Here's What I'd Say

“Here is what I would say to you if it wouldn’t hurt your feelings.” This is a popular construct right now in social media posts and in short-form publishing. The set-up is usually a specialist from a medical field or an expert in a given research field, appealing to the viewer to consider an idea or ideas in a different light. “Here is what I would say if it wouldn’t hurt your feelings.” The posts are an effort to counteract “general wisdom” or “accepted knowledge” and to present additional information and research that may lead to a better health outcomes or improved quality of life.

Each time I see it, I consider what my video would be. How would I complete the premise, “Here is what I would say if it wouldn’t hurt your feelings.” Contrary to popular belief, I do try to be gentle in teaching and, most of the time, in preaching. Harshness gains no ground for the gospel. I do pull some punches.

So, should I do it? Should I say the thing that I desperately want you to hear? To understand? To ponder in your heart, turning it over and over until it becomes a smooth touchstone?

Here is what I would say if it wouldn’t hurt your feelings: we don’t have enough imagination about God.

We don’t think big enough. We don’t let enough things be awesome and mysterious. We don’t sit in our questions long enough. We do not imagine a great enough mercy, an amazing enough grace, a broad enough welcome, a long enough table with more than enough seats.

We sing about it, but then let it go, fading with the music. We dream about it but then make the shape of our church life what it has always been, instead of trying something new- rooted in the dream. We pray for it but then do not act- as though prayers are only about words and not equally about deeds.

Here is what I would say if it wouldn’t hurt your feelings: we don’t have enough imagination about God.

What do I mean by that?

In today’s gospel reading, we have one of the “seven last words of Christ”. These are the phrases that Jesus says from the cross, recorded across the four gospels.

All seven are: “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do”, “Woman, behold your son. Son, behold your mother”, “I thirst”, “Why have you forsaken me”, “Today you will be with me in paradise”, “Into your hands, I commit my spirit”, and “It is finished”.

Why would any of these be chosen for Christ the King Sunday? How do any of these fit in with the broad understanding of the Reign of Christ, particularly in the face of nationalism and secularism, which are why this day was established in 1925? Why, especially, would the chosen “word” be the ones said to a criminal, deemed worthy of the death penalty by an occupying army?

And what does this have to do with having more imagination about God?

You ask good questions.

Of the seven last words, “Today you will be with me in paradise” are the only ones that can actually be said by the Son of God. I am not saying these are the only words of Jesus. What I am saying is that the other six could be said by anyone, anywhere, including any king or ruler.

“I thirst”, “Woman, behold your son”, and “Why have you forsaken me” are all very human statements in the face of torture and death. To be worried about the care of a survivor or to experience bodily need when in pain can happen to anyone. They both do all the time. Feeling a separation from God, despite knowing the closeness of the Divine, is a reality we all know. This is why we resonate with Jesus’ anguish in that cry.

“Into your hands, I commit my spirit” and “It is finished” are the utterances of any person, regardless of power, who has come to peace with the end of their life in this plane and who is accepting of what is to come. Sometimes these words are said with the lips and sometimes they are spoken in the heart.

“Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” This one feels more specific to Jesus. Yet, anyone who hopes for another person to experience the grace of God can pray this. A benevolent leader can pray this. A suffering martyr can pray this. We can pray this while watching or reading the news. Jesus gives us the words and permission to refer to Infinite Love as our Holy Parent.

The only word from the cross that could only come from the Son of God is “Today you will be with me in paradise”. This word of consolation and hope can only be uttered by One who absolutely knows where He will be and where the other person will be as well.

In the middle of great suffering, while experiencing pain and humiliation, Jesus has the capacity to see and perceive the deepest need of the man next to him, a man who undergoing the same pain and humiliation. And it is Jesus alone who has the authority to declare what will happen next. “Today you will be with me in paradise” is not a statement of faith from his lips; it is statement of fact.

This is why we have this reading today for the observance of Christ the King. We can be easily distracted by the way human beings throw around their earthly power. We can be razzle dazzled and misled. We can also be fooled by how leaders can manipulate us with pockets of awareness or humility, while calculating political points.

King Jesus, hanging on a cross, does many human things, but also does a thing only God can. Jesus alone moves us from life to life.

Today you will be with me in paradise. Not after your confirmation. Not after a sinner’s prayer. Not after a specific ritual. Not after you agonize over your worthiness and confess again and again and wonder if you’re really forgiven.

Today you will be with me in paradise.

And this brings me back to what I would say to you if it wouldn’t hurt your feelings.

We need to have a bigger imagination about God.

We need to think bigger. We need to let more things be awesome and mysterious. We need to sit in our questions long enough. We need to imagine a great enough mercy, an amazing enough grace, a broad enough welcome, a long enough table with more than enough seats. And we need to let that expansion fuel our life together and our life in the world.

