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SUBJECT: 17. Chapter 17: Christ’s Apology For His Kingship
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C H A P T E R S E V E N T E E N
Christ’s Apology For His Kingship
Then Pilate entered into the judgment hall again, and called Jesus, and said unto him, Art thou the King of the Jews? Jesus answered him, Sayest thou this of thyself, or did others tell it thee of me? Pilate answered, Am I a Jew? Thine own nation and the chief priests have delivered thee unto me: what hast thou done? Jesus answered, My kingdom is not of this world: if my kingdom were of this world, then would my servants fight, that I should not be delivered to the Jews: but now is my kingdom not from hence. Pilate therefore said unto him, Art thou a king then? Jesus answered, Thou sayest that I am a king. To this end was I born, and for this cause came I into the world, that I should bear witness unto the truth. Every one that is of the truth heareth my voice.
—Joh_18:33-38.
IN THIS manner, then, Christ was delivered into the hands of Pilate. He was the “little shoot” on the “little horn;” for Pilate — as we have observed before (see page 222, Chapter 11, “Christ Led Back to the House of Bondage”) — is a representative of Rome, and Rome is not merely a geographically or politically defined unit, but is the realm out of which the “little horn,” the Antichrist, will spring. Accordingly, Rome is named in this connection not as a politically circumscribed entity, but as an unspiritual world-empire. The prophecy of Daniel (see page 140 f., Chapter 7, “Christ Vanquishing the Vicious Circle as the Son of Man”) has a bearing on all of these matters.
To go on now, Pilate attempted to divest himself of responsibility in the case of the accused Nazarene but did not succeed in this. He simply had to attend to the trial. He had to attend to it because two charges which affected him had been filed against Jesus: first, that He subverted the people; second, that He stood in the way of the collection of taxes for Caesar. Naturally, both of these charges compelled the procurator to give immediate attention to this matter which had been officially presented for his consideration.
Now it is obvious, in the first place, that Caesar wished that there be as little uprising among the people of the province as possible. And although, as we know, the Roman government left as much self-jurisdiction in things religious to the provinces which it had conquered as possible, it could not go so far as to allow this or that sect or zealot to work the people up to a pitch of excitement which might prove dangerous to the political equilibrium. Jesus, or for that matter, anyone, could think as he pleased, and could see whatever visions he chose to see, for — well, what was truth anyhow? But he could not propagandize his ideas in such a way or give them such a turn that they would endanger the political structure. In this respect, Rome simply brooked no disturbance.
Then there was that second charge. According to the plaintiffs, Jesus’ active opposition to the orderly collection of taxes was causing others to take part in the same active opposition. This charge, too, Pilate simply cannot nonchalantly ignore, for it is one which very definitely and directly affects the dignity and prestige of the Roman authority. Yes, we know that when the Jews accuse Jesus of withholding from the Romans what is their due they are misrepresenting the facts. When, sometime before, as a result of a surreptitiously plotted, Pharisaic action against Jesus, certain Herodians had approached Him, and, acting as though the matter were a purely academic issue, had asked Him whether the orthodox Israelite was allowed to pay taxes to Caesar, or whether he should, following the example of “the pious Hezekiah,” refuse in the name of the Lord to pay tribute to any of the Babylonian tyrants, Jesus had answered that the question of what was Caesar’s due should not be determined until both head and heart had attended to doing God justice. Whoever gave God what was His, Jesus said in effect, would give Caesar his due also. In other words, Jesus had immediately put the religious question in front of the incidental political one, and had averred that all revolution against Caesar was indeed revolution if at the center of its thought and activity it did not begin by acknowledging God. The Jews know this very well, but in spite of that fact, they ask Pilate whether he, too, does not feel that a person who presents himself as a king is doing Caesar an injustice. Instead of placing the kingship of Christ, as He proclaimed it in His messianic self-presentation, in the light of prophecy, and in the light of Jesus’ own teaching and public activity, they place it in the light of Pilate’s own predilection. They know that Jesus means something very different by, and sees something quite different in, the kingship of the Messiah than will be apparent to Pilate. They know that if they hold up Jesus’ proclamation under the clouded spectacles of the Roman procurator, he, when he hears the word