Kings and Kingdoms

Almighty and everlasting God, whose will it is to restore all things in your well-beloved Son, the King of kings and Lord of lords: Mercifully grant that the peoples of the earth, divided and enslaved by sin, may be freed and brought together under his most gracious rule; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

Revelation 1:4b-8
John 18:33-37

Kings and Kingdoms, Princes and Principalities. At the risk of sounding whiney, the last time you shared your pulpit with me I cried over the tragic loss of a friend’s mother. Today we cry over a world continuing to go mad. Violence in Ethiopia, Baghdad, Syria, France; and yesterday Belgium went on high alert against suspected terror attacks. Belgium! Except for NATO Headquarters, fine chocolates, and the Chimay Abbey with their wonderful ales, what in the world is there in Belgium that would warrant Enhanced Terror Alerts? What in the world would elicit an attack?

I guess that goes to show what I know about world affairs.

“What in the world…?” is actually a question asked in our gospel passage today. Or at least that’s how I paraphrase Pilate’s question to Jesus on this day after state elections in Louisiana. I mention our elections because Roman politicians, Pilate included, were sophisticated enough that had they met Hughie Long he would have addressed them as “Suh.”

Jesus, son of Mary, what in the world have you done to make these people so upset that they come to me? What have you done to make the Sanhedrin, the temple elite, think I, the Roman Prelate of Palestine, am less of an enemy than you? What did you do to turn the entire countryside on its ear? What did you do to earn this level of spite from your own people?

Now that’s a question.

I love that their exchange includes repartee straight out of “The Princess Bride.” Remember when leaving the Fire Swamps Prince Humperdink shouts “Surrender!” to Westley and Westley graciously accepts? Listen to this—

Pilate asks “So, you a king?” Jesus answered, "You say that I am a king.” Like I say, right out of “Princess Bride,” but Jesus continues, “For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice." But as Jesus said earlier in the passage, “my kingdom is not from here.”

We have heard the words of the glorious images that make up the answers to Pilate’s question since we began reading Mark’s and John’s Gospels at Advent last year. The images of the Baptism of the Lord, the miracles, the healings, the wisdom; these things begin answering the question, “What did you do.” But more than all of these things, more than these wonderful and glorious things, today we are given an image from John the Revelator about who Jesus is, what Jesus did and who he still is and what he continues to do.

He is the faithful witness. Jesus is the Christ, the select, the anointed. He is the one who was elected to come and bring the Word of life to the world. He is the one who does only what he sees his Father doing. He is the one who is in eternal relationship with the other persons of the Trinity. He participated in the works of God since before the beginning. He is the one who came to earth, fully human and fully divine, teaching us through his words and actions.

He is the firstborn of the dead. He is the one who was born to live to die and rise again. As we testify in the traditional version of the Apostles’ Creed, he descended into hell and rose again from the dead. As the firstborn of the dead, He is the Son who leads his brothers and sisters who have died and will die. He is the one who conquered death so that we will no longer know the full sting of the cold hard hand of mortality.

He has freed us from the power of sin by his own blood. As the Lamb of God, there is no other sacrifice that can be made that will be able to do what God has done now and forever through His Holy Son Jesus. There is no other priest that can make a sacrifice like the one the high priest of God makes of his own body, his own blood, his own life. By the power of his blood, we are free.

He is the ruler over the kings of the earth and has made us to be a kingdom of priests to serve him now and forever. Amen.

The question is not just what did Jesus do, it is what does Jesus continues to do. Pilate’s question is almost rhetorical. The answer he wants isn’t about the charges against Jesus. The politician in him knows all he needs to know to rule from the Pharisees who bring Jesus. As Tetrarch, Pilate knows what he plans to do, he wants more.

The question Pilate wants answered is much deeper than just a recitation of the charges; Pilate wants to know the Truth, “Truth” with a “Capital T,” about Jesus. The Truth Pilate wants to hear is the Truth we claim and testify on this Christ the King Sunday: The Lord is King and for this he was born and his kingdom is not of this earth. Creation is but a part of His kingdom.

