Preaching Daniel 7:9-14

Daniel's throne-room vision is particularly apt for Christ the King Sunday. In typical apocalyptic fashion Daniel uses surreal symbols like beasts, thrones and fire to help us see worldly power differently. As a result, perhaps the greatest problem for preachers is to reflect on our own symbols of power, whether bestial, divine or human. For we preachers must find ways to relate Daniel's vision to our symbolic universe.

Yet there's another problem: we may mistakenly preach Daniel's vision in ways that mask our will-to-power. Certainly we know--after Freud, Marx and Nietzsche--that less-than-Gospel impulses lurk behind our preaching. We need look only to today's dimestore apocalyptic prophets for proof. They hawk end-of-the-world timetables next to the tabloids at check-out stands, using the profits to buy up real estate. But before we wag our fingers, remember: there but for the grace of God go we. We too can get caught up in all the dominion and glory of the apocalypse--especially given the ambiguous power we hold in our pastoral charges.

The remedy?: a solid theology of the cross. After all, wasn't it on the cross where Jesus was enthroned? We who preach with Daniel will need to remind ourselves along the way that Daniel's beasts are not replaced by God's new-and-improved beast; but by "one like a son of man" (or was it a lamb standing as slain?--or was it Christ crucified?). For the sake of liberating Gospel preaching we must be vigilant about the will-to-power residing on our tongues. True, it is there, but so is the Gospel of Christ crucified and risen. Therefore, we will avoid preaching a smug Christian triumphalism. How?: by understanding Daniel's thrones, dominions and kingdoms through the cross.

A sermon reflecting such varied homiletical concerns will need to proceed carefully. A sermon structure like this should do the trick:

Look, we gotta' live in a dog-eat-dog world. But good news: God's gonna' let us share in a new order of peace. Of course, we usually think it'll take a big stick to get the job done. Yet look at God's choice for the job: Christ crucified! So where does that leave us?: holding kingdom shares issued from the cross.

In move one we'll need to paint a bestial picture of our world. No need to exaggerate here--just use the symbols common in everyday parlance. In the work place we've got corporate tigers drawing blood every time they downsize a company. In the marketplace bulls and bears vie for our perceptions about market trends! On an international level nations square off, symbolized as beasts: American eagles, Russian bears, Chinese dragons. Such symbols bring out the bestial elements Daniel saw clearly. Certainly we pastors know through our own pastoral care how savage systems like transnational corporations, markets and governments crush folks. We can draw on such experiences, symboled bestially, for move one.

In move two we announce the good news of God's reign. After all, with Christ's resurrection, God has inaugurated a new order in which God's great promises will come to pass. While we will call up those promises liberally, we will wish to be somewhat sober in how we portray them. This good news, after all, comes to us as the defeat of the bestial powers is imminent, but not yet totally accomplished. Preachers must also remember that the promises are corporate. The Ancient of Days handed everything over to the son of man, a figural representative for us together in contrast to the beasts. The promises we paint homiletically, therefore, are likewise corporate--not merely private.

Move three then searches our attitudes about how God's promises can come to pass. We usually think peace advances through the intervention of the powerful--some "big stick." We see it on our "peace through strength" bumperstickers and in our punitive "law and order" orientation to the penal system. Our worldly Pax Americana mindset thinks peace results from decisive action by the strong. We preachers will need to search our own fears and phobias to picture this move convincingly.

In move four our worldly "peace through strength" attitudes bump up against "peace through the cross," Christ crucified. This move depends on an ironic interpretation of Daniel's son of man. The Ancient of Days could have handed power over to a venerable beast from Israel's stock of symbols (e.g., Rev 5's "lion of Judah") or to some vaunted figure from the past (King David), but instead the transaction happens with "one like a son of man." With such an interpretation, it's easy to see an analogous relationship to Christ on the cross. Neither meets the expectations of the powerful, or those awed by them. Indeed, both represent the mysterious wisdom of God who elects "one like a son of man" to receive dominion and chooses Christ on a cross to inaugurate a new order.

With move five we turn to the cross's implications for us. After all, if Christ is our representative figure (just as Daniel's son of man is for the vision), then our shares in the new order are likewise cruciform. What does this mean? Perhaps we can gleefully divest ourselves of those symbols of power which are really just more shares in the dog-eat-dog world of move one. What do we have in their place? Call them: splinters of the cross. There's the occasional ashes on our heads, and baptismal waters--even bread and wine to eat. Yet to the dog-eat-dog world of power and exclusion these signs of weakness and inclusion are scandalous. The world as we know it issues shares in powerful corporations; but God's new order in Christ also issues shares-shares of the cross!

With a brief conclusion we wrap it all up. The power of the powerful dazzles our eyes. Yet we shouldn't be surprised that the dominion God sets before our eyes with Daniel's vision isn't a power-trip; but a trip with Christ. For the road to God's new order doesn't pass through corporate boardrooms or capitals. It passes through the cross.

David Schnasa Jacobsen