king mentioned, will think, not of a theocracy, but of “his majesty, the Caesar, and of his political world empire.” Hence, without attempting to remove Pilate’s erroneous predilections, and without inquiring carefully into what Jesus meant by His kingship, these Jews deliberately make it appear as if Jesus explains the title of king in the same way that the Roman government does. They say to Pilate: you must do your duty over against your patron in Rome. In this way, you see, Pilate was virtually compelled to give Jesus a hearing. Especially so, if he was inclined to give any thought to the past at all. For the question which was being raised now had been publicly raised among the Jews before this time. At the time when Jesus was still a lad, at about the time when He was first allowed to accompany His parents in their pilgrimages to the temple, a great tumult had arisen among the Jews. It had been caused by the appearance of a certain “Judas the Galilean, the son of Ezechias.” This Judas, of whom we read also in Act_5:37, had become the leader of a rebellion caused by a refusal to pay taxes at the time when Quirinius had taken over the registration in the province of Judea in the interest of the Roman government. This Judas of Galilee had put himself at the head of those rebelling against taxation, had recruited a large company in the neighborhood of Sepphoris in Galilee, had armed his followers with munitions taken from the royal arsenal, and had, in short, put the whole of Galilee into a state of tumult. It was said, in fact, that he had wanted to be made king. In this revolution a well-known Pharisee whose name was Sadduk had been his accomplice. By an appeal to the religion of the forefathers and to Israel’s immemorial messianic expectations, these two had preached the revolution. True, their “success” had been a meager one. The movement was soon smothered in blood. Nevertheless, their brief effort had left a deep impression upon the people. Hence it was no wonder that Roman authority, after those turbulent days, had kept an even sharper eye open for every religiously motivated agitation which in its effect might prove to be a threat to the government.[1] Indeed, there was good reason for caution in this matter. The rebellion of the Galilean Judas had even served as an impetus to the formation of a new party, a group which aligned itself with the Pharisees — the so-called party of Zealots. These were committed to a program of abandoning the current laissez-faire policy in favor of active rebellion against the despised Roman authority.
[1] See Schurer, Geschichte des Judischen Volkes, 3rd and 4th edition, 1901, Volume 1, p. 486.
But think no longer about the Jews. Ignore the fact that they themselves often argued about whether or not Israel was obliged to pay taxes. Ignore also the fact that the Zealots among the Pharisees would have liked to do precisely what, with much ado, they now name a capital offense in Jesus. Such considerations, after all, lead us no farther, and awaken in us nothing except a sense of regret because of this flagrant lack of integrity. We must keep our eyes fastened upon Pilate. Naturally, when Jesus was placed before him as heavily charged as he was, Pilate simply had to “sit up and take notice he simply had to take an active interest in the case. The vivid recollection of the affair of Judas the Galilean served to make restless now. There was no gainsaying the fact that secret influences — working unobtrusively, of course — were operative among these people. These underground forces might explode at any moment. Moreover, there was a striking resemblance between the figure of the Galilean Judas and this Jesus of Nazareth. Judas came from Galilee and had conducted the revolt in Judea;[2] and, remarkably enough, this Jesus, too, hailed from Galilee and had labored in Judea. Was the resemblance a mere coincidence? Or — but no, that Pilate does not yet know. Still. Jesus’ name is already being coupled with another. Judas-Jesus:
that is the first pairing of names in which Jesus is involved. A little later His name will appear on a second ballot: Barabbas- Jesus. Those who name these persons as a pair are casually saying that they regard the two as equal. Really, this is a difficult situation for Pilate. That awkward affair of Judas the Galilean had, after all, been officially registered. Time and again restlessness and revolution had broken out among the Jews. Pilate cannot overlook that fact. Gradually, you see, the question of Jesus’ kingship becomes an issue in the litigation against Him. This consideration provides an ampler screen for us against which to view the ensuing scenes: those, namely, in which Christ’s name is coupled with that of Barabbas, in which the soldiers mock the tax-chiseler from Galilee, and in which they put on a mock play in ridicule of the self-vaunted king hailing from Nazareth. The same consideration gives a deeper insight also into the pathetic culmination of the trial, as it is expressed in the superscription raised over the crucified head: Jesus of Nazareth, the king of the Jews.
