John 18:33-37 (38)
November 24, 2024
When the introduction to the Netflix
series, The Crown begins, you see only darkness for just a second, and
then a single thread of melody begins to play. And as you watch the screen, you
see the shape of something, something that looks like iron or some other metal,
being forged seemingly out of nothingness. And as you watch this creation,
mesmerized, a steady low pulse of music weaves its way through the melody like
a heartbeat. Then, as the music begins to swell and crescendo, with more and
more instruments filling out the melody and speeding the heartbeat of sound, you
see the creation taking its ultimate shape, twisting and curving and beginning
to gleam gold. And it becomes clearer that what is being forged is not just
some random metal piece, but a crown – the crown. It is the crown that
will connect one generation of the monarchy to the next.
I watched The Crown from
beginning to end, eagerly awaiting each new season. But although Netflix gives
you the option to skip the intro after a few seconds, I never did. One reason
is because I think it is a brilliant opening, both creatively and musically. The
music was scored by Hans Zimmer, who is also a brilliant composer.
But
I also watched the opening with each episode, because the more I watched the series,
the more I realized how symbolic and emblematic that opening scene is. Before
you realize it’s a crown being formed and shaped, before it takes on its golden
gleam, it looks almost as if iron bars are being cast from the deep darkness
itself. As the show follows Elizabeth II’s reign from her first days as queen
to her final years, you realize that to wear the crown was, in a way,
submitting to a life behind bars of iron and gold. And for Elizabeth to reign
as long as she did, she had to forge a steady thread of iron in her will and
find the steel at the base of her own spine to survive it.
The Crown offers a different
perspective on what it means to be royalty. It’s easy from the outside to think
that wearing the crown is easy, glamorous, and free of problems, but it most
certainly is not. The passage before us from John’s gospel also gives us a very
different perspective on kingship. A different perspective indeed.
Over and over again in the whole of scripture,
and most certainly in the gospels, we read about the kingdom of God, the
kingdom that Jesus’ incarnation ushered into the world, and in theory it all
sounds pretty wonderful. God’s kingdom is not like any other worldly kingdom,
and that’s a good thing. God is not a tyrannical despot sitting on a throne
that has been used to crush and enslave and subjugate others, like worldly kings
and despots have. Our king, King Jesus, is a good and kind and loving king.
Jesus as king is just and true, never using power to coerce or manipulate.
Jesus as king is about a king leading with love and righteousness.
While all of this is true, it would
be easy to take our joy in Jesus as king to the point of smugness or maybe even
arrogance. We have a king who is unlike any other king. We have Jesus as our
king, so yay Jesus and yay us who worship him.
But if self-satisfaction ever creeps
in to our worshipping Jesus as king, then this passage from John’s gospel
should knock that satisfaction on its head, and maybe us with it. On this last
day of the church year, when we celebrate Christ as our King, we might expect
to read a passage that is more about triumph and glory and celebration. We
might expect to see Jesus surrounded by adoring crowds or hearing the voice of
God from on high, telling all who will listen that this is God’s son, God’s
beloved. This is our king on earth and in heaven.
But nothing like this exists in the
passage before us. This is Jesus who has been arrested and handed over to the
ones who most want him dead. This is Jesus who is probably hungry and tired. This
is Jesus who was bound and will soon be flogged after this interrogation is
over. This is Jesus who has been abandoned by the crowds who loved and adored
him only a few days before, and this is Jesus who has been betrayed by Judas
and denied by Peter. This is Jesus who will wear a crown not of gold but of
thorns.
Our king Jesus is now before Pontius
Pilate, charged with sedition, with treason, but who is only guilty of
infuriating and frightening those in power. 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. If this is
true, than 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 gentler, kinder 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, Pilate, is the one asking the questions, not this man whose own people care
nothing about him. 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. To be clear, Pilate does not understand what Jesus is telling him.
Pilate doesn’t understand even a little, tiny bit the truth that Jesus is
speaking, but he does pick up on one word – kingdom. Pilate is grasping at
straws, trying to comprehend what Jesus has supposedly 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, although the lectionary leaves
this verse out, we read on, and Pilate speaks the words he is most famous for:
“What is truth?”
What is truth? I suspect that
Jesus and Pilate have a very different understanding of that word. I suspect
that Pilate understood truth as something that can be manipulated and
exploited. Truth can be shaped to suit the needs and desires of the one
speaking it. 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 creature 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. He
embodies 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
personifies.
And this is the truth of being king
as Jesus is King. This is the truth of God’s kingdom. This is the truth we need
to remember when we speak of Jesus as King. Jesus as King did not seek power or
fame or honor. Jesus as King did not view those who followed him as his
subjects and demand their loyalty. Jesus as King did not lead through violence
or force or even the threat of them. He led with love and healing and courage
and respect. He. Is. The. Truth. But for many this truth was unwanted and
unwelcome. It would have been easier for Jesus had he been more like an earthly
king. It would have been easier if he had led a revolt of force instead of a
revolution of love. He might not have ended up in front of Pilate had he been a
worldly king. He might not have gone to the cross if his were kingdom were of
this world and not from God.
Yet this is the King that Jesus was
and is. This is the King that Jesus was in the beginning and will be in the
end. This is the kingdom of God that his life on earth brought forth, and it was
and is more than just a nice idea. Jesus as our King and the kingdom of God is
a wonderful, vivid, amazing reality but it does not foster complacency or
self-satisfaction or self-righteousness. The kingdom of God does not come
without a cost. That cost is writ large in our passage today.
So, as we move from this day into
Advent, as we move into the growing darkness and look heavenward for the coming
of the light, may we remember that our call is more than just worshipping a
king. Our call is to follow the One who served and suffered, who breathed
peace, who healed, and taught, and loved even those who betrayed him. This is
our king. This is our truth. This is our Alpha and Omega. Jesus is our
beginning, and Jesus is our end. Thanks be to God.
Let all of God’s children say,
“Alleluia.”
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment