“A Clash of Power and Truth”

Reign of Christ Sunday

Sunday November 22, 2009

2 Samuel 23:1-7

Psalm 132

Revelation 1:4b-8

Our country has been deeply troubled, over the past week, by the revelation of allegations about the mistreatment of detainees who may have been handed over by Canadian forces into the custody of the Afghan intelligence forces.  Whether or not those allegations turn out to be true, and whether or not Canadians were involved with handing over detainees to the torturers, there can be no doubt that the situation has raised a number of complex ethical questions.  What are the limits of the use of violence – or the threat of violence – to establish truth in times of conflict?  What limits should be placed on the use of violence in an attempt to maintain the peace?  Have our armed forces participated – even unknowingly – in acts of barbaric violence by handing captured individuals into the hands of torturers?  What should we do when individuals who we have considered to be our allies resort to the use of torture, or even to the threat of such violence, when seeking truth?  And in the aftermath of those events, have our politicians been duplicitous or complicit in covering up those actions?  

Both in Canada and in Afghanistan, the events of the past week have invited us to ponder difficult questions about the interaction between power and truth.  Have those in Afghanistan who have been seeking to establish truth warped the exercise of their power, and have those with power in Canada warped the truth about their knowledge of those incidents?  What is the truth about how power has been used?

There are remarkable parallels between those situations and the scene that is presented to us in today’s suggested reading from the Gospel text.  The scene that is depicted in this reading also presents us with the image of a country in an anxious time, occupied by a foreign army, in which a man has been arrested, handed over into the custody of those in power, accused of inexcusable crimes, beaten, tortured, and, as today’s Gospel passage opens, in the midst of being questioned and judged about the truth or falsehood about the accusations that were being levelled against him. 

The power of Pilate was standing in judgement on the truth of Christ.

Or so it seems.

It seems strange, at first glance, that the lectionary invites us to read, on this particular Sunday, today’s passage from the Gospel of John.  Today is Christ the King Sunday, or the Sunday of the Reign of Christ.

Although we, as Presbyterians, do not always pay a great deal of attention to the seasons and special days in the Church year, we are all aware of the fact that the Christian tradition divides each year into different periods of time.  Some of these divisions of the year, which are sometimes referred to as the ‘liturgical seasons’, have become so widely known, in fact, that they have become inextricably woven into secular popular culture.  Whether or not one has any background in the Christian tradition, the season of Lent, the celebrations of Easter, and the seasons of Advent and Christmas are known both within and outside of the church.  

And we all know that each of those parts of the Church year invites us to focus our attention on certain themes and stories in the life of Christ.  We all know, for example, that the season of Lent invites us to ponder Christ’s journey towards the cross; we all know that Good Friday commemorates the crucifixion, and that Easter Day is a celebration of the resurrection.  In the coming weeks, the shopping malls and radio stations will remind us that the Advent and Christmas seasons invite us into a time of anticipation and expectation, which leads us towards the celebration of the birth of Christ on Christmas Day. 

Very few, however, realize the significance of this particular Sunday in the cycle of the Christian year.  This particular Sunday is quite an important day in the Church year (and not only because of the presence of the members of the St. Andrew’s Society).   Christ the King Sunday is always the last Sunday before the beginning of the Season of Advent.  And, in light of the fact that the first Sunday in Advent, next week, serves as the beginning of the Christian year, it can rightfully be stated that today, Christ the King Sunday is the final and ultimate Sunday in the Church year. 

This is more significant than we might, at first, realize.  The fact that the church year culminates, today, in a celebration of the reign of God’s love over all things is intended to offer us a powerful reminder of our belief that it is not only the Church year, but in fact time itself which will find its culmination in the ultimate triumph of God’s love over every form of evil, injustice and oppression.   

So why, on this Sunday when we are invited to cast our visions to that time when God’s love will reign supreme, are we invited to read this portion of the Gospel in which Christ seems anything but triumphant? 

Today’s reading is a small portion of an extended scene that took place a few hours before the crucifixion of Christ.  The setting was the judgment hall of Pontius Pilate.  As readers, we have been told that Christ’s religious accusers were stationed outside of Pilate’s quarters, since they were afraid that entering into Pilate’s residence would render them unclean for the approaching Passover; and Pilate is depicted scurrying in and out of the judgment hall, back and forth between conversations with the accused Jesus and with his accusers who were standing outside.

