Well, we have made it through another
church year. Those of you a bit
surprised to see white today may have forgotten it is the last Sunday after
Pentecost, also known as Christ the King Sunday. The Feast of Christ the King is a relatively
new feast day in our liturgical cycle.
It came about only in 1925. That
is not to say that our spiritual ancestors did not believe that Christ was King
of kings and Lord of lords. It means
only that they did not celebrate a day of intention whereupon they reminded
themselves of that reality. The feast
itself was introduced to the liturgical church world by one of the Pius’. Pius XI noticed the rise of secularism and
the increasing denial of Christ as King, as well as Christians’ (RC’s in
particular) increasing belief that the Church could not continue Christ’s
authority. So he came up with a
plan. Each year, there would be a day of
celebration where we reminded ourselves that Christ was King and so
counterweighed the testimony of the secular world that was given the other 363
days of the calendar year! Why are you
laughing? He was a Pope. He must have known what he was doing!
All kidding aside, Pius did write a
document outlining his goals for the celebration. (1) He wanted the leaders of the nations to
see that they owed respect, at least, to Christ, who would one Day come to
judge them and their use of the power He granted them. (2) He expected the nations, or more
specifically their rulers, to see that, since the Church followed Christ,
churches should be exempt from being an agent of the state. Put in modern language, there was to be a
separation of the Church from the State, and the State, out of respect for her
Lord, would not interfere in her affairs. (3) The faithful who celebrated this
day would be strengthened in their faith and reminded that Christ must reign in
our minds, our hearts, our wills, and our bodies. From your laughter a moment ago, it was
clearly an ambitious goal. Given the
rise of secularism over the last 90 years, and the increasing pressures on
churches in places that practice a separation of Church and State, never mind
the ones that make no such distinction, one might say Pius’ vision failed
miserably. Of course, Pius has good
company. The outcome of our Lord’s
conversation with Pilate, as recounted by St. John today, was one of seeming
abject failure. Pilate later sentenced
Jesus to the Cross where He died. That
failure should have been the end of this bit about Jesus and kingship; yet here
we are, two thousand years later, celebrating that truth half a world away!
Pilate’s opening question of Jesus is a
loaded question. To take you back to the
scene a bit, remember, the governor of an area was personally responsible in
the eyes of the emperor for any alleged crime that might affect the well-being
or interests of the empire or where capital punishment was required. The Sanhedrin, led by Caiaphas, has done a
wonderful job of walking this minefield.
Jesus has been arrested outside the view of those whom He has taught in
the temple. The trial of Jesus before
the Sanhedrin has gone very well. They
have voted that Jesus should be killed.
Now, Pilate must be navigated.
Pilate must be convinced to kill Jesus as a threat to the empire, but
they cannot enter the debate directly, for fear of ritual defilement. See any irony there? They are plotting to kill Jesus while
maintaining ritual purity.
Pilate is loathe to enter the Jewish
squabble. When first engaged in the
discussion, Pilate tells them that their powers are sufficient to deal with the
troublemaker Jesus. They argue that it
is a capital case and so must be heard by him.
The threat in the words is heard by Pilate. If this Jesus was not killed and later led a
rebellion, Pilate would be personally held responsible for the rebellion. His failure to hold a cognitio to determine the facts of the case against Jesus would
likely cost him his life as well as his power.
My guess is that Pilate wanted nothing to
do with this case. Most likely, his
soldiers had told him of the great threat this Jesus was to Rome. He taught in synagogues and in the temple; He
advocated putting away the sword; He advocated paying taxes to Caesar; and He
claimed Yahweh as His Father. He might
be crazy, but this Jesus of Nazareth was no real threat to Caesar. His question would serve to cut to the nub of
the case. If Jesus says He is king of
the Jews, then clearly He was some sort of crazed rebel. If Jesus said He was not king of the Jews, He
could not possible be a threat.
What
we forget reading this passage is that Rome had denied Judea a king since the
death of Herod the Great. Herod’s sons,
although they pleaded for the title of king, were allowed to call themselves
only ethnarch or tetrarch, depending on the child. None of the four governors who preceded
Pilate had ever had to deal with a king in Judea. From Pilate’s perspective, were Jesus to
claim the title of king, then perhaps He might be a threat, however small, to
the empire. An affirmative answer would
indicate complicity in some sort of conspiracy to seek independence from
Rome. Were He to ignore the title, then
it was likely He was not. Pilate was
nothing if not energetic in his apparent zeal for the empire. As a minor aristocrat, he wanted to prove his
worth and rise in the rank of service.
