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John 18:28-40 · Jesus Before Pilate
Rally or Rail?
John 18:28-40
Sermon
by Leonard Sweet
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“Who’s on first?”

That was the opening line of a classic baseball sketch acted out in 1945 by the vaudeville comedy team of Abbott and Costello. [You can find it on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sShMA85pv8M ]. The big joke was that the ball players’ last name were “Who” (first base), “What” (second base), “I Don’t Know” (third base), “Why” (left field), “Tomorrow” (pitcher) “Today” (catcher), etc. Any conversation about “Who was on first?” was a question that involved both identity and physical position. But for the person “in the know,” those who knew “Who” was the name of the first baseman, it was simply the affirmation of a fact. “Who” WAS, in fact, on first base.

Pontius Pilate, the local governor, a kind of “Chief of Police” for the Roman Empire in Jerusalem, was caught in a similar situation. The powerful members of the Sanhedrin (think your locally elected city council representatives) brought Pilate a prisoner, a man they accused of endangering Roman rule, by proclaiming himself to be some sort of ruler and so outside of Roman law. The Sanhedrin accused Jesus of proclaiming himself “King.” Politically that was treason — a flagrant flaunting of Caesar’s rights and rule. To declare himself “King of the Jews” not only disregarded the ruling power of Rome. It provided potential fodder for the local rebellion and even violent, militant reactions of the Jewish population in Jerusalem and beyond.

But in today’s text Jesus puts forth a “Who’s on first” kind of question to Pilate. When the Roman prefect asks his Jewish prisoner if he is a king, Jesus redefines the place and space of kingship. His identity must be understood and embraced and believed on two levels. Yes, Jesus is a king. And yet Jesus’ kingdom is “not from this world.” It is necessary to master some new language skills in order to speak truly about Jesus’ kingship.

When Pilate asked Jesus if he was “a king,” he was asking about a role defined by worldly expectations.

Are you commanding an army?

Are you a political rival?

Are you planning on overthrowing the existing government? Are you trying to overpower those currently in control?

Jesus replied by assuring Pilate, the political brown-noser, that his “kingdom” was “not from this world.” The worldly-wise and world-weary politico Pontius Pilate could not possible comprehend such a claim. The demands, dilemmas, and deferences ordered by this world were all Pilate and all the Pilates of this world could understand.

Jesus’ kingship is decidedly quirky and unconventional in the eyes of the world. It was so in the first century. It remains so in the twenty-first century. Those of us who worship a “king” who never reigned, who was never powerful, who never brought opposing powers to their knees, and who died a dreadful death, crucified on a cross as a common criminal, necessarily have to embrace a different ideal of “kingship.”

The idea of “who is on first” is transformed by the redefinition of who is ultimately in charge of your actions, your life, your soul.

At some point we all have to make a decision about who or what is in the driver’s seat of our life’s journey. Family loyalty? Professional success? Money? Personal satisfaction? Pleasure?

Jesus’ proclamation as “king” of a kingdom that has its final seat of power not in this world, forewarns disciples that faith in Christ does not necessarily guarantee success in all theses worldly endeavors.

It is little wonder Pilate, the consummate political animal, knuckled under to the demands of the crowds and ordered Jesus’ crucifixion. Although he harbored no ill-will towards Jesus, and had plenty of animosity toward the Jewish authorities accusing him, Pilate could not see any reason to actively “rally” to Jesus and his mission. He had far too much political capital at stake to risk taking an unpopular stand that would raise the ire of the locals and thus the anger of his superiors. We all know what it is like sometimes to keep the peace so that we can keep our job. Pilate decided to go along in order to get along.

It is the same choice all of us face everyday. Whether you are four, or fourteen, or twenty-four, or sixty-four, or eighty-four, or one hundred and four. The same decision confronts all of us every day.

Do we rally for Jesus? Or do we rail against Jesus?

Do we enthrone Jesus as “king” of a kingdom that is both “now” and still “not yet”?

