Who's on first? - Christ the King Sunday; John 18:33-37

Earlier this week, I did my best to explain the events of today’s Gospel passage to a friend in my own words. It went something like this: “well Jesus has been arrested and Pilate is trying to figure out why, so he asks Jesus if he’s a king and Jesus says his kingdom isn’t of the world, and then Pilate says, so you are a king, but Jesus doesn’t really answer.” I quickly got lost in the weeds of my storytelling and we agreed that the whole scene reads like a biblical version of “Who’s on first?”

It seemed strange that two people could have such a deep miscommunication about something as simple as the word “king.” So I did some research. The Ancient Greek word for king in our scriptures is βασιλεύς. During Roman rule, βασιλεύς was not used for true authority figures like emperors, but for puppet kings like Herod. Essentially, Pilate was asking Jesus, did someone with actual authority make you a king? Of course, the answer is a resounding yes, but not in the way Pilate thinks. Like I said, who’s on first?

For modern readers of the story like us, the English word king carries it’s own history and meaning. It comes from an old Germanic word that I will not attempt to pronounce, and it’s closely related to the word kin. It means something like “son of noble birth.” It refers to someone who inherits their authority, creating a royal line. This will sound familiar to anyone who keeps up with the British royal family, whether in real time or by watching The Crown. But it may also sound familiar to those of us who know the stories of David and his descendants in the Old Testament.

A few moments ago we heard the traditional last words of David, a sort of homage to his kingship on this kingly Sunday. Now David’s status as king, and that of his son, Solomon, were not merely appointed or even elected, but anointed by God, so it’s hard to argue with the holiness of their lives and leadership. But if you’ll recall, God did not want to anoint a king for Israel at all.

Before the reign of David’s predecessor, Saul, the Israelites refused to get along with their neighbors and refused to trust God to provide what they needed. Instead they demanded judges and finally a king. For them, a king was a military leader who could protect them and keep them in God’s favor. God eventually consented, but warned Samuel, having a king between me and the people will not end well. And it didn’t.

Generations later, Pilate and Jesus are still engaged in this same disagreement about the value of kingship. Just as God tried to explain to the Israelites that a king is not the kind of leader who can bring salvation, Jesus is telling Pilate, I’ll have no part of the kingship you’re describing. For thousands of years, God has been trying to tell us that we cannot put our own savior in power, but even now, in 2024, we in the U.S. are still arguing over what kind of supreme political authority will save us. When will we learn?

If we’re willing to look more closely, I think there’s a clue about how to break this cycle in today’s complicated back and forth in the Gospel of John. Pilate is one of my favorite characters in Holy Scripture, but he is not, as some have said, an innocent bystander dragged against his will into a dispute between Jesus and the Jewish people, and he is not sympathetic to either side. Instead, he is a shrewd strategist, and Jesus knows it.

When Pilate asks Jesus if he is a king, he’s asking, is your power a threat to my own, or is it something I can use to my advantage? And Jesus is not being petulant in his refusal to give a straight answer. He’s trying to reveal to Pilate and to us that Pilate is stuck in a false dichotomy. Pilate’s understanding is hindered by binary thinking: power vs. weakness, us vs. them.

This is the same problem that led the Israelites to mistrust God and demand a king. They believed that they had to be the most powerful tribe, exercising dominion over their neighbors, or else they were doomed. This is also the same problem that leads us to contentious and volatile election cycles in America. Most of us are convinced that one political party brings salvation and the other brings destruction. But in today’s Gospel passage, Jesus tells us firmly that he exists completely outside of these binary structures we’ve created. His power and authority don’t depend on keeping others powerless. The salvation he offers extends to everyone.

Here at Christ Church, since we weren’t conveniently named after a saint, we are attempting to make Christ the King Sunday our patronal feast day, and to my delight we’re celebrating with a chili cook-off! John’s Gospel passage for today leads me to think this was the perfect year for us to begin this tradition. During this election year, Christ Church said firmly that we exist outside the political binary and instead live into a Kingdom where there is room for all of us, and our baptismal calls remain the same no matter who we vote for or who gets elected.

We are also knee deep in a wildly successful capital campaign for a master plan that does not emphasize power or social capital, but prioritizes faithful relationship with the community around us. At our core, Christ Church is a community that believes in open doors, in a love and a way of life that welcomes everyone because in the Kingdom of God, that’s what security looks like.

We have a God who guides our hearts and minds and relationships not through force or coercion or wealth, but through sacrificial love made manifest on a cross. We follow a leader who cares for each and every member of the body no matter their status or what they can give in return. We obey a ruler who calls us to love our neighbors unconditionally, not to compete with them in righteousness.

Christ the King Sunday is a theological claim that Christ is our only true king. But I think that in John’s Gospel, Jesus destroys the concept of kingship altogether. Jesus reminds us that we cannot elect our own salvation to public office or win it in court or on the battlefield. Jesus reveals to us that we don’t need a βασιλεύς, a puppet king between us and God. And we don’t need a leader of royal descent to bring us sweeping military victories. For true salvation, we don’t need a king at all, we only need a Christ. And we have one. Amen.