Christ the King Sunday
John 18:33-37
The Gospel of John. On the surface it’s the simplest of stories. Clear, plain, ordinary, direct. Just as easy to read as a calm, smooth sea, and just as two-dimensional. It’s only as you get into the boat and set out on the water that you notice, concealed beneath the shiny surface, a whole other world of meaning. And it’s only as you dive in, plunge your head beneath the cool waters, that you start to realize just how big this hidden world of meaning really is, just how many mysteries are lurking below, veiled by the shadowy darkness of the deep. That’s how the Gospel of John is written: as a secret depository of deep truths and buried treasures. Not many even bother to look below the surface. And even fewer manage to plumb the icy depths. But this morning, let’s slip on our wetsuits, let’s hook up our oxygen tanks, and let’s dive in and see what we can find in the story from John.
And as we look at the story of Pilate and Jesus, one of the first details that begs to be explored is the question of Jesus’s kingdom. Before Jesus ever admits to Pilate that he is in fact a king, he offers up this strange statement: “My kingdom isn’t from this world.” What does that mean? Pilate has asked if Jesus is the king of the Jews, and Jesus replies that his kingdom isn’t from this world. Maybe this means that Jesus doesn’t claim earthly political authority. After all, this is what he has been charged with before Pilate. Jesus has been accused of proclaiming himself the King of the Jews, a claim that would put him in direct rivalry with Caesar, the King of Rome. Claiming to be the King of the Jews would be an act of sedition. It would be open rebellion against Rome. Here, Jesus says that his kingdom isn’t from this world. That would theoretically mean that Jesus’s kingship wasn’t in opposition to the kingship of Caesar, at least not by earthly standards. But then, what is this “not of this world” kingdom that Jesus is speaking of?
We get a small clue in the text. Jesus says, “If my kingdom were of this world, then my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over.” It’s only a little bit of help, because we still aren’t told what Jesus’s kingdom is, only what it isn’t. Jesus’s kingdom is different from worldly kingdoms because it is a kingdom in which his followers do not fight to keep him from being handed over.
And that’s a big contrast to the kingdoms of the time. The Roman Empire was founded on strong culture, administration, and technical know-how, but it was also built on war. The Roman army was the strongest fighting force the world had ever seen. Rome was the superpower of the Mediterranean world, controlling much of the known world directly, and influencing the rest through treaties, tribute, and military intimidation. This kingdom, this empire, was willing to fight. In fact, fighting was one of the things it did best. And Pilate himself was well known for being a harsh and brutal official, ready to use violence if it suited his ends.
But in contrast to that, Jesus’s followers, whoever they were exactly—disciples, angels, heavenly beings, the souls of the dead—whoever they were, they weren’t willing to fight in order to save him from being turned over. That isn’t to say that they were incapable of fighting, or that they were too cowardly to fight. We know already that many of Jesus’s followers had urged him to take up weapons and fight the Romans, to bring about his kingdom in the here and now. Even Peter had brandished a sword when the soldiers came to take Jesus away. They were ready and able to use violence, ready and able to fight for Jesus’s freedom. But it seems that fighting was not the way of Jesus’s kingdom. No, the Kingdom of Jesus brings about its goals with things other than war and violence. It’s a kingdom of peace.
Now, the next little detail that we need to explore is Jesus’s confession that he is in fact a king. When asked again by Pilate if he is a king, Jesus answers, “I was born and came into the world for this reason: to testify to the truth.” I was born to be a king. I came into being to be a king. I am coming into the world to be a king. This is powerful language, and it calls us back to the very beginning of John’s Gospel, when very similar words were used. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, full of grace and truth.