From my “easily amused” file, November 6 was a pretty big day at our house. For the first time since September 2010, Olusegun Samuel released his seventh CD of original music titled, quite imaginatively, 7. Yes, he released a second disc of soul covers in 2011, but this is the first original music in over five years. Big deal, right? The name may not sound familiar, but Mr. Samuel is an acclaimed performer. He has won multiple Grammys and been nominated for an Academy Award.

This is where I give you the “Paul Harvey” “Rest of the Story” moment and tell you Olusegun Samuel is better known by the name Seal.

I have loved Seal’s music since his first CD, and being who I am, I prefer some of the unfamiliar songs from the CD’s that most people don’t hear very often. For example this song from his first disc released almost twenty-five years ago:

But if only you could see them
You could tell by their faces
They were kings and queens
Followed by princes and princesses
They were future power people
Throwing love to the loveless
Shining a light ‘cause they wanted it seen.

Well there were cries of why
Followed by cries of why not?
Can I reach out for you
If that feels good to me
And the riders will not stop us
Cause the only love they find is paradise
No the riders will not stop us
Cause the only love they find is paradise.

“Future Love Paradise” from Seal’s first CD is definitely one of my favorites. Funky beat, big hook, mad groove, great lyrics, what’s not to love?

But in a world gone mad, a world gone so very mad that Belgium has gone to “Alert Level ‘Danger Will Robinson’,” we have two choices. The first is to pack up the plantation, fill the moat, and pull up the drawbridge. We can retreat into ourselves so very deeply that we think, hope, we pray nobody can hurt us. We can try to create a cocoon that will protect us from the elements the world throws at us hoping to emerge like a butterfly when spring comes again to the world.

This doesn’t always work for the chrysalis though, does it? Last week’s squall line showed the damage one errant hailstone can inflict; the damage a big gust of wind can bring. Multiplied umpteen times and our shells don’t stand a chance.

Or we can take a better path. In Seal’s words, we can live like princes and princesses. We can shine the light because the King and the Kingdom want it seen and when the world asks why we can answer “why not?” Reaching out is always better than living in fear. Always.

That is future, love, paradise. In the words of our Prayer of Illumination, we act on our prayer that “the peoples of the earth, divided and enslaved by sin, may be freed and brought together under [God’s] most gracious rule.”

We need to remember the words of the American sonnet called “The New Colossus” which was placed at the foot of a French statue:

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give us your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
These American ideals, these Christian ideals, these show the world that we are not afraid of its chaos. We know the author of peace. We know the author of joy. We know the King of Kings.

The King of Kings lives and breathes and remains with us. We are to share this glorious hope not as people in pews, not as a man in the pulpit, not as mere mortal beings, but in the words of the Revelation, “as priests serving his God and father.” In this we rejoice in God’s triumph on behalf of all creation.

Yes, we know that the world is in an uproar and I see no end in sight. To paraphrase one of my favorite passages from Job, we know that Satan, the oppressor, the King of Lies, is in this world, just wandering around in it like an evil Johnny Appleseed sowing discontent. Yeah, we know that’s true.
But what’s more important than Satan’s lies is God’s truth. What’s more important is what Jesus tells Pilate, the Lord’s kingdom is not from this world. That is the truth we are called to share, that is our testimony.

As princes and princesses in the Kingdom of God we are called to shine the light of hope, the hope of God in Christ who came on a colt, not on a tank.
And so now I say again in the words of John the Revelator, “Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, and from the seven spirits who are before his throne, and from Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.

“To him who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood, and made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.”

Lighting the Fuse

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Marshall, Texas on Sunday April 17, 2011, the 6th Sunday of Lent, Palm Sunday.

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Isaiah 50:4-9a

Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29

Philippians 2:5-11

Matthew 21:1-11

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer.  Amen

Saturday mornings means cartoons, and I hope it always will. People of different ages look at Saturday morning cartoons differently. There are the unnatural motions of the oldest “Popeye” and “Mickey Mouse” cartoons. These are great if for no other reason that they are the root of the tree from which all cartoons followed. Then again, these cartoons were made for the movie theaters, not for the small screen.

The next generation of cartoons, the first made for television was the old “Tom and Jerry” style cartoons. The plot was constantly recycled, cat chases mouse, but the imagination of the situations combined with some of the best Pre-Pixar artwork in cartoons made this generation of work special.

