John 18:33-38
November 21, 2021
When I was 12 or maybe 13, I went
with my class to the Nashville Children’s Theater to see the play, Inherit
the Wind. If you’re not familiar with this play it’s based on the Scopes
Monkey Trial which took place in Dayton, in our great state of Tennessee in
1925. John Scopes was a science teacher and coach in Dayton, and he decided to
challenge Tennessee’s new anti-evolution law that prohibited any school that
was funded primarily by state tax dollars from teaching evolution as opposed to
the story of creation found in the Bible. He taught evolution, and for teaching
that, he was arrested and brought to trial.
Scopes primary legal defense was
Clarence Darrow, one of the most famous attorneys in the country at the time.
William Jennings Bryan, another of the country’s most illustrious attorneys,
represented the prosecution. The two men were fierce political rivals and
history records that their rivalry influenced the proceedings in Dayton.
The play was not a completely
historical record of what happened in the actual trial, and my memories of the
details of the play are sketchy as well. But I do remember one particularly
dramatic scene from the trial itself. Darrow, in response to an argument for
the literal interpretation of the creation story in Genesis, gives a passionate
rebuttal, asking a question that remains with me today: couldn’t seven days in
God’s time really be seven billion years?
This is not a direct quote, and as I
said, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen the play. But that powerful scene sticks
with me. I think, because it was one of the first moments in my life when I
realized that there could be truth in scripture that was not literal. I was not
shocked by these words. In fact, I embraced them. I remember ruminating on this
idea that a week of time to God could look very different than a week in our
time. Never before had I considered that God’s time might not be our time. I
realize that I was very young, and impressionable, but I wasn’t dumb. The idea
that there could be a deeper truth, a deeper understanding of the Bible than a
literal reading might offer made me see, read, and think about scripture in a
new way. I’ve never forgotten that. And I still turn to scripture with that
same understanding. There is a deeper truth in these words than I may be able
to see or hear if my reading and understanding stays only on the surface.
But this was an understanding that
Pilate must not have been privy to. The conversation between him and Jesus in
our passage from John’s gospel is a classic example of two people talking at
very different levels of understanding.
Like
John Scopes, Jesus is also on trial. However, Jesus is on trial for sedition –
which is inciting resistance to authority and a potential overthrow of the
government. Jesus is on trial for religious heresy. And, quite frankly, Jesus
is also on trial, although these were not official charges, because he
infuriated and terrified the religious leaders.
But it was the official charge of
sedition that brought him before Pilate. So, when Pilate comes back into the
headquarters and summons Jesus again, asking, “Are you the King of the Jews?”
he wants to know if Jesus is trying to usurp the Jewish leadership. Because not
only will this affect the power of the Jewish leadership, but it will also
affect the power of the Roman government as well.
In Jesus’ typical fashion, he answers
Pilate’s question with another question.
“Are
you asking this question on your own, or have other people told you about me?”
Pilate was not a nice man. What we
learn of him in these, and other verses is sort of a gentled version of Pilate.
According to commentators, other historical documents paint a picture of Pilate
as a bully at best. I doubt that he appreciated being questioned by this common
prisoner. And I suspect that Jesus’
questions get under his skin. He is the one asking the questions, not this
prisoner. So, his disdainful retort to Jesus’ question is,
“I’m
not a Jew, am I? Your own people have
handed you over. What did you do?”
Now Jesus begins to talk about his
kingdom.
“My
kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my
followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But
as it is, my kingdom is not from here.”
Okay, so now we’re getting
somewhere. Pilate does not get what Jesus is saying at all, but he does pick up
on one word – kingdom. He’s still trying
to figure out what Jesus has done and if he’s guilty of the charges against
him. So, with the word “kingdom” clutched tightly in his fist, he asks again,
“So,
you are a king?”
Again, Jesus frustrates him with his
reply.
“You
say that I am a king. This is why I was born; this is why I came into the
world, to testify to the truth. The ones who belong to the truth, listen to my
voice.”
Then Pilate speaks the words he is
most famous for:
“What is truth?”
With those three words our passage
for today ends. But I think it’s clear that Pilate and Jesus were engaged in
two very different conversations with two very different meanings. They were
speaking in the same language, but Pilate could not or would not hear the
deeper meaning of what Jesus was saying.
