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Stubbornly Searching For God's Kingdom
Sermon by Catherine W. FitzGerald February 20, 2005, Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill Ezekiel 37: 24-28 Revelation 21: 1-8
Our Christian ancestors—those who lived during the first few centuries following the time of Jesus; those who wrote the letters and books of our scriptures; those who formed the church and suffered persecution at the hands of the outside world—when they prayed “Thy kingdom come,” they believed God’s kingdom and Christ’s second coming were just around the corner. They had a distinct sense of urgency unparalleled in our churches today. Perhaps the closest we come to this urgency is during times of great personal and communal loss: the death or suffering of a loved one, 9/11, the tsunami, during war time and the like, when our collective hearts cry out that there must be something better than this world and yearn for the coming of God’s kingdom. The search for God’s kingdom remains with us, whether we intend it our not, every time we search for something better, something that provides meaning and fulfillment in our lives. Unfortunately, we too often turn to the wrong kingdoms in our search. But we do gather each week and pray “Thy kingdom come”. We invoke God in this prayer taught to us by our Savior, prayed by those who came before us. As we gather together and pray, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done,” we petition God to bring on the kingdom and, in praying the “Thy” or “Your”, we acknowledge the existence of other kingdoms, and confess that we might have been keeping some of these kingdoms on the side. Though Jesus says, “follow me”, we know the path is hard, and at every juncture we are bombarded with the temptations of other kingdoms. Our “kingdoms” are where we find our ultimate meaning, to use an expression from Paul Tillich. Our kingdoms are corporations, nations, money, academia, our egos, our bodies, among many others. In these alternate kingdoms, we find people of all sorts: the ones worshipping not their God, but their job; the spouse who rather than keep the marriage covenant, finds it “easier” to lie with another; the parents who believe their children to be gods; those who think life would be better if only they had what so-and-so has; the preacher who comes to the pulpit concerned about what the crowd will think of her “performance”, rather than humbled by the task of interpreting and proclaiming God’s Word (not that I have any personal experience with this particular fault); the list goes on and on—and there is not a person among us who can honestly say that they worship only one God, that they pledge allegiance to only one Kingdom. When Jesus taught us to pray, he must have known our affections for everything outside God’s kingdom. It is no coincidence that when the disciples asked Jesus how they should pray his answer was concrete—a rarity when compared to many of Jesus’ parables and metaphors. As theologians Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon write: “When the disciples asked Jesus about prayer, he did not tell them to go off and sit quietly until something spiritual came to their minds. He did not ask them, ‘Well, how do you feel about God?’ He said, ‘Pray like this.’” There is little room for wandering with such a prayer. Jesus has provided us with much needed direction. And so, it is only right that we are to pray this prayer each week—realigning ourselves once again with the eternal kingdom. There are two factors we must look at in order to understand the nature of God and the kingdom. We must know to whom the prayer was taught, and, from whom the prayer was given. Jesus taught his prayer to the disciples. We should find great comfort in this fact, for Jesus hung around a motley crew, to say the very least. His associates were not comprised of the “holy”—they were fishermen, tax collectors, sinners and the sick. Let us not forget it was the highly disreputable Mary Magdalene who stood at the foot of the cross, discovered the empty tomb, and, according to the Gospel of John, was the first to see the resurrected Christ. Certainly, she was not worthy of such a blessing. I mean really, not only had she had questionable moral practices—she was a woman! (But, of course, Jesus had little to no regard for the standards of society.) One of my college professors made sure to tell us during a friend’s ordination service that if we thought we deserved pats on the back for our leadership in the church, we needed only to remember the kind of people Jesus chose for his God Squad, and be humbled once again. For God chooses the foolish to shame the wise. I take comfort in the knowledge that we stand in the great tradition of the communion of saints—and by “saints” I mean, that we are among our fellow tax collectors, sinners and sick people of all places and times. This, of course, does not mean that God loves our ways, but it does mean that despite our sin, he loves us. Jesus, knowing our weakness, gave us this prayer. We recognize Jesus’ affinity for the underdog, for the cursed, for the outcast, and ultimately, for the sinner because of his chosen cohorts. As Willimon and Hauerwas describe: “”The kingdom of God is a party for a bunch of people with whom we wouldn’t be caught dead spending a Saturday night, had we not also been invited.” As I stated before, we must also pay attention to the person who gave us this prayer: Jesus himself: God Incarnate—the One who came down to earth as a human—the One who taught, healed, loved—the One who was persecuted, tortured, died—and, yes, the One who was resurrected. It is in his suffering that God knows fully what it is to be human. And because it is Jesus who taught us this prayer we can know something of God’s nature and the nature of his kingdom. With ultimate sacrifice, God shows us that he is with us—that he knows us—that he will not abandon us, even unto the cross. Jesus is the One who for 40 days was tempted in the desert, and when offered all the glory and power in all the earthly kingdoms, he was bold to reply that he served only one God. The Incarnate God lies at the center of our Christian proclamation. Barth describes the Incarnation as “God’s humanism”—it is how we know definitively that God is for us, since out of “God’s free, electing grace” we were given the Incarnation, “an event which has happened once and for all time…”. God’s will is revealed in Jesus Christ, and thereby God’s kingdom is revealed. In this sense, God’s kingdom is already upon us, and even as we pray his prayer, we are becoming the kingdom of God. But, of course, no Christian theology is that simple! Although we declare the kingdom is upon us, we know that it is also hidden. The apostle Paul was not kidding when he wrote to the Corinthians: “For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face.” God is the One who loves in freedom—his love and freedom is far greater than all the loves and freedoms we experience in this world. His kingdom is far greater than our kingdoms. For now, we can only see in part. God’s kingdom is a kingdom without the boundaries and restrictions we impose on the