Even though Pilate is very much in the role of judge in this scene, we also realize that Pilate is feeling pressured.   He may not completely understand or agree with the accusations that are being presented about Jesus, but he realizes that there are political consequences that he will have to face if he decides to let Jesus go free.  

But this text is about far more than an account of a conversation between two men almost two thousand years ago.  Rather, to fully understand the power of this text, it is necessary for us to realize that Pilate and Jesus also serve as symbols of powers far greater than themselves.

On the one hand, we have Pilate as a symbol of the power of this world.  As the governor, Pilate was a representative of the Roman Empire, which was perceived to be the greatest imperial power of the time, and the greatest imperial power that had ever arisen in the history of humanity.  Pilate represented the Emperor, and all of the hierarchies of power that stood in judgment on the convict standing before him.

And, on the other hand, we have Jesus who, as we know from having read the previous parts of John’s Gospel, was nothing less than the Word of God made flesh, the incarnation of God’s love alive in the world and in human history. 

In this simple conversation, therefore, there is a great mystery being unveiled before our eyes.  Pilate, the judge, is questioning Jesus, the accused; the power of the world is in seeking to pass judgment on the presence of God. 

Or so it seems.

As the scene unfolds, however, we begin to realize that the dynamics of power may not be as clear as we might, at first, have assumed.  That is, as Pilate asks questions, then scurries out to confer with the religious authorities, then dashes back in to ask Jesus more questions, then seems not to know how to understand Jesus’ responses, we as readers begin to question whether it is actually Pilate who is being judged; whether it is Pilate’s power that is being subjected to scrutiny.  Who has power in this scene?  Whose presence is revealing the truth?  And is that truth standing in judgment on Jesus or on Pilate?

But, lest anyone think that the power of this world is not supreme and all-powerful, a judgment was finally pronounced.  

Pilate would appease the crowds and keep the peace.  Jesus was to be crucified.  The power of this world, and its resort to the use of violence, sought to pass judgment on the presence of God.  The One who had come to testify to the truth of God’s love and power was sentenced. 

We know the story from there. In the clash between the power of this world and the presence of God, the world took its best shot.  Jesus was marched out of Pilate’s judgement hall.  The power of this world resorted to terrible violence in an attempt to stamp out the truth of Christ.  The presence of God was killed by the powers of this world.

Or so it seemed.

In some ways, not much has changed since that judgment hall so long ago.  We continue to live in a world where the powers of this world continue to believe that the use and the threat of violence is the best way to assert the truth of some chosen cause.  A suicide bomber who walks into a crowded marketplace and destroys herself and dozens around her in order to prove the righteousness of her beliefs; a powerful army marches into a distant land under dubious and misleading pretenses; the world lives, for decades, in a state of fear and paranoia under the threat of mutually assured destruction from the stockpiling of demonic armaments; a maniac seeks to acquire the materials to build a nuclear weapon so that he can use the threat of annihilation to dominate his neighbours; an intelligence force resorts to torture to seek the truth from captive adversaries; in these, and in so many ways, the powers of this world so often continue to use and to threaten terrible violence in order to establish peace.

But today is Christ the King Sunday.  And we are those who have chosen to follow not Pilate, but Christ.  We are those who have been called to turn our back on the power of this world, and turn instead to the power of the One whose kingdom was not of this world, but who came to bring that kingdom to this world.   We are those who are called to live and believe that this world will be transformed not by the love of strength but rather by the strength of love.  We are those who must constantly remind ourselves that the way of Christ, our King, is the way of self-giving love, of merciful compassion, of transforming forgiveness. 

But we do not embark upon this journey in vain.  Rather, we are called to remember that in a little judgment hall on the edge of the Roman Empire, almost two thousand years ago, the supreme power of this world tried to pass judgment on the presence of God. 

And now? 

The great and powerful Roman Empire that Pilate tried to serve and to safeguard is a footnote in history. 

But the reign of God’s love that Christ came into this world to inaugurate shall endure forever.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.