Jesus, naturally, does not answer the
question directly. Instead, Jesus probes
the source and intention of the question.
If Pilate is asking “Are you here to lead a revolution against Rome and
Caesar,” Jesus’ answer would be no. But
if Pilate is asking the question on behalf of the Sanhedrin sycophants, then
the question is something more along the lines of “Are you the Messianic king
of Israel.” That answer, of course,
would be yes. In essence, Jesus is asking
Pilate to consider his question. Pilate
is being forced to evaluate the threat of Jesus; it seems only fair that Pilate
then know what and who it is he is evaluating and by what standards he is doing
his evaluation of this accused seditionist.
Jesus’ response, “Do you ask this on your
own, or did someone else tell you about Me?” forces Pilate to do a couple
things. One, Pilate must acknowledge
that it is quite possible he is being manipulated. Second, if this really is Pilate’s question,
what does he mean by asking it. Pilate
naturally seems indignant about the idea that he is being drawn into a Jewish
religious squabble. Pilate is the
representative of the might and force of Rome, Pilate is the representative of
Caesar in Judea, why would he care a fig about internal Jewish religious
quarrels? Worse, Pilate’s power is as
much a threat to them as it is to Jesus.
Still, Pilate needs to fulfill his duty in case this carpenter’s son
thinks Himself a ruler.
“Are you a king?”
Before answering, Jesus describes His
kingdom and affirms that it is not of this earth. We might say this is Jesus’ way of reminding
Pilate that He is not a threat to Rome, for now. Jesus’ kingdom is not even of this
earth. Were it, His servants would be
fighting for Him even now.
Luckily for Pilate, he has an answer. The guy before him is a nutcase. Who says, “My kingdom is not of this world?” Where
else are kingdoms going to be, but in this world? Jesus is, of course, testifying that His
kingship does not come from this world; it comes from Heaven. He is ruler of this world because He made
this world and all that is in it. He is
ruler of this world because the people of this world were made in His
image. Pilate, as we might expect, knows
none of this. Looking around, he would
see no fighting. Heck, Jesus’ own people
have turned Him over and demanded He be executed. Whatever this nut thinks He rules, His
servants are not acting against the interests of Rome. So he asks Jesus again, “So You are a king,
then?”
Jesus responds with a different
affirmation than Pilate or we might expect.
“King is your word, not mine.”
More importantly, Jesus goes on to describe His mission in great
detail. We make a terrible mistake in
thinking that truth here in John and in Jesus’ mouth is a philosophical or
ethical term. John relates that Jesus is
concerned with far more important matters.
Jesus has come into the world to unveil (apocalypse) the truth to the
world. What is the truth that Jesus
unveils? Jesus has come into the world
to unveil that His words are God’s words, that His voice is God’s voice, that
His face is God’s face, and that He is the fulfillment of all of God’s promises
to humanity! Truth in this understanding
put forth by John is the reality we experienced lived out in full communion
with God. Jesus, the Son of God, already
shares that full communion with the Father.
All that He does, all that He says, all that He teaches comes from that
amazing relationship with His Father in Heaven.
And He has come into the world to open that relationship up to all of
humanity who will hear His voice. John
will remind us that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. God will affirm all this by taking what the
Sanhedrin and Pilate meant for evil and using it for the greatest good
possible. Through Jesus’ suffering and
death, our sins will be forgiven.
Through His Resurrection, we will be raised into the possibility of that
true relationship with the Father. Yes,
we will fall short in this world, but one day, one glorious day in the future,
we will share in that same abiding as our Lord Christ! It is an amazing and glorious promise and
thought. It is a thought that Pilate
cannot grasp because he is not given to Jesus by the Father.
What does it mean to be one who calls
Christ the King? What does it truly mean
to be one who claims that true relationship with the Father in Heaven? We have seen what it means in the life and
ministry of Jesus, who lived as the Father’s only Son. Our King placed His faith in the Father and
the Father’s will, eventually at great cost to Himself. He did not rejoice in His sufferings; indeed,
He asked the Father to let that Cup pass and even sweated blood. Still, His commitment was to do the will of
the Father.
