Reign of Christ, Year B: Cosmic Sovereignty
Shawn Sanford Beck
Who needs kings??? Really, in this day and age (and especially at this particularly critical time and place of danger on Turtle Island, under threat by a King in Orange) another power-hungry dictator twisting the world into their own cruel and greedy image is about the last thing we need. It is certainly the last thing that our more-than-human neighbours need, as the Earth groans under the satanic endgame of late industrial capitalism. And yet, and yet … as Luffy D. Monkey (perhaps under the influence of ontological anarchist philosopher hakim bey before him) reminds us … at some deep level, we all have a secret dream of sovereignty, even if this is paradoxically expressed as “King of the Pirates”. Kings, Queens, what does it all mean? And why does the monarch haunt us so?
Creation Thealogian Matthew Fox has been whispering the clue for almost forty years: by virtue of the Imago Dei, we are all Royal People. Our inner spiritual nobility is connected intimately, cosmologically, to the fate and flourishing of the planet itself. So, sure – we want to do away with kings – but on this “Reign of Christ” Sunday, perhaps we might benefit from exploring the Mighty Queen within each of us.
Commentary
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As the Book of Samuel draws to a close, this beautiful passage shapes itself as the final testament of David, King over Israel. Moreover, it is an “oracle” as well; it bears witness to the relationship of David and his God, and affirms that relationship deep into the future, to the “house” of David. This oracle rejoices in the language of the “everlasting covenant”, a promise that the favour of YHWH will be with David’s descendants, world without end.
For Christians, this divine oracle is often interpreted as a prophecy about the coming Messiah, fulfilled in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus himself seems to accept the nomenclature of “Son of David”, though not without ambiguity. But the historical context of Samuel’s narrative is not a future saviour figure, but rather the immediate child of David, namely Solomon. As the Book(s) of Samuel roll into that of Kings, David begins his long descent into the sleep of his ancestors, but not before securing the royal throne for his progeny by Bathsheba.
Solomon, the “peaceful one”, continues the line of David, and becomes the inheritor of his “house”. This is where things get even more complicated, and lines of interpretation diverge. From a historical-critical perspective, there is a strong argument to be made that Solomon’s reign re-created Israel in the image of “all the nations”, with a tyrant-king at the top of the pyramid. Both his nation-building and his temple-building exploits caused deep social strife as well as ecological turmoil, built upon the dual exploitation of the people and the land. From this vantage point, the figure of Solomon is deeply problematic. However, there has always existed (even as early as the counter-telling of Chronicles) a strong tradition of Solomon as a wise and noble ruler, in touch with Sophia’s presence throughout creation, and a source of hidden (occult) knowledge embedded within the Temple whose building he oversaw. This is Solomon the good, Solomon the wise, Solomon the wizard-king, deeply connected with the magical powers of creation. It is this figure of Solomon who hovers in the background of this week’s psalm…
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Paired as a liturgical response to the reading from 2 Kings, this psalm focuses on the Ark of the Covenant, and its “resting place”, the Temple. Though these sacred mysteries are only tentatively named (verses 8 and 13), it is clear that the psalmist is recounting the holy narrative of the Ark’s journey to Jerusalem (“Zion”) and its eventual habitation in the soon-to-be-built Temple. But woven through these hymnic verses is the story of David’s own lineage, his “house”, embodied by Solomon. Having built a house for God (the Temple), Solomon receives God’s own building of a house for David. The two things are intimately connected. Christians, much later in the history of reception, will recognize Jesus as the new Solomon, the One who will rebuild the “Temple” of his own body in three days after it is torn down.
All of this feels quite obscure, doesn’t it? And how does any of this connect with the well-being of the Earth and all Her creatures? Biblical scholar Margaret Barker elucidates the mysteries of these strange connections in her corpus of work which she terms “Temple Theology”. Drawing on cultural and theological resources wide and deep, Barker unveils a biblical “code” which sees the Temple of Jerusalem as microcosm to the macrocosm of the whole created order, its priesthood as angels of the spiritual realms, and its Levitical laws as ritual means by which the “eternal covenant” can be maintained so as to guard and heal the very bonds of Creation itself. Barker’s work is extensive, and has been endorsed and encouraged by previous Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams, as well as Orthodox patriarchs and theologians who inherit this very Temple tradition within the ornate rituals of the eastern branches of Christianity.
In some ways, it all feels a bit magical, a bit like an enchanted world where the powers of heaven and earth intermingle in the shrouded presence of the Holy One. And so it should! Behind this complex cosmological model stands Solomon himself, heir to the house of David, whose presence brings shalom, peace and healing for the land and all the creatures therein. Through almost three thousand years, the mysterious figure of Solomon has been the “patron saint” of magical traditions within Jewish, Islamic, and (yes!) Christian cultures. This is not the place to trace out the details of Solomonic magic, other than to point out that in its modern (post-medieval) and contemporary forms, this lineage comes down to us as folk magic and healing traditions of “people of the land”, often oppressed and marginalized, their liberative wisdoms disdained by church and science alike. This is hoodoo and rootwork, it is the braucherei of the Pennsylvania Deitch, it is southern conjure and Appalachian mountain magic, it is Cajun traiteur, Mexican curanderismo, and so many other hidden traditions which blend Indigenous and African wisdom with European magical lore.