The Saturday mornings of my childhood wouldn’t have been complete without “School-House Rock” or “Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids” which always tried to teach something. These were great, but for me, the best was “The Road Runner.” Yes, it’s “Tom and Jerry” with a coyote and a bird, but there was something more to it for me. The Road Runner was a one-trick pony, speed and more speed; but Wile E. Coyote lived up to his name, he was wily.

The coyote is of course the lonesome loser, he’s never going to get the Road Runner, but he’s never going to give up either. He’s always plotting and conniving a new way to catch his prey. While I read Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem, there is one type of Road Runner scene that resonated with me.

The scene, reinvented in many different ways, is where the coyote lights a fuse on some sort of explosive. It could be a rocket or it could be a stick of dynamite. He lights the fuse and waits behind a rock waiting for the Road Runner to zip past at the exact moment of the explosion.

I always wondered what a stick of dynamite would do to a small bird but my parents would just tell me to go with it. Oh well.

My question never needed an answer of course because the Road Runner would rush past before it could explode; then the coyote would always have to go and take a closer look at his contraption. Sometimes it was immediate, sometimes the coyote would have enough time to strike a pose to dash off, but always the bomb would explode right underneath ol’ Wile E.  Then the look of disgust would be on his face while I laughed.

These scenes aren’t parallel, but as we’ll see; on the triumphant entry into Jerusalem Jesus lit the fuse; and there’s going to be a big, big bang that will change the world.

So how is the fuse lit? It begins as Jesus gets ready to enter Jerusalem. The preparations begin as Jesus commands two of his disciples: “Go to the village ahead of you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there, with her colt by her. Untie them and bring them to me.”

A reminder: Matthew’s gospel was written to the first congregations of Jewish Christians. So to Matthew, it was important for the writer to connect the Hebrew Scriptures to the life of Jesus. This connection was important to the listeners too. This is why Matthew follows these instructions with this commentary, “This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet,” the words of Zechariah 9:9:

“Say to the Daughter of Zion,

‘See, your king comes to you,

gentle and riding on a donkey,

on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’”

Matthew’s version of the triumphant entry is silent about whether or not the disciples had to tell the owner of the beasts that the Lord needed them, but since we are told they did as they were instructed we can assume they did if it was necessary.

It is spectacular the way the crowd is assembled. The knowing and the curious surround the Messiah.  They come from all around to be a part of the scene.  People are climbing trees and cutting down branches.  Others are taking off their cloaks and spreading them on the road.  This part of the city was in turmoil, the simple entry of this one man stirred the pot of Jerusalem.  Everything was being shaken up by Jesus’ entry into the city of David.

This part of Jerusalem is shaken by the entry of he who comes fulfilling the word of the prophet. The end of our reading reminds us that while these crowds knew who Jesus was, most of the city didn’t. Considering the number of visitors who were in Jerusalem for the Passover, the height of the religious tourism season, this shouldn’t be unexpected. While most of the 40,000 locals probably knew who Jesus was, many of the 200,000 visitors may never have heard of him until this moment.[1]

But then again, this Messianic entry may not have been completely unexpected; Jerusalem has a history of parading kings.

The people of Jerusalem had long expected the coming of the Messiah, the Christ, the anointed. They expected the coming of the one who would save Israel from its oppression.  Egyptian, Babylonian, and now Roman, the people anxiously waited for the one who would save them from their enemies.

They waited for the new David who would ride triumphantly, a warrior king who would come on a great war horse to save the people from their oppressors.  They were waiting for someone like Moses who took them from Egypt to the Promised Land.  They were waiting for a political leader to restore the nation to its proper place in the land.

The history of the Jews is steeped with parades of Kings entering Jerusalem.  In Ancient Israel before David was king, the Philistines had captured the presence of God, the Ark of the Covenant.  After David became king, after the Ark was regained by the Israelites, the king danced at the front of the procession leading its return to Jerusalem.  A parade of 30,000 men accompanied the Ark on its return to Jerusalem.

