A Poor And Virtuous King

First Sunday in Advent

Matthew 24:36-44

Jesus' story of the people working in the field, one of whom was taken and the other left, has often been a touchstone of traditional spiritualities, particularly of the "that's incredible" variety. Most are otherworldly and focused on a Jesus who appears to bear the passkey to an otherworldly kingdom of God.

But there is afoot another spirituality that also draws life from this passage, one that is firmly rooted in human life and is responsive to the needs of our times. People who practice it tend to stress the real, historical Jesus and his behavioral as well as verbal announcement of the kingdom. For these people, Jesus' call to be alert and watchful for the coming of the Son of Man is a call to a way of life sensitive to God's active work of deliverance for the people of this world. Such a spirituality requires them to scan the horizon incessantly, watching for signs of renewal, for evidence that the suffering are rising up to new life.

In some parts of the world it's hard to miss the signs of God's work among people. When the Nicaraguans finally expelled General Somoza and established their own government, they agreed to ban the death penalty in their own country, choosing to build on life rather than revenge. They even agreed to pay General Somoza's debts to the foreign banks and governments that had supported him with loans. Surely the spirit of God was at work somewhere in Nicaragua to instill the spirit of forgiveness and integrity in people who had known decades of suffering at the hands of their old ruler and his powerful allies.

In such places the contrast between the absence of the fruits of the kingdom and the presence of those fruits is so stark that every action even faintly reflecting its principles stands out in bas relief. But for us in the industrialized countries of the North, the distinction is often blurred by too close association with life-as-it-is-now; we haven't developed the skill to discern the spirits of our time. If the Son of God were to appear among us, some would scarcely recognize him; others would be utterly surprised and unprepared.

William Kurelek, the late Catholic painter and mystic, tried to capture his reading of the signs of the kingdom during his time. In his book, A Northern Nativity, he speculated on what would have happened if God had entered human history through a baby born in Canada in 1935. Who would have been sensitive enough to God's work in the world to recognize him in the newborn child of a poor laborer?

Kurelek sent the poor family on a cross-Canada tour, seeking shelter in a logging camp, a ski chalet, a poor farmhouse, a native settlement, Niagara Falls, and other typical Canadian scenes. In their encounters with the poor and the wealthy, the powerless and the powerful, the holy family made clear where Kurelek stood: In his time, only two kinds of people recognized God's entry into our history--those whose need threw them upon God as their only hope and those whose spirituality led them to live for the day when God will vindicate that hope of the poorest.

For me that story remained largely a beautiful Christmas tale until one year when the junior high students in our parish decided to adapt it as a play set in the '80s. Once again Christ was born to a poor laborer and his wife. But this time, they were desperately trying to get from the poverty-ridden maritime provinces to the prairies, where the father hoped to find work.

The baby was born mid-journey, in a native settlement in Labrador. Farther on, the family stopped for lunch in the Gatineau hills, where church choirs were entertaining fashionable skiers with such charming Christmas carols that no one noticed the holy family being hustled out the back entrance by the maitre d'. It was in McDonald's that an old woman recognized them and made sure their lunch was paid for before they reached the counter.

The students put their contemporary holy family through other rigors of Canadian life, but somehow the lunch at McDonald's was the one that stopped us short that year. At the close of the play, a young man from the village's home for the mentally handicapped rose to his feet and called out, "Oh, wow! I can't believe it. God could be in McDonald's. Far out!"

"Far out" was right. Who of us sitting there with our sophisticated Christian consciousness would have looked for the Son of God at McDonald's?

The lesson for me in that incident was that there are infinite variations on the pattern Jesus described: people becoming dulled to the movement of God until they forget to watch; people becoming so convinced of God's way that they do not notice when he moves from their favorite spots. If the spirit of God happened to choose to move in McDonald's, would there be room in my framework to accept it? No wonder Jesus said, "Stay awake!"

Second Sunday in Advent

Isaiah 11:1-10

Few passages of Scripture express more concretely the longing of the people for the peaceable kingdom. The compilers of the lectionary point out that this vision of the just and virtuous king was probably an expression of the expectations the people had for each of their kings as he established his reign.

Theirs was a hope grounded in the concrete details of life in a country wracked by wars, the disruption of power blocs and near-coups, and the simple fact that no one had really gotten around to developing the social cushions that insured everyone access to what they needed for life. The vision of a better way of living emerges out of a strong sense that this world is not yet meeting the measure of the shalom kingdom.

Surely no one needs to be told that our society doesn't measure up either. But the lack of response of large numbers of Christians in the industrialized nations suggests that something else is drastically wrong. Outside of those parts of the world where oppression is stark and unavoidable, few Christians seem aware that simply acknowledging that ours is a marred and hurtful world is not enough.

Two elements in this Old Testament passage suggest some of the obstacles to taking both our world and the struggle for the kingdom of God seriously. The first is the conflict inherent in the quest for the peaceable kingdom. The second is the character of the "virtuous king."

Isaiah's vision for the peaceable kingdom is surrounded by accounts of battles, suffering, danger, and exile. In fact, from the viewpoint of those who have denied justice to the poor, the virtuous king described by Isaiah will be a man of confrontation: "His word a rod that strikes the ruthless...his sentences bringing death to the wicked." In the biblical pattern, the kingdom where the lion and the lamb lie down together is not found by holding good thoughts about each other and singing just one more verse of "What the world needs now is love, sweet love."

It is on Jesus that the vision of the virtuous king has come to rest for Christians. But often the Jesus associated with the church today has little to do with either the virtuous king of Isaiah or the Jesus of the Gospels.

Jon Sobrino, author of Christology at the Crossroads, describes two views of Jesus that he finds current among Christians, views which he says allow us to "maintain an apparent neutrality vis-a-vis the flagrant inequities in our society." In following these false Christs, we lose the capacity to recognize the truly virtuous king when he appears. We also become obstacles to the kingdom of God.

Sobrino sees Christians following these two abstract and idealized Christs: Christ as Love and Christ as Power. It is clear that the Christ of the Bible loves each person, but it is equally clear that that love is not a sentimental abstraction but is expressed in the real world as judgment for the poor and against their oppressors. To speak of a Christ who loves everyone indiscriminately, but not speak of his partiality toward the poor and oppressed, is to speak of a Christ who is not the Jesus of the Gospels, but a Christ for another world.

The other false Christ described by Sobrino--Christ as Power--is an even greater tempter for most of us in the United States and Canada. This Christ is often invoked to invest power in the governments, the corporations, and the financial institutions that currently run the affairs of the world. Our discipleship to Christ as Power isn't really captured in actions so trivial as ministerial prayers at inaugurations and at the opening of Parliament, or even at ground-breakings for new corporate headquarters. Most of us don't do that sort of thing anyway.

The significant worship of Christ as Power is captured in the acceptance of power as it is now exercised. Wherever Christians remain passive before the economic and political hegemonies of the world, and wherever not even a word of challenge is raised, Christ as Power is out front. With that kind of false leader, it is no wonder that barricades are so easily erected against the dynamic entry of the peaceable kingdom.

Bonnie Greene was staff officer for Human Rights and International Affairs of the United Church of Canada, and a contributing editor for Sojourners when this article appeared.