Over this weekend a number of my non-Christian friends have been sharing links to a story about the (Lutheran) Church of Sweden on their social media accounts. These friends, secular leftists to a person, are generally under the impression that the Swedish state church’s appeal to its clergy to stop using the word ‘Lord’ or male pronouns of God is bizarre. And they are certainly right.
Whatever else makes a body of people part of the Christian tradition, a commitment to use, recall, and grapple with the scriptures is surely an essential condition. The Swedish strictures, if taken seriously, would make this impossible. If, as I suspect to be the case with the Swedish church, you think characteristic scriptural language about God is damaging to justice and equality amongst human beings then the honest thing to do would be to declare yourself post-Christian. That is perhaps what the Church of Sweden ought to do.
It would have been better though if it had never got into the kind of muddle over religious language that leads to this sort of censoriousness in the first place. Consider what the Swedish archbishop says,
Theologically, for instance, we know that God is beyond our gender determinations, God is not human
This is indeed true, but it only follows that one shouldn’t (for instance) use the word ‘he’ of God if one supposes that in doing so one is making an assertion that God is male. But that’s not what is going on with religious language. It does not, in the main, seek to describe the contours of divine reality (a very few uses of language, called by Aquinas analogical, do speak truly directly of God, but they are exceptions). Rather it points towards it playfully, pointing out the inadequacies of our words before God by placing contradictory and unsettling images before us. God is not only Lord for the books of the Hebrew Bible, but a woman in labour, a fortress, a rock, and a case of dry rot. If she is Lord, he is also a servant, a shepherd, a steadfast hope, and a vengeful judge. We do not, other than by covenanted grace, know where we stand with God. His thoughts are not are thoughts, we are creatures, she the creator.
The kind of liberal who thinks that in using the word ‘Lord’ (generally, in the Old Testament, a rendering of the tetragrammaton) one is saying that God is a celestial version of Donald Trump or Prince Philip, and that this is a bad thing, is simply the photographic negative of the fundamentalist who thinks that God is indeed the Top Bloke and holds this to be a very good thing. Neither party thinks about rejecting the fundamentally idolatrous understanding of religious language which they hold in common.
And that is where I would leave things were it not that I’m writing on the feast of Christ the King. For whilst the archbishop is right that God is not human as God, God is of course human as the man Jesus. And as a man we call him King and Lord. Now these uses of language can’t be so swiftly dismissed as metaphorical, can they? After all, don’t we believe that Christ does, and one day will more fully and completely, possess the foremost place in a human community, known as the Kingdom? What does someone like me, who thinks that human hierarchy and kingship has brought in its wake nothing but bloodshed and oppression, say about the fact that my Church invites me today to celebrate the fact (as it takes it to be) that Christ is the King?
Just this, that the Kingship of Christ is an ironic, subversive, affair which undermines human institutions of domination through superficially assuming them. His crown is made of thorns, and his kingly life one of service. His reign is not over his subjects, but rather one which, through grace, his sisters and brothers come to share. If we affirm this man as our king, if we affirm that kingship looks like this, and that we too hope to share in it, then we can no longer have any time for anything less, for any structure that subjugates or dominates. If Christ is the King then Caesar is not. And what a strange kind of King Christ is.