[2] Schurer, op, cit., pp. 526-527.
If we remember these things, we will be able to appreciate better how Pilate opens the hearing which he gives Jesus, and how Jesus responds to this judge. Pilate enters the room and asks, “Art thou the king of the Jews?” Now note the answer carefully. Jesus says, “Sayest thou this thing of thyself, or did others tell it thee of me?” By means of this single question Jesus at once touches the core of the issue; He puts His finger on the truth, and gives Pilate the profound majesty of that truth to think about. This one question immediately wrenches the issue out of the complication of subtleties in which the Jewish accusers have involved it. Jesus charges Pilate to go for his explanation of the concept “kingship” to the accused person himself. Thus Jesus suggests that if he had really been a king in the sense in which the Jews suggest it, Pilate, surely, would have heard of it long ago. If the Nazarene had really constituted a threat to the state, if He had really instigated revolution, and if, in the guise of a rebel, He had really placed Himself between the tax-paying citizens and the tax-exacting Caesar — surely, then Pilate would long ago have heard of Him. Then Pilate would long ago, and on his own initiative, have made it a point to inquire what this Galilean Joshua meant by His “kingship.” Yes, the procurator knows right well that his information is based on hearsay, that others have “told him of Jesus.” Therefore, if he is to deal honestly now, he must in determining whether Jesus’ kingship is or is not dangerous be guided not by the subtly suggested words of the plaintiffs but by what Jesus Himself has to say about that concept.
This merciless realignment of the issues on the part of the fearless Defendant touches the conscience of Pilate. Acrimoniously he answered, “Am I a Jew?” By this statement, the proud Roman acknowledges that a purely Jewish-religious problem lies at the basis of Jesus’ “kingship;” but he prefers to say that Jesus’ own people, the chief priests, had delivered Jesus into his hand, and that he is therefore compelled by virtue of his office to ask what Jesus has done.
And again we see Jesus as He is in His unique self-revelation. He acknowledges the powers that be, also the authority of Pilate. In other words, He gives Caesar what is Caesar’s. Meanwhile, however, He gives God what is God’s; He professes the truth; He makes the confession of His kingship before Pilate. He straightway indicates that the whole catalogue of charges filed against Him by His accusers is beside the point. This He does by that single and primary declaration: “My kingdom is not of this world.”
Yes, says Jesus, My kingdom does exist. Observe that He makes no effort to avoid using the word “kingship” or to evade the term “kingdom.” On the contrary, He assumes responsibility for a term which, to say the least, is very dangerous for Him.
On the other hand, Jesus also states that His kingship is not of this world. The kingdom He alludes to is a kingdom of heaven. It does not intend to make a revolutionary attack upon the existing political order. It has its own peculiar essence, and expresses itself in its own peculiar form. It constitutes a spiritual community consisting of the members of the family of God. And although this kingdom of heaven enjoins a law upon its citizens which has bearing upon the whole of human life, operating in and through all of it, its essential essence is something other than a politically organized world empire. Accordingly, this heavenly kingdom will never approach the matter of whether taxes ought or ought not to be paid the Roman Caesar in an external way. Hence also it can never be a threat to any existing political structure, can never want to effect its purposes by a drastic revolution. The kingdom of Christ is not of this world. The kingdom which was the objective of those Zealots to which, you remember, we alluded previously, was a kingdom of this world. But Christ’s kingdom comes in a spiritual way. It cannot possibly be called Zionistic, or given any other name suitable for a political movement. Christ’s kingdom wants to foster no rebellion against the state, but it does reform all existing ordinances. It carries no sword of steel, but holds in its hand the two-edged sword of the Spirit.
