Summary: In John's account, Jesus is not the only one on trial; Pilate, the judge, and Peter, the friend of the accused, are also tested. We can be tested by it as well. Who is Jesus to us: a fraud, loser, truth-teller or king? Where do we fit into the story? Do we stand in opposition to Jesus, distance ourselves from him or stand with him in the time of trial? Everything depends on our answer.
A 1940 western novel, The Ox-Bow Incident,1 by Walter Van Tilburg Clark, tells the fictional story of Bridger's Wells, Nevada, where a tense atmosphere hovers over men gathered at the saloon. Anxious after hearing reports of cattle stolen from a rancher named Drew and the murder of another rancher named Kinkaid, the townspeople form a posse to search for the perpetrators. When they find cows bearing Drew's brand, and three men asleep on the ground nearby, they assume the worst. One of the men claims that he purchased the cattle, but he doesn't have a bill of sale to prove it, so the pursuers conclude he's lying, and decide the three should be hanged.
After the lynching, the riders return to town, where they meet Kinkaid, who is very much alive, and they learn from the rancher named Drew that the men the posse lynched had in fact been telling the truth.
Many viewers of a 1943 film based on this novel were left to wonder what role they would have played if they had been faced with the same situation. Would they have been among the accusers, trying and condemning the innocent? In judging others, would they have found that they themselves were on trial, judged and found guilty?
Our scripture text today presents us with a similar scenario: In one scene, Governor Pilate interrogates Jesus and condemns him, even though he's convinced that Jesus is innocent, while outside, in the courtyard, people question Peter, who denies even knowing the man with whom he has spent the last three years. We may ask who is really on trial: The accused, the judge or the so-called friend?
In the wee hours of the morning, the religious leaders brought Jesus to Pilate, demanding that he condemn Jesus to death. Naturally, Pilate wanted to know the charges against the prisoner.
At first, Jesus' accusers dodged the question, responding in effect, "If he wasn't a criminal, we wouldn't have arrested him! Who needs evidence? Who needs due process? Don't you trust us?"
After examining Jesus, Pilate affirmed three times that he found no case against Jesus that would justify executing him.
But the chief priests claimed Jesus was guilty of blasphemy, a capital offense under Jewish religious law, though this theological issue was of no interest to Pilate. So they accused Jesus of claiming to be King of the Jews, a crime of sedition and a threat to Rome's power Pilate could not ignore.
So he returned to Jesus, asking, "Are you the King of the Jews? ...What have you done?" Could this humble figure standing before him really dare to claim such a royal title?
"My kingdom does not belong to this world," Jesus replied. "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."
Three times Jesus said "my kingdom." He affirmed that he was royalty, but not the kind of monarch Pilate would recognize. His kingdom was not the kind of kingdom established by humans, but the kingdom in which God rules with divine justice.
Jesus reminded Pilate that his followers had not resorted to violence. He had not incited his followers to rebel against Rome. Instead, he said he came to tell the truth.
Pilate, whose job as a judge was to discern the truth, asked Jesus, "What is truth?" as though it was impossible to ever know truth from fiction. Not so different from the difficulty we have discerning truth in our own world of alt-facts, misinformation, spin and propaganda! The world says that truth is subjective, that truth is relative, that you can make up your own truth, that there is no such thing as absolute truth.
But earlier in his gospel, John wrote that Jesus was "full of grace and truth," the one through whom "grace and truth" came.2 And when Philip asked Jesus how they could know the way to the Father's house, Jesus responded, "I am the way and the truth and the life."3
Now he said to Pilate, "Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice."
Here is where the tables begin to turn. Now Pilate must decide whether he belongs to the truth. Would he let the truth "own" him? If so, he would listen to Jesus. He had already determined that Jesus was telling the truth, but if he made up a story, declared it loud enough often enough, people would have to believe it. If truth were whatever he said it was, he could do whatever he liked with the prisoner.
