Christ the King of Social Media
Again this week the fires of protest rose up in Egypt, as citizens took to the streets to protest the transitional military government. As social media brought about new political kingdoms in the place of leaders who had ruled for over fifty years in Egypt & Tunisia, the church bears witness to a year that demonstrated the power of social media to bring significant change in the world.
Whether in the Middle East or in the United States, the really revolutionary power of social media is its ability to create new kingdoms. In the past our connections to each other were more or less dependent on some combination of physical geography or happenstance. But these technologies have united people on a mass scale on the basis of common interest, regardless of geography.
Freed from the bonds of friendship and kinship, niche communities have formed and thrived. Whether it’s an online kingdom dedicated to overthrowing a political leader or a community of dedicated Doctor Who fans, the social media revolution has allowed us to dive deep into ourselves, to develop connections with those who share all our same quirks and interests.
But I’m afraid it’s the influence of the social media revolution, my affinity towards a niche community that will unite me with all the other mainline protestant sacramental clergy who are also really into American professional soccer, southern college football, running, and creative writing which frames how I hear this morning’s parable.
Jesus says the Son of Man will come like a shepherd separating the sheep from the goats. To the righteous sheep the Son of Man will say, "Come, for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and sick and in prison, and you cared for me.' But to the wicked goats the Son of Man will say, "I was hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked, and sick and you did not care for me."
I hear these words with my well twittered ears and like the sheep and goats, I ask quickly, “When was it Lord?” Neither can remember when it was that they did or did not feed, clothe, or give Jesus something to drink. With all the gathered livestock I join in their refrain, “When was it Lord?” Not that I might be reminded of when these instances occurred, but that I might ensure that ‘the sheep’ is the most prominent Facebook group on my profile.
But to hear this parable eager only to preserve my spot among the sheep is to miss the powerful way God is moving. The good news of Christ the King is not the good news of a new Facebook group. It’s not about the creation of a new group of mutual interest, united under the banner of Christ. Rather God’s kingdom is coming among us like Facebook itself, like the whole of a social network, except on a cosmic scale.
Jesus describes a kingdom where all of God’s people are inextricably connected, like the tangled web of a social network. It’s a place where the lost and scattered are tied to the found. It’s a network where those with food are bound to those who hunger and where the least is joined to the most. While Facebook and Twitter connect us through a common interest, God gathers us into this widening network and holds us together not by our hopes or interests, but only through God’s promise. It’s the promise Ezekiel proclaims with force, “I will be their God and they shall be my people,” that holds us in this growing network. This network’s connections, wrapped in God’s promise, are so tight that it pulls us out of ourselves and out of our own personal fiefdoms and yields the hopes of God; justice and love.
While Facebook claims over 800 million users, the kingdom God is bringing is even more expansive. This word of promise stretches out over all the peoples of the earth as Jesus promises to gather all the nations. He continues to stretch this promise out over time, itself, as he proclaims that this place, filled with justice and love, has been prepared from the foundations of the world.
Against these compelling images of a world filled with justice, we must hold the reality where hunger, poverty, loneliness, and injustice persist. Like the effectiveness of social media in overthrowing dictators in the Arab Spring held against the impotent Facebook efforts to spare the life of Troy Davis, we can only move forward in a tenuous world of grey clinging to this same promise of life, even in the midst of death.
Yet, social media holds hope for helping us to understand how God’s promise is growing among us in this place. A few weeks ago our campus ministry discussion group, PUB(lic) THEOLOGY, met down the street over coffee, muffins, and Facebook. As we considered the theology of social media, our conversation arrived at one particularly interesting place. We came to the conclusion that the prayers of the people are social media. They are a powerful collaborative effort where the community of God is developed and nurtured. At this point in our liturgy many of the critiques of social media might also apply. Like a status update or message to a friend we never see, we send our prayers out into the ether. Like on Facebook, in this space we lift up those who will never hear our prayers, whether it’s the names of the sick and dying or prayers on behalf of entire peoples and nations.
It’s a place where we’re tied together, where we hear the hungry cries of the other, and where we voice our own pleas for welcome and care. From a cynical perspective, our prayers could be seen to be as effective at bringing change as Tuesday morning’s status update. But in these prayers we put our faith in the miraculous and growing network of God and God’s people, that there God’s promise of life and justice will become manifest.