After a false start, the parade started and once it did, it stopped every six steps so that David could make an offering of an ox and fatted calf.  David led the procession of men and the Ark wearing a linen ephod and dancing with all his might.[2]

While Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem wasn’t as spectacular as David’s, it was a spectacle. The triumphant entry had people hanging from the trees and throwing their clothes everywhere.

Yet Jesus does not come dancing in his like David with the Ark. Jesus doesn’t lead a procession of 30,000 men. Who the people received in Matthew’s gospel was the vision of another ancient leader, one who rode a donkey because they had better footing on the rocks and hills of ancient Israel than a war horse. Today’s procession features the one who rides a colt, a symbol of humility.

Then again, Jesus doesn’t bring the Ark of the Covenant back to Jerusalem. He is the New Covenant coming into Jerusalem.

The Messiah who comes to town was no conquering hero; he was the ancient image of the humble leader. He is the leader who would die for his people, not one who would send millions to die in his stead.

Our reading is different, instead of the Ark of the Covenant that holds the presence of God; Jesus, the true presence of God, comes to Jerusalem.  Fully human and fully divine, God comes to town as the person of Jesus Christ.  In David’s time, God is returning to Jerusalem as the glorious center of the pageant.  In our reading from Matthew, Jesus, the Son of God, the Son of Man, God in flesh on earth, comes to Jerusalem humbly for the Passover.

This is the lighting of the fuse, the fuse that leads to a powder keg.

Two biblical scholars, Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crosson provide another side to this story; the story from the other side of town. They imagine that while Jesus and all the crowds are celebrating his triumphal entry; on the opposite side of town the Roman Governor of Palestine, Pontius Pilate, is entering town himself.[3]

Pilate, like every other political leader, never travels without his entourage, but this time his party is large and well armed. The Passover was traditionally a time of political uprising in Palestine. This year there was talk of a new prophet in the hills north of Jerusalem. A man named Jesus from Nazareth. If he came to town there could be trouble and like any good Roman Governor, Pilate would be ready for trouble.

So Borg and Crosson write that as Jesus comes to town, Pilate comes loaded for bear. Pilate would be ready for the nearly quarter-million residents and visitors and any rabble they carried in their wake. There would be more than enough soldiers, there would be more than enough arms, and Pilate rode at the head on his war steed to show that he meant business.

You’ll never find this story in the bible because it’s based on extra-biblical sources, histories written outside of the church.  It’s not in any church history or anything else I’ve ever read, but as we discussed this during the Thursday bible study, I said it was plausible.

This is when Tom Malcolm added this insight. It was probable that the Roman garrison had some sort of maneuvers daily.

As soon as Tom mentioned this I knew that he was right; and Borg and Crosson were right too. Everyday in Jerusalem and in every other town that held Roman troops, there would be some sort of military procession. Not that this is a Roman thing, this is how conquering armies behave in occupied lands. They’re the boss and they continually show who’s boss, and the parade is one very good way.

So while there would be the daily parade, on this day, right before the Passover, in front of a quarter million Jews, the Romans come to town to show just who’s in charge. They come in armor, they carry state of the art arms, they will even march their provisions along with the rest of the parade to show that they’re in it for the long haul and they mean business. And again, Pilate rode at the head on his war steed.

So there we are. Jesus has lit the fuse as he rides into Jerusalem on the colt and the donkey. The crowds on this side of Jerusalem praise him laying their cloaks and branches before him crying “Hosanna to the Son of David!  Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!  Hosanna in the highest heaven!  This is the prophet Jesus!”

In the meantime, on the other side of town, Pilate and the power of Rome come into Jerusalem in their own parade. They come into town to keep the peace, whether by right or by might, they will keep the peace. It doesn’t matter how many are killed, they will keep the peace. If they have to kill thousands they will keep the peace. If they have to kill just one man, they will keep the peace.

The powder keg is lit and it leads to Pilate and the glory of Rome. The fuse he lights also leads to the Temple, and the scribes and the Pharisees. The fuse is lit; the course of history has begun. Eventually the spark will reach the charge and an explosion the world has not forgotten will blow.

In the mean time, much will happen:

There will be prophecy, and there will be prophecy fulfilled.

There will be scrutiny, and there will be examination.

