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John 18:33–37 The Last Sunday of the Church Year A.D. 2024

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

How did we get here? Here we are, at the end of the long and lean “green season” of the Church year. All Saints is passed. The days grow short, and the year gets old. Chatter about the Last Days and Christ’s second coming has been mounting steadily over the past couple of weeks. We’re all primed for Advent’s warm glow of anticipation. But all of a sudden, today, we find ourselves in the thick of Christ’s Passion. Doesn’t this text belong somewhere in March or April? Did we take a wrong turn?

Today, Jesus pops into our pre-Advent celebration from the depths of Lent to remind us that the Last Days are not entirely about doom, gloom, and the fiery streams of his final judgment. Don’t be so concerned with whatever it is that you may see, Jesus seems to say. In the Last Days, yes even in these last days of another little Church Year, what cannot be seen takes precedence. You cannot see it, but even now, the Son of Man is waiting just outside the door, soon to knock. You cannot necessarily see it, but even now, Jesus’ rule and his reign have begun. He has already established his kingdom. In these Last Days, in our present life, here and now, we are under his dominion. We do live in his kingdom.

It’s a kingdom that we can’t see on any map. We can’t take a tour of it in the same way that we might be shown around Paris, Rome, or a neighbor’s property. This kingdom is non-geographic. It is not bounded by any ocean or mountain range. It is not of this world.

And this is exactly what seems to give Pilate some trouble. What comes to Pilate’s mind when Jesus introduces him to the idea of another world? Does he think of Egypt, which was already an ancient and fabled civilization in his day. Does he think of the legendary “world” of Homer’s Iliad, or of Virgil’s Aeneid? You and I are familiar enough with the idea of other worlds. We are used to imagining talking animals, galaxies far away, strange creatures, wizards, and elves. But what does Pilate hear when Jesus implies that there is, in truth, another world? For Pilate, it seems, there is only Rome. There is only the world that Rome sees, subdues, orders, and rules. Jesus must be, like John Lennon says, a real nowhere man, living in his nowhere land, making all his nowhere plans for nobody.

Pilate knows what kings and their kingdoms look like. But Jesus doesn’t look quite right. Pilate knows that kings are supposed to have fine clothes, attendants, armies, subjects, and perhaps most important of all—territory. But the man standing before him speaking about truth and another world seems to possess none of these things.

“If my kingdom were of this world, Jesus says, “my servants would have been fighting, that I might not be delivered over to the Jews. But my kingdom is not of this world.” When Pilate looks at Jesus, he sees a lowly man, abandoned by any companions he might once have had. Unarmed and unheeded. No one to defend him. Nothing to show for his mysterious kingdom.

But Jesus is not concerned with appearances. For Jesus, what is heard is what makes a kingdom. That is why, when we look at Jesus, you and I are able to see something much different than what Pilate saw. We see, not just any king, but the king who is above all kings. We see the author and ruler of all creation. We see the wonderful counselor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the prince of peace. And perhaps more than all of these, when we look at Jesus, even as he hangs bloodied and naked upon the cross, we are able to say, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” Yes, when we look at Jesus, we are able to say, “there is forgiveness of sins, there is the way, the truth, and the life.” It is what we have heard that lets us call Jesus’ wounds “dear tokens of his Passion,” as we sang in the hymn. It is what we have heard that lets us call his scars “glorious.” These are the things we say in faith, faith that has come not from sight, but from hearing.

The little kingdom that each of us builds up for ourselves, comprised of all that we see, subdue, order, and rule, will pass away as swiftly and as surely as each passing year on the calendar. Like Pilate, each of us has our own little Rome. That can be seen clearly enough. No matter how tightly we cling to what we think will last, no matter how thoroughly we prepare, how much we store up, how accurately we record—all things will pass into mere memory—and will very likely pass out of memory after that. Any kingdom that we see will soon become another lost world.

Thanks be to God that we live in a kingdom—that is built on what is heard. What we hear from Jesus will not deteriorate. What we hear from Jesus will not be conquered or wiped out. What you and I hear from Jesus, his own Word, is the only thing that will never pass away.

Do we judge by what we see? “Everyone who is of the truth listens to my voice,” Jesus says.

You belong to his kingdom, you are someone who is of the truth, not because of where you live, and not because of anything you see around you. You belong to his kingdom because you have been baptized. Surely, there are seen things, signs to mark the way. A font here, and altar there. Yet even these are what they are because of Christ’s Word. His voice is there, speaking truth. It is that voice which tells you whose Body and Blood it is that you eat and drink. It is that Word which tells you who exactly has forgiven all your sin. It is that same Word which tells you that you are his own dear child.

When Jesus appears again, the hearing kingdom of faith will give way to the kingdom of sight. Then, the Son of Man will no longer be waiting just outside the door, present in the house only in Word and Bread and Wine. Now we see through a glass, darkly; then, face to face. What we see will be that to which all the signs we have been given—point. No Pilate will have to ask if Jesus is a king. We will all see clearly. That is why we are given Christ’s Passion today. For it is his Passion and his cross that open the door to his other world. It is his Passion and his cross that let us look with continual hope toward the life of the world to come. What we see then will be glorious beyond anything we have ever seen. And what we hear then—will be what we have always been blessed to hear. We will hear the same words that have been our treasures throughout this earthly pilgrimage. They will be the same life giving, other-worldly words of Jesus that we have heard Sunday after Sunday, Church year after Church year, since our ears were opened in baptism.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.