But if Pilate thought whipping Jesus would satisfy the religious leaders, he was sadly mistaken. According to their law, they said, Jesus should die for claiming to be God's Son.
This alarmed Pilate, who was raised hearing stories of gods who appeared in human form. What if Jesus really was divine, and Pilate had had the gall to have him flogged?
So he questioned Jesus again. "Where are you from?" But he got no answer.
Why not? Jesus had already answered him. He told him he was not from this world, that his kingdom is not of this world. But Pilate repeatedly refused to acknowledge his authority.
Frustrated, the governor asked, "Don't you know who I am? Don't you know it's in my power to release you or to crucify you?"
But now Jesus gave Pilate a reality check, telling him that the power over life and death he held at the moment came from a higher authority.
Perhaps Jesus was recalling the Hebrew scripture which says, "the high official is watched by a higher, and there are yet higher ones over them."4 In the Roman empire, Pilate only had whatever authority Caesar allowed him, which could be withdrawn at any time. In God's kingdom, Pilate had no power to act without God's permission. And God had the ultimate power over life and death for Pilate himself.
Pilate wasn't as powerful as he thought he was. When he offered to release Jesus, the religious elite said that would be tantamount to treason against Caesar.
Back and forth Pilate went, between the prisoner and his accusers, like a monkey in the middle, caught between two unpalatable options. Under pressure, he crumbled. Saving his career and his own neck mattered more than doing the right thing by this poor defendant.
Pilate had no easy choice. Crucify an innocent man, maybe even the Son of God, or offend his boss. Who should he listen to? Who should he believe?
The night began with Jesus on trial, but what if Pilate was actually the one facing the final Judge? Could it be that by condemning Jesus, he actually condemned himself?
Meanwhile, outside the legal proceedings where Jesus courageously bore witness to the truth, Peter stood, warming himself by a fire with the very people who had apprehended his Lord. After all his boldness in the garden, Peter was suddenly paralyzed in a courtyard. He wouldn't admit to being one of Jesus' disciples. Three times Peter denied any association with the rabbi he had followed for three years.
After distancing himself from Jesus once, he doubled down on the lie, until he couldn't change course. Once we have told a lie, it becomes much harder to tell the truth.
We can hardly blame Peter. He had very likely seen the battered bodies of people who had tried to fight the Roman empire, only to suffer humiliation, pain, loss and cruel death. Roman crucifixions were designed to terrorize the entire populace until they gave up all thought of resistance. That's why Pilate placed a sign on Jesus' cross, identifying him as "the King of the Jews," as if to warn the people: See what happens to those who resist our regime. You want to follow Jesus? Be our guests. He'll lead you straight to a cross.
Where are you in this narrative? Are you sizing Jesus up, trying to figure him out? Can you picture him standing before you, as he stood before Pilate, waiting to learn whether you will listen to him or to the world's threats and allurements?
Or are you seeking comfort and invisibility, as Peter did in the courtyard, wondering whether you've wasted your time trying to walk with Jesus, when it looks increasingly like that is a losing proposition?
A hymnwriter5 presents us with the scene that plays out in every generation:
Jesus is standing in Pilate's hall --
Friendless, forsaken, betrayed by all;
Hearken! what meaneth the sudden call!
What will you do with Jesus?
Jesus is standing on trial still,
You can be false to Him if you will,
You can be faithful thro' good or ill:
What will you do with Jesus?
Will you evade Him as Pilate tried?
Or will you choose Him, whate'er betide?
Vainly you struggle from Him to hide:
What will you do with Jesus?
Will you, like Peter, your Lord deny?
Or will you scorn from His foes to fly,
Daring for Jesus to live or die?
What will you do with Jesus?
What will you do with Jesus?
Neutral you cannot be;
Someday your heart will be asking,
"What will He do with me?"
"I know my own, and my own know me,"6 Jesus told his disciples. "My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me."7
Are you one of his sheep? Will you acknowledge that you belong to him? Are you willing to follow him, though the path leads to a cross?
What's your verdict?