Perhaps it’s not as visual striking as masses marching in the street or wholesale regime change, but it is the mark of a community held together by the hope to which we are called; the promise of God. Amen.
Whether in the Middle East or in the United States, the really revolutionary power of social media is its ability to create new kingdoms. In the past our connections to each other were more or less dependent on some combination of physical geography or happenstance. But these technologies have united people on a mass scale on the basis of common interest, regardless of geography.
Freed from the bonds of friendship and kinship, niche communities have formed and thrived. Whether it’s an online kingdom dedicated to overthrowing a political leader or a community of dedicated Doctor Who fans, the social media revolution has allowed us to dive deep into ourselves, to develop connections with those who share all our same quirks and interests.
But I’m afraid it’s the influence of the social media revolution, my affinity towards a niche community that will unite me with all the other mainline protestant sacramental clergy who are also really into American professional soccer, southern college football, running, and creative writing which frames how I hear this morning’s parable.
Jesus says the Son of Man will come like a shepherd separating the sheep from the goats. To the righteous sheep the Son of Man will say, "Come, for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and sick and in prison, and you cared for me.' But to the wicked goats the Son of Man will say, "I was hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked, and sick and you did not care for me."
I hear these words with my well twittered ears and like the sheep and goats, I ask quickly, “When was it Lord?” Neither can remember when it was that they did or did not feed, clothe, or give Jesus something to drink. With all the gathered livestock I join in their refrain, “When was it Lord?” Not that I might be reminded of when these instances occurred, but that I might ensure that ‘the sheep’ is the most prominent Facebook group on my profile.
But to hear this parable eager only to preserve my spot among the sheep is to miss the powerful way God is moving. The good news of Christ the King is not the good news of a new Facebook group. It’s not about the creation of a new group of mutual interest, united under the banner of Christ. Rather God’s kingdom is coming among us like Facebook itself, like the whole of a social network, except on a cosmic scale.
Jesus describes a kingdom where all of God’s people are inextricably connected, like the tangled web of a social network. It’s a place where the lost and scattered are tied to the found. It’s a network where those with food are bound to those who hunger and where the least is joined to the most. While Facebook and Twitter connect us through a common interest, God gathers us into this widening network and holds us together not by our hopes or interests, but only through God’s promise. It’s the promise Ezekiel proclaims with force, “I will be their God and they shall be my people,” that holds us in this growing network. This network’s connections, wrapped in God’s promise, are so tight that it pulls us out of ourselves and out of our own personal fiefdoms and yields the hopes of God; justice and love.
While Facebook claims over 800 million users, the kingdom God is bringing is even more expansive. This word of promise stretches out over all the peoples of the earth as Jesus promises to gather all the nations. He continues to stretch this promise out over time, itself, as he proclaims that this place, filled with justice and love, has been prepared from the foundations of the world.
Against these compelling images of a world filled with justice, we must hold the reality where hunger, poverty, loneliness, and injustice persist. Like the effectiveness of social media in overthrowing dictators in the Arab Spring held against the impotent Facebook efforts to spare the life of Troy Davis, we can only move forward in a tenuous world of grey clinging to this same promise of life, even in the midst of death.
Yet, social media holds hope for helping us to understand how God’s promise is growing among us in this place. A few weeks ago our campus ministry discussion group, PUB(lic) THEOLOGY, met down the street over coffee, muffins, and Facebook. As we considered the theology of social media, our conversation arrived at one particularly interesting place. We came to the conclusion that the prayers of the people are social media. They are a powerful collaborative effort where the community of God is developed and nurtured. At this point in our liturgy many of the critiques of social media might also apply. Like a status update or message to a friend we never see, we send our prayers out into the ether. Like on Facebook, in this space we lift up those who will never hear our prayers, whether it’s the names of the sick and dying or prayers on behalf of entire peoples and nations.
It’s a place where we’re tied together, where we hear the hungry cries of the other, and where we voice our own pleas for welcome and care. From a cynical perspective, our prayers could be seen to be as effective at bringing change as Tuesday morning’s status update. But in these prayers we put our faith in the miraculous and growing network of God and God’s people, that there God’s promise of life and justice will become manifest.
Perhaps it’s not as visual striking as masses marching in the street or wholesale regime change, but it is the mark of a community held together by the hope to which we are called; the promise of God. Amen.
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