Sometimes the most interesting thing I find about a particular Bible passage is what the Lectionary leaves out. Take today, for instance. In the Gospel, the last words come from Jesus, who has been having a conversation with Pilate. Pilate has been questioning him, and asking him about his kingship, because the leaders of the people have brought up to Pilate that Jesus is claiming to be the King of the Jews. These leaders of the people knew that Rome had a policy of swiftly and quickly conquering and subjugating anyone – or any people – who claimed to be free from Roman rule. Their hope, of course, was that Pilate would remove Jesus for them. They were playing the politics of the day, in order to get what they wanted, which was to get rid of this meddling upstart named Jesus. The conversation keeps returning to Jesus’ nature – is he a king, or isn’t he? – and Jesus answers, “You say that I am a king. I was born, and I came into the world, in order to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”
And that is where the lectionary ends our reading. But the final response in that conversation between Pilate and Jesus, before Pilate goes out, tells the people that he can find no fault with Jesus, and before he offers them Barabbas in exchange for Jesus, Pilate responds to Jesus with three simple words: “What is truth?”
Did he say that sarcastically? Did he say that with anger or malice? Did he say that with a heavy heart and a sigh? Or did he just realize that when you are wrapped up in the pursuit of power and control, the only thing that matters is what the people will believe – whether it is true or not?
What is truth?
Today is the Feast of Christ the King, and as far as feasts of the church go, this one is fairly new. It was added to the Christian Calendar in 1925 by Pope Pius XI. But it has only been regularly celebrated by the Episcopal Church since 1970, and by the greater Anglican Communion since 1977. This Feast of Christ the King was instituted by Pope Pius because after World War I, the world was deeply divided, and the threat of fascism and nationalism were rapidly taking hold in many countries all across Europe. Pope Pius wanted people to remember that first and foremost, the Christian believer’s allegiance is not to any earthly ruler or any country, but to Christ alone. The intention was to sow peace, to remind people that as Christians, we bend the knee for the King of Kings,the Lord of Lords, the Prince of Peace.
The Roman Empire had begun with humble beginnings in the Italian countryside, a collection of land-owning farmers who banded together in a republic. Those who owned land were considered citizens, and those citizens were expected to serve in the military when the need arose. And the need did arise, because, as is the case with all people everywhere, someone always wants what someone else has. So this group of farmers went to war, and over time, rather than merely defending themselves against those who might attack them, they pushed the outer boundaries of their republic, so that the farmers would be protected, safe from invasion, and that everyone who owned land could do so in safety. In short, the Roman Republic went to war, to control the future – the possibility of a future in which those from outside the Republic would attempt to take over their land and to destroy their way of life. From the beginning of the Republic until Julius Caesar took over the capital of Rome by force and declared himself dictator for life, and used those emergency powers to fill the senate with his cronies; and then following his death, his great-nephew Augustus, Julius’ adopted son, and all the Emperors after Augustus, Rome tried to change and control the world through domination and subjugation – all while maintaining the farce that they were simply a nation of peaceful farmers trying to protect themselves from outside threats.
And that method of controlling the world worked. For almost 800 years in the west, the Roman Republic, and then the Roman Empire survived by changing the world through power and control, by conquering people, setting up puppet kings, and demanding loyalty originally to the senate and people of Rome, and then later, directly to the Emperor. A loyalty that demanded strict adherence to the political whims and conceits of those in power, regardless of the political reality directly at hand – even if the Truth was standing before them and staring them in the face.
What is truth?
Pilate said to Jesus, “Your own people handed you over to me. What have you done?”
And Jesus answered, “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.”
The truth was that Jesus did not have an army. Jesus did not have a band of believers who would commit violence for him in order to keep him from being handed over to the leaders of the people. Jesus did not have anyone who would start a riot to keep him in power, and declare him victorious. Jesus did not have people who would choose the politically expedient path despite the truth, just to make sure he stayed in control. Because his kingdom is not from this world.
And yet… despite having absolutely no political control over any portion of the society in which he lived, Jesus and his followers changed the world. From the moment of that death on the cross, the Kingship of Christ was solidified, and those who bend their knee to the one and only King saw the world change through the power of love and sacrifice, rather than the love of power, control, and the subjugation of one’s enemies.
“So you are a king?” Pilate asked him.
And Jesus answered him, “Everyone who belongs to the truth, listens to my voice.”
And Pilate answered, “What is truth?”
And after he had said this, Pilate went outside, told the people that he found no fault with Jesus, but since it was custom, he would release to them whoever they wanted. And the people shouted, “Not this man, but Barabbas!” And Pilate released to them Barabbas, had Jesus flogged, put a crown of thorns upon Jesus’ head, and dressed him in a purple robe, and the people hit him in the face, and laughed, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews.”
In that moment that Jesus said to Pilate that all those who belong to the truth listen to his voice, Jesus was offering eternal life and citizenship in the Kingdom of God to Pilate, the man who could spare his earthly life.
Did Pilate respond to Jesus with slumped shoulders and a sigh, and say, “What is truth?” because he knew that living in a world that was dominated by power and control, the most politically expedient way to keep that power was to give the people what they want? Did Pilate even understand that the words of Jesus were the truth? Did he know that because he could find no fault with Jesus he ought to let him go? Did he know all this, but instead choose to ignore the Truth that stood right in front of him, and instead go with the truth that the people were willing to believe?
We can never know the mind of Pilate, but we can see the choices he made. And that day, rather than taking the offer of Jesus’ Truth as he stood before him, Pilate chose political expediency, he chose to believe in what he could see, he chose to give the people what they wanted to believe, and he chose to put his trust in the kingdoms of this earth, rather than the eternal kingdom of Christ.
“Those that belong to the Truth, listen to my voice,” Jesus said.
This is the hope of unity, this is the hope of solidarity, this is the hope of peace that Pope Pius had hoped for by instituting the Feast of Christ the King. That above all, in a world divided by hatred and distrust, by desires for control and a lust for power after the destructive nature of World War I, the Children of God would join together to keep in mind that God’s kingdom is not of this world, and that before we bow to any nation or earthly ruler, we bend the knee to Christ alone.
Is this sort of thing even possible?
In the same World War that Pope Pius had referenced when creating the Feast of Christ the King, there were a series of truces as each side ran out of ammunition or men, and one such truce happened just before Christmas in 1914. During this moment of a lull in the fighting, the men on one side heard the other side singing songs, lighting candles, and placing them on small fir trees. They began to shout messages across no man’s land, and eventually, the two sides ventured out into no man’s land, exchanged gifts, sang Christmas carols together, took photos with each other, and even played games of soccer. Some took time to bury the dead, and say prayers for the lost.
Those in command were worried that this sudden camaraderie would discourage the fighting spirit, and tried to stop the men from fraternizing, but those on both sides that followed the same belief in Christ, knew that they were siblings, and that they ought to “walk with each other in perfect harmony.” For that brief moment during the middle of a war, they were, together, children of God, brothers, who bowed the knee to the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords, and the Prince of Peace.
“Those that belong to the truth, listen to my voice,” Jesus said to Pilate.
And Pilate responded, “What is truth?”
[This sermon was delivered at St. Alban’s Episcopal Church in Wickenburg, AZ on November 24, 2024.]