In our day and age, as medical systems break down under the pressures of economic decadence and political decay, as ecological webs strain and tear in the murderous grip of late industrial capitalism, we are well advised to humble ourselves. Wisdom and healing can be found in the most unlikely of places, and practitioners of folk magic and healing throughout Turtle Island (and beyond) may well become sources of salvation for a planet in deep dis-ease.
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The Book of Revelation is so often a frightening, alienating, frustratingly obscure text for the People of God gathered in our churches and our forest groves. Like it or not, our apocalyptic sensibilities have been ruined by decades of dispensationalist fundamentalism – from Hal Lindsey’s Late Great Planet Earth to the wildly popular Left Behind franchise. Even for those trained in liberationist exegetical traditions, it is hard to shake the persistent hermeneutic nightmare of blood-drenched, reactionary right-wing, totalitarian revenge-porn to which so many of us were exposed since the eighties. If this is the Book of Revelation, then we’d best leave it alone to moulder in some god-forgotten corner of a deserted and crumbling monastery somewhere.
But truly, that is not what the Apocalypse of John is all about. Turning again to Margaret Barker’s theo-cosmology (to name just one of many allied perspectives), we see traces of Temple Theology present in this mysterious work. This particular passage begins with a message of grace and peace from the Threefold One who sits upon the cosmic throne. This is not just a standard liturgical greeting from one earthbound soul to another; the context is the universe itself. All of space and time are gathered in the presence of this One who is Three, whose Spirit is sevenfold like the heavenly bodies of ancient astrological account, and whose Child is “ruler of the kings of the earth”. Read upon the great feast of the Reign of Christ, this passage evokes (and invokes?) the power of God who ordains each of us with Their lifeblood, to become priests throughout the whole creation.
Revelatory hints such as those embedded in this short passage have been part of my own journey toward the development of “green priestcraft”. This is a perspective and set of practices which understands the unique role of the human species in relation to the vast evolutionary tree of our planet’s life as one of chaplaincy and spiritual care. Dominion as domination has led to vast ecocide. Stewardship as “wise use” has proven to be weaker than hoped as a paradigm of ecological sanity, as it is still rooted in a human-management model. But priest(ess)hood … this is another matter. If our primary relationship vis-à-vis our more-than-human neighbours is one of prayer, liturgical celebration, pastoral and spiritual care, then we inhabit a different story entirely. If the Earth is the Temple of the Divine, any priest who desecrated such holy space would be subject to judgment. It is in light of this vision of a blood-washed royal green priesthood that our current destructive habits and processes are shown for what they are: cosmic clergy abuse which treats our more-than-human relatives as resources and our planetary parishioners as expendable and exploitable persons “non grata”.
The Eternal Gospel shows us a better way…
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First off, let’s dispense with the potential antisemitic supersessionism lurking in this passage. Just don’t go there. It’s not about “the Jews” … it is about “the People”, and it is about all of us. This passage explores the nightmares of history which occur when the powers of state and the powers of religion conspire together against Truth-in-Love (satyagraha, perhaps?) in the name of the brittle truth of empire.
Jesus’ answer to Pilate’s interrogation is striking. He rejects the imperial definition of kingship and reframes it in this way: “My kingdom is not from/of this world.” This is helpful for our discipleship, in many ways. Throughout Christian history we have so many brave examples of the renunciation of violence and coercive power, inspired by this short gospel text. “The world” in this usage is the logic and practice of Empire, of might-makes-right, of dominance and exploitation, of subtle or raw violence. Jesus renounces this world. He repudiates it utterly as he takes his true throne on the cross of Roman oppression, in solidarity with all who have been ground to the dust beneath the iron wheels of satanic power. Amen to that renunciation.
But things are never that straightforward, are they? By using the word kosmos, John has inadvertently placed in Jesus’ mouth an accidental rejection of the whole created order … not just a “dirty rotten system” (MJ Leddy). Coupled with habits of platonic dualism which have dogged creedal and philosophical theology ever since, this Johannine ambivalence about the nature of the cosmos has led to various quasi-gnostic spiritualities which seek to transcend or escape the body and the Earth, and leave the rest of Creation to go to hell in a handbasket.
It is time to embrace an interpretation of John’s text which allows for Jesus’ critique and rejection of the corrupt social-religious-political order, while at the same time embracing the physical cosmos and all its creatures … this beloved world of ours, which God so loves, and which came into being though LogoSophia Themselves.