When we nail God down to being about the success of our team- whether sports, political, or otherwise… When we box God in by our traditions and “the way it’s always been”… When we go through the motions of habits as though they are sufficient for spiritual practice…

When we confine the meaning of our faith in Jesus to being our “get out of hell free” card, he is not our king. He becomes no more than a token and our faith is nothing more than magical thinking.

But when we allow ourselves to truly be in awe of the majesty and might of God, when we permit ourselves to believe in One who could definitively say, without preconditions, “Today you will be with me in paradise”, when we perceive the fire of the Spirit still burning in the world, still bringing order out of chaos, still causing scales to fall from eyes…

When we realize that we do not hold God, but that we are being held by God…

Then we will understand the reign of Christ:

we will know what it means to serve a king with joy and devotion,

we will no longer ask “who is my neighbor” because we will see all people as neighbor and sibling.

I don’t want to hurt your feelings. We don’t have enough imagination about God.

And the world that God so loves needs us to grasp that God’s facts- facts of justice, mercy, peace, inclusion, hope, and promises made and kept – God’s facts are bigger than anyone’s imagination.

When we realize that… that day will be paradise.

 

The Reign of Christ and the Long Defeat

At one point in The Lord of the Rings, the royal elf Galadriel describes her life and experience and says, “… we have fought the long defeat.” Galadriel, like other elves and the Hobbits and many others, is depicted as being on the right side of things in the books. The Company of the Ring (the Fellowship) wins and defeats the forces of evil. Why would she consider this a “long defeat”? 

Furthermore, why would J.R.R. Tolkien, the author, apply the same term to himself. He wrote in a letter, “Actually, I am a Christian, and indeed a Roman Catholic, so that I do not expect ‘history’ to be anything but a 'long defeat’ – though it contains (and in a legend may contain more clearly and movingly) some samples or glimpses of final victory.” (Letter #195)

Tolkien, a Brit, fought in World War 1. Though he was on the side that “won”, he saw the devastation following the war on all sides- how the “winners” struggled with what they had seen and done and how the “losers” were galvanized to see themselves as “wronged” and regrouped to try again. He watched as people turned away from the long-standing guidance of scripture and religious traditions toward leaders who both preyed on people’s fears and stirred up their basest desires. 

Tolkien's concept of the "Long Defeat" became a theme in his works, especially in The Lord of the Rings and his letters. It refers to the ongoing struggle against overwhelming darkness, evil, or entropy (gradual decline into disorder). Tolkien understood that the battle for what is right may never be completely won but is still fought because of its inherent value. As a Christian, Tolkien, along with his friend C.S. Lewis, believed in the idea of a persistent, noble resistance against forces that may ultimately be too strong to overcome, yet the fight continues because of its moral or existential importance. The fight also continues because the ultimate victory is not in the hands of individual fighters but of God. 

The long defeat is an aspect of the youngest liturgical celebration on our calendar, Christ the King or Reign of Christ Sunday. It originated in the Roman Catholic Church, under the guidance of Pope Pius XI (eleventh) in the year 1925. The solemn observance was held on the Sunday in October, making it not too convenient for Protestants to follow as that’s typically Reformation Sunday. Following Vatican II, however, the observance was moved to the last Sunday of the church year, previously called Judgment Sunday. 

Why would church leaders have felt the need to christen a new church festival in the 1920s and why would it spread across denominations and the world within fifty years? 

In the wake of World War 1, Christian leaders noticed the same issues as Tolkien. They saw that the church no longer had the influence it once had. People did not look to their religious and spiritual practices and leaders to guide them. People looked, instead, charismatic political leaders for inspiration, comfort, and instruction. As these leaders used the vocabulary of the Bible and church history to stir up grievances and keep energy high, the pope and other religious leaders were alarmed, just like Tolkien, Lewis, and other writers. The movement that was on the rise was called “Christian nationalism”- an idea that a nation or people therein would shape everything according to Christian ideals. 

For many believers in Jesus, that doesn’t initially sound so bad. If a leader claimed such a thing, why should we be concerned? Such language and actions should concern us because the essence of Christianity has never been about worldly power. If we always imagine a balance scale in our mind with the words and deeds of Jesus on one side, we must weigh everything else against that truth that sets us free. If we say we are followers of Christ, who he is and what he does must be given the most weight in our lives- words, thoughts, and deeds. 

In today’s gospel from John, Jesus is before the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate. Pilate’s concerns are good order in the region, answering to the emperor for his actions, overseeing trade and connections with area leaders, and squashing rebellions to keep the peace. The idea that the Prince of Peace is right in front of him means nothing to him and would never occur to him. Even our most generous reading of Pilate cannot untangle the man from his complicated relationship with Roman power and oppression. 