Or do we enthrone a host of other “kings” of our lives?

Ever doubt "Jesus loves me?" Leave the gates of Jerusalem & go to Skull Hill. There a man in the middle of two thieves is dying on a cross under the sign installed by Pilate himself. Some have called this sign the first Christian sermon. It read this: “Jesus, King of the Jews.”

But like those two thieves on the cross, you can be in the very presence of Jesus, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, and some will rally to him, and some will rail on him.

Which will it be today? Rally or Rail?

[You can end your sermon here. Or you can continue to provide some “apps” to your sermon. If the latter, here are some ideas of how you can provide some rubber for the road.]

What is keeping you from enthroning Jesus as King of Kings and Lord of Lords? What is keeping you from rallying around him, and instead living lives that rail against him?

First, is Jesus only a part-time king? Christ is no King if His reign is only for a few hours on Sunday morning. Have you enthroned him 24/7, or just 1/1? When you tour the Imperial Palace in Seoul, South Korea, you are told how Kings used to have one Queen, but many wives. We may have one hour a week with Jesus as King, but the rest of the week we’re consorting around.

Second, are you flying another flag rather than the one that only flies to wave the King of Kings and Lord of Lords? Or to put it differently, is someone or something else enthroned in that King’s Chair?

Matt Ragland tells the story of a community of wise monks who lived in the desert. A man one day arrived at the monastery, asking if he could stay and learn wisdom from the monks. The old abbot came out and greeted the traveler, then asked why he had come.

The man answered, “I want to be wise, but I only have the weekend.”

The abbot smiled, because many men hoped for the wisdom which had taken him a lifetime to accumulate. He replied, “To begin, go to the graveyard and spend the day cursing the dead. Tell them they lived useless lives, and the world is better off without them.”

The man thought this was strange, but he did as he was asked. The next day, the abbot asked the traveler, “So, what did the dead say?” The man replied, “Nothing, they’re all dead!”

The abbot told him, “Today, go to the graveyard and spend all day praising the dead! Shower them with blessings, exhort them, and speak of the many ways society has benefitted from their life’s work.”

Now the man was thoroughly bewildered, but he did as he was asked. The next day, the abbot asked the traveler, “So, what did the dead say?”

The man replied, “Nothing! They’re all dead! And I have to leave today!” The wise old abbot looked at him and said, “What wise men they must be, to not be swayed by either the empty blessings or angry curses of other people. They must know true happiness.”

How many of us allow the opinions of others to sway us rather than be true to our colors as followers of Christ?

There is a third reason why we may rail rather than rally. Have we really enthroned Jesus as King of Kings and Lord of Lords in the first place?

Eric Geiger, Michael Kelley and Philip Nation have just published a book called Transformational Discipleship (2012). They point out how Judas should have been the poster boy for discipleship. He heard every sermon, he counted every coin, he watched every hearing. Yet at the Last Supper, the other disciples, when challenged with Jesus’ warning “One of you will betray me” replied, “Not I, Lord.” But Judas said something different. Have you ever noticed the difference before. I had missed it before this book. The other disciples objected with the words “Not I, Lord” but Judas, only Judas, pushed back with these words: “Not I, Rabbi.” There is a world of difference between “Not I, Lord” and “Not I, Teacher.” For Eleven of the Twelve, Jesus had become Lord. For one, Judas, he had never made that heart transplant from teacher to Lord.

Have you? Do you rally? Or rail?


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COMMENTARY

If it weren’t for the fact that he is re-telling a tragic life-or-death moment, John’s description of Jesus’ appearance before Pilate is almost humorous.

First, the most powerful and influential Jewish religious authorities, the members of the Sanhedrin, bring their prisoner to Pontius Pilate, the Governor ( or “Prefect”) in order to get the full weight of Roman law to fall upon Jesus. Apparently the Sanhedrin members were confident that Pilate would simply “rubber stamp” their indictment of Jesus as a criminal worthy of Rome’s capital punishment laws.

