand times ten thousand stood attending him.
The court sat in judgment, and the books were opened.
As I watched in the night visions, I saw one like a human being coming with the clouds of heaven.
And he came to the Ancient One and was presented before him.
To him was given dominion and glory and kingship,
that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him.
His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not pass away,
and his kingship is one that shall never be destroyed.
Second Reading: Revelation 1:4b-8
Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, and from the seven spirits who are before his throne, and from Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth. To him who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood, and made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.
Look! He is coming with the clouds;
every eye will see him,
even those who pierced him;
and on his account all the tribes of the earth will wail.
So it is to be. Amen.
“I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.
Gospel: John 18:33-37
Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” Pilate replied, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?” Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” Pilate asked him, “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”
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Terrible, terrible things are happening in our world. Terror attacks in Paris. Terror attacks in Mali. Suicide bombings in Cameroon. The city of Brussels remains under its highest terror alert amid a warning of a serious and imminent attack.
Christ the King Sunday couldn’t have come at a more important moment for us.
Our kingdoms of safety and security feel fragile. The kingdoms of evil and violence feel like they are rising to power. And in the midst of these realities, we hear a word today of the kingdom of Christ, a kingdom that brings in peace and cosmic reconciliation, a kingdom that stands forever, even after all other kingdoms have fallen.
Christ on trial stands before Pilate, the man who has power to decide his life or his death, and proclaims, “My kingdom is not from this world. If it were, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over. But as it is, my kingdom is not from this world.”
These are words of truth, and words of promise.
Christ speaks the truth that violence is a hallmark of all kingdoms of this world. If his kingdom were like our kingdoms, then there would have been a battle instead of a cross, he says.
Our world is a horribly violent place. We meet violence with violence, thinking that the way to rid the world of terror is to kill it off. When we are threatened, we believe that we can kill our way out of it. We think wars can bring peace; guns can bring safety; armies can bring security. We misplace our fears and think that we should close our borders to refugees, make Muslims register themselves in a national database, and go out and throw as many bombs over the Middle East as we can. We think that flexing our might will teach the world a lesson, and that all we have to do to cure evil is attack ISIS faster than they can attack us. We think that there is something to be won by choosing the path of violence in the name of peace.
It is interesting to me how we so often justify the violence in our world in terms of a cosmic battle between good and evil that is ours to fight; that it's our job to neatly categorize everyone into teams: the good guys and the bad guys. And then that all we have to do is be stronger than the bad guys and everything will be okay. As if this battle is ours to fight and win.
If we want to talk about cosmic battles between good and evil, we might do better to look at our readings from Daniel and Revelation this morning. Both of these texts are apocalyptic in genre. Meaning that they are words of hope written to people suffering violence, persecution, and terror at the hands of oppressive empires.
The images in these texts - of fantastic beasts and horned creatures, seas and thrones of fire, divine warriors, scrolls and trumpets - represent the spiritual battle waged between the kingdom of Christ and the kingdoms of this world. One by one, every evil creature and every power of destruction falls at the hands of God’s anointed one, who at the beginning of Revelation, is described as “Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, the ruler of the kings of the earth, the one who loves us and freed us from our sins, who made us to be a kingdom; to him be glory and dominion forever and ever.”
Even if the crazy beasts and battles in Daniel and Revelation are enough to give you some strange nightmares, these apocalyptic books aren’t meant to bring fear. And they certainly aren’t meant to paint an accurate picture of the end of the world. They are meant to convey one eternal, cosmic truth:
In the end,
Good wins.
Evil loses.
God wins.
Darkness is vanquished.
Forever.
Forever.
If the kingdoms of this world are defined by violence, they are also defined by their frailty. When we read Daniel, who himself lived through a series of kings and kingdoms, we are reminded that all rulers will rise and fall away. All kingdoms will flourish and crumble. Nothing in this world lasts forever, even the violence and fear of this present time.
It will all crumble. Everything will fall.
This might be the most profound word of hope for us right now, we who can no longer bear the weight of all the horrible, terrible acts of violence and cruelty that surround us.
All the kingdoms of this world will pass away. All the rulers of this world will come to their ends. But Christ, who conquers death, is the one who stands forever.
When Christ says, “My kingdom is not from this world,” he gives us the promise that not only will he defeat death by his own death, but that at his rising, he brings in a kingdom that has no end. A kingdom of lasting peace and truth, of true reconciliation, of love and of grace, where lions and lambs lay down next to each other and where all of our swords have been beaten into plowshares…for all eternity.
Brothers and sisters, we are living a double life. Because we are living in two worlds at once. We have one foot in this world, with its kingdoms of fear and violence and greed and death. And we have one foot in the world to come, Christ’s kingdom of hope and peace and life.
So what, then, shall we do?
If we take our cues from Jesus’ words, and from Daniel and from Revelation, then our calling is simply this: To remain faithful. To remain patient. To persevere in hope.
In the cosmic battle between good and evil, it is God who takes up the battle. Not us. The calling of the faithful is to remain peaceable and faithful, even through deepest trials and tribulation. We are called to holy patience as a sign of our faith - not indulging our human desire to lash out with evil deeds in the name of doing good. Trusting our lives and our futures to the alpha and the omega, the eternal one, the one who is, who was, and who is to come; the one who has the power to destroy death; the one who has already destroyed death by his own death and resurrection.
The question before us, then, is whether we can cling tightly enough to the victory of the cross to give up the illusion that we need to cling tightly to our fists and weapons. Whether we can live as people who are recklessly hopeful - and relentlessly patient - instead of recklessly terrified.
Because the strongest alternative to the fear that closes in around us is not the flexing of muscles. It is the flexing of a strong and rebellious and defiant faith in the coming reign of Christ. In faith, we stand up to the powers of darkness, and say:
We lay down our weapons.
We are not afraid!
for Christ is coming soon.
Let the stars shake loose from the sky.
Let the kingdoms fall.
Let the earth tremble and the seas roar.
We will not fear.
For Christ is coming soon.
Light will vanquish darkness.
Life will conquer death.
Hope will wash away despair.
Peace will prevail.
Come, Lord Jesus, come.
Reconcile the nations.
Restore the creation.
Your kingdom come.
Your will be done.
For yours is the kingdom, the power, and the glory -
forever and ever.
Amen.
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