Christ the King 2015

Christ the King 2015

I once worked at a church where I was responsible for the kids preparing for Confirmation. We had a really good Church School program, and kids began confirmation preparation in 7^th grade, and in 8^th grade were confirmed.

While the expectations for the process did require some commitment from the kids and their parents—for the better part, the families understood that making “an adult profession of faith” in confirmation required proper formation. So, while our expectations were pretty high, families were willing to commit and take the process seriously.

But, as you can probably guess, this didn’t deter parents calling me a week or two prior to Confirmation asking me if their son or daughter could still be confirmed. After all, grandma was coming into town for the service, and it’s very important to her—and while their family hasn’t really been around much (they’ve been so busy), they have a history with the church and a lot of fond memories, they even contributed to the capital campaign… (hint-hint) Besides, (they’d say), you understand how busy the kids are now, and really, they didn’t make it to any of the classes for the past two years because they were so busy, and they really didn’t know anyone, and they said it was boring. But it’s, of course very important to their grandmother, who is also their sponsor—and of course, she’s coming into town for it…

  

In actuality, there were a handful of people who did this each year, and, believe it or not, just about all of them said the exact same thing. I don’t mean that I’ve picked out a few things from each of them, I mean they all said pretty much every bit of what I just recited to you.

What’s more, these families really weren’t involved in the church at all. Apparently their history with the church was ancient and predated most of the people who’d been around for 10 years. And even though most of them said they were donors, they never said to what degree they had given. But as far as they were concerned, Confirmation was a Rite of Passage like your first sleepover, or watching Rocky for the first time. So, given this; grandma’s imminent visit; and their families financial patronage to the church, their child was entitled to be confirmed whether they were prepared for it or not.

Now, I know you’re thinking that I’m probably being a little harsh about these people. Kids and families really are busy, and sometimes working in things like confirmation requirements can be really difficult. And, honestly, I would have been happy to work with them to find an alternative means for meeting the requirements. But the straw that finally broke it was when most of these families called again the Friday before the service to ask if I knew when the “ceremony” would be done because they had already made reservations for brunch. Some even jokingly asked if I could try to hurry the bishop along when he preached.

  

Perhaps I’m just getting cynical, but I can’t help but feel like these people were kind of missing the point. But that’s to say if they had done some of the preparation work, it’s likely that they would have at least had some idea of what Confirmation was about. However, there’s part of me that thinks even with the formation, none of it would have been all that important to them (well other than grandma).

Still, I know we should always try to learn from experiences like this—and what I learned was that for some people, faith is a matter of sentimentality, it’s all sweet memories and keepsakes that gather dust. And I also learned that making concessions about sacred things based on financial contributions made me feel cheap. I promised myself I’d never let it happen again.

But this a lot like the revelation I had one time about McDonald’s. I was talking to a friend about how awful I felt after eating McDonald’s food, but admitted that I keep doing it because the food is tasty. Rather than agree with me, however, he simply said, “it’s not that it tastes good, it’s that it tastes the same—it’s consistent—and that’s what’s appealing to you, not good taste.” Even as he said it, and explained how McDonald’s tastes the same anywhere you find one, and there’s something appealing about that…I was amazed at how it made perfect sense.

So, not only did I have a revelation about how I’d been duped into eating McDonald’s for all these years because of consistency—it got me wondering where else this could be true. Where else in life is “consistency” being substituted for “good?”

When I remembered the story about confirmation, I immediately realized the Church likewise may just have confused consistency with good. Because, as many of you know, there will regularly be those people who have no real connection to faith, let alone a church—and will darken the door when it’s time to check-off certain sacraments. I know there are even places that literally offer some sacraments in a drive-through… And I always wonder in these circumstances whether our culture is either very superstitious, or just overly sentimental. Whatever the case, neither serves to make any of us better by transforming our lives—and certainly neither superstition nor sentimentality can be convoluted as sacred. Yet, somehow in spite of ourselves, I think we realize in our heart of hearts that what we’re experiencing today in the Christian faith isn’t so much “good” as it is consistent…as in, more of the same. Which, like McDonald’s, isn’t really good for us, but is what we’ve become accustomed to…

And at the same time, there is the Gospel—and really all of Scripture for that matter—which is really quite good until you start reading it. That’s when we start having to check ourselves and really see who we are—see whether our faith is a matter of vitality or sentimentality, consistent or truly good.

