Scripture
Then Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” Pilate replied, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?” Jesus answered, “My kingdom does not belong to this world. If my kingdom belonged to 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.” 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.” Pilate asked him, “What is truth?”
Sermon
Those of us who grew up in churches are familiar with this idea of God as King. We find that image many times in the psalms, including the psalm we just read together this morning. When I was little—maybe 3rd grade or so?—I vividly remember being asked to draw a picture of God. Like many kids of my era, I envisioned God as an old white man with a white beard, wearing a crown on his head, seated on a throne. That’s what I drew. Then I drew a picture of Jesus next to God. Jesus was also white, but had long dark hair and a dark beard and was wearing a white robe. But he was standing, not sitting on a throne, and he wasn’t wearing a crown. We might ask how this happened. Where did Jesus get his crown? This is a man who one author describes like this:
Jesus, you’ll remember, was born to a peasant girl and a carpenter in the backwater of Nazareth. Before he was born, his mom sang a gorgeous song about how this kid would institute God’s dream for the world by filling the hungry with good things and sending the rich away empty. He chose to live as a homeless vagrant, traveling from town to town, associating with criminals and cast-outs, healing the people that society refused to acknowledge. As far as I can tell, he existed on the generosity of strangers and never had a bank account, much less an IRA or stock options. The ruling powers *hated* him - both the government and the religious authorities. He taught his followers to love their enemies, live with sacrificial generosity, pay attention to the people that empires ignored, refuse violence, and practice mercy.
Those are NOT the makings of a king or a kingdom.[i]
And yet, we know that Jesus came proclaiming the “kingdom of God.” Did he also mean the “kingdom of Christ?”
Our passage this morning drops us into the middle of the Passion narrative in the gospel according to John. Jesus is being questioned by Pontius Pilate. And the pressing matter at hand is—does Jesus consider himself a king? Specifically, King of the Jews? That is the matter Pilate wants to clear up, once and for all.
This is because Jesus has been brought to him under a charge of insurrection. If there’s one thing the Romans won’t abide, won’t tolerate, it is someone claiming the throne. This is considered a threat to Caesar, and that is illegal. Insurrectionists, those who rise up against the government, are punished in the most brutal and humiliating way—crucifixion. If Jesus is found to be claiming that title, his fate is sealed. He will be sent to the cross.
Pilate gets right to the point. “Are you the King of the Jews?” he asks Jesus. Jesus’ first reply sounds evasive—are you asking me that on your own, or did you hear this from someone else? That’s actually a reasonable response. Why this question? What evidence does Pilate have? Pilate’s temper flares quickly. I’m not the one who brought you here, he reminds Jesus. Your own people arrested you. They’re the ones who have made these charges against you. Why? What have you done?
Jesus refuses to give Pilate a direct answer. Instead, he begins to talk about a kingdom—his kingdom—but, he says, “My kingdom is not of this world.” If it were, my people would be fighting for my life in the streets. This is also true. If Jesus had a fully formed plan for toppling the Roman Empire, he would surely have an army, and that army would have been swift to respond to Jesus’ arrest. But that is not happening. Instead, his disciples have scattered for fear of being arrested themselves. For now, Jesus, if he is a king, is a solitary figure, facing his trial entirely alone.
We can answer Pilate’s question. We can talk about what Jesus has done. Let’s limit it to John’s gospel, or it would take all day. John is unique among the four gospels, in that he doesn’t show Jesus performing healing after healing, miracle after miracle, beyond the reader’s ability to keep count. Instead, John chooses to highlight seven of what he calls “signs,” things Jesus does that point to the reality of him as the Son of God, the Word made flesh. Here they are:
1. Jesus turned water into wine, saving the day at the wedding of the nameless bride and groom in Cana of Galilee. (John 2:6-11)
2. Jesus healed the dying son of a local official, again, in Cana of Galilee. (John 4:46-54)
3. Jesus healed a man who had been ill for 38 years, at the pool called Beth-Zatha, in Jerusalem. This healing took place on the Sabbath. (John 5:29)
4. Jesus fed more than 5000 men, women, and children with just five barley loaves and two fish. He did this on a mountainside near the Sea of Galilee. Interestingly, after this sign, the people tried to take Jesus and “make him king.” He did not consent. So, he withdrew further up the mountain. (John 6:1-15)
5. Jesus walked on the water of the Sea of Galilee. (John 6:16-20)
6. Jesus restored the sight of a man who was blind from birth. (John 9:1-12)
7. Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead. (John 11:1-44)
These are the seven signs. They show Jesus turning a wedding reception into a precursor of the heavenly kingdom. They show him as one who feeds the hungry. They point to Jesus as a healer, and a wonderworker. They show that he has power, not only over the natural elements, but over life and death. Again, these are not the usual signs of a king. They are more like the signs of the Son of God, the Word made flesh.
