Dethroned Church
The following sermon was delivered during the Alumni Mass on Alumni Day, May 17, 2023, in St. Mary’s Chapel. The readings are Psalm 72 and I Samuel 8:1.
By the Rev. Steve Schlossberg
The book of Samuel tells the story of how Israel, which in the beginning was led by prophets, came to be ruled by kings. And whether that was what God always wanted for his people, or that was something God never wanted for his people, the book of Samuel can’t make up its mind.
The book that immediately precedes the book of Samuel in the Bible is the book of Judges, which tells the story of Israel disintegrating – spiritually, morally, politically, and in every other way. And the refrain in the Book of Judges is this: In those days, Israel had no king, and everyone went his own way. Because Israel had no king, Israel went astray.
The book that immediately follows the book of Samuel is the book of Kings, which chronicles all the kings of Israel after David, and the book of Kings tells the story of Israel disintegrating – spiritually, morally, politically, and in every other way. What happens in the book of Kings is that, one after another, all those kings led Israel astray.
So, the voice of the book of Judges is: We need a king to save us. The voice of the book of Kings is: God, save us from all these kings. The book of Samuel sits right between those two books, and it agrees with both. It holds both opinions. God wants us to have a king. God never wanted us to have a king.
You can hear the second opinion in the first lesson. The people go to Samuel, the prophet who’s been leading them, and they tell him, “You’re getting old, your sons aren’t fit to succeed you, so we need a king.” Samuel naturally takes that personally, but the Lord tells Samuel, “Don’t take it personally. It’s not you they’re rejecting; it’s me they’re rejecting.”
Israel has never had a king, because Israel has never needed a king, because Israel has a God who rules his people directly. He leads them through the prophets, in the sense that he speaks to them through the prophets, but everything they want from a king — everything the psalm this morning says a good king does — God has always done for them. He leads them into battle, he vanquishes their enemies, he liberates them from oppression, he gives his people justice, he shows his people mercy, he provides for the needy, he blesses the land so that the land may flourish, so that his people can flourish.
When the people ask Samuel for a king, they’re not asking for someone who will do what the prophet has always done for them. They’re asking for someone who will do what God has always done for them. Why, when God has always been faithful to them, are their hearts so set on having a king? Because, they say, all the other nations have kings, and if we’re going to hold our own then we need to be like them.
And that’s what leads Israel astray every time. That’s what leads Israel into idolatry. Because their neighbors are all bigger and stronger than they are; their neighbors are all richer and more powerful than they are; that can only mean the gods of their neighbors are more powerful than the God of Israel. If we want to be big and strong like our neighbors, we need to worship the gods they do.
Likewise, all our neighbors are ruled by kings. If we want to be rich and powerful like our neighbors we need to be governed as they are.
So, when – whether reluctantly or, as the book of Deuteronomy says – in his ire, God gives them what they’re asking for, they get what they’re asking for. They end up like their neighbors: idol worshipers. What happens in the book of Kings is that all those kings lead the people astray by leading them into idolatry.
Kings, idols – in the Hebrew Bible, the two go hand in hand because the root of each is the same: wanting to be like everyone else, which is exactly what God doesn’t want for his people. He called Israel to be different from everyone else.
So, there is that, and then there’s this: in the book of Samuel, Samuel eventually anoints David king at the express command of God, and God makes a covenant with David, that his house and line will rule Israel forever. That’s what God wants for Israel: a king like David, a man after God’s own heart, who will do what the psalm says a good king does.
Which is it? Did he or didn’t he want Israel to have a king?
The psalm we prayed this morning was probably prayed at every coronation for every king Israel ever had after David, almost every one of whom failed. But inside that prayer is a prophecy of a king who is different, a king who isn’t just the king of Israel. His dominion extends to the ends of the earth, his reign will last forever, and through him all the nations shall bless themselves. That’s the Messiah, of whom the prophets foretold: the king who reconciles the world to himself—and the king who reconciles the two opinions in the book of Samuel, because this king is God himself.
Christ Jesus. King Jesus. In Jesus, son of David, we have our king, and in Jesus, son of God, our king is God himself, ruling his people directly. Which is exactly what God wanted from the beginning.
There’s a lot of Christology in the psalm. I wonder if there’s some ecclesiology in the book of Samuel.
The children of Israel were called to be unlike their neighbors so that they could be a light to their neighbors and a witness to the world that there is but one God, who is Lord of all. There’s the mission of Israel; there’s the mission of the Church. Israel was uniquely able to give that witness and be that light precisely because Israel was smaller and weaker than all its neighbors. Because Israel was so small and weak, its victories were all the more remarkable. In the eyes of its neighbors, its victories were miraculous. So too Israel’s administration of justice, its practice of mercy, its care for the poorest and neediest of their own — so different. That so small and weak a people could not only endure in the face of their powerful neighbors but so flourish together like that — that could only mean that their God is more powerful than all the others.
