“Pilate asked him,
‘What is truth?’” (John 18:38)
Leave it to the compilers
of the revised Common Lectionary to give us the whole set-up and leave off the
punchline. In the gospel appointed for the Feast of Christ the King in Year B (John
18:33-37) Jesus tells Pilate he’s come to bear witness to the truth, and I can
just imagine the look on the procurator’s face. Can’t you see this cynical
politician listening to this silly, pathetic Jewish rabbi whom, he’s told, is
claiming to be a king? Pilate must’ve been shaking his head in mild irritation
and asking himself, “What are these Jews wasting my time with now? Look at
this dirty peasant standing here! This guy couldn’t rule over a room full of
toddlers let alone rule this nation of relentlessly rebellious, superstitious
barbarians. What’s all this jazz about a kingdom not of this world? The kingdom
of this world is the only one that counts. And he claims he’s come to tell the truth?
This crazy fool doesn’t know what truth is.”
If you’re Pontius Pilate,
truth is whatever the Emperor Tiberius says it is. That’s how you get along. If
the emperor says the Jews are better off under Roman occupation, then that’s
the truth. Rome builds roads and aqueducts and provides soldiers for
protection. That’s the truth. Anyone who disagrees and wants self-determination
is a criminal and will have a date with a cross. That’s the truth. If the
emperor says he’s divine and should be worshiped as a god, that’s the truth.
King, emperor, sultan,
calif, whatever. There’s only one way royal power works—by declaring how things
are going to be and demanding that everyone goes along with that declaration.
Power demands obedience. Strangely, we humans always seem to be attracted to
that idea.
Just to throw the
troublesome Jews a little bone, Pilate gave them a gift at the Passover. They
could pick one condemned criminal to be set free, and he gave them the choice
between Barabbas, a bandit and insurrectionist, and Jesus. But the folks who
sang “Hosanna!” the previous Sunday cheered louder on Friday for the man who
wanted to take control by violent overthrow than for the one who came preaching
love of enemies and forgiveness. Jesus lost the popular vote.
This wasn’t the only time
the Jews voted against their own interest. 1 Samuel chapter 8 tells the tale of
how the leaders of Israel, not satisfied with a priestly tradition of
leadership, demanded the prophet Samuel anoint a king for them so they could be
like other nations.[i]
Samuel told them they were rejecting the true kingship of God for false human values.
God allowed him to give the people what they wanted but instructed Samuel to
warn them they would one day regret giving so much power to an individual. “And
on that day,” the prophet said, “you will cry out because of your king, whom
you have chosen for yourselves; but the Lord will not answer you on that day.”
We get what we ask for,
and we pay the consequences.
There are myriad examples
throughout history, from ancient Rome to our present day, of people being
enamored of earthly power and praying for some super mortal to come along and lead
them to glory and dominion. That’s what Jesus’ disciples wanted from him right
up to the moment he was nailed to the cross. But glory, power, and dominion as
the world sees them are false gods.
The Feast of Christ the
King was instituted by Christians after the horror of the First World War,
after the world had seen what devastation came from the ambitions of kings,
kaisers, and czars. The Church, after such a terrible time of anguish, must’ve
yearned painfully for the truth found in the sacrificial love of Jesus Christ—the
love which is the only power to change this sinful and deluded world.
Unfortunately, there are
still those—especially here in the United Sates—who misunderstand that power.
They’d love to turn America into a “Christian nation,” but they forget Christ’s
kingdom is not the political or social structures of this world. Christ the
King does not mean that Christians rule. It means that we are to be ruled.
We are to submit ourselves lovingly to the service of one another. It means we
are to practice kindness and be true neighbors. We are to listen to one
another. We are to refrain from judgment because judgment belongs to God alone.
We are to proclaim a non-judgmental compassion for those in need, and we are to
assist the needy whenever and however we can.
You almost have to feel
sorry for old Pontius Pilate. He put his faith in earthly power and, for the
sake of maintaining it, he was willing to overlook the truth that the man who
stood accused before him was guilty of nothing but loving, healing, teaching,
accepting, and forgiving people. For the sake of imperial control, he condemned
a man he knew to be innocent. Where is the truth in that?
We are living in a time
when we have some serious disagreements about what is true and what is right. Our
only response is to be honest with ourselves and keep asking: what would our King
have us do?