Now, Jesus did a lot of other things in the gospel of John, too. Jesus called men and women to come follow him. Jesus had at least two fascinating theological conversations with women (John 4, John 11), and at least one with a Pharisee (John 3). And, unlike the Jesus of the other gospels, he talked a lot about his identity. Jesus gives himself seven titles, the famous “I AM” statements.
Jesus said:
1. I AM the Bread of Life. (John 6:35)
2. I AM the Light of the World. (John 8:12; 9:5)
3. I AM the Gate. (John 10:7)
4. I AM the Good Shepherd. (John 10:11-14)
5. I AM the Resurrection and the Life. (John 11:
6. I AM the Way, the Truth, and the Life. (John 14:6)
7. I AM the True Vine. (John 15:5)
In these statements, Jesus calls himself nurturer, light by which we see, our safety and security, our access to life everlasting, our guide to all wisdom and goodness. He also claims and describes his connection to us.
But he does not claim worldly kingship. What he does claim is a kingdom “not of this world.” The truth is, if Jesus is a king, he is unlike any king who ever existed before him or since him. What might a kingdom “not of this world” look like? Jesus certainly doesn’t have the trappings of a king—he has no crown, and no throne. He doesn’t have the resources of a king—that army, for instance, not to mention a royal treasury. And he doesn’t seem concerned in any way about holding power over others. His “kingdom” is an invitation situation—no one is forced to pay him fealty, no one is coerced to bow to him. All are invited to follow him.
What does Jesus’ kingdom “not of this world” look like? In a word, it looks like love. It looks like a ministry in which everything he does is an act of compassion—from helping a bride and groom out of an embarrassing situation to healing people of all ages. From helping someone to see, to raising someone from the dead. Even in walking on water, Jesus’ goal is to help his disciples, who are stuck in a storm on the Sea of Galilee.
I believe the wonderful Steve Garnaas-Holmes captures this beautifully in a poem he released this week:
Not of this world
“My kingdom is not of this world.”
—John 18.36
… he said, not meaning far from here,
or in some other dimension,
but, looking around at the trappings of power:
not of this world, not this kind of world:
the world of fear and dominion,
of power and violence,
the world of privilege and exclusion,
of hierarchies and judgments,
a world of “deserving.”
My realm is a world of grace and mystery,
a world of fierce kindness and tender beauty.
Don't worry, I won't take your throne.
And yet, my kingdom invades.
My love sneaks past all guards, escapes all armies,
evades your stoutest defenses.
The Realm of Grace infuses this world,
seeps through every dimension of it,
contains it wholly, prevails forever.
The love I bear withstands all evil,
overwhelms all fear, overpowers all might.
You will keep your throne, wield your power,
play your games of cruelty—
and it will amount to nothing.
In the end I will not take your kingdom from you.
Your own body will do that.
And my Realm will go on.[ii]
This is the truth to which Jesus testifies: If we are celebrating Christ the King, this is the kind of King we are praising. This is not a king who says, “bow to me,” or “prove your loyalty to me.” This king simply says, “Follow me.”
Thanks be to God. Amen.
[i] Dana Cassell, “Christ the crucified rabble-rouser, or Why I Hate Christ the King Sunday,” Dana, Defrocked, https://danacassell.substack.com/, November 18, 2024.
[ii] Steve Garnaas-Holmes, “Not of This World,” Unfolding Light, unfoldinglight.net, November 19, 2024.