Sermon Transcript: March 15, 2026
Well, unfortunately, once again this week, anti-Semitism has reared its ugly head. And we saw the results of a deranged individual driving into a temple Israel in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan. Hit kind of close to home for me. My brother served a church in that community for over 10 years, and so I’m familiar with it. But all the more reason that we need to take a lot of care in reading and interpreting John’s gospel, because that is in the Christian tradition, the source of much Christian antisemitism.
But it is based on a misreading and misunderstanding of John’s Gospel. John, as you all know—as I’ve said many times, but it’s just so important to repeat—John uses this term, “the Jews,” continually throughout his Gospel. And we need to take care in how we interpret that.
Because this was written at a time when Jews and Christians were not separate groups. They were part of the same community, yet they were beginning to come apart.
Much in the way that teenagers do with their parents. How many of you have been teenagers? Or are teenagers? Yeah. So we know what this is about. You have to form your own identity. You have to push away. You have to identify yourself differently. And the only real tool you have to do that as a teenager is apart from everything that you’ve known. And everything that John and his community have known up until this point is the Jewish tradition.
And they are separating from that, and so there is some animosity towards the Jewish community and John’s Gospel. But it is not for all times and all places. Christians and Jews are cousins, and we benefit from each other. We are part of the same tradition, just different branches.
And so as we read this today, with heavy hearts for what happened in Michigan, we take care to interpret these words carefully and thoughtfully.
John 18:28-40
Then they took Jesus from Caiaphas to Pilate’s headquarters. It was early in the morning. They themselves did not enter the headquarters, so as to avoid ritual defilement and to be able to eat the Passover. So Pilate went out to them and said, “What accusation do you bring against this man?” They answered, “If this man were not a criminal, we would not have handed him over to you.” Pilate said to them, “Take him yourselves and judge him according to your law.” The Jews replied, “We are not permitted to put anyone to death.” (This was to fulfill what Jesus had said when he indicated the kind of death he was to die.)
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?”
After he had said this, he went out to the Jews again and told them, “I find no case against him. But you have a custom that I release someone for you at the Passover. Do you want me to release for you the King of the Jews?” They shouted in reply, “Not this man but Barabbas!” Now Barabbas was a rebel.
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.
***
Sometimes we back ourselves into a corner of our own making. Whether it be a script that we have about the way things are supposed to be or the way that we should respond in particular situations, sometimes we just find ourselves boxed in by our own choices. We didn’t intend to put ourselves in this position. Nonetheless, here we are.
And I think we see this phenomenon playing itself out in multiple ways in our passages. The Gospel writer John has backed himself into quite a corner as we continue to read about Jesus’ trial that will lead to his execution.
You see, John has utterly committed himself to a portrait of Jesus that is completely in control, is all-knowing and all-seeing, and nothing happens without his consent and acknowledgment.
Yet John has to tell the story of how it is that Jesus came to be convicted and executed for crimes that he may or may not have been guilty of.
And so the trial scene in John’s Gospel is so much more convoluted than the other Gospels—perhaps more convoluted than it needs to be, and perhaps even more convoluted than John himself intended it to be. But he has to tell the story in a way in which Jesus is on this train willingly that will lead to his death, and yet somehow he’s never out of control of the situation.
Last week, Jesus faced the father-in-law of the high priest, a man named Annas. He used to be the high priest, but now his son-in-law Caiaphas holds that post, and he’s presumably tied up with other business. So the religious leaders bring Jesus to the next best thing—the former high priest, the father-in-law of the current high priest, Annas.
There we see Jesus stand calm and confident, committed to nonviolence and trusting in God’s future. Meanwhile, the leaders struggle with how to handle him, and his disciple Peter denies knowing him—not once, not twice, but three times.
This week, the religious authorities bring Jesus before Pilate, the Roman-appointed governor of the region.
Now Pilate doesn’t usually hang out in Jerusalem. But he’s in town for Passover—not to celebrate it, mind you, but to make sure that the people are behaving themselves. After all, Passover commemorates the release of people from oppression, and Pilate doesn’t want the people to get any brave ideas.
So those who oppose Jesus see an opportunity. They bring Jesus to him and ask him to punish Jesus for his crimes.
“What crimes?” Pilate asks.
“Look at him,” the people respond. “He’s a criminal. We wouldn’t have brought him to you otherwise.”
We’ve heard similar circular reasoning recently with ICE raids on brown and Black people. They look the part, so they must be guilty, right? Assume guilt and make them prove they’re innocent. That’s the way empires work.
Barbara Brown Taylor cuts right to it when she writes, “Jesus was not killed by atheism and anarchy. He was brought down by law and order allied with religion, which is always a deadly mix.”
