The Reign of Christ/Christ the King
November 21, 2009
John 18:33-38.

 

King Truth

Last week the Attorney General announced that Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, who is currently held in the prison at Guantanamo Bay, will be tried in New York City. Mr. Mohammed is the alleged mastermind behind the 9/11 attacks.

I say "alleged" for the sake of propriety. After all, the United States Constitution encourages us to think of all defendants as innocent until proven guilty. I doubt, however, that that’s how most people look at Mr. Mohammed. Interrogators "waterboarded" the man 183 times. Why would they do that if he weren’t guilty? The photograph that accompanies news articles about him shows a swarthy, unshaven man who looks as though he just came from one of those waterboarding sessions, the very picture of a terrorist. Even some United States senators have objected to a trial – especially a trial in a civilian court. Why bother? We already know the truth about Khalid Sheikh Mohammed.

In much the same way, Pontius Pilate was trying to retain at least a semblance of propriety in his "trial" of Jesus. Early in the proceedings, Pilate goes out to the religious authorities, who cannot enter his headquarters for fear of ritual defilement, and asks, "What accusation do you bring against this man."

They reply, "If this man were not a criminal, we would not have handed him over to you" (John 18:29-30).

It’s an open-and-shut case. We say he’s guilty, so he must be guilty. Skip the niceties. Get right to the sentencing.

But Pilate seems to be intrigued by the defendant. Presumably, Jesus is there on a charge of insurrection. He is supposed to have claimed to be a king to rival Herod and Pilate, and even Caesar. But he doesn’t look like a king. He doesn’t dress like a king. In his manner and affect he is hardly what you would call "regal." But I get the feeling that Pilate suspects there is more to this man than meets the eye. So he asks him, "Are you the King of the Jews?"

Jesus answers with his own question, "Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?"

In other words, "Who’s asking?" Pilate the procurator, or Pilate the human being? Pilate the official, who has to report to his bosses higher up the chain of command, or Pilate the seeker of some kind of truth beneath the surface of this open-and-shut case?

"Are you the King?"

Never ask this question of Jesus unless you really want to know.

In his official capacity, Pilate must decide if Jesus is a threat to good order in Pilate’s little corner of the Roman Empire. Is Jesus an insurrectionist? A terrorist? The leader of an insurgency? Should Pilate call in the drones and order a surgical strike on Jesus’ headquarters? "Are you the King of the Jews?"

"My kingdom is not from this world," Jesus says. His is not the kind of kingdom Pilate is asking about, so in a sense Pilate has nothing to fear from Jesus. Jesus has no plans to set up a rival government or to urge his followers to take up arms against Caesar.

On the other hand, if Pilate really wants to know the truth about Jesus, he will find that he has everything to fear from him, because in the kingdom Jesus is bringing in, Caesar ranks no higher than the beggar at the gate or the prostitute on the street. In the realm of King Jesus, the "Divine Caesar" is not divine at all, but just another child of God, a sinner in need of forgiveness, a lost soul in search of a home. And Pilate, despite the trappings of his office, is not the ruler over Jesus.

The reason the religious authorities are so upset by Jesus is that they, too, perceive the threat his kingdom poses. With Jesus the day is dawning when people will worship God "in spirit and in truth," as Jesus told the Samaritan woman at the well. No need for glorious temples. No need for priests and sacrifices. Not only is Jesus’ kingdom "not from this world," it’s also not from the temple, or the bishop, or the denominational headquarters.

In this sense Jesus is always a threat to the status quo, whether it be in the first or the twenty-first century. It’s because his kingdom is not from this world that it is such a threat to this world - to every human authority and every claim of ultimate allegiance.

Whatever else it is, the trial of Jesus before Pilate is a story is about truth. It’s not about the truth claims that Jesus makes for himself – for you will notice that he makes no such claims. He never says "This is the truth about me."

What he says is, "Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice." Or, as he said to his disciples a few hours earlier, "I am the way, the truth, and the life." Not, "This is the truth about me," but "I am the truth."

Famously, Pilate replies, "What is truth?" He sounds to me like a college sophomore who has just taken his first philosophy course, bought a turtle neck sweater, and is learning to smoke a pipe. It’s a clever retort, but it doesn’t get Pilate any closer to the truth.

The fact is, when you come face-to-face with Jesus, clever retorts and philosophical arguments don’t do you a bit of good. It’s only when you are willing to lay all of that aside and face the truth about yourself that the truth who is Jesus lays his claim on you.

The truth is Jesus and Jesus is the truth. It’s not that his followers have the truth, or can control it. We don’t own the truth and we can’t impose it on other people. We Christians say that we have chosen to follow Jesus, the way, the truth, and the life, but when it comes right down to it, it’s Jesus who has chosen us. The Truth knows us before we can know the Truth.

"What is truth?" Pilate asks, but he doesn’t really want to know, does he? The truth is standing right there, staring him in the face, but Pilate cannot see it. He’s looking for a truth that lies behind Jesus of Nazareth. But the truth is Jesus of Nazareth – "The word became flesh and dwelt among us . . . full of grace and truth" (John 1:14).

This Sunday is the last Sunday in the liturgical year, and it has two names. For those who are not put off by masculine language, it is the feast of Christ the King. For those who prefer a more inclusive title, it is the feast of the Reign of Christ. Whatever you call it, today is a fitting occasion for us to ask ourselves where our loyalty lies. Do we serve a Sovereign who is the living Truth, or do we serve some lesser authority, such as Pilate, or Caesar, or Uncle Sam?

Perhaps we serve the most dangerous demagogue of all – the lone autonomous self, the tyrant who says "Nothing is true, except what’s true for me."

The Interfaith Thanksgiving Service takes place this Tuesday night at Temple Israel. For the first time in 24 years, I won’t be attending. I’ll be in North Dakota that night. Not to worry, however. Last year the gray-haired males who had been planning that service for many years gave over the leadership to the women clergy of the city. Not surprisingly, attendance more than doubled. We should have thought of this years ago.

I’ve always taken part in that service as a Christian, as a follower of Jesus Christ, the Sovereign who claims me as the way, the truth, and the life. The liturgy for that service has always been structured to allow Christians to remain Christians as we worship alongside Jews, Muslims, Unitarians, Baha’is, and others. We’ve never asked Christians to be other than Christian in their thanksgiving. While we have rejoiced in what Christian have in common with people of other faiths, we have never reduced worship to the least common denominator.

There is a sense in which "interfaith worship" is a misnomer because, for Christians, it is an impossibility. We worship only the Triune God, revealed in Jesus Christ. But that does not mean that we own the truth, or that that the Triune God we worship is bound by our limited understanding. Christians can worship alongside neighbors of other faiths out of love for God and neighbor. To do so requires both clear boundaries and open hearts. We can do that precisely because of the Truth who sets us free.

We end this year as we began it, putting our trust in the King who doesn’t look like a king, in the Savior who is bound and bleeding, in the Truth who will not long remain in the grave. Here is where we Christians put our trust. Here is the One to whom we owe our lives. To pledge allegiance to him is to renounce the lordship of all rivals. To be shackled to him is to live in perfect freedom.

 

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