O Rex Gentium: O King of the Nations

O Rex Gentium: O King of the Nations

Traditional Antiphon

O King of the nations, and their desire, The Cornerstone making both one: Come and save the human race, which you fashioned from clay.

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel

O come, Desire of nations, bind
in one the hearts of all mankind;
Bid thou our sad divisions cease,
And be thyself our King of Peace.

It is good news, indeed, that our Lord is Rex Gentium: the King of the nations! This Root of Jesse and Davidic king, he who gave the law to Moses, is the savior not only of the descendants of Abraham, but of all the world. Any of us who are not ethnically Jewish do well to remember this. If we don’t, we may take our place in the household of God for granted. Much of the New Testament writings reveal to us the extent of the Apostolic church’s struggle to understand that Jesus came to save Gentiles as well as Jews. That’s what “making both one” refers to in this antiphon. To the Jews, the world was divided into two. As king of the nations and the cornerstone, Jesus rebuilds and unites humanity—Jew and Gentile together—in his perfect reign.

The Blessing of Israel’s King

The kingship of Christ is a theme that resonates throughout Advent. The season begins on the heels of Christ the King Sunday, and many lectionary passages carry the theme. Echoes of the promise that Israel’s king would bless the nations ring throughout the Old Testament, even to Genesis.

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  •  As the patriarch Jacob blesses his sons from his deathbed, he says of Judah, “The scepter shall not depart from Judah, nor the ruler’s staff from between his feet, until tribute comes to him; and to him shall be the obedience of the peoples” (Genesis 49:10).
  • In Isaiah 11, the Messiah “shall stand as a signal for the peoples—of him shall the nations inquire, and his resting place shall be glorious” (Isaiah 11:10).
  • Later, as the remnant of Israel looks in hope to the rebuilding of the Temple, the Lord speaks through Haggai: “I will shake all nations, so that the treasures of all nations shall come in, and I will fill this house with glory, says the Lord of hosts” (Haggai 2:7). This passage gives us the language of “Desire of Nations.” In its original context, these riches of foreign nations will furnish the new Temple.

Some interpreted these Old Testament images as depicting the political subjugation of the Gentile nations to Israel as a triumphant world power. Israel would be a blessing to the nations by ruling over them. Many of Jesus’s followers expected him to lead a militant rebellion against Rome. The attractiveness of this hope is perhaps understandable. By the first century, imperial Gentile superpowers of Babylon, Greece, and Rome had scattered and subjugated the Jewish people for generations.

A Kingdom Not of This World

But the hope for a worldly messiah is misplaced. Jesus’ kingship is about power. It is about government, justice, and freedom. But it’s not about politics. Jesus was not a politician. He steered political questions to more profound spiritual truths. He allowed his followers to pay taxes to Caesar, he willingly submitted to an unjust criminal trial, and he allowed himself to die by a state-sanctioned execution. What kind of king does that?

The kind who understands that his reign is not of this world. This king does not follow the same rules and pathways to power as fallen human leaders. Christ does not win his kingship by conquering human enemies, but in victory over the very sin and death that corrupt humanity.  

The King of Love

This victory flows from the love that Jesus, the King of Nations, has for humanity. It may be easy for those of us in a Western, Protestant cultural context to focus on our savior’s love for individuals. And he does love each one of us. But he also loves peoples. The structures of human community—families, neighborhoods, cities, nations—Jesus loves them, too.

Consider Jesus’s temptation in the wilderness. Satan brings him to the top of a high mountain and shows him the nations of the world. Certainly, human fallenness and conflict weighed heavily on the heart of Jesus, but Satan does not use this picture to tempt him. In Matthew’s account (Matthew 4:8-10), the nations of the earth appear to him not in their fallenness, corruption, or need, but in their doxa, their glory and splendor. The tempter knew this would pull at the heart of Jesus, who longed to bring the nations under his fold. Of course, Christ would establish his true kingship through faithful obedience, not through a deal with the devil.

What gives the nations their splendor and glory? The final line of today’s Antiphon reminds us that God fashioned us from the clay of the earth. In our createdness, we reflect our Maker. This is true not just for us as individuals, but at every level of community and fellowship. Yes, each level of society is fallen and corrupted by sin, just as individuals are. We see these sad effects in divided families, communities pocked by vendettas and prejudice, and nations led astray in pursuit of their own glory. But our hope is in the King of the Nations, who has the power to redeem and rebuild the human family at every level.

In that beautiful vision of John’s Revelation (Rev 7:9-10), the treasures of family, culture, and nation do not disappear when we lay them down before Christ. The multitude before the throne shows all tribes and peoples and languages. The Old Testament conquest imagery—the nations paying tribute—is revealed in Christ as a joyful offering of all these gifts.

An International Foretaste

I live in an Army community with a small German population, brought to the US through family ties or military assignments. For years, community members have held a Christmas service led by a German chaplain. I have participated as a chamber musician supporting the choir for three years.

Due to a busy chapel schedule at a military installation, the Christmas service was held earlier this week. If you’ve never attended a service in a language you don’t understand, I encourage you to try. It’s a beautiful and humble experience. Being surrounded by people speaking a language you can’t understand makes you feel vulnerable, which, in turn, cultivates compassion and humility. Although you may not understand the readings, sermon, or prayers, God hears them perfectly. This is a foretaste of the gathering of many nations at our King’s throne.

Even more poignant to me was considering how my own grandfather spent four years in Europe fighting the Germans in World War II. When he heard the language surrounding me at the rehearsals and service, it signaled the enemy. Since the defeat of Nazi Germany, international relations have shifted, and we now gather in fellowship, worship, and food, putting enmity behind us. In Christ’s kingdom, we are united even with our cultural differences. (I hope there is German food at Christ’s heavenly banquet.)

Come, King of Nations

The Antiphons teach us to anticipate the coming of Christ in his many roles. They supply us with the words of longing and invitation to prepare our hearts for him. This Christmas, let us yearn together for the King who has fashioned humanity out of clay and loves us at every level. Who laid himself down to be the cornerstone of a renewed heavenly kingdom. Who will bid our sad divisions cease and be for us a king of peace. Come, King of Nations.

And he came and preached peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.

Ephesians 2:14-22

Published on

December 18, 2025

Author

Elizabeth Demmon

Elizabeth Demmon is a writer and musician who grew up in the Anglican tradition. She is married to Mike, an Anglican priest and U.S. Army chaplain, and together they have three children.

View more from Elizabeth Demmon

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