But the Jewish leaders seem as concerned with maintaining their own ritual purity as they were with getting Jesus sentenced. Their refusal to enter into Pilate’s headquarters (Greek “praitorion” or Latin “praetorium”) forces the Roman governor to come out and then run back and forth between Jesus’ accusers and Jesus himself. This undignified “dosey-dohing” seems to set Pilate’s mind against the Sanhedrin members. Instead of tacitly accepting the judgment of these Jewish leaders he decides to question Jesus himself, in effect giving the prisoner a second trial.

Perturbed at the Sanhedrin, obviously aware that they want him to condemn Jesus to a Roman crucifixion for reasons of their own which have little to do with Rome’s “national security,” Pilate confronts Jesus personally. He asks Jesus, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Pilate’s question reveals that although John’s text does not report it, the Sanhedrin members had clearly identified the “politically correct” charge they were levying upon Jesus in order to involve the Roman government in this “Jewish” business.

Instead of the non-specific answer recorded in the Synoptic gospels, “You say so,” here in John Jesus engages more personally with Pilate. Jesus’ response is to ask Pilate if the question he poses is his own. That is, does Pilate have any real interest in Jesus’ true identity? Or is it simply a restatement of the Sanhedrin’s legal charges?

Pilate does have his own agenda. But it is not to explore the genuine nature of Jesus’ identity. Rather, it is to understand the impetus behind the Sanhedrin’s murderous intentions. Jesus is obviously part of some internecine conflict now being played out on Pilate’s turf. Indignant that he has been embroiled in this religious quagmire, Pilate points out “I am not a Jew.” He demands Jesus tell him, “What have you done?”

Jesus’ come-back moves the conversation from the realm of political posturing, by Pilate and by the Sanhedrin, to the true nature of the “kingdom” Jesus will rule. This kingdom (“basileia”) Jesus will establish is one located not on any contested piece of real estate. The focus behind “basileia” is upon personal kingship, not geographical territory.

Since Pilate’s snide response tells Jesus that he has no personal investment in the answer, Jesus offers a response that lets Pilate know he has no plans for any kind of military uprising or physical threat to Rome’s rule: “My kingdom is not from this world.” Furthermore, Jesus offers proof of that claim by pointing out to Pilate that his “followers” have done nothing. They have offered no resistance to either the Jewish or Roman authorities in any attempt to keep Jesus from being arrested.

Pilate continues to press, but with less overt hostility. He asks Jesus the neutral, “So you are a king?” As a political survivor in volatile Rome, Pilate knows how to cover his bases. Although he surmises that Jesus’ arrest and the accusations of the Sanhedrin have a backstory, and he has learned that there are no violent threats to Rome’s rule from this man, he also knows that any confession of “kingship” may be useful as this situation plays itself out. Jesus’ next response literally, “You say that I am a king” gives Pilate all the future ammunition he may need to proclaim a capital punishment condemnation.

But Jesus goes on to articulate the unique nature of his kingship. His is not some power grasped, but an identity to which he “was born.” Kingship is the entire reason for Jesus’ existence in “the world.” The mission of this born-to-be “king” was to “testify to the truth” that alone is the power of his kingship. The “truth” which Jesus incarnates is God’s presence, the “truth” of salvation, the “truth” of God’s judgment, the “truth” of the kingdom present on earth for those who believe in the king whom Earth has birthed. This “truth” (“aletheia”) is the purpose behind Jesus’ mission on earth. All who embrace this truth, who listen to Jesus’ voice, are members of his kingdom.

Whatever Pilate may have thought about Jesus’ responses, his reaction is based upon both his personal and political experiences as a life-long professional politician: “What is truth?”

Pilate knows there is something profoundly different and unsettling about the prisoner who stands before him. But his whole life has led him to only offer a cynical question, not a genuine inquiry: “What is truth?”

ChristianGlobe Networks, Inc., Leonard Sweet Sermons, by Leonard Sweet