1st Sunday of Lent

Lent 2013 – Lessons from Downton Abbey

February 17, 1^st Sunday of Lent: Lord Grantham-Jesus as Lord        

Matthew 7:21-27

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of God in heaven. On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many deeds of power in your name?’ Then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; go away from me, you evildoers.’ “Everyone then who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise person who built their house on rock. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not act on them will be like a foolish person who built their house on sand. The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell—and great was its fall!”

Downton Abbey explores how the nobility and the serving classes deal with a rapidly changing world at the beginning of the 20^th Century. The nobility has just experienced their golden age in rise of the Victorian Era, but that time is quickly transforming. The series begins with the sinking of the Titanic and the death of the Earl of Grantham’s only known heir, which throws the future of the estate of Downtown in grave peril and uncertainty. The nobles enjoy and command great respect and privilege. They are waited upon hand and foot by a league of servants. It is a complex relationship, where the nobles understand part of their contribution to society is to provide employment for all these people. The servants find not only livelihood in their jobs but often also real worth and self-respect. It is an arrangement built on stability, but the world that they are all headed into will be anything but stable.

Lord Grantham is probably one of those least suited to deal with the coming changes. He carries the title of the estate and so embodies its heritage, its dignity, and on his shoulders rests its future. Yet for all that he is often one of the most powerless figures as well despite his title and position. This is seen most clearly when Britain enters World War I. Lord Grantham is given an officer’s commission, dresses constantly in his military uniform (as opposed to the usual formal dress of the day), and plays the role of a man doing his part for God and country. But his commission is an honorary one. He commands no men, he will see no fighting. His peers want him to look the part, but not to take any real part. He is frustrated greatly at his impotence as the men around him, noble and servant both, go off to fight in the war. In such a time of crisis, what does his title really mean? They still call him “Lord” Grantham, but he struggles to find any authority of his own. Throughout the series, changes happen all around Lord Grantham, often despite his opposition, sometimes even without his knowledge. He carries the title, but no effectual power.

I think this is often the kind of Lord that we have made Jesus into. A bluesman friend of mine says that the difference between blues and gospel is that in blues you sing “baby, baby,” and in gospel you sing, “Lordy, Lordy.” I think too often we (Christians in general) throw in a “Lordy, Lordy” just to make us feel religious, connected, or approved. But we sing the same old song we always have. We call Jesus “Lord” but keep on doing everything way we want. We give Jesus the title but none of the power. This isn’t surprising in America. While we are fascinated with nobility, we are trained to disdain it. Not that we don’t exist within classes here, but we have this frosting of equality that changes the way we see things. Our leaders are elected because we threw off the injustice of monarchy. “Lord” is a title without any compelling hold on us.

Yet even Jesus himself seemed to reject kingship. In John’s gospel he slips through the crowd and runs away when “He sensed that they wanted to take him by force and make him king.” (John 6:15) In the passage at the top of this article, Jesus has no time for false allegiances. Jesus is not interested in servants who will dress him, or bring him food and tea. Instead he wants those who are committed to learning to serve the world in the way that he himself does. Jesus wants neither titles nor sycophants. Jesus wants followers, disciples. The one who built a house with a solid foundation is the one who has committed to following Jesus, learning and emulating all that he teaches, does, and shows. Brian McLaren has this to say about Jesus’ lordship in “A Generous Orthodoxy” (Zondervan): “Jesus defined his own identity not as being served, but as giving his life in service, and in this way, acknowledging Jesus as master means one voluntarily ‘takes his yoke’ and learns from Jesus how to serve God, plus one’s neighbor, plus one’s enemy, and so the whole world. Confessing Jesus as Lord means joining his revolution of love and living in this revolutionary way.”(italics are McLaren’s, p. 93)

So as we begin the season of Lent, we have to acknowledge that the confession that “Jesus is Lord” is a complex and nuanced utterance. What are practical ways that we can give over to Christ at least parts of our lives, not as mindless automatons, but as those who seek to grow in our Christ-likeness? To say, “Yes, Lord,” not as an accession of hierarchy, but as student to teacher, apprentice to master, or the still-forming to the further-formed? How do we live in a world that teaches” might makes right”,” bigger is better”, and “the end justifies the means” without adding to the destruction of soul and firmament? For me, it comes from a sense that there must be a better way of living and I’m sensing that Jesus knew something about that way.