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Guest
In mass, we celebrate Christ as “King of King” and “Lord of Lords.” Christ himself spoke of the “Kingdom of God,” and throughout history, there have been depictions of Christ and the Holy Mother crowned. For instance, the Infant of Prague depicts the baby Jesus in a large crown wearing Renaissance-era royal clothing.
While no doubt, these images reflect the underlying sentiment among Catholics and other Christians that Christ is the one to whom we own our hearts, but I worry that there is too much appropriation of the human institution of monarchy into our conceptions of God.
In first century Palestine, monarchy (impemented as a tetrachy), the forms of government known to the people were through (A) the Jewish royal lineage of the sons of Herod the Great, and (B) the Roman officials like Pontius Pilate, representative of the emperor. When Christ said that his kingdom is not of this world, was it really his intention to establish the conventions of earthly monarchy as the means by which humans relate to God, whom he taught us to call Father? At the time, his words may seem very odd to people whose only forms of government were subcategories of monarchy.
Certainly, Christ showed humility that no human king would, at least routinely. Washing the feet of his apostles, being “hands on” with the people, and seeking his apostles among the dregs of first century Jewish life (e.g. tax collectors) surely proved his humility.
Yet, I see more depictions and references to Christ as a ruler, as a king and judge, and somehow, this seems unbalanced to me. Christ described his kingdom with parables, like that of the mustard seed. It’s hard to relate monarchical government to such a kingdom.
I suppose my worry with this comes from a fear of imposing too much of our worldview onto God. In our society, we’re often taught to obey whatever we’re told. I don’t want to instill pride in people, but sometimes it’s important for us to question when wrong is being done, which can be done humbly.
Some of this has been shaped by a family member of mine, who was abused by a member of the clergy as a young teenager, and who never reported it. I wonder if that was due to seeing the priest more through the eyes of authority and obedience than through humility. In my gut, I feel that there’s a difference.
While no doubt, these images reflect the underlying sentiment among Catholics and other Christians that Christ is the one to whom we own our hearts, but I worry that there is too much appropriation of the human institution of monarchy into our conceptions of God.
In first century Palestine, monarchy (impemented as a tetrachy), the forms of government known to the people were through (A) the Jewish royal lineage of the sons of Herod the Great, and (B) the Roman officials like Pontius Pilate, representative of the emperor. When Christ said that his kingdom is not of this world, was it really his intention to establish the conventions of earthly monarchy as the means by which humans relate to God, whom he taught us to call Father? At the time, his words may seem very odd to people whose only forms of government were subcategories of monarchy.
Certainly, Christ showed humility that no human king would, at least routinely. Washing the feet of his apostles, being “hands on” with the people, and seeking his apostles among the dregs of first century Jewish life (e.g. tax collectors) surely proved his humility.
Yet, I see more depictions and references to Christ as a ruler, as a king and judge, and somehow, this seems unbalanced to me. Christ described his kingdom with parables, like that of the mustard seed. It’s hard to relate monarchical government to such a kingdom.
I suppose my worry with this comes from a fear of imposing too much of our worldview onto God. In our society, we’re often taught to obey whatever we’re told. I don’t want to instill pride in people, but sometimes it’s important for us to question when wrong is being done, which can be done humbly.
Some of this has been shaped by a family member of mine, who was abused by a member of the clergy as a young teenager, and who never reported it. I wonder if that was due to seeing the priest more through the eyes of authority and obedience than through humility. In my gut, I feel that there’s a difference.