The Last Sunday after Pentecost – Proper 29B
John 18:33-37

Collect

Almighty and everlasting God, whose will it is to restore all things in your well-beloved Son, the King of kings and Lord of lords: Mercifully grant that the peoples of the earth, divided and enslaved by sin, may be freed and brought together under his most gracious rule; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Reading

From John 18:33-37

“Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not from this world.”

Reflection

I make no bones about my discomfort with power; particularly with “the divine right of kings”.

First, my concern stems from scripture. God, for one, told the people for centuries not to have a king. Even offering a proxy without the supremacy in the form of judges who could give them the good parts and none of the bad.

Second, my concern stems from reason. History has shown the supreme power of kings and other authoritarian leaders has been terrifying for humanity: both for the governed and those on the other side of the sword.

But reason offers another critique. That attributing the same authority to God and believing “this time will be different” mirrors the kind of thinking that leads to human disasters. In other words, making Jesus a king (something he specifically avoided in scripture) has us following with him the very same steps that lead to disaster for us in our own world.

Which leads me to the third piece. That my concern seems to run against our tradition. And feels doubly ironic as an Anglican–knowing our church began as an act of fiat by a king.

So when I read Jesus’s conversation with Pilate in this week’s gospel, I have all these swirling thoughts from scripture, tradition, and reason flying around me. But we are also privy to a fascinating bit of dialogue between two people who don’t just have a lot of earthly power, they also command a great deal of authority.

And yet, Pilate is no emperor, and Jesus is no king.

There is a way in which we might see two people caught up in a moment, compelled by the forces around them toward actions that they themselves don’t wish to take.

It reminds me of the sage wisdom my sponsoring Bishop gave me: the higher the office, the less power you have to be you.

And yet Jesus is the only one actually being true to himself. He isn’t a king, even as people try to pin the title upon him. He isn’t encumbered by their expectations because he is committed to the mission. Not the one that goes through earthly power patterns. But the one he lives out with his life. To be himself.

And you are called to be you.