kingdoms of this world—in this sense we can call it a liberated kingdom, and in praying, we hope for this liberation. For you and I know, that we have yet to find a kingdom on this earth that experiences complete liberation. For instance, though we must be thankful to live in a “free” society, we must also recognize that our freedom is not one in the same as the freedom of God’s kingdom. For in this imperfect world, even as we fight for freedom, both here and abroad, we build barriers between nations and peoples. In God’s kingdom, these barriers will fall away. We need only look around us to see that the world in which we live is broken and therefore, cannot be God’s kingdom fulfilled. I think we would all find it devastating if we were told, “Look around you…this is it…the kingdom of God.” Thankfully, this is not the message we are given. We may know that the kingdom is still veiled to us just by looking at Jesus’ descriptions of the kingdom: he speaks in parable and metaphor. We hear that the kingdom of God is like a mustard seed, or like leaven, or like a hidden treasure, or a merchant seeking fine pearls—most of what Jesus tells us points to something that we cannot quite understand. Although many fundamentalist thinkers claim to have “figured out” the kingdom, how it will be brought about, and who will be included, we should not be so bold as to make these declarations. We live as imperfect people in an imperfect world—how could we possibly understand the fullness of God’s kingdom? Barth even writes, “we cannot say partly revealed and partly concealed, but we must actually say wholly revealed and wholly concealed at one and the same time.” (As if we needed any more of these fully this and fully that statements to confuse us….) But in our confusion, we should be humbled, and know that we must constantly turn to God, because our natural inclination is to turn away. In this confusion, we look to the future fulfillment of God’s kingdom. As Willimon and Hauerwas explain, “This future, now-and-not-yet quality of the Christian faith is known by the word eschatology (‘talk about last things’).” Perhaps this statement is what drew me to the book of Revelation when choosing a passage to accompany today’s segment of the Lord’s Prayer. Revelation is arguably the most veiled book of the New Testament—and probably the most misinterpreted book. We find whole series of literature concerning the horrific coming of God’s kingdom “based” on the book of Revelation. I apologize in advance to those of you who find value and entertainment in the “Left Behind” series, but when I saw the movie version with former teen idol Kirk Cameron, I had to laugh. I walked out of the movie after a scene where the rapture has come and those who are “left behind” find their loved one’s clothes lying neatly in the places where they once stood or sat. I had to think, if this is truly what the rapture will be like, knowing I can’t get that ½ hour back, I’d like to spend my time doing something more meaningful. (I think this kind of series is particularly dangerous, and can be likened to the fear-tactics of the media today—for instance, it seems that every day is the “deadliest day” since some day or another…and when we don’t have wars, we are fretting over sharks or killer bees or what doctors aren’t telling us about this or that. I don’t mean to downplay any of these issues, especially not the devastation of war, however I think we can see a trend in the media.) But, having taken a long detour, we must return to the text at hand. Among the many dreams and visions the author of Revelation describes, the last is his vision of the “new” heaven and earth. I’ll read a segment of this passage again: “Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.’” This revelation foresees the salvation of the whole creation—not just of the individual souls. All shall be redeemed and there will be no distinction between heaven and earth. This new creation is the fulfillment of God’s kingdom on earth—it is the time when it will be “on earth as it is in heaven.” Friends, Christ is making all things new. The God who has set his sanctuary among his people and set himself among us through the Incarnation—the God who has been with us since he created us—this is the God reigning in the kingdom for which we pray. It is God’s promise that his kingdom will come—and the Revelation passage gives us a glimpse of what it will be like. One could spend hours unpacking the passage from Revelation, but not from the Presbyterian pulpit, if “one” wanted to keep her job. Instead, let us turn our attention to just one piece of this text which I think establishes the crucial meaning of God’s kingdom. The author writes: “And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘See, the home of God is among mortals.” Perhaps due to personal longings for something better amidst the challenges we face today, when I read this passage I was moved to tears. Imagine—the home of God is among mortals. This is what the kingdom is like. This is God’s humanism: that his home is with us. The Greek word literally means “a place of shelter or dwelling”. My heart recalls the words of the Psalmist who wonders: “What are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?” Certainly we are not worthy. But we know from the Scriptures that God created us freely and out of his love, and returns to us in the Incarnation and through the Holy Spirit—so that we might know our Emmanuel, our God-with-us. God’s kingdom is his greatest gift. We can participate in it now because we recognize that in Jesus Christ, God is with us. We know that we await its fulfillment because God has promised his goodwill toward humankind, which will ultimately be fulfilled when his will is done “on earth as it is in heaven.” And as we await the fulfillment of God’s kingdom, we are to pray this prayer he taught us, and in doing so, renounce our allegiances to all other kingdoms and their kings. William Slone Coffin wrote: “How God must despise the sounds of those who pray this day, ‘Thy kingdom come’ and tomorrow bar its way. How God must despise the spectacle of Christians who climb upon the cross to be seen from afar, thereby trampling on the one who has hung there so long.” We stand in this world convicted, but convicted with the knowledge that there is One who has come to save us. God hated our sin enough to sacrifice his only Son—God loved us by the same means. And so, in asking for God’s kingdom to come, we commit ourselves each week to the journey of all Christians. We respond to Jesus’ call to “follow me”; we turn away from that which chains us to the earthly kingdoms, and find strength in the fact that God’s kingdom is the “God-with-us” kingdom—where earth and heaven will no longer be distinct, when all will be revealed and when we will truly and definitively understand that God’s home is with us. During this season of Lent, as we follow Jesus through the desert and ultimately to the cross, let us remember the king and his kingdom, showing our allegiance as we stand with Jesus Christ. And though we are offered all the kingdoms of this world, with him let us humbly vow to serve God alone. Thanks be to God! Amen. |