Weena Salvador Meily, Association of Women in Theology(AWIT)
Daniel 7: 13-14
Psalm 93:1-2, 5
Rev. 1:5-8
John 18:33-37
The reign of God in traditional Catholic understanding might present problems in forming our image of God. I remember my childhood days when our rich Roman patriarchal religious heritage has filled our visions with powerful images of a God who punishes, who sees us on every angle we face, who waits for us to make that one little mistake and kapow! you’re out. The picture of an angry god who holds a lightning in his hand plagued my questioning mind. We had a certain fear for God. But it was a fear founded on “oh no I’m scared to death to be punished!” These were real problems that persisted and that which I have to face until my adult years.
In the first reading today, let me tell you a little background story necessary to understand the context of the Reign of God or particularly, Jesus Christ as King. The era of the prophet Daniel was a troubling time. The author of the Book was a witness to the transformation of the Jewish faith. It was the year 65 BCE and for 200 years religion and faith in Israel had become rigid. The focus was on extreme obedience to instructions, laws, and regulations in order to maintain the established order, the status quo. There was a theocracy and priests were at the top of the social pyramid. The people obeyed the Law, the Temple had been rebuilt, and “there was nothing else to wait for”. But at the same time, people were suffering. Life was hard, and people were oppressed by huge landowners who were preoccupied with making sure wealth was concentrated on filling the coffers of the kings of Egypt.
In the event that this moment in Israelite history has progressed into materialism, it was because the intellectuals, priests, and the rest of the population were thirsting for “something new”. At the time, Greek culture, art, and sports were flourishing. Pleasures were the order of the day. Life was at its peak and yet empty. Then persecution came and it was easy to give up their “useless religion”. What a perfect time for a change. A crisis.
Enter the Hasideans. These spritual people spent their lives in solitude and prayer in the harsh, cruel desert. Soul searching, inner working. They turned to the Prophets’ books that the priests have neglected. And enlightenment dawned on many. Hope lived on. “ One like the son of man came on the clouds of heaven…his dominion is eternal and shall never pass away; his kingdom will never be destroyed.” (Daniel 7:13-14) Yes, hope lived on. And the people were relearning this lost art.
Till after centuries later, Jesus, who must have loved the Book of Daniel took it to be his source of revelation. He must have had an epiphany when he assumed the title “Son of Man” (taken from Daniel 7:13). And indeed he was ‘one of us’, the Emmanu-el. The ‘son of man’ meant a ‘servant leader’, one who serves, one who stays with the people, lives with the people, knows the heart of the people, shared their suffering, aches and pains. In other words, the meaning of ‘son of man’ is synonymous to ‘one who served the people’.
Let’s connect this to the Gospel. In the disturbing conversation with Pontius Pilate, the Roman leader was trying to lead the now seemingly exhausted Jesus, to a trap. “Are you the king of the Jews?…” (Jn. 18:33) Then Jesus had a ready answer, “ If my kingdom were of this world, my guards would have fought to save me…but my kingdom is not of this world.” Pilate becomes frustrated by now and tries to reiterate his query, “ So you are a king?” Jesus, who remained poised and self-assured replied, “ …for this I have come… to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is on the side of truth hears my voice. “ (v. 37) Today’s gospel, however, does not continue on to the next line, the famous line of Pilate’s disturbed ‘and what is the truth?’ that remains a dead-end question, and which Jesus did not respond to. Because it was clear Pilate never understood what Jesus meant.
‘The truth’ remains to this day, Jesus’ truth he held on to. All his life this was his truth. In his passion, this was his truth. And to his death, died for the truth. This truth is founded on Jesus’ becoming human, one-of-us, living with us, dying everyday with us. Jesus lived a life to the full. A fully human life. And his kingdom, which is not of this world, is still misunderstood unto this day. Our catechism teaches us about waiting and working towards the heavenly kingdom, the one that is not of this world. However, Jesus means, the here and the now. Our salvation has come. The “world” referred to is the way people understood things. The way people wanted to be free. It does not only come with our accepting this truth, no, because that is only half of the picture. Our salvation is here and now, because Jesus has called us to follow him. All of us…all of us. Including everyone. Everyone is welcome in this kingdom that is here and now. And how is Jesus’ kingdom manifest? In feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, caring for the sick and elderly, working for a just and lasting peace, giving hope by caring for EJK victims’ families, being a prophetic voice to oppressive structures, giving voice to the voiceless (and that includes creation’s helpless creatures).
In drawing images of God as power, as authority and punisher, and as I remember these in early childhood days, I knew then that my heart is open to change. I never gave up on myself, my mind to open and keep thinking, there must be new ways. The ground of my heart was being prepped for growing verdant pastures for service and love to graze. And when I reached my theology years, things cleared and words became more meaningful and life felt better.
My life in companionship with theological studies (and practice, as a teacher and in my personal life), was a deep relational experience. I felt like I had a friend journeying with me keeping me sustained and alive and happy. I noticed, little by little, inch by inch, step by step, my image of a patriarchal God was transforming. My perspective in understanding society and the god-of-history (and herstory!) deepened in many ways. I was trained in my school of theology to connect body and spirit, mind and body, movement and thinking, dance and spirit, nature and numbers, I can go on and on.
Today is Feast of Christ the King. The Reign of Christ is here and now. Christ’s reign isn’t something lofty and high culture. The Kingdom is here and now. We do not see a huge castle and a fabulously clothed Christ with crown and scepter. (Though some pictures in calendars depict him thus.) His reign is when love is all around us. Christ reigns when a street child is given hope because he can study and follow his dreams. Christ reigns when a just and lasting peace is earned through Peace Talks between ng government and the National Democratic Front, and efforts borne out of genuine love for country. Christ reigns when there is food security for every family, enough for everyone ( not superabundance for few, and scarcity for the many) fields are pregnant with rice grain, our seas are protected, and when we wake up to the truth that we do not need the construction of corporate-profit-driven dams to provide electricity for us.
It is easy to proclaim Christ as King and savior in our worship, singing hosannas and hallelujahs. But the Christian call remains. Does Christ reign in our practice, in solidarity with the poor and marginalized recognizing all forms of oppression, discrimination and giving them voices so that proper authorities may know that as a people, we are loved by a god “who hears the cry of the poor.” My kingdom is not of this world.
Indeed because the ways of the world are not the ways of the Christ who reigns as Spirit of Love. This Christ who reigns, (in the same sense as Feminist Spirituality does) proclaims wholeness, healing, and spiritual power not as hierarchical power, as power over, but as power for, an enabling power. (E. S. Fiorenza in “Feminist Spirituality, Christian Identity and Catholic Vision”) There is a more beautiful description of Kingdom of God in Filipino, that is, “Ang pamamayani ng kagandahang-loob ng Diyos”. Which is loosely translated as “the felt presence of the goodness of God”.
Oh that we may experience this presence,
that loves, cares for and looks after the flock.
Oh that we may ever be comforted
that there lies an age-old wisdom that speaks
to all to this day.
Oh that we may ever be disturbed
by the Christian call to solidarity
with all forms of poverty,
to be with the people,
to genuinely serve the people.
So that everyone will know,
that this Christ of love, reigns!
(a poetic-interpretation of Psalm 93, by Weena Meily)