By a striking reference to recent happenings, Jesus points out that His statement is not a loose generality which to Pilate might seem pernicious enough because in its consequences the idea of revolution in a practical sense lay embedded in it. Can it be, Jesus suggests, that His servants, those who went in and out with Him, those who lived with His thoughts continually — can it be that these who obeyed His command in Gethsemane just a few moments ago were engaged in open battle? Had they ever incited a rebellion? Certainly not. Just a short time ago when one had attempted to “argue” with a sword, Jesus Himself had reprimanded this wielder of the weapon, and had healed the ear of the man injured by him. That surely is proof of the fact that Christ’s kingship and kingdom do not want to establish themselves by means of worldly methods or permit themselves to be classified with a purely worldly scheme of things, but that, on the contrary, His kingdom is of the other world. Of the other world, even though it operates in the existing world in order to realize itself in it.
Pilate listens to Jesus and, although he does not understand everything, he does remember that Jesus has called Himself a “king.” “Art thou a king, then?” he asks. That question, put in that way, shows us immediately that it is Christ who is in charge of the trial up to this time. The first time Pilate had approached Jesus, he had asked in astonishment: “Art thou the king of the Jews?” Then it had seemed to him a very strange circumstance that a person like the prisoner standing bound before him should bear the title — king of the Jews. Accordingly, the word which he emphasized in his question was the pronoun “thou.”
But now, after Pilate has understood that this king somehow or other does not want to be defined — also inasmuch as His kingdom is concerned — according to external standards of measurement, his question has the connotation of this one: “But you are, nevertheless, in some sense or other a king?” This question takes us closer to our purpose, for at its basis there is a latent acknowledgment that Jesus’ kingship, whatever it may mean, does signify something different from what is usually understood by the terms king and kingship.
Pilate, you see, is coming closer to the real issue: Christ has constrained him.
At this point Christ rises to His full stature. He has compelled Pilate to judge, not on the basis of what others say, but to look — as a judge should look — at the issue objectively in accordance with Christ’s own definition of His kingship. And Christ Himself will make a declaration. Note what He says: It is, indeed, as you say: I am a king. But I am the king, not of a realm representing mundane power or visible conquests of war, but of the kingdom of truth. My kingdom is a community of truth; it is not one which is based on the right of the strongest, but, on the contrary, it is one in which the strength of right would reveal itself. It wants to see nothing realized which is not conformable to the truth of God. It despises worldly force; it will never taint swords with blood; it will never usurp authority nor accept taxes in the form of minted silver and gold. Hence it cannot possibly give rise to the issue of taxation as a purely political and national question. The only citizens it desires are those who belong to the kingdom because they are in communion with the truth. The Roman world empire which Pilate is representing here, is a usurping power. Irrespective of whether one is motivated by its principles, it throws its net around everyone who can possibly serve as its prey. It demands taxes; it demands them also from those who are unwilling to pay. The threat of the mailed fist supports the open hand which is asking for revenues.
But if a person is to be a citizen in the realm of Christ, his life must issue from the truth. Those whose lives do issue from this truth hear Jesus’ voice, for in the innermost recesses of their being they are assured of His eternal right to rule. Thus the kingdom of Christ’s truth does realize itself, but its scheme is that of the other world. Of that other world Pilate has never dreamed. Christ’s kingdom is coming directly under Pilate’s eyes, but he does not recognize it. For Pilate’s life does not issue from the truth.