Themes and Preaching Ideas
“Sacred Kingship”: Though not everyone in any given congregation will be a Lord of the Rings fan (but really, why not???), the figure of Aragorn might be a good place to start for a radical re-interpretation of the “divine right of kings” heritage within western Christianity. According to Tolkien’s Legendarium (which is based in part on historical Catholic lore) the true monarch of Gondor will be known by the sign of healing hands. This is shown in the episode in “The Fellowship of the Ring” where Strider instructs Sam to forage a forest herb called kingsfoil or Athelas , and then wildcrafts it into a healing remedy against the evil wound which Frodo has received from the Morgul blade. A sermon could draw the links between Solomon, Jesus, and Aragorn as sacred kings who take the long hard road of service to use their sovereign gifts as healers and liberators, rather than dominators (though none of this is without ambiguity!) Rather than simply tossing out the notion of divine kingship, the reference to “a kingdom of priests” in the reading from Revelation can help democratize the “sacred sovereignty” with its healing gifts (connected closely with the plant realms of Creation) as part of the ministry of all believers which we share through baptism.
“Cosmic Worship”: The reading from the Book of Revelation is a very short passage which gives the traditional greeting of the cultural epistle (letter) form. But it does so in a strange way, as a letter within an apocalypse, a genre within a genre. This greeting in the name of the Triune One is the first of a series of glimpses woven throughout Revelation of the transcendent realm, the heavenly throne room of God. A sermon could take this particular reading and expand it with a fuller view of that throne room, such as the vision given in Revelation chapter 4. This opens up a more cosmic view of the divine story, where the action is set amidst elders, angels, jewels, rainbows, a crystal sea, and the strangely compelling “four living creatures” with more-than-human attributes. There are sacred numbers: four, seven, twelve doubled. And there is heavenly worship, with the Sanctus resounding throughout the entire heavenly scene … “Holy, holy, holy, the Lord God the Almighty, who was and is and is to come!” By linking this apocalypsis, this unveiling of heavenly realities, to the more homely and common worship of the local gathered community, the preacher can remind the congregation of the cosmic dignity and significance of what they are about from one Sunday to the next. More specifically, there can be teaching about the relationship between the church’s worship and the creaturely life of the ecosystem(s) in which it is embedded. A guided meditation, for instance, could help parishioners envision themselves and their humble church as worshipping within a whole living network of their more-than-human neighbours: plants, animals, insects, winds, waters, angels, ancestors, and the whole creation, gathered around the heavenly throne of grace. Hymns such as “Love Divine All Loves Excelling” (Wesley), “Called by Earth and Sky” (Mayberry), or “Holy Holy Holy” (Heber) can all assist in creating a vast and planetary sense of the church’s place in God’s ministry.
“Solomon’s Seal”: Using an actual Solomon’s Seal plant cutting as a teaching aid, the preacher could move from the question of “why do you think this plant is called Solomon’s Seal?”, through to the legends of King Solomon, riffing off the kingship texts in the lectionary, referencing wisdom literature attributed to Solomon such as Wisdom 8:15-22, and pointing toward the existence of healing traditions among contemporary (mainly) marginalized cultural groups here in Turtle Island, some of whom claim that very lineage of Solomon’s wisdom and spiritual power. The preacher could shape the sermon toward a call for “creation prayer” hand in hand with “creation care” … eg. the invitation for us to pray for our more-than-human neighbours while simultaneously doing our appropriate ecological work. For some reason, the Christian tradition has actually been less eager (ironically) to pray for Creation than to advocate and work on environmental “issues”. I think that this pattern is problematic, and points to a continued devaluing of the personhood of the animist world in which we actually live, move, and have our being. The danger is that we can be environmentally activist solely for human benefit, without recognizing the inherent worth, sentience, agency, and relationality of the rest of Creation. By including “creation prayer” within our “creation care”, we help to mitigate that danger. By referencing marginalized folk healing traditions, we are given clues and hints as to what this “creation prayer” might actually look like.
Sources/Resources
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monkey_D._Luffy
http://www.margaretbarker.com/Temple/default.htm
https://newworldwitchery.com/resources/magical-systems/
https://sacramentalwhine.libsyn.com/christian-animism-and-bridge-building-with-shawn-sanford-beck (Temple Theology within Christian Animism)
https://youtu.be/ycUwFhzdQME (green priestcraft)
Contributor Bio
The Rev. Shawn Sanford Beck is an ecumenical priest and Candidate for the Order of Ministry in the United Church of Canada. He lives in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan (Treaty Six Territory) and will soon serve as GreenSpirit Chaplain within the Living Skies Region and beyond. Shawn has been active in eco-spirituality and ChristoPagan reflection for decades. He is the author of Christian Animism, co-author of A Prairie Rune, and blogs at https://ecosophian.wordpress.com/ . Feel free to connect with him at greenpriest@hotmail.ca
Image and attribution
“Squirrel Temple” by Bankj, Pixabay free use license (a small squirrel looks down from the overhang of an ancient temple, sovereign of all she surveys…)