There will be a supper, and there will be a betrayal.

There will be a trial, and there will be a judgment.

There will be a torturous death, and there will be a glorious resurrection.

All of this will happen as the fuse burns, but those things happen this week, not today. Next Sunday we’ll read about the big, big bang that changes the world. As for today, we hear the cry of the people in the streets. We hear the people cry out “hosanna!” We hear the crowd crying, “Hosanna to the Son of David!  Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!  Hosanna in the highest heaven!  This is the prophet Jesus!”

Hosanna—what a wonderfully glorious call, by the time of Matthew’s gospel it had become a sort of a “holy hurrah.”  But let us remember what Hosanna truly means: “Lord, we beseech you. Lord we beg of you.”[4] Lord, we beseech you, come. Lord, we beg of you, come, come again, and take your rightful place in creation and in our very lives.

Hosanna! The fuse is lit. Let it burn.

And I’ll see you next Sunday for the big explosion.

---

[1] Rollefson, John, “Feasting on the Word, Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary.” David L. Bartlet and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010, page 154

[2] 2Samuel 6

[3] Ibid. Rollefson, page 153.

[4] New Interpreters Bible, vol VIII, Keck, Leander, Editor. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995, page 403.

What Have You Done?

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday November 22, 2009, the 34th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Christ the King Sunday.

2 Samuel 23:1-7
Psalm 132:1-12
Revelation 1:4b-8
John 18:33-37

May the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.

I love the written word. I love the Word of God written, I love good theology written, and I love a good novel. I love little messages on facebook and Twitter. I love sharing wisdom through email. I even love composing and sending the pastoral letter every month for “The Epistle.” There is one thing that is difficult though, things that are obvious in the spoken word get lost in the written word.

In some forms of writing, there is often a presumption of shared experience. The shared experience allows the writer to tell the reader something in fewer words because there is a presumption that the set-up is known to the reader. After reading the first James Bond novel, we know who Bond is, so we don’t have to go through a detailed introduction in each novel. Because of shared experience, a few words is all it takes.

But this presumption is not always valid. One of the places where it is least valid is in social networking websites, tools like facebook, Twitter, and email; and in these settings, misunderstandings can quickly make their way around the world between breakfast and lunch. In the church it is true, with implications in the work of the Kingdom of God.

It is with this that I restate Pilate’s question to Jesus, “What have you done?”

The way we often read this, the way I have always read it, is that Pilate stands as judge and asks Jesus for a recitation of the charges. Pilate is asking a question the way a judge asks an accused. There is no reason to think this is a misinterpretation of Pilate’s question. After all, Pilate is the Prefect of Judea. Jesus was brought to Pilate for judgment by the Sanhedrin. This tone, this way that Pilate asks this question is valid, but I want us to consider something else.

Consider this, consider this little bit of the historical and cultural setting as well as the passage’s setting. First, let’s remember that Pilate was a politician. As any good politician, he knew what was going on in his district. He knew who the players were. He knew who had power, both formal and informal power. He knew the movers and shakers, and he knew the blowhards and stuffed shirts. He would have his finger on the pulse of the countryside, especially right before the Passover.

Pilate would have gotten the news that there was a prophet in the Judean hills performing great and miraculous signs and wonders. He would have been told about the healings. He would have heard that this prophet had bested the Scribes and Pharisees in several battles of wits.

Pilate would have heard about the crowds that had gathered around him, and were continuing to grow around him. He absolutely would have heard of this prophet entering Jerusalem on the back of a colt. Even if Pilate had no idea about the prophetic implications[1] of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, he would have known something big was happening because of the crowds and the shouts of “Hosanna.”

As the Prefect, Pilate was appointed by the Emperor to oversee Judea. The first thing he did was push the Judean leaders so that they would push back in one of those lovely “big dog” moments. The Judeans got a good look at how hard Pilate would push and Pilate saw how Judeans would push back.[2] It became known quickly that Pilate was a firm, but not a brutal ruler. The first dance soon ended and the administration of Judea by Pilate had begun. As with any occupying force, Pilate was not loved by those whose homeland was occupied.