Thus did Christ make the good confession concerning His kingship before Pilate. In the presence of this secular court of justice, He follows the very same procedure which He took a little earlier in the presence of the spiritual court. When He is forbidden to speak by the law of His own kingdom, He is silent; but when speaking is required of Him for God’s sake, He speaks. Thou sayest — that is the confession inspired by His active obedience. By this confidence He gives God what is God’s and Caesar what is Caesar’s due. Although He is the Lawgiver in the realm of truth, He allows Himself to be placed under the law and consequently under the power of secular authority. God so commanded Him; God has Him bow before authority. True, the servants He has have not been allowed to fight, but that is only a negative matter. Besides, they are only servants. Today, however, the positive command comes to Christ, to Him who is the king Himself in the realm of truth, not only to avoid conflict with those in authority but consciously to acknowledge and maintain the dignity and status of such authority, even, when it comes to cast Him down “into the dust of death.”
That single statement, Thou sayest, or It is as thou sayest is the assurance of our salvation. He who speaks is the servant of the Lord. He obeys the laws of His time, acknowledges the powers that be, and testifies to the truth. He does not hesitate to pronounce the word which spells danger for Himself. In this way, as the second Adam, He would be both servant and subject in the world as He finds it, and so begins the ascent to the height of His kingdom. Only because of this degradation for the sake of the truth will He achieve His triumph. And again for the sake of the truth He will celebrate those triumphs over every form of authority conceivable in the world.
Therefore this confession of Christ concerning His kingship brings us good tidings. For, in making the confession that He is King in the Realm of Truth, Christ is professing that He is the Messiah. That is the confession which He now makes before Pilate, even as He made it a little earlier before the Sanhedrin.
No, this is not saying that He himself used the word “Messiah.” He did not. That word had no place in the dictionary of the pagan Pilate. It is a word which belonged to Israel peculiarly. However, Christ does condescend to explain things to Pilate. He explains the great mystery of Israel to this Roman, and He does it in his own language. Christ enters into Pilate’s own world of ideas, makes use of his own ways of thinking; thus He presents to the pagan a paraphrase of the Israelitish concept of the “Messiah,” by way of making Pilate sense the significance of the word.
Farther than that Jesus cannot go at this time. The hour of the mission of Pentecost has not yet come; and it is the Spirit of Pentecost who will explain to heathendom the great works of God as they are in Christ. That Spirit will explain fully, will do it in the language of heathendom, and will do it unto conversion. The Spirit of Christ, the Spirit of Pentecost, later, will knead the language of the pagans, will so conquer it, and thus irresistibly proclaim the Council of God.
We must know that Christ does not present this paraphrase of the term “Messiah-King” to Pilate in an effort to convert him. To convert people, to convert pagans — that is a work of God. Before Christ can do that, He must have dedicated Himself to His people. Nevertheless, He wants to give Pilate, who is His judge, the opportunity to judge Him. Therefore, He gives the name Messiah the explanation which comes closest to the phraseology of the Roman political economy. This He does in order that Pilate may determine whether that political system demands death or not. Now this represents the acquiescence of Christ. If He wants to, He can coerce Pilate by a glance of His eye, just as He once constrained Simon Peter, He can charm Pilate with His eyes, can mesmerize him, can cause him to retreat — who in this connection does not think of Gethsemane? By means of the potency of His thoroughgoing humanity He can do all these things if He wants to. Thus Christ, should He choose to, can be silent over against Pilate, can leave him to Satan; by sheer force, by the puissance of His humanity, He can rid Himself of this judge. He who can force Lazarus out of the grave, can force Pilate back of the curtains — there to be advised by his wife: “Have thou nothing to do with this man.”
But Christ does not do this. He is obedient. He does not mesmerize; He does not constrain: He does not struggle with God for the conversion of Pilate, as though the hour had come to cast the bread of the children — alas, such children! — before those “dogs,” the heathen.
Instead He addresses Himself to His judge and does him justice. Today He is not speaking in parables or in riddles, for the riddle is appropriate only to that sphere of special revelation in which revelation itself has pronounced its unequivocal word. The maschil — we are referring to it repeatedly in this study — can be pronounced in Israel only by order of the Sanhedrin. Among the heathen, under Pilate’s roof, the maschil is unwarranted as yet, for up to this time the heathen have not heard the Counsel of God unto salvation preached to them. Hence, no maschil, no riddle.