Today’s readings for Christ the King Sunday are good place to start—especially if we don’t ignore the significance of what it means to call Christ our King, and based on the readings, what that kingship means for people of faith.

In the reading from Daniel and Revelation we have this vision of Christ as Pantokrator—the “Ruler of All.” He is conferred power from God, and is set to reign victorious in justice, and mercy—but is likewise the judge of all. This aspect of judgement, while not explicit, still looms behind the image, and we’re given to recognize just how terrifying this King of kings really is, even as his imminent reign is a promise of comfort to the faithful. Of course, I can’t help but hear Johnny Cash singing his song When the Man Comes Around­—which is all about this…

Finally, however, we have quite a different reading from John’s Gospel. This is the familiar scene from the Passion narrative that we read each year on Good Friday. Jesus, you’ll recall, has been arrested in the garden, and throughout the night is being dragged to various officials and authorities, meanwhile being beaten and abused the entire time. Here Jesus is brought before Pilate, who asks Jesus if he is the “King of the Jews.” Jesus retorts by asking Pilate if he asks this on his own, or because someone told him to. Pilate, then points out to Jesus that he isn’t the one bringing up charges, but Jesus’ own people. Pilate also points out the apparent power dynamic in the situation, and how Pilate is holding Jesus’ life in his hands.

Of course, Jesus makes mention of his Kingdom not being of this world—but, really I think that has very little to do with the reason this is the reading chosen for Christ the King Sunday. Instead, it would seem to me that the very one who redefines Kingship, even while he redefines Messiahship is seen most perfectly here in this story. Jesus appears to be beaten and broken on the wheels of a much more powerful machine than his little movement could ever imagine.

By all accounts he is in over his head. And yet, the irony is that by allowing himself to be subject to this cruelty, and even executed—through his resurrection, Jesus breaks any power that such tyranny could ever have over him, or over us.  Even as he is subjected to those things that we fear, Jesus rises victorious to lead the way to a fuller, and just life.

Now if you happen to be a person without power, or wealth—this is good news. If you’re a person who is all too familiar with your own mortality—this is good news. If you’re a person marginalized, persecuted, and oppressed—this is good news. In fact, this is the kind of good news which could dramatically transform lives. And the people of the Church know it’s good news, because we hear it all the time. In this, we’re very consistent.

Yet in the same way that we’re not necessarily excited about telling everyone about the newest menu item at McDonald’s, it would seem that this overwhelmingly great news of Jesus Christ as King is kept quite secret. Maybe this Gospel is more a guilty pleasure than a life altering message of hope. Or perhaps all of this business of faith for the Church is simply “business as usual,” and these stories are just too sweet to let go of…sentimental.

On Friday and Saturday we attended the Diocesan Convention, and the keynote speaker was Becca Stevens, the founder of Magdalene House, and Thistle Farms. I’ve talked about her work before—but, just to recap, Becca Stevens is an Episcopal priest who survived sexual abuse when she was a child at the hand of a member of her father’s congregation—this happened not long after her father had died very young, from being hit by a drunk driver.

As an adult, and later an Episcopal priest, Becca confronted her abuser, and began devising a way in which she could help other women out of abuse, human trafficking and addiction. So, she founded Magdalene House in Nashville Tennessee. It wasn’t long that after her program had seen success that she realized that many of these women had nowhere to go, and really no opportunities once they the program, because many of them were convicted felons. And carrying through this idea of healing, she and some of the women began making candles and skin care products using essential oils, and healing oils which they produced and sold to make a living.

From their work of developing product lines using essential oils, Thistle Farms began branching out, and partnering internationally with other groups of women in similar circumstances. This included a women’s home in Rwanda where women are growing and producing plants that produce essential oils used for healing—plants that they grow in the killing fields where their loved ones’ bodies lay during the genocide. And all of this happened in a relatively short span of years, and thousands of lives are being changed throughout the world.

