A Poem/Reflection for Feast of Christ the King St. Andrew's Church, Nags Head, NC
November 24, 2019 Thomas E. Wilson, Supply
“in him all things hold together”
Today is the Feast of Christ the King, as the author of the Colossians letter writes: “In him all things hold together.”
When I was growing up in the Episcopal Church, with the 1928 Prayer Book, this Sunday was called the Last Sunday in Trinity, often called “Stir Up” Sunday, from the first words of the collect for that Sunday, which would inevitably lead to a sermon illustration on the old tradition that this was the time to make Christmas Pudding, a stirring up the ingredients of that fruity pudding before the month long process of letting the alcohol do its work, until that day, Christmas Day, when it would be once again drenched with brandy, set on fire and brought in to the Christmas Feast, just like in Dickens' Christmas Carol.
In my family we didn't do puddings that didn't come from a box, so I just assumed that the Priest was referring to Fruit Cakes, which we knew was soon to arrive in the mail, encased in tins from relatives who had made them to be served on Christmas, but not set on fire.
In 1925, Roman Catholic Pope Pius XI set up a Feast of Christ the King for the last Sunday of October. Pius looking at the world in alarm uses the language of nostalgia. The world had changed since the 1st World war, the war to end all wars, except it brought confusion and turmoil as the old social order of Kings, being swept away with revolutions in Germany, Austria, Hungary, Russia, Spain, Portugal, China, and the Ottoman Empires. The remaining Kings sitting on thrones were now seen as mere figureheads over weak democracies or authoritarian movements like Mussolini in Italy. Worldwide, there was increasing secularization of society as workers demanded rights, middle classes demanded modernization and rigid class structures were weakened. Pius was attempting to remind us that even while the days of earthy Kings seem to be passing, we must hold on to Christ as our King over daily life.
In 1969, Pope Paul VI, moving away from the alarm of Pius to a hope for a better future if we look to the one in whom “all things hold together”, changed the date of the Feast to the last Sunday of the Liturgical year, a time to look back in remembrance, giving thanks for the previous year and to make a commitment to live under the rule of Christ to make a world of justice and peace. During the Ecumenical movement in the 70's, Protestant churches started to adopt a Common Lectionary which made reference to a Feast of Christ the King.
What would our world look like if we seriously took on the idea that Christ, the one in whom all things hold together, is the ruler of our lives? Suppose we look at the strutting popinjays who like to pose as Masters of the Universe, and instead of being impressed, threatened or awed, we feel sadness for those tiny little men obsessed by greed and insecurity, praying for them instead and the opening of the eyes of delusion for their followers?
Suppose we begin spending more time and energy loving and less time and energy hating? Love takes courage while hate takes fear. Suppose we asked each day for the courage to meet the day ahead as a gift from a loving God, looking for ways to redeem the events instead of reflexively condemning them?
Suppose we look at our neighbor as a fellow child of God in a universe of abundance rather than a competitor in a world of scarcity? Suppose we see forgiveness not as a burden but as an opportunity for a better future to set ourselves free from the past?
Suppose we wake up each morning not as one more deadly day to put up with, but as the beginning of a new life, a resurrected life? Suppose if we wash our hands and faces in the morning, we would be reminded of our Baptism of being born anew, of the breaking of the water from the womb of God at the birth of the world?
Suppose we were to eat the meals we have as the fruit of the earth given for us to nourish the giving of ourselves to nourish a better world? Suppose, as we eat the bread and drink the wine at the service, we see ourselves as becoming what we eat, the body and blood of Christ in this world?
Suppose we were to take the wages we receive not as our own private treasure to meet our own desires and to give whatever is left over as the resented rent of living in this country where there is poverty and want, but to rejoice on how much we have left over after we have given the first fruits of love? Suppose we were not to live in the license to do whatever we want to do, but to live in the peace and freedom of a disciplined life?
Suppose we were not to assume that a person's worth is dependent on possessions, accomplishments or the approval of others, but our worth is found in Christ’s love, a love so great that he died so that we might know how much love he had for us? Suppose in the middle of things going bad instead of looking upon ourselves and cursing our fate and others, we give thanks and ask for a strength that passes all understanding?
Suppose instead of living in fear in the shadow of the day of our death, we might see that the words have come true right here and right now, “Truly I say unto you, today you are with me in paradise.” Suppose today, every day, is the first day of living in God's presence?
Just suppose “in him all things hold together”.
Kings are supposed be
stronger ruler,
as if they were used to
being in charge,
face a visage where power
is writ large,
kind to friends and to
enemies crueler.
This King, yet over
enemies doesn’t trod
as conqueror, but rather
as loving friend,
emptying self out,
supporting to the end,
forgiving; not forgetting
all belong to God.
This King, with convict
thieves surrounded,
scorned by the town’s
so-called good folk,
looks to Heaven, meekly
accepting a yoke,
not forcing others their
sins compounded.
This King, awakening from
the lonely tomb,
calls us awake anew from
our God’s womb.
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