On the other hand, there is no silence here, no secrecy designed to keep the heathen excluded from the mysteries of Israel. This particular pagan is the judge; hence Christ must explain Himself to Pilate in language which the judge can understand.
From Christ’s point of view, His explanation represents a looking into the commandment. It represents also a “being blind”[1] to the future. For — and this is the other side of the matter — even though Christ as He presents that paraphrase of the term “Messiah,” condescends to come as close as possible to Pilate’s capacity for apperception, Pilate will not succeed in appreciating exactly what Christ means or in being quite certain that there is no conflict between this Jesus who is called Christ and Rome’s great Caesar.
[1] Naturally “being blind” is used here in the sense of not trying to escape from the consequences.
After all, the mind of the pagan will remain alien to the mysteries of the Messiah of God as long as it is not conquered by the Spirit of Christ. Can anyone suppose that an “explanation” of the concepts of revelation, an explanation, we must know, which makes use of the words and thought patterns which are current in heathendom can give anyone an appreciation of the Christ? Surely such an appreciation is possible only as the result of a conquest of the heart, and of a victory over the false thinking and the whole personality of man by the Spirit of Christ. That is why Pilate can do more than to guess, to grope, to conjecture. That is why the best he can get is a mere impression.
For Pilate, problems and riddles will remain. To his mind the word king must continue to be to a certain extent interchangeable with such words as despot and usurper. For the oriental man, the word king simply carried such connotation, irrespective of who the king might happen to be. To the oriental mind king meant potentate, autocrat, despot; that is, one who never serves but is always served.
It is true that much cause for anxiety seemed to be removed for Pilate by the qualification that only those who are “of the truth” follow this shackled “king.” Apparently the relationship in which this Nazarene wished to stand over against His subjects was a religious relationship. But even that modification could not avail to put Pilate quite at ease. Remember that it was precisely during these days — and that not by accident — that Caesar, who was also called king, was being honored as a god. The Caesar-kingship had the status of a religious phenomenon; not only in Jerusalem but also in Rome the title of king had a religious significance. In a certain sense, therefore, each “king,” each “Caesar” could wish to repeat these words: Everyone who is of the truth heareth my voice.
It was in precisely such a world that God revealed His Son and summoned Him to justice. There is no such thing as chance, as accident in the world. If ever any exegesis of the concept “king” could because of the complicated social relationships, and because of the cast of the political and religious situation, have confused anyone, that explanation would be one which was made in the days of Pilate. It is true that his Caesar, Tiberius, had taken more vehement exception to the deification of the living ruler than Augustus had, but it is also true that “officially the cultus of the deceased and senatorially canonized Caesar was being universally acknowledged . . . Such deification by the decision of the Senate was . . . the result of the Roman custom of having all contact with things supernatural take place according to officially determined regulations.”[1]
[1] Dr. J. de Zwaan, Jesus, Paulus en Rome, Amsterdam, 1927, p. 17.
How in such an intellectual climate could Pilate possibly get a true conception of what this particular “king” had in mind? How could he get a true appreciation of the bearing of His office? This is a king who wants to be a religious despot ... Yes, but just such a king resides in Rome also. It was precisely the government of Tiberius, Pilate’s brutal and difficult patron, which laid down the official regulations concerning the religious significance of the kingship . . . Indeed, it was not easy for Pilate to apprehend Jesus’ meaning.
It is our duty in this matter to bow before the counsel of God. He had the Son make the good confession concerning the messianic kingship at this peculiar time. The royal title which Christ bore had to reach the thought patterns, the political and religious mind set of the Roman and pagan world. It is good that this was so. It is a fact that Christ reaches everything; He leaves nothing untouched. In fact, He would object to putting it in that way.