So let’s reset the scene. Pilate is Prefect. He is a firm foreign ruler over a proud nation. He is not despised, but he is not loved by those he rules. In the verses just prior to this scene, the Sanhedrin had come to Pilate asking him to crucify Jesus. When Pilate asks them why, they say, “We wouldn’t bring him to you if he didn’t deserve it.” It’s like the old expression that only the guilty get arrested.

The story goes that the Sanhedrin turned Jesus over to Pilate because the Jewish leaders could not execute prisoners, but this may not be true. At least one source says that the Sanhedrin may have had the authority to execute prisoners for breaking religious law.[3] If this is true, they would have been able to execute Jesus for (by their account) his blasphemy. If they tried to do this, there surely would have been rioting in the streets; the disciples of Jesus taking on the religious rulers. This would have been no good at all for any of them. Any civil unrest, especially at the Passover would have forced Pilate’s firm hand against the entire nation.

So yes, they could have executed Jesus for breaking religious law, but they were so nervous over the fallout that they were willing to go to the ruler they did not like asking him to do what they themselves would not do.

As a politician shrewd enough to gain this post, Pilate was able to put one and one together and come up with two. In this case, it meant that he knew what Jesus was doing; and even if Pilate didn’t know the theological and prophetic ramifications of what he was doing, he knew that it was making the Jewish ruling elite very, very nervous.

So here’s how I choose to rephrase this question, Pilate asks Jesus, What have you done? What have you done to make these guys so upset that they come to me? What did you do to turn the entire countryside on its ear? What did you do to earn this level of spite from your own people? What have you done to make these people think I was less of an enemy than you?
That’s the question. What did Jesus do?

The glorious images that make up the answers to this question have been with us since we began reading the Gospels of Mark and John at Advent last year. The images of the Baptism of the Lord, the miracles, the healings; these things help answer the question, “What did you do.” But more than all of these things, more than these wonderful and glorious things, we are given an image from John the Revelator about who Jesus is and what he did and about what he continues to do.

He is the faithful witness. Jesus is the Christ, the select, the anointed; he is the one who was elected to come and bring the Word of the Lord to life in the world. He is the one who does only what he sees his Father doing. He is the one who in eternal relationship with the other persons of the Holy Trinity has seen and participated in the works of God since before the beginning. He is the one who came to earth, fully human and fully divine, teaching us through his words and actions.

He is the firstborn of the dead. He is the one who died and rose again. As we testify in the Apostles’ Creed, he descended into hell and rose again from the dead. As the firstborn of the dead, He is the Son who leads his brothers and sisters who too have died and will too die. He is the one who conquered death so that we will no longer know the sting of the cold hard hand of mortality.

He has freed us from the power of sin by his own blood. As the Lamb of God, there is no other sacrifice that can be made that will be able to do what God has done now and forever through His Holy Son Jesus. There is no other priest that can make a sacrifice like the one the high priest of God makes of his own body, his own blood, his own life. By the power of his blood, we are freed. This we celebrate today and as often as we share the plate and the cup.

He is the ruler over the kings of the earth and has made us to be a kingdom of priests to serve him now and forever. Amen.

The question is not just what did Jesus do, it is what does Jesus continue to do. Pilate’s question is almost rhetorical. The answer he wants isn’t about the charges; the politician in him knows all he needs from the Pharisees who bring Jesus. The question Pilate wants answered is much deeper than just a recitation of the charges; Pilate wants to know the truth about Jesus. The truth Pilate wants to hear is the truth we testify to on this Christ the King Sunday is that the Lord is King and for this he was born. In this we rejoice in God’s triumph on behalf of all creation.[4]

The King of Kings lives and breathes and remains with us. We are to share this glorious hope not as people in pews, not as a fat man in the pulpit, not as mere mortal beings, but in the words of the Revelation, “as priests serving his God and father.”

[1] Zechariah 9:9
[2] Pilate, Pontius entry, The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. Vol. 4. Katharine Doob Sakenfeld, General Editor. Nashville: TN, Abingdon Press, 2009, page 526.
[3] Ibid.
[4] This is a nod to “Rejoice, the Lord Is King” (Lyric by Charles Wesley, Music by John Darwall). This was sung as the Hymn of Response following the sermon.