"Thy King-dom Come?"

Or, A Gospel for Losers

Recently, thousands of citizens in hundreds of towns and cities throughout our country held a “No Kings” Day rally; protesting what was declared to be excessive overreach by the current occupant of the Oval Office. The last king who tried to retain such a reign over this country was George III, almost 250 years ago. I am one who can recall an earlier era of anti-war protest marches and civil rights demonstrations. “Make Love, Not War” or “We Shall Overcome … Someday,” were typical signs carried. But the cryptic signage nowadays seems exceptional.

At our local rally, just a few of the signs read: “Elect a Clown, Expect a Circus.” “You Can’t Spell HAT-RED without a RED-HAT.” “The Only Good Monarch is a Butterfly.” And “Now You’ve Pissed-off the Menopausal Women!”

Now, in the “traditional” translation of the Lord’s Prayer (Luke 11:1-4, Matthew 6:9-13 ), when the disciples ask to be taught how to pray, they’re told to begin by invoking a wish for divine intervention, “thy kingdom come;” thereby making the distinction between the successive, embattled kingdoms of this world, with the seemingly futile hope of something more, or different. Two millennia later, of course, it remains an unanswered prayer.

Consequently, such a different kind of kingdom which the historical Jesus once taught his first followers seems to have been a losing proposition.

So, what’s the “good news” for anyone today who would strive to dethrone any would-be present-day monarch?

A Gospel for Losers:

Of Monarchs & Martyrdom

Last year, I wrote a 3-part series of commentaries (I, II, III) reflecting on the seeming naiveté reflected in the teachings of that first-century Galilean peasant sage; constituting what became the heart of the gospel’s message. This included both welcoming the alien in our midst; as well as endlessly forgiving the other, in order to break the cycle of retaliatory violence. The fact that this repeated message by such prophets and martyrs remains unchanged does not nullify that hope and vision of a different kind of kingdom.

In one of the earliest post-Jesus traditions reflected in the canonical New Testament there is the portrayal of the Jesus character and his trial before Pilate (John 18:33-38). While many biblical scholars agree the exchange attributed to the two figures were constructed from an early second-hand tradition, the basic plot and theme which this story reflects is a recurrent, universal one.

First, consider the two characters in the tale. Pilate is the representative of the sovereign power of what was the Empire at that particular time; and one that would only rise and eventually fall. Now, the word sovereignty comes from the Latin word “superanus” … No, it’s not what you may be thinking. It means supreme, or paramount. In other words, a sovereign is one that exercises power without limitation. Sound familiar?

So, when Pilate asks Jesus if he is a king – as opposed to the king to whom Pilate has borne allegiance – the figure who is about to be condemned disowns the title; along with the power and privileges attributed to a monarch.

“Mine is not a secular government,” the Jesus character replies. “If my government were secular my companions would fight to keep me from being turned over to the Judeans. But as it is, my government does not belong to the secular domain.” (Jesus Seminar translation)

“So,” Pilate exclaims, “You are a king!”

“You’re the one who says I’m a king,” responds Jesus. “This is what I was born for, and this is why I came into the world: to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth can hear my voice.”

“What is the truth?” says Pilate. And then the story abruptly ends, and leaves us hanging there.

The Truth, and Nothing Butt …

Among the various protest signs at the recent “No-Kings” rally in which I participated was one that initially made me laugh out loud. It was a caricature of Donald Trump looking back over his shoulder. The caption read, “Does this ass make my country look smaller?”

But then I looked at one more sign that wasn’t merely mocking a would-be monarch with a political jab that would only perpetuate an obvious, overt, partisan divide. Rather, it was one that spoke to a deeper, fundamental truth. It was the distinction between cruelty and compassion.

Compassion, of course, refers to the capacity of the human heart to identify and suffer with the ‘other,’ without regard to who that other happens to be, in their own particular state of diminishment.

Cruelty, on the other hand, is the consequence of a certain kind of impoverishment; namely, the lack of any sense of empathy. In this regard, the truth is my brother Donald is the poorest public figure to come along since any other previous would-be king, or fascist leader. He is, in the truest sense, pitiful and pathetic.

A Fantasy Tale:

Donald awakens in the middle of the night with alarm and a sense of urgency. Instead of posting another tweet to distract from the one a day earlier, he orders his team to whisk him away to the airport to board Airforce One. He flies across the country to the U.S./Mexico border and scurries to the security fence; where immigration officers are about to deport an unnamed alien. Donald orders the handcuffs removed and then introduces himself to the stranger who’s in tattered work clothes; and who can only speak a little English.

Donald learns the man’s name is Carlos. Carlos has been tirelessly picking crops in the fields outside San Diego to earn a day’s wage; while his wife and three children are homeless and hiding out somewhere on the streets of the City of Angels.

Donald explains he can only do what one man can do for another; but orders his team to do whatever they can to find the family. If successful, Donald tells Carlos they can come stay at his own house on the other side of the country. It’s a big white house with plenty of rooms. But he warns Carlos it’s only temporary, for the next 1,306 days; when they’ll both have to find other lodging. Carolos breaks down in tears, as Donald gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder …

There are no kings in this fanciful fairytale; only a little kinship to be discovered that could far surpass the more familiar fairy tale kingdoms of this world that would feign to “make us great again.”

When it comes to my own choice of sovereign allegiance, I may be a loser, with a lost cause. But I’ll continue to strive to follow one who expressed and reflected the truth of compassion over cruelty.

Postscript

Years ago, I wrote a song entitled, “At Work in the Fields of the Lord” (here). I recently thought about my estranged brother, Donald, when I recalled the lines below:

Once there was a man, so lost and alone,
Life had grown shallow, with everything he owned.
Seems the more he had, he hungered for more.
Found that the more he had, the more he was poor.

Refrain:
He had never known love without measure,
He had found only life’s earthly pleasures,
He never found his heart’s treasure,
‘Til finding the fields of the Lord.”

Came upon that field, unlike any other
Family of strangers, like sisters and brothers,
Working hand in hand, he never had heard
‘bout giving and growing in faith, with these words:

Refrain:
I can show you love, without measure,
You can find more than life’s earthly pleasures,
Together we’ll share our heart’s treasure
At work in the fields of the Lord.

If you’re like the man, so lost and alone,
Trust in the harvest of joy that’s been sown,
Work without limit, give without cost,
Knowing your labor can never be lost.

Refrain:
I can show you love without measure,
You can find more than life’s earthly pleasures,
Together we’ll share all our pleasure,
At work in the fields of the Lord.

© 2025 by John William Bennison, Rel.D. All rights reserved.
This article should only be used or reproduced with proper credit.