John 18:33-38

Click here to view the full sermon video, titled "A King Worth Following."

 

 

“37Pilate asked him, ‘So you are a king?’ Jesus answered, ‘You say that I am a king. 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. Pilate asked him, ‘What is truth?’ 

I’m not sure why that important question from Pilate, “what is truth” was left out of the lectionary, and I wish I had caught that before sending our reading to the bulletin, because I believe it is a question that needs to be explored if we are to know the king we are called to follow. Today is Christ the King Sunday—and also happens to be the last day of the Christian lectionary year. It seems strange—to approach the moment leading to the death of Christ, the week before we begin to prepare for his birth. Many, including lots of Christians, want to ban books speaking of complicated history but forget that our lives are guided by a book that repeats the stories, some very hard, from a very long time ago. And just as we think we’ve come to the end, the story begins again. We hear of Christ the King, watch the crowds prepare to crucify him, and then wait eagerly for the birth of a Palestinian Jew. “What is truth?”.  

My beloved home church—because you have nurtured me through baptism, youth, and ordination, I feel safe confessing to you. In recent months, I have begun to feel a crisis of faith and ask myself what is the truth?  I had an experience this week that made the crisis more pronounced but simultaneously deepened my faith.  

On Thursday night, I went, wearing a stole, to the APS school board meeting, where a man known as the “book ban” pastor from North Carolina was set to speak. This man, Legacy church who arranged for him to come, are also known as being adamantly against the queer community. Although meant to be a night about banning certain books, it was clear that it was a night for many to proclaim that LGBTQIA people are sinful.  At first, only a few people were holding signs—all saying vile things, which I won’t repeat here. Arriving 45 minutes before the meeting began, I had much time to talk to people I was in line with. I was saddened to see how many people looked fearful of me when I entered. Once I explained why I was there, someone handed me a pride flag to hold so that the people there—especially the teenagers—who had to walk past chants and signs of hatred would know they were safe. As the line grew along with the chants and signs, many thanked me for showing up to support. That night, I heard people speaking against the danger of books with queer characters turning their kids ‘gay’ and concerned that APS was handing out pornographic literature to their kids. They insisted that the teachers and librarians don’t know what they’re talking about despite years of education. And then I listened as many brave grandparents, librarians, teens, social workers, therapists, and teachers spoke against the banning of books.  Many pointed out that banning literature with queer characters is a slippery slope to banning numerous books and subjects. Critical Race Theory, which teaches that racism is not just individualistic but also systemic, is already on the chopping block. As everyone spoke, people from the opposing sides would often yell out, but the things said about the brave teens, from a large group of church people made me want to weep. I raised my pride flag even higher, and they in turn, called me satan. I was grateful for the flag at that moment; I confess because I thought, “Thank God people will know I’m not one of them.” But then I realized—I am. I’m part of the system. The reality is—Christianity has been used to harm people for a very long time.  

It was the Christians who used words of scripture to justify their acts of enslaving black people. It was Christians who, in the name of faith, conquered lands and wiped out indigenous practices and entire peoples. It was Christians who sent Indigenous children to boarding schools, tearing them away from their families and cultures.  Even today, the ancient texts to which we turn are, in ways I admit I do not fully understand, causing chaos, starvation, and the killing of innocent lives in Israel and Palestine. And as much as I want to say, “Thank God I’m not like them,” I must realize that we are part of one big Christian family.  “What is truth?” asked Pilate.  

How is it that within our faith tradition, we can all claim to love Christ and want to follow him but end up shouting at each other or using our faith to teach people that the kind of love they have for another human is wrong?  Some people there told me that night that everyone deserves to be loved, but that loving them meant telling them the truth that they are sinning. One group from the church who invited the book ban pastor said they’d pray that my eyes would open and I’d see that truth, too. Their words about truth collided with the internal and external struggles I’ve faced over time as my chaplain vocation deepened and as I listened to the voices of the marginalized. If it is true that God looks at our queer community and thinks, “wrong,” then is that a God worthy of worship? If the Christians who used the Bible to enslave a people, to wipe out indigenous religions and people, and claim the land as their land, and God okayed it, is that a King worth following? I don’t think so. I felt pity, but also concern for the angry protestors whose minds and hearts are closed and afraid of anyone who does not look or behave like them—they are missing out on God’s diverse and beautiful people.  

Pilate asked him, ‘So you are a king?’ Jesus answered, ‘You say that I am a king. 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. 

Yes, but Jesus—what do we do when we listen to your voice and end up in radically different places? What do we do when we hear your voice and it tells us to stand up against others who claim to have the truth of your truth? 

To answer, “What is truth?” when listening to the voice of Christ the King, it may be helpful to remember that our ancient and sacred teaches us about a king worth following. When preaching on this text, Rev James Howell said, “The shape of Christ's kingship begins next week, in silence, waiting, hope hidden in a womb, then a cry, the vulnerable being held tenderly. Jesus got bigger, but never in a muscular, threatening way, always humble, vulnerable, downright laughable and puzzling, so un-powerful did this powerful one seem. His crown was of thorns, his entourage common criminals and poor fishermen, his throne a cross, his palace a tomb.” 

What is the truth? The truth is, Mary was unwed when she became pregnant with Jesus. When he was born, his family feared for his life—that King Herod would kill him. They fled to Egypt, where he lived as a refugee. His earthly father was not an influential politician but a hard-working carpenter. When he began to preach, he did not stay in one synagogue but instead went to where the hurting people were. When people came to him hungry, he did not first preach to them about picking themselves up by their bootstraps but made sure they were fed. When the wine ran out at a celebration, he turned water into wine and kept the party going. When a leper approached him, he did not turn in fear but instead healed him and sent him back to be part of the community. When the crowds wanted to kill the adulteress woman, Jesus called out their hypocrisy, saying, “Let he without sin be the first to cast the stone.”  When the holy temple was used as a marketplace and one trying to trick people into taking out loans, he got mad and turned over the tables. When his friend died, he wept.  He knelt to his disciples and washed their dirty feet. He shared the bread and wine with those who deny knowing him and the one who betrayed him. And after his death penalty on the cross, it was the women to whom he trusted the good news—that love cannot be killed, and love will rise again.  

My faith has been deeply shaken in the face of shouts of hatred, the killings of innocents, and the realization that my religion has been and is the cause of significant harm in this world. But my faith deepened when I realized I have a king worth following.  

I realize that we’re not even to Advent yet, and many scorn the singing of Christmas carols and decorating for Christmas “too early”. (Note: my tree is up, and I’ve been playing Christmas music for two weeks now) But the way our Christian calendar works means that we hear about the trials leading to the execution of Jesus right before we prepare for his arrival. Time folds in on itself and expands in teaching us about the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Christ the King. So, to the chagrin of those who feel it’s too early for the good news of Christmas, I’d like to close with the well-known poem by educator and Civil rights Activist Howard Thurman as I believe it holds the truth of which Christ spoke… 

When the song of the angels is stilled, 
When the star in the sky is gone, 
When the kings and princes are home, 
When the shepherds are back with their flock,  
The work of Christmas begins: 

To find the lost, 
To heal the broken, 
To feed the hungry, 
To release the prisoner, 
To rebuild the nations, 
To bring peace among brothers, 
To make music in the heart.