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March 16, 2008
Truth, Power, and the King Who Broke the Mold
a sermon on John
12.12-19
by David C. Mauldin
Westminster Presbyterian Church, Mobile, Alabama
Palm Sunday … the beginning of Holy Week … the beginning of the most important
week in the history of the world … the beginning of the climactic week of Jesus‟
ministry. On that fateful day so long ago, Jesus sat on a donkey and rode down
off the Mount of Olives and up into Jerusalem. Crowds cheered and sang songs of
praise. They chanted psalms and waved palm branches. The scene may not make
immediate sense to us today, but they knew very well what they were about. They
were welcoming God‟s anointed king. They were acting out a familiar script. King
David‟s son Solomon, later kings of Judah, and much later the Maccabees—all of
them had entered Jerusalem the same way for their coronation. Jesus, however,
was different in a significant way, a way that gives his royal claim continuing
importance, even for us today. As Jesus rode along on the palms and cloaks
spread before him, nearly everyone marveled and almost no one understood what in
the world he was doing. They understood the claim he was making. They realized
what his actions meant. But why he would make them, and in this dramatic way,
caused confusion all around. If you remember last Sunday‟s scripture reading, as
Jesus set out to go to Bethany for the funeral of Lazarus, his disciples tried
to stop him. Only recently an attempt had been made on his life. Bethany was
just two miles from Jerusalem, and therefore much too dangerous for Jesus. When
Jesus insisted on going, Thomas the Twin told the others, “Let us go too, so
that we may die with him.” Now here Jesus was, going into Jerusalem itself. And
was he sneaking in? Was he taking precautions? No! He was riding a donkey—a
royal animal, which Israel‟s kings had traditionally ridden to coronations—right
off the Mount of Olives amid a jubilant celebration. What in the world was he up
to? I love that line in our scripture for today: “His disciples did not
understand this at first.” It wasn‟t until after his resurrection that his plan
began to make sense to them. If his closest friends were puzzled, you know
outsiders were completely mystified. At the end of John chapter 11, we read that
Jesus was the occasion for much gossip in the days leading up to the Passover.
Pilgrims from all over the world came to Jerusalem for this big annual
celebration. Would Jesus be among them? He had made a lot of noise lately. He
had stirred things up. Passover was a time when everyone was a bit on edge.
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It celebrated God rescuing his people from slavery in Egypt. The general idea
was, he would do that again. Jews in Jesus‟ day found Roman rule oppressive.
They wanted independence. Their only disagreement was whether God would handle
that himself or should his people take up arms. Passover was religious, but also
deeply political. And the Romans knew this. Pontius Pilate lived normally in
Caesarea, on the coast, not in Jerusalem. Why do you think he was there for
Passover? Add the excitement generated recently by Jesus to the already tense
atmosphere of the Passover, and you have the potential for fireworks. Thus we
find this in John 11.56: “They were looking for Jesus and were asking one
another as they stood in the temple, „What do you think? Surely he will not come
to the festival, will he?‟” Oh, surely not! But then there he is. He‟s coming
all right. And coming in style! The people who cheered his arrival hoped for a
liberator, a Messiah to free them from the Romans. The Romans must have puzzled
over the whole thing. They didn‟t like troublemakers, but this one came unarmed,
so how could they take him seriously? Did anyone know what to make of Jesus? I
doubt they did. Do we? I wonder. I wonder whether 2,000 years of Christianity
has been enough to help us understand. Many people today are skeptical that real
truth exists, Truth with a capital “T.” Conventional wisdom now declares:
Everything is relative. Nothing is absolute. Each person must construct his or
her own meaning, because truth is not something you discover, morals are not
something you discover, values are not something you discover; all these things
you have to make up for yourself. Any claim to know Truth (capital T) is met
with suspicion. Western culture has decided that all claims to truth are nothing
more than thinly veiled grabs at power. If you say you know Truth, the response
is not, “Do you? What do you know? How do you know it?” The response is, “You
just want to control people.” This is a way of thinking that has come to pervade
our culture: “Truth claims are power grabs. Beware of them.” Truth is not
something you discover because it is already there; it is something you make for
yourself because it is not there. This idea dominates higher education, law, and
popular culture—every area of life today, even very often in the church itself.
Christians, in contrast, believe in Truth (capital T). The temptation we face is
to dismiss the relativism of our culture. To say, “That‟s just wrong. Ignore
it.” But before we do, we need to recognize the real concern behind it. In the
past, a lot of truth claims were grabs at power. Even the Christian church, in
the name of truth, at times grabbed all the power it could. We might think of
the era just before the Protestant Reformation when popes ruled as worldly
princes and bishops were wealthy lords. Protestants, however, have not been
innocent on this score. We may have eschewed the ostentation, but the lust for
power has seized us too.
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The church, of course, has not been alone. Governments have been particularly
guilty. So have business and industry. People have become naturally and
understandably skeptical. This modern attitude of suspicion goes back to
philosophers of the 19th century, but it became popular later. I think World War
I had a lot to do with that. Up until that time Western Europeans held a
confident belief in progress. Humanity, through the power of reason and the
methods of science, was on the march toward more and more truth. Truth meant
progress. And because of remarkable progress, in medicine for example,
transportation, communication, and technology, the confidence seemed justified.
People thought they knew truth. They trusted their leaders, their governments.
World War I shattered many illusions. It was a horrific, unnecessary war that
left the entire continent of Europe devastated, physically and emotionally. And
it resolved nothing. The war to end all wars only led to a greater war twenty
years later. What had gone wrong? Why had the system failed? The skepticism that
had characterized the social elite—the philosophers, poets, artists, and
writers—up to that time became common among the man and woman in the street.
That was in Europe. This attitude came into its own in America, I think, in the
1960s. It was here long before this, but it gained a hearing and was embraced on
a popular level during those tumultuous times. Having been failed over and over
by the people who claim to speak the truth—whether crooked politicians, immoral
church leaders, unscrupulous business leaders, or whomever—having been bombarded
all their lives by advertising clearly designed to manipulate them—people are
right to be suspicious. We can‟t blame them. I am highly skeptical myself. I
always look for the hidden angle, don‟t you? Yet I am certain there is Truth.
That it can be discovered and known. That we ought to seek it. That we ought to
embrace it. That we ought to share it. How can we retain a healthy skepticism
and the search for truth? How can we revive hope that truth does exist? People
are right to be cautiously skeptical, but how sad it is when we become so jaded
that we give up on truth altogether! That‟s going too far. But how can we help
people realize this? What can we point to that will cause people to let go of
radical suspicion that assumes every claim to truth is just a power play? We
could point out that the statement, “Any truth claim is a power play,” is itself
a truth claim and therefore must be written off as a power play. This is
certainly true. The statement, “All truth is relative,” contradicts itself
because it clearly claims to express absolute truth. So we could appeal to
logic, but I do not think that is enough. We might just leave people more
confused than ever. What we need, I think, is a claim to Truth that is
demonstrably not a grab for power. Has there ever been anyone who claimed to
speak the Truth (capital T, God‟s own truth) but who is above suspicion when it
comes to seeking power? Yes, in fact, there has. Jesus.
Truth, Power, and the King Who Broke the Mold 4
Jesus went beyond claiming to teach absolute truth. He claimed to be absolute
truth. “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father but
through me.” He spoke and acted with God‟s own authority. “You have heard that
it was said …” and what followed was a command given by God in the Law of Moses,
for example, “Thou shalt not murder.” Then Jesus went on, “but I say to you …”
Who did he