Can you see that Israel’s witness depended not only on Israel’s faithfulness, but on Israel’s remaining small and weak?
When St. Paul tells the Corinthians, “It’s not through my great strengths that the glory of God shows through, but through my weaknesses,” he’s speaking as a Christian, but he’s talking like a Jew. He’s speaking the faith of Israel when Israel was most faithful. When Israel went astray, it was because Israel’s ambitions grew to be big and powerful.
I think our ecclesia today is sort of like the book of Samuel: we’re holding things together that don’t agree. I think we all know that we can’t be a light to the world and live like everyone else. That doesn’t reconcile. What about this: wanting be a light to the world and wanting the Church to be big and powerful? Isn’t that what God wants for his Church?
A good number of my parishioners today are growing increasingly anxious that the Church isn’t as big as it used to be, Christians aren’t as numerous as we used to be, we’re not as popular as we used to be, and we’re no longer as influential as we used to be. The Church is no longer the king-maker she used to be. Is the Church losing her place in the world? Or it is possible that God is restoring the Church to her place in the world?
The most persuasive testimonies I’ve ever heard to the saving power of Jesus are those of the poor, the chronically ill, and the addicts, who know themselves powerless. Their testimonies have a power, a weight and an authority unmatched by those of the rich, the hale and the hearty. Likewise, the most powerful witness the universal Church has ever given to the world has been given by the persecuted church, the powerless church, the disenfranchised church, small and weak in the eyes of the world: that’s the church through which the glory of God shows through. The church that doesn’t crown kings but, speaking with the voice of the prophets, proves itself a stumbling block to kings who go astray.
The Church that has no ambition to rule the world is the Church that St. John says will conquer the world, just like its King — not by spilling the blood of its enemies, but by spilling its own, as a witness to its enemies, that its enemies might be saved. Patient in suffering, boundless in charity and humble of heart, the Church that doesn’t expect the world to serve its interests but girds itself with an apron and serves — that’s the Church that represents Christ to the world. The Church that dethrones itself, Christians who dethrone themselves — they alone can testify that Christ alone is King.
Am I the only one here who feels the irony of a preacher saying what I just said while wearing a cope? Finery fit for royalty — it’s not what you would normally wear to wash anyone’s feet.
But this is Nashotah House: she’s sort of like the book of Samuel. She holds together things that don’t agree, like a beautiful cope and me, and the roomful of us, who don’t naturally reconcile.
The House has been bigger in days gone by, in that she’s seen larger student bodies, but I don’t think she’s ever been stronger or healthier. Not since Dean Parsons have we had a dean so wise, such a scholar—but such a pastor, a model to our students of a shepherd who pours himself out for his flock, pours himself into his flock, so that every member of his flock may flourish — students, faculty, and staff alike — and whose heart goes out to the weak. I don’t believe there’s any seminary today better able to bless a Church divided by miserable despots on one hand and miserable judges on the other than the one that blesses her with well-formed pastors, not only well-schooled in strong Christology and sound ecclesiology, but who over the course of three years learn to de-throne themselves. Isn’t that what we learned at the House?
She’s never been stronger. And if you have a good Catholic ecclesiology, you know that’s not a good reason to support the House. We do not ask our people to support their church because their church is so big and strong and so obviously worthy of their support, any more than we goad them into supporting their church because their church is so pathetic and if they don’t cough up, their pitiful church will just dry up and blow away. We pour ourselves into the Church because she is our Mother, and we stick by her, never more so than when she’s ailing, just as Christ sticks by his people never more so than when we are ailing. And we implore our people to pour themselves into the Church only because learning to be self-giving is what grows us up and into the full stature of Christ, who does not line himself up with the strong, who lines himself up against the strong on behalf of the weak; and who for the love of the world, St. Paul tells the Philippians, de-throned himself.
That’s what I learned at my Alma Mater, our little mother, lowly handmaiden of the Church. She’s never been stronger. But I’m not going to let her great strength today deter me from rushing to her side to support her now.
The Rev. Steve Schlossberg is a 2007 graduate of Nashotah House. He serves as rector of St. Matthew’s Episcopal Church in Richmond, Virginia. Formerly, he served St. John’s Episcopal Church in Troy, New York; Zion Episcopal Church in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin; and the Lamb Center, a ministry to the poor and homeless in northern Virginia. He and his wife, Angie, have five children and two grandchildren. His son Jake Schlossberg graduated from Nashotah House in the spring.