Jesus, for his part, knows this. Even as he might desire to be merciful to Pilate, John’s writing here reveals that Jesus is not going to claim kingship for himself. Pilate and other world leaders only have one image of a king- one who seeks to accrue power, land, and resources through many means- most of them violent. Not only is Jesus not violent, but even when he’s righteously angry, he has no need to accumulate earthly status symbols. He is the Son of God. He has been since the beginning. The kingdoms of this world cannot offer him anything that isn’t already his. 

He tells Pilate that his kingdom or realm is not of this world. Notice Jesus does not say he doesn’t have a kingdom. He simply notes that his reign is not on this plane of existence. This was probably frustrating and annoying to Pilate, who likely got as tangled up as we do when Jesus doesn’t seem to give a direct answer. 

Note what else Jesus says, though: “If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over... But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” Jesus has no expectation of his followers fighting in for him or in his name. Jesus explicitly rejects the idea of holy war on his behalf. In Matthew 25, the commands of Jesus are to care for the sick, the naked, the hungry, the imprisoned, and the lonely. None of these described situations are about fighting or seizing power. In the very next chapter, Jesus warns Peter to put away his sword as those who live by the sword, die by the sword. 

Consider that phrase for a moment: those who live by the sword, die by the sword. What shapes our living will consequently shape our dying. This is a key understanding in following Christ. If we live in Him, shaped by his commandments and imitating his grace, mercy, and welcome, we will die in Him- assured and consoled by all that has been done for us and by the amazing grace that will lead us home. 

Which brings us back to today’s commemoration of Christ the King and why this day was deemed to be necessary. There is no government on earth that has not been established in some way by force. The coercive power considered “necessary” to establish and run a country, nation, or rebellion is not of Christ. When political leaders make promises, even using biblical or church language, they are in cahoots with the forces that oppose God and probably not in accordance with the will of God. 

Sometimes we can see and acknowledge governments or officials are able to accomplish deeds that are in line with God’s expressed will for caring for the marginalized, community flourishing, and stewardship of creation. More often than not, however, we know leaders are excited to use power to support themselves, their own agendas, and their friends. 

This is the gravest danger of Christian nationalism- that we will be misled by people who use the words we long to hear, but only use power as a means to their own ends, having nothing to do with Christ or his own instructions to his followers. The further we move from the center of Christ’s commands and will, the more people are harmed since care for and love of neighbor is the very essence of what it means to follow Jesus. 

In 1925, church leaders saw the need for a reminder that Christ is our ultimate leader. Even as we understand our vocation of citizenship in voting and participating in action, our highest allegiance is to the King of kings and the Lord of lords. Back to that image of the balance scale, we must weigh not only our own words but the words and deeds of those who seek to lead us. How do they measure up to Christ’s guidance to those who claim to be his followers? 

The truth of today’s observance, Reign of Christ or Christ the King Sunday, is to recognize the truth of our long defeat. To know we have been invited and equipped to be a part of how God’s will is done on earth, but also to know and accept that we will not complete the work. And what good we may do can easily be overturned by the forces that oppose God- spiritual forces, political forces, and the force of brokenness, which we call sin. 

Here is the word of hope I offer you in the long defeat, a reason to keep going, a word of true hope from the anchor of our faith. There is nothing but long game when you follow the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. There is nothing but long game when you trust in the Prince of Peace. There is nothing but long game when you seek the will of the One who is the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. 

The best history of Christianity has been when we engaged in the long game, even if it is a long defeat- the founding of hospitals and care for the sick and the dying, the work of improving prisons and accompanying the incarcerated, the work of feeding the hungry and clothing the naked, the work of pursuing justice with generosity and self-control and little recognition. 

Christianity’s holy wars, forced conversions, and efforts to create “Christian nations” are typically counted as moral failures, the opposite of the “long defeat”. Those doomed actions, in particular, are exactly what Jesus tells Pilate that his followers will not do because they were, and are, attempts to establish a kingdom like that of the rulers of the earth, not the ruler of heaven.

No matter what happens to the kingdoms of this world, God is faithful and constant. The One who made us is the One who is, was, and is to come. We are not drawn together by the Holy Spirit to flail about in confusion or hopelessness. The Spirit’s tether binds us into a community that is equipped with the written word of God and with the gifts of baptism and holy communion. We have received inspiration, guidance, and sustenance for the journey of faith on which we are led and accompanied by the One who knows and loves us best. Our long defeat will always be God’s ultimate victory. 

On this day and every day, remember that you have been claimed and called by One whose kingdom is not of this world. His life and his word are both eternal. He welcomes all and our names are in the book of life, in his royal handwriting and not our own. Jesus Christ is the only one who can promise a reign forever and ever. And who graciously brings us into that eternity by his love. Amen.