What is truth? I suspect that Jesus
and Pilate have a very different understanding of that word. I suspect that
Pilate understood truth as gritty. Truth is not something that most people can
handle. Truth can be manipulated and exploited. Truth is just another ploy in
the political maneuvering that happens in this dog-eat-dog world.
But the truth that Jesus refers to
is another animal altogether.
When Jesus speaks of truth he is
speaking of divine truth. He is speaking of a truth that is not born of people,
but truth that comes from God. And Jesus isn’t just speaking about some ideal
or theory, some outside of reality kind of truth. Jesus is telling Pilate that
he is the truth. He doesn’t just represent truth. He is the truth. That’s why
he was born, that’s why his life has led him to this critical point in front of
Pilate, to witness to the truth of God which he embodies.
Jesus is king, but he’s not a king
in the way that Pilate understands. Jesus tells Pilate that his kingdom is not
of this world. It is not from here. But Jesus is not speaking geographically.
Jesus’ kingdom is a state of being, a way of living in this world but not of
this world. This is not sedition on Jesus’ part. As he told Pilate, if his
kingdom were of this world, if he were trying to usurp the resident government,
then his followers would be leading a revolt. There would have been fighting in
the streets to keep him out of Pilate’s hands. But that wasn’t happening,
clearly, because Jesus is before Pilate. His only act has been to witness to
the truth.
And
what is that truth? The truth is that God’s kingdom made manifest in Jesus has
come into the world. God’s kingdom has broken through, and it has broken in.
Jesus has been witnessing to this kingdom from the beginning. He’s taught it,
preached it, and demonstrated its power in every act of healing and every
miracle he’s performed. That is the truth.
Jesus
told Pilate that his kingdom was not from here. It was not from this world. As I
said before, Jesus was not talking about geography, he was speaking to the
essence, the true nature of his kingdom, of God’s kingdom, of the Truth with a
capital T.
When
Pilate spoke of kings and kingdoms, he was talking about the power that comes
through violence and coercion, power that reigns through might. But Jesus,
whose kingdom is not from here, who speaks of a deeper truth, was testifying
that his kingdom was incarnation, the Word made flesh. It was born of
servanthood and service, not strength of weapon or might of military. Jesus’
kingdom was not from here because it was rooted in the power of love, not
force.
And
in this moment with Pilate, no one could mistake Jesus for a king of this
world. In this moment, through this world’s eyes, he was bedraggled and
unkempt. He was poor and powerless and a prisoner. No monarch that is from
here, from this world, looks like Jesus must have looked. But Pilate did not
understand the power that Jesus wielded. He did not understand that a kingdom
born of God and truth was unlike any kingdom born of this world. He could not
imagine something more than what he already knew. He could not imagine or
envision a different kind of truth.
But
maybe that is what our call is this day. It is Christ the King Sunday. In the
church calendar this is New Year’s Eve. It is the end of the church year, and
next Sunday, the first Sunday of Advent the ecclesial year begins anew. Today
we celebrate the reign of Christ and next Sunday we begin our waiting once more
for God to become incarnate in this world. This is the way the church year
rolls, and while I love it, every season of it, it is easy for this to become
rote. Yep, today is Christ the King, next Sunday is the first Sunday of Advent.
Now, I’ve got to get Thanksgiving ready and start my Christmas shopping.
Yet,
I wonder if we could see this day as an opportunity to pause, to do some
imagining, some envisioning, of what our world might be like, look like, if we
fully embraced the truth of God’s kingdom, if we lived as though Christ really
is king. Would this be a world where righteousness and peace truly walk
hand-in-hand? Would this be a world where both justice and mercy are meted out
in equal measure? Would this be the world that God created it to be? Can we
imagine it? Can we imagine what it would be like to live in a kingdom not from
here?
On
this day and every day, may our imaginations run wild. On this day and every
day, may we humbly and prayerfully work to live into the kingdom of God, the
kingdom Jesus ushered in with his birth, his life, his death, and his
resurrection. On this day and every day, may we do the work of God’s love,
God’s truth. On this day may we seek more and more to belong to a kingdom that
is not from here.
Let
all of God’s children say, “Alleluia.”
Amen.
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