Sermon Transcript: March 8, 2026
Our passage today is from John, chapter 18. This is the beginning of a rather lengthy part of John that concentrates on the arrest and trial of Jesus. It won’t surprise you that John spends the most time here as compared to the other gospel writers. It goes into a lot more detail and a lot more explanation. And so, actually, we’re going to be reading the trial over the next several weeks.
So, John chapter 18:
John 18: 12-27
So the soldiers, their officer, and the Jewish police arrested Jesus and bound him. First they took him to Annas, who was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest that year. Caiaphas was the one who had advised the Jews that it was better to have one person die for the people.
Simon Peter and another disciple followed Jesus. Since that disciple was known to the high priest, he went with Jesus into the courtyard of the high priest, but Peter was standing outside at the gate. So the other disciple, who was known to the high priest, went out, spoke to the woman who guarded the gate, and brought Peter in. The woman said to Peter, “You are not also one of this man’s disciples, are you?” He said, “I am not.” Now the slaves and the police had made a charcoal fire because it was cold, and they were standing around it and warming themselves. Peter also was standing with them and warming himself.
Then the high priest questioned Jesus about his disciples and about his teaching. Jesus answered, “I have spoken openly to the world; I have always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where all the Jews come together. I have said nothing in secret. Why do you ask me? Ask those who heard what I said to them; they know what I said.” When he had said this, one of the police standing nearby struck Jesus on the face, saying, “Is that how you answer the high priest?” Jesus answered, “If I have spoken wrongly, testify to the wrong. But if I have spoken rightly, why do you strike me?” Then Annas sent him bound to Caiaphas the high priest.
Now Simon Peter was standing and warming himself. They asked him, “You are not also one of his disciples, are you?” He denied it and said, “I am not.” One of the slaves of the high priest, a relative of the man whose ear Peter had cut off, asked, “Did I not see you in the garden with him?” Again Peter denied it, and at that moment the cock crowed.
For the Word of God in scripture,
For the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.
***
We love to point fingers, don’t we? To assign blame.
The Gospel writer John—we’ve talked about it—he likes to blame “the Jews.” And let’s be clear and not apologize for the text: John, the gospel writer, is wrong in this instance. He’s too caught up in the current events of his own day.
Now, if you’ve been around here for a while, you’ve probably heard me give context to John’s problematic use of the label “the Jews.” You’ve probably heard me say that by this, John does not mean that all Jewish people of all times and places. That’s just ridiculous, right? He probably doesn’t even mean all Jewish people of his time and place.
When he uses the label “the Jews,” John is most likely referring to those in power—the religious authorities—which is why I usually retranslate it that way. In other words, he is talking about people like me.
But it is also true that sometimes John, when he uses this label “the Jews,” just means the crowd of ordinary Jewish people who are pawns in the leaders’ power games. And it is less clear how John feels about them, but he seems to view them with a mixture of pity and disdain for being so easily manipulated by those in charge.
If the gospel writer John were on Facebook and he had to declare a relationship status with “the Jews,” it would definitely read: It’s complicated.
But what is also undeniable is that John, the gospel writer, has been used for centuries by those who want to point the finger and blame somebody.
Last week in the sermon I talked about the sin of racism. Some have called that America’s original sin.
Well, perhaps anti-Semitism is Christianity’s.
And so let me be clear: it is wrong, and there is never, ever, ever any excuse for it. Period.
But still, we love to point the finger, don’t we?
And today, the finger in the text seems to be pointing not just at those who oppose Jesus, but at those who are supposed to stand with him but seemingly fail to find the courage needed to do so.
As we’ve been talking about for a few weeks now, John really slows down the narrative for the last week of Jesus’ life. He wants us to pay attention, to savor every detail, not just read it but immerse ourselves in it—to feel the tension in the room, to smell the charcoal fire burning, to feel the chilly night air, and to endure those awkward silences after Peter denies knowing Jesus.
We are invited to imagine what Simon Peter is feeling as he denies knowing his teacher and friend. To hear the strain in his voice, then watch his head drop in private shame as he realizes what he’s done.
In other versions, the rooster is there to cue him. “Before the rooster crows three times, you will deny me,” Jesus warns him.
But in John’s gospel, did you notice? No such warning is offered. And we aren’t even told if Simon Peter knows that it has crowed. But it’s our cue.
John doesn’t want us to miss it.
He wants to keep us here until we become uncomfortable. He’s making a point, and it’s not so subtle once we get past all the finger-pointing and assigning of blame.
John wants us to ask ourselves: Where do you stand?
Peter ultimately fails to stand with Jesus in this moment.
Now, I’ve always stopped here with this passage, as have most of the sermons I’ve heard preached on it. But you know, this week the Holy Spirit must have nudged me just a little bit harder, because I finally realized that someone else is standing in this passage.
And ultimately, I think this is the one that John hopes we will mind above all others.
Jesus is on trial for his life. His words and actions have put the religious authorities between a rock and a hard place.
The Romans want peace—but not the kind of peace the Bible talks about. Not shalom. Not wholeness and justice for all. The Romans want the kind of peace that all empires want: the peace of compliance.
The Romans want the kind of peace that you have to fight for, the kind of peace that comes through the threat of mutually assured destruction, the kind of peace you get with a sword, or a gun, or a bomb.
And you see, Jesus is a threat to that peace by telling the people that God is ultimately in charge, not the emperor. By telling the orphan and the widow that they are made in the image of God and deserving of grace.
Jesus threatens the Roman peace by convincing the people of this backwater town in Israel that they are God’s chosen people—a holy priesthood.
And so the religious authorities really just need Jesus to shut up.
Because the wrath of the Romans isn’t discerning. If they can’t quiet Jesus, they will all suffer the consequences. And so Caiaphas starts spreading the news: it’s better for one to die than for all of us to go down with him.
And so there he stands in the middle of it all: the scapegoat.
Jesus: calm, collected, self-assured. Not casting blame on anyone. Remaining utterly committed to nonviolence, and with absolute trust in God’s love, justice, and peace that they will finally prevail.
And I think that’s what John really wants us to see—not the brutal force of the Romans, not the treachery of those trying to protect only themselves and their interests, not even poor old Simon Peter.
John wants us to see where Jesus stands.
He invites us to slow down and consider his stance, and to ponder another way—the way of Jesus, the way of peace and justice together, the way of love.
That’s love the verb, not the noun.
“No one kills with more passion than those who believe God is on their side,” writes Shane Claiborne. “Every major religion has been distorted by folks who want to justify their hatred, camouflage their bigotry.
And Christians are not exempt.
Right now, people who claim to be Christians are promoting unimaginable violence at home and abroad.
It is evil. It is wicked. And it is an offense to God.”
Claiborne calls us to rebuke this violent perversion of our faith in the name of Jesus. “Let us do all we can to stop it,” he writes. “The world will know we are Christians by our love.” He points out the word Christian means Christ-like. “Jesus is the Prince of Peace. He blessed the peacemakers and commanded us all to love our enemies. He rebuked his disciples when they resorted to violence, and he insisted that when we live by the sword, we die by the sword. Jesus carried a cross, not a sword. And he died with mercy on his lips. That is our Savior.”
And in this way, in this passage, Jesus offers us both a promise and a question. The promise is that he will not abandon us in our own time of trial. He will stand with us. We are never completely on our own. But the question that he asks us in return is this: Will we stand with him in the work of peace and justice? Will we stand with those that Jesus stands with—the oppressed, the victims?
Where will we stand?
Amen.