In theological terms, we might think of
this as emptying Himself. Jesus came
down from Heaven not to the sounds of trumpets and angel choirs heralding His
descent, but to the baying of animals and wonder of shepherds. His life was an emptying of Himself to show
what the Father wanted for His people.
Think how tired you and I get working forty, fifty, or sixty hours a
week. Jesus was the Messiah 24/7/365 for
some 33 years or so. Talk about
pressure. Everyone He met had a need,
and Jesus met those needs in ways they struggled and we still struggle to
understand. Even those who fought Him He
engaged, not to condemn, but to turn back to the Father’s intention in their
lives. Always He gave of His power, His
time, His wisdom, and later of His life.
And to us, His disciples, He charged us only with picking up our crosses
and following Him. Our lives are meant
to emulate His. We do not lord ourselves
over one another, we serve one another.
We become great by becoming least.
Talk about radical kingship!
Given that wonderful example, and the
amazing promise through faith in Him, why then the fear in our lives? Why is it we trust in our accumulated wealth
more than His provision? Why is it we
trust in our own power and influence rather than in His providence in
love? Why is it we claim to serve a God
of infinite resources and power, but live as if we have more? The low hanging fruit this week, brothers and
sisters, has been our “Christian” response to the Syrian refugees. Politicians who claim to be Christian are
holding press releases proudly proclaiming their willingness to turn away from
the plight of those impacted by wars.
Pastors who are charged with proclaiming daily in word and deed the
death, resurrection, and return of our Lord are shouting against the admittance
of foreigners people because some among them might be terrorists. I am never one to encourage you to seek
martyrdom or stupidly risk your life brothers and sisters, but I am one who will
remind you that the worst thing that can happen to us in death is that we wake
up and see our Lord face to face ushering us into the most amazing wedding
feast ever prepared! And if that is our
“worst case,” what do we really need to fear about death? Oh, one more thing, our Lord commanded us—it
wasn’t a suggestion, it wasn’t a “guys, if you have time”—He commanded us to
proclaim the Gospel to all people. How
much easier is it for us to proclaim in word and deed when they are among us?
There are other low hanging fruits that
hit far closer to home. Every time there
is a shooting of some sort, who often leads the cry of “we need guns to protect
ourselves?” I cringe every time I hear a
pastor say it, and I flinch whenever I hear one of their flock elevate the
Second Amendment to some sort of permanence like the Gospel. Jesus Himself reminds us that if His kingdom
were of this world, His followers
would be fighting Rome and the Sanhedrin to free Him. Heck, when Peter draws the sword and chops
off the ear of Malchus, how does Jesus respond?
He rebukes Peter and heals the ear.
If we really are residents of somewhere other than here, why are we so
jealous to protect the trappings of this life and this world? Why is it that we who claim the truth are so
quick to serve a lie? Those who do not
belong to Him do not hear His voice, but what is our excuse? We read it.
We hear it. We ignore it.
When we consider the appropriateness of a ministry
within our body, how often do we think first of its cost to us, in terms of
money, resources, and time, rather than its advancement of the kingdom and of
our mission in that expansion? When we
consider whether to help someone in need, how often do we count the cost to us,
never once thinking of the cost that was born for us by the King?
What does it mean to have Christ reigning
in our minds, in our bodies, and in our wills, as Pius asked barely a century
ago? What is it we celebrate? I know we should have joy. I know that you and I ought to be impelled by
thanksgiving to do those things our Lord asks of us. Knowing our shortcomings, knowing how many
times we would fail Him, still He stood before Pilate and the Sanhedrin and took
our medicine, our punishment for us.
Despite the cost, despite the pain, despite the anger and hurt, despite
even the mockery of those whom He came to save, still He testified to the
Truth. He lived and died and rose again,
to show us that what He taught was truth, that salvation in His name was now
possible for all. Brothers and sisters,
throughout all time and throughout all history only one person has ever come to
rule for the welfare of all. Some kings
and some queens have ruled well for there people, but only Jesus Christ has
come to rule for the well-being of all. We
have beheld His glory, as the only Son of the Father. Amazingly, He has called each one of us to
represent Him. How do we respond? Will He see us as Pilates, not really given
to Him, or will He see us as disciples, frayed, battered, tattered, and dealing
with our sins, trusting that the King has come, the King has redeemed us, and
the king will one day restore us?
Peace,
Brian†
No comments:
Post a Comment