Just because this is our view of this event, we are able to penetrate so much more deeply into the love and the majesty of Christ. Christ knew that the name king would carry the connotation of political threat in Pilate’s ears; He knew that this would be so for Pilate, not because of direct pretensions on His part, perhaps, but because of potential consequences of which Pilate had premonitions. We can appreciate more profoundly the love and majesty of that Christ who knew also that His putting the “religious” character of His kingship into the foreground would aggravate rather than mitigate the severity of the conflict. For we understand that Christ, by making the good confession before Pilate, was being obedient. He did not compromise His claims nor conceal the universal, world-conquering character of His dominion. In His self-confession He rendered to God what was God’s and to Caesar what was Caesar’s.
To God what was God’s — for His exegesis was the true one. To Caesar what was Caesar’s — for He presented that exegesis in Caesar’s own language. And when He had done so, He knew that for Him this meant death. However, He had concealed nothing, had not forcibly thrust the governor aside. To his pretensions to the throne of the world and to the title of the absolute kingship, which precisely because it is religious reaches through to the world — to these pretensions He laid full claim. Had He Himself not so directed events that “in the fullness of time” — a time which He as the Logos had Himself chosen — should proclaim to the very Caesar to whom He had subjected Himself the religious and world-pervasive character of His kingship? Having Himself selected that time, how could He take exception to Himself now? How could He possibly classify Himself now with the things that do not touch the Caesar of all nations? No, Christ’s kingdom did not, by an appeal to its religious nature, slink away into the highways and byways or into the hermitages and inner chambers of men, but, instead, asserted itself as a kingship which, precisely by its religion, by its truth, reaches the whole world. It touches all kingdoms. “Everyone that is of the truth,” — such is international language.
Once, in the desert, Christ turned Satan away from Him when Satan showed Him “all the kingdoms;” this Christ did, not because He did not long for every kingdom, but because He did not want to acquire these in a way forbidden by God. At this point, however, He returns His more essential answer to Satan. On the one side, we see Tiberius; that is, Tiberius, the Caesar, Rome, the beast, the “king” who has a religious title which represents a world-symbol. This Tiberius arrogantly asserts: “Everyone that is of the truth heareth my voice.” On the other side, we see the Christ; that is, the Messiah, the Feast of Pentecost, the Spirit, the “King” who has a religious title, and we hear His humble apologetic and expository voice saying: “Everyone that is of the truth heareth my voice.” We thank Thee most gratefully, Lord Jesus. Thou didst take up Thy cross, but didst also emphatically insist upon Thy world-inclusive claims. Thus, by taking up Thy cross, Thou didst redeem Thy feast of Pentecost. Thy answer vindicates and explains Thee over against this ancient trio of days. There will be flames soon in Jerusalem, and tongues of fire, a whirlwind and a voice addressing itself to the inmost heart. Yes, addressing itself to the innermost hearts, too, later on, of the subjects of Tiberius. To them too the voice will be saying that Thou art the King and that everyone who is of the truth heareth Thy voice. That voice will be the voice of the irresistible Spirit of Pentecost.
We thank Thee. As the Son of man Thou didst not forget the Logos, for Thou didst understand the meaning of “the fullness of time” and didst persevere through the difficult course of the fulfilled time. This Thou didst do by telling Pilate what was necessary for Thee to tell him, and by giving Thy exegesis of the kingship in the language of Tiberius while preserving faithfully the interpretation of God. Ah, Saviour, the sublimity of Thy exalted exposition is quite transporting. It makes room in the acta Pilati for the Acts of the Apostles; that is, for the Acts of the Holy Spirit. Satan, remember this: Christ looked behind Pilate to Tiberius and saw all the kingdoms of the world. Surely he will not leave Tiberius unperturbed, for what is more inclusive than the truth? “Everyone that is born of the truth” — yes, that sounds personal, sounds individual, suggests something narrow and exclusive. The prediction has the very tang of Election itself in it. But, really, is any word more universal than truth?
Pilate, beware. He has by no means said that He is not dangerous. For, what is truth? In any case, it is a troublesome, dangerous thing, and certainly international in scope. Have a care, Pilate. He is to enlist the whole world. You have heard an ecumenical word pronounced — it dropped from His lips just now, here in the praetorium.