She writes, “Beware of those who claim to know the mind of God and who are prepared to use force, if necessary, to make others conform. Beware of those who cannot tell God’s will from their own.”
She writes, “Temple police are always a bad sign. When chaplains start wearing guns and hanging out at the sheriff’s office, watch out, because somebody is about to have no king but Caesar.”
In other words, the religious authorities are there to try to box Pilate into a corner of his own making. They want to make it politically expedient for him to do what they want him to do—which is get rid of Jesus.
But Pilate doesn’t get it.
“Why are they bringing him to me? Take care of this yourself,” he tells them.
But they respond that their tradition would not allow them to execute him, making it clear to Pilate what they want him to do.
So Pilate questions him. And his first question tells us all that Pilate really cares about.
“Do you call yourself king?” he asks Jesus.
To which Jesus responds, “You’ve said so,” which is definitely cheeky on Jesus’ part.
But again, the Gospel writer is invested in portraying Jesus as always in control.
Then Jesus, knowing the corner the religious authorities have put him in, offers an answer that lets Pilate off the hook. He says that his kingdom is not from this world.
What Pilate hears is that he is talking about some far-off fairy-tale heavenly kingdom, which puts him in the category of religious zealot—but not really a threat to Rome.
I mean, Jesus wasn’t the only one at the time going around claiming to be the Messiah. They were a dime a dozen.
Still, the religious authorities persist.
So Pilate asks, “What have you done to get these people so mad at you?”
And Jesus says, “I simply showed them the truth.”
To which Pilate famously asks, “What is truth?”
Finally, Pilate—no stranger to political trickery and treachery—comes up with a way for him to avoid blame and responsibility. He offers the religious authorities the choice.
He says, “Look, I don’t find any reason to convict this man. But since it’s Passover, I will release one prisoner of your choosing. Do you want me to release Jesus or Barabbas?”
Then the religious authorities, boxed in by their own scheme, choose to release Barabbas—a situation that John foretold in chapter 10, when the sheep choose a bandit, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, over the good shepherd.
Thereby Pilate gets what he wants.
Jesus is king—but his kingdom is like no other. If it were, Jesus tells Pilate, my followers would be fighting. But they’re not.
Jesus’ kingdom is not some heavenly fairy tale. It is an alternative way to live here and now—a way committed to nonviolence and the inherent worth of each and every person.
Pilate also gets an answer to his question, “What is truth?” though it’s less obvious at first.
But when we look back over the passage for truth, we see how scarce it is. The religious authorities aren’t being truthful. Even Jesus’ own disciple, Peter, can’t admit to the truth that he knows Jesus. And then there’s Pilate, who’s so immersed in the empire he wouldn’t know truth if it were standing right in front of him.
Which it is.
You see, according to John, truth is not an idea. It’s not a historical fact or philosophy.
It’s a person.
Jesus is the truth. Jesus shows us how God intends us to live and treat one another.
This week, the White House released a series of social media posts commingling missile strikes in Iran with video games and athletic competitions.
War as sport. War as entertainment.
Womanist theologian Wil Gafney responded, “The bodies of mothers, sons, and fathers, daughters are falling in this war as they do in all wars. Perhaps someone will be disabused of the idea that an air-based war is like a video game.”
Over the past several weeks, the Military Religious Freedom Foundation, a nonprofit organization in the U.S., has received an all-time surge in complaints from active service members that commanders are urging troops to believe that the war is part of God’s divine plan, citing biblical passages about the end times and the return of Jesus Christ.
Author and theologian Jemar Tisby reminds us that taking the Lord’s name in vain is not about cussing. It’s about doing things in God’s name that God would never condone.
What is the truth in a world full of lies and deception, in a world that treats war and loss like a game or a sport? What is truth in a world where might makes right?
John tells us Jesus is the truth and the way and the life—not those who use his name in vain.
Jesus is the truth. His way of nonviolence and belief in the sacredness of all life.
And so to be a Christian means that above all else—above nation, country, cause, political party, even family—we pledge our allegiance to the truth, which is not an idea but a person: the person we know as Jesus of Nazareth.
If we want to learn the truth, we must follow him and live as he taught.
In a world that’s boxed itself into a corner that can’t tell truth from lies, being Christian is more than a title. It’s more than a set of beliefs. It’s a way of living that is nonviolent, that believes in the inherent worth of each person.
Truth and the kingdom of God seem awfully far off right now, don’t they?
But you know, I’m sure that Pilate felt that way too—even though Jesus was standing right in front of him, looking him in the face.
Maybe we’re more like Pilate than we’d like to admit.
But friends, we don’t have to be.
Amen.
