Islamic State, so called, is the latest example in our world of a religious group trying to establish its earthly rule. And people of every faith and no faith have been equally appalled at what they’ve seen perpetrated by this frankly obscene travesty of what it means to be religious, in Syria and Iraq, and also in Ankara and Beirut and Paris. Andrew Neil’s opening monologue to the programme “This Week” has deservedly gone viral, as they say, as he describes the Paris attackers and those who stand behind them as “Islamist Scumbags”. I can’t fault any word of his statement, except maybe to say that the sick violence of those who want to establish a new kingdom, or caliphate as they would call it, in the name of Islam is not in the name of Islam at all, and is a terrible travesty of what that faith truly preaches and stands for.
Atheist friends of mine have been quick to use what Islamic State are doing as a reason to condemn all religion as not only pointless but actively harmful to humanity and to world peace. I can’t agree with them. Religion can be misused by those who are sick in mind and heart, and has been, through the ages, and far too many wars have been fought in its name, including the crusades which for Islamic State represent a way which is still not over. But faith is not the issue, though perverted forms of religion may be. The problem is not Islam or any other religion per se; the problem is extremism, and that takes many forms in our world, not all of them religious.
Today we honour Jesus as our King, and we take time to think seriously about the Kingdom he proclaims. Where is it, and what is it, and what is our part in it? My newspaper seems to contain a new map every day of the territory controlled by Islamic State in Syria and Iraq and defended by its soldiers and militants. But the Kingdom Jesus preaches doesn’t appear on any map; it’s not defined by geography, it has no border posts or defending army.
Of course, there have been attempts to establish Christian kingdoms on earth that had all of those things, and sometimes the process of doing this was a violent one. There were a number of kingdoms, chief among them Jerusalem, that were established at the time of the crusader wars; in Medieval times the Holy Roman Empire took in the greater part of Europe at its height; on a smaller scale you had attempts at strict Christian order on such communities as Jean Calvin’s Geneva. But none of these could ever be the kingdom Jesus proclaims, for, as he says to the Roman governor Pontius Pilate, his kingdom is not of this world. That doesn’t mean that he’s a king somewhere else, like heaven, or not exactly that. After all, when Jesus travelled around preaching he told the people that the kingdom of God had come close to them - right then and there, right where they were. This is a kingdom we can look forward to, but it’s also a kingdom we can see the signs of here and now. The kingdom of God is about how we choose to live, who we choose to listen to and follow and obey.
'My kingdom is not of this world' said Jesus. His is a kingship very different from the kingship of a Caesar or a Herod. This kingship invites us, rather than compels us, and it offers to serve us rather than order us about. Jesus says, “Let the greatest among you become as one who serves.” So if we’re to follow him, we should be like him, in our discipline, in the love we show and share, in our obedience and humility and service.
The theological word for that is ‘holy’. Holy means specially set apart - in order to serve, in order to build bridges, in order to be peacemakers in the world, in order to bring healing and compassion and forgiveness into lives that need to know those things, that need to know the transforming and saving love of our God and King. That’s our Lord himself did, that’s the work he calls us to continue in his name.
Isn't this so very different from the cruel and cynical power play of Islamic State, which can only think of destroying its enemies, and even its own people the moment they step out of line? This king of ours is on record as loving his enemies and calling on his disciples to do the same; and he stands opposed to the power madness of the world; think of Mary’s song, the Magnificat, in St Luke’s Gospel. In it we can find these words: "he has brought down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things, and has sent the rich empty away." Those words have even been banned by some regimes, in case they stir up opposition to those who grab at worldly wealth and power.
So where will we find this kingdom, and how can we build and establish it? The kingdom is everywhere that the Gospel of Jesus is really being taken seriously and lived. It is both our present reality and our future hope. The signs of the Kingdom are all around us, and we ourselves are challenged to live in a Kingdom way, here and now, as we also pray for its fulfilment and its completion. The kingdom is seen and known when there is healing for the sick and troubled, acceptance for the outcast and unwanted, restoration for those who have lost hope or are burdened by failure or sin, and new life for those who feel they have no future and no worth. And it’s not confined to any place, it has no geographical boundaries - it happens and is proclaimed as we live it. It is even happening today in places claimed and ruled by Islamic State.
In fact ‘kingdom’ in our New Testaments is probably better translated as 'kingship', for it’s really about the place we give Christ in our own hearts and lives. It’s about whether we are his obedient servants. William Ruskin said, "He who gives God second place in life gives him no place." Jesus said, "Shine as lights in the world, to the glory of God the Father."
A card I saw in a local shop the other day said: "Work like you don't need the money, love like you've never been hurt, and dance like nobody's watching." I offer those words to you as a way of being Kingdom people. For this Kingdom is built when its people are working not for any reward, but just because they’re thankful and loving; and where its people go on loving and serving and giving even when it hurts, whatever discouragements come their way; and where its people just do it, just dance before our Lord with his music playing in their hearts and not the world’s songs, without caring what others might think.
Yes, our king might look foolish next to the Caesars and the Herods of this world on their high thrones and with their fine robes and golden crowns; and against the Islamic States and Boko Harans of this world as they brandish their Kalashnikovs he might look fatally weak. The big boys of his day nailed him to a cross, and he hung there helpless, his life draining away, and people looking on and jeering. But in fact his cross is his royal throne, and the moment of his death the moment of absolute victory. There he is proclaimed as Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, and there he challenges us to go for what’s eternal, to live for what can’t be destroyed, and to open our hearts to the spark of love divine through which all things were made, from which all life emerged, by which we are lifted up from a world of sin and failure and death and into the new life only Christ could win for us, and in which we are given good news to take out into all the world.
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