The last time she was here two years ago for our clergy conference, Becca reported that they had only just gotten some of their product line into places like Whole Foods. This year, at our convention, she reported that the company has shown growth of 48% over the past 3-5 years, which is unbelievable. What’s more, this is a company that is run, owned and operated by women who have been saved from addiction, abuse and sex trafficking.

Incidentally, the name “Thistle Farms,” as Becca explains, was taken from the fact that thistles can grow and thrive anywhere. They’re hearty and strong plants, and they spring up in so many diverse places—whether it’s a roadside, the desert, or a city sidewalk—these plants can hang on in any environment. But she said it wasn’t until much later that they discovered that thistles could be used to extract a something that can be used to cleanse and repair the liver. And for women who were caught in addiction, this has as much significance as the vitality of the thistle.     

Anyway, what I found most interesting, hearing Becca Stevens this time, was that she said that she could never have started Magdalene House and Thistle Farms in the Church. It’s probably not too hard to imagine why, but between trying to convince the Church that this was a project that would change lives, and that the lives of these women really do matter, and that by helping transform the lives of these women, other lives will be transformed as well—between this and then trying to keep the favor of “donors…” I would imagine that Magdalene House and Thistle farms would still be nothing more than an idea.

Just like my story about Confirmation, I think there is something we ought to learn from this… First off, it’s sad that an organization which is built on faith principles, is even formed around a Benedictine rule of life, and is changing lives could not be started in the Church. The priest who started it told us that.

  

Secondly, it’s hard to accept that this Gospel of hope and transformation is one that continues to change lives dramatically—people are freed from bondage and oppression, and the there are even now places in this world that are being renewed—but in this case the Church would have been a hindrance rather than a help.

 But you know, this is the McDonald’s Factor (as I like to call it). It’s this idea that perhaps we have settled for consistency so completely that not only does get mistaken for the “Good,” but has even become a comfort to us. And it’s become comfort to us in spite of the fact that it isn’t good for us, yet we keep hold of it because it offers such nice sentimental memories.

And yet, this approach to faith can’t be sustained. As we see with things like Thistle Farms, the Gospel message won’t be hindered by people who don’t really care about it much anymore. Instead, with all of its fire, and destructive power, the Good News will find a way to change lives, and change the world—and if the Church isn’t willing to get on board with that, it’s not likely that Body of Christ will look anything like we’ve come to cherish. In fact, there are already some churches where faith comes to die rather than thrive…which is sad, because the point of God’s Church is not death, but resurrection. I only hope the people within the institution of the Church will be willing to turn it around.

  

Anyway, as most of you know I’m not likely ever to be mistaken as a conservative Christian. However, I do think that the Church (big “C”) is in trouble. I’m not talking about persecution, or the apparent threat of Democrats in office. What I’m talking about is how we seem to have lost something of our identity, something of our authenticity. While I understand that there are necessities, and realities to attend to—I can’t help but feel that we spend more time trying to buoy the institution of the Church, and justify its existence, yet all the while we’re failing at being the Church. But if Christ the King Sunday is a reminder of anything, it should be the promise that the promise of the Kingdom is very serious, and important business. It’s promise can change lives, inspire hope, and even change the world—and if that sounds flaky, or idealistic, I would point to the work of Magdalene House and Thistle Farms as proof. And I would also hold that example up against church families who feel entitled to confirmation, and every other family or congregation where either superstition or sentimentality shape worship and faith life rather than the Gospel—and then I believe we’ll begin to see which ones are the truly sick and dying, and which ones are living a resurrection life with Christ as King of their lives.  

In Evangelicalism, we called this “being convicted” and I have to admit that I am very much convicted. That being said, it’s my sincere hope that I will learn to live into this faith thing intentionally and authentically. I hope I can learn not to take lightly the gift we’re given in the Gospel—or take for granted that it still has power to change lives. Because God knows there is a world in desperate need for new life.