The
Book of Daniel presents a series of
apocalyptic visions. Apocalypse, as a genre, is concerned with the rise and
fall of nations in the course of history, and where on earth God might be in it
all. Daniel is set in the years of the Exile, when the civil service of Jerusalem
found themselves as migrants offering their administrative gifts within the
civil service of the Neo-Babylonian, Median, and Persian empires. But the scope
of the book also takes in the return home, when Jerusalem and the temple were
rebuilt, only to be desecrated by the Hellenistic Seleucids—and, later still,
occupied by the Romans. Where is God in this mess?
In
Daniel’s vision, God is revealed as an Ancient One, a wise old head judge
taking his seat. He does not pass judgement unilaterally, but in conference
with fellow-judges; while angels beyond number serve the court in various
roles. The defendant is brought in: one like a human being, or, Son of Man. We
can presume that the case for the prosecution and the case for the defence are
both heard. And then God passes his surprising judgement: reign over the
kingdoms of the world, for ever.
The
term ‘Son of Man’ is one used of Jesus in the Gospels, along with another term,
‘Son of God’. ‘Son of God’ is a term that refers to the one appointed by God to
be the king in Jerusalem (see, for example, Psalm
1). ‘Son of Man’ is a term that (from this vision in Daniel) refers to the one
appointed by God to be king over the nations. They are intended to coincide in
the same representative of the same community, the chosen people of God. But in
Daniel’s vision, the Son of Man is appointed in exile. The interpretation of
the vision is this: that though it looks to all the world that God has rejected
his people for their unfaithfulness, they have served their sentence and,
having themselves experienced judgement, are now restored to be the instrument
of God’s rule in the world. It is a delicious irony that, all along, the exiles
Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah have been exercising rule over the
territories of pagan kings.
In
John’s vision in the apocalyptic Revelation,
it is the Church that is the defendant. Jesus is the faithful witness
(remaining the ruler of the kings of the earth).
In
our Gospel reading, Jesus is brought into a court room. The question under consideration
is this: Are you the king of the Jews?
What is not clearly defined is, Son of God, or Son of Man? King of the Jews, only,
or king over the nations? Throughout John’s
Gospel, Jesus uses both terms of himself, as well as the catch-both ‘the
Son’. It is a dangerous claim, one for which the Jewish authorities eventually
throw him under the omnibus…
Today
is the Feast of Christ the King. The final Sunday of the church year. The
culmination of it all: of Advent and Christmas and Epiphany; of Lent and Easter
and Pentecost; of the long months of Ordinary time, in which we live-out what
it means to follow Jesus. It all points to the vision of Jesus as the One
appointed by God to rule over the nations. To exercise a reign of peace and
reconciliation, drawing all things back together again. Despite whatever it
might look like on the surface. On the surface, it looks like Pilate is judge
and Jesus is defendant; but, in truth, Jesus is witness to the truth: and,
following his execution-reversing resurrection, he will be confirmed judge over
Pilate and the chief priests, over Jew and Gentile. And his judgement will be
to reconcile them in his body, the Church.
The
Feast of Christ the King is, in fact, the most recent major occasion in the
church year to take its throne. It was instituted by Pope Pius XI in 1925, in order to help Christians live out their
allegiance to Christ in the context of Mussolini’s messianic claim to sovereignty.
History was tumultuous between the wars; and it is tumultuous in our day,
ninety-three years on.
Brexit
is delivering for us a future no one wants. Not the Remainers, and not the
Brexiteers: plus ça change, plus c’est la
même chose. Can we imagine, confidently, that in all this turmoil
behind-the-scenes Jesus is seated on the throne as the One in whom those who
are estranged are being reconciled? Will we seek to live out that story?
Can
we imagine that those who are migrants and exiles might contribute something
good and beautiful; might be a key part of how Christ the King exercises his
rule? Will we challenge society to see them as gift from God, not an evil to be
exorcised from our home? [The Bishop of Durham spoke on this in his
Presidential Address to the Diocesan Synod yesterday.]
Will
we testify to the truth, as those whose citizenship is not primarily what is
written on the cover of our passport, but what is written in the open books of
God?
Today
we are once again caught up in the apocalyptic vision, not to proclaim that the
world is going to hell in a hand-basket, but to be reminded of our vocation to
be the people of God. A kingdom of priests—not just those of us with
dog-collars, but all of us, serving the God and Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ, our king.
We
are caught up, not to be removed from the world, but to be strengthened to go
back, back to the places where we are sent. With renewed hope. With eyes to
see. With good news to proclaim. With stories to tell. With a king to serve,
passing judgement on the nations in the form of reconciliation. The end of the
world, as we have known it.
So
come, gaze upon the Ancient One and on the Son of Man. Gaze upon the wonders of
heaven’s court, set up upon the earth. Then, go in pace, to love and serve the
Lord. In the name of Christ. Amen.
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