Christ existed from the very beginning, was the source of all knowledge and the avenue of all creation. Christ was a cosmic force, universal, spanning all time and space, beyond any limits and outside our understanding. And then, mysteriously, Christ became flesh. This indescribable cosmic power was born into human form, Jesus of Nazareth. A light from another world, shining in the darkness of our everyday existence. A light that our own dark reality couldn’t understand or overcome. We couldn’t understand the truth that Jesus brought, and yet, there Jesus was, proclaiming it all the same. And why? In order to be king. In order to usher in the heavenly kingdom. That is the miracle and meaning of the incarnation, that Jesus, the timeless heavenly king, came into being on earth, in order to spread the heavenly kingdom on earth. Not by war, not by conquest, not by manipulation. But by the power of truth, for those who can perceive it. By faith, knowledge, understanding, questioning, and wisdom. Christ was born for this: that God’s heavenly kingdom might begin to break forth into human reality, might tear the veil between heaven and earth and shine into our existence.
Jesus comes into the world as king to testify to the truth. And who is it that perceives the truth? It’s not who you might expect. It’s not the religious scholars, the scribes. It’s not the priests and pastors. It’s not the religious zealots, the ones who are known and praised for their faith. If you read a little bit before and after the passage for today, you’ll find that all of those people are outside demanding Jesus’s execution. Just as we heard in the familiar words from the beginning of John’s Gospel, “He came into what was his own, and his own people didn’t accept him.”
Instead we find that the one who accepts Jesus, the one who hears the truth, is the very unlikely character of Pilate. He’s a pagan. He’s a ruthless ruler. And yet, ironically, Pilate is the one who’s on the inside, listening to Jesus reveal the secret truths and mysteries, while the rest of the world stands on the outside unconvinced. It’s not an accident that the action is set this way, with Pilate going back and forth. He goes inside and hears the divine truth from Jesus, and he understands. Then he goes outside and appeals to the murderous crowd, but they don’t understand. Back inside to talk with Jesus, as the truth is revealed. Back outside to the crowd where the truth means nothing. According to John, Pilate comes to believe in Jesus. He honors Jesus as king. He dresses Jesus in a purple robe, which was an honor that was reserved only for the emperor. No one but the emperor was allowed to wear a solid purple robe. The soldiers hit Jesus in the face while they shout, “Hail, King of the Jews.” This may seem like a terrible insult, but, strangely it is not that much different than what would have happen to a Roman emperor returning from a successful war—as he road in a triumphal parade, dressed like the God Jupiter, a slave would strike the emperor with a rod and say, “remember that you are mortal,” to remind him not to get to full of himself. When they hit Jesus, it’s not a sign of derision. Ironically, it’s a sign that Pilate recognizes Jesus as the conquering emperor. We know, because when Jesus is crucified, Pilate posts the sign above him, “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” Pilate recognizes Jesus as king, as son of God, even though many others around him do not.
Pilate is not the first or the only person to recognize Jesus. Along the way there are many, but in the Gospel of John, it’s rarely the likely suspects who gain understanding. It’s people like Nicodemus, the woman at the well, the boy with loaves and fishes, the Roman centurion, Mary Magdalene. These are the ones who see and understand the truth of Jesus and his message. They are a select few, but they come from every age, nation, gender, and station in society.
And it is through these witnesses that the kingdom of God begins to break forth into our present reality. One by one, as people seek diligently for the truth and begin to perceive the truth that Christ embodies, the kingdom takes hold and spreads.
And according to John, we too can become seekers and perceivers of truth, looking below the surface of the ordinary to find a world of hidden treasures. Peering behind the veil of normal perception to see the glorious and mysterious reality that is concealed there. Searching for signs of God’s Kingdom, God’s imperial rule, breaking forth into our everyday world. Becoming beacons of that kingdom by shining forth Christ’s love and truth in our lives. For John, it is only an elite few who will ever truly perceive the divine wisdom, and it is a lifelong journey for those who seek it. But it is undoubtedly a journey worth taking, a goal worth pursuing, to seek the Kingdom of God, to watch for the signs all around us that the kingdom is breaking through, and finally to perceive and understand its undeniable truth, a truth that is hidden all around us, in plain sight, just below the surface, waiting for those who are willing to look for it.