Sermon: Embracing the Truth

John 18:33-37

Embracing the Truth

James Sledge                                                   November 22, 2015 (Christ the King)

“What is truth?” That is Pilate’s response when Jesus says, “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." And so Pilate cuts off Jesus’ attempt to engage Pilate the man, the person behind the persona.

On the surface, Pilate is the most powerful man in all of Jerusalem, in all of Palestine. He is Roman governor, with the power and authority of the Roman Empire and the might of the Roman army at his disposal. He has the power of life and death over Jesus and countless others. Yet the gospel of John describes a scene where Pilate is the one on trial, where he is a pawn caught up in events he cannot control.

In John’s account of Pilate’s trial before Jesus, Pilate is a tragic, even comic figure. Amidst all his trappings of power, he must scurry back and forth between Jesus and the Jewish authorities gathered outside, and as the events unfold, Pilate grows more and more frightened, and more and more aware that he is trapped. So much for all that power.

In the portion of this trial that we hear this morning, Jesus responds to Pilate’s questions with questions of his own, or answers that reshape the conversation. In a manner reminiscent of his conversations with Nicodemus or a Samaritan women at a well, Jesus invites Pilate to see things differently. Even at his own trial, Jesus reaches out and ministers to Pilate, offering him a chance to let go of assumptions and patterns that trap him, to grow and step into the truth. But it is more than Pilate can do. It would be far too costly for him.

I think most any modern politician can appreciate Pilate’s predicament. Think of all the ways politicians and office holders find themselves boxed in, unable to speak what they truly believe or think. Are all those increasingly absurd statements about Syrian refugees and Muslims really heartfelt, well-reasoned responses? Or do the people making them feel forced to speak a certain way, trapped just like Pilate.

People regularly trash politicians for dancing around the truth, for the way they “spin” and massage the truth, but there is often a price for them to pay if they don’t. Democrat or Republican, conservative or liberal, most all discover that their notions of power and control are as much illusions as was Pilate’s. There are things they must say and do, and things they cannot.

But I need not pick on politicians. Fact is, most of us live behind masks and personas. Perhaps not so blatant as Pilate’s or some politicians, but there are plenty of times when I am frightened of the truth, when I’m not inclined to let Jesus draw me out of my fears.

As a pastor, I am supposed to know and embody certain things. There are certain assumptions about who I am and how I should act. Some of those are my own assumptions that I have acquired from God knows where, and some are assumptions that others have for me. Much like Pilate, I can find myself caught in these assumptions and expectations without much thought for truth.

Today, on Christ the King Sunday, we who are Christian proclaim that Christ alone rules our lives. Every loyalty and every allegiance is secondary to following Jesus. Or so we say.

Being a Presbyterian pastor provides me with a decent salary and with health care and with a pension. I dare not endanger those. Being pastor of a thriving congregation with lots of successful programs presumes that I am a savvy, skilled leader who can help those programs thrive even more. I dare not let on that I’m not sure what I’m doing. In any congregation some people are bound to think the pastor has got faith and prayer and spirituality figured out. I dare not be too open about my own faith struggles, about those times when I long for God’s voice, for a tiny breath of the Spirit, but sense nothing.

When I first became pastor of this congregation, I worried that I had made a mistake. I was not comfortable in the DC culture. I worried that I was a bad fit for this church, and I missed my former congregation terribly. I dared not speak this out loud, but the truth has its way. My attempts to project strength and certainty, to conceal my fears, left me acting as foolishly as Pilate, and no doubt poisoned a number of encounters with some of you. Like Pilate, I was trapped by my expectations and fears. Jesus surely invited me to step into the truth on a number of occasions, but I must have had my own way of dismissing him, my own version of, “What is truth?”

Surely it is not just me. Surely it is not just pastors and politicians. Parent or child, student or teacher, employee or employer, we all find ourselves caught up in assumptions and expectations. We all get trapped by fears and worries and anxieties. And to varying degrees, we all labor under illusions of power and control. As he does with Pilate, Jesus says to us, “Where did you get all this? Wouldn’t you prefer the truth? Won’t you let me help you?

Ah, but the truth can be scary. It sometimes tells us that we’re on the wrong track. It sometimes tells us that we value the wrong things. It sometimes tells us that our politics, our theology, our notion of church and faith, or the things we’re convinced will make us happy, are way off base. Just as Jesus was to his own religious institution and to Pilate, the truth can be frightening. Yet Jesus insists, “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.”

Jesus’ invitation to walk in the truth, to listen to his voice, is an invitation born of God’s love and grace. But Jesus says lots of things that frighten me. He questions my focus on money and things. He is forever hanging out with unimpressive people from the margins, people  who don’t belong in polite society, would wouldn’t really fit in at most respectable, church congregations. He asks me to risk my own well-being for the sake of such folks. He even tells me to love the people I most fear, my enemies.

But I want to be impressive and upstanding and respectable. I want to be successful and comfortable. I want to be in control. Maybe I should keep Jesus at arm’s length. Maybe I should continue hiding behind a mask.

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Funny thing is, our masks rarely fool people for long. People have a dim view of politicians because it’s so obvious that many are trapped and unable to speak freely, to speak the truth. The harder I try to show that I’m the religious expert with all the answers who knows just what we should do, the more obvious my foibles become. And very often, when churches engage in hypocrisy, everyone can see it, except, possibly, those churches.

 And our masks can’t possibly fool God. We may imagine that dressing up, acting all respectable, doing the right kind of music, he right sort of worship, and having an enlightened understanding of the Bible makes us impressive, makes God think well of us, means we’ve got a handle on things, but that’s fooling ourselves just like Pilate did.

Another funny thing; as much as I want to think I’m in control, as much as I want to be in charge of my own life, those times when I’ve felt most free and most at peace were when I quite pretending and let Jesus be in charge. Yes, Jesus does lead me into some scary places, but turns out he knows where he’s going a lot better than I do.

And the king said, “Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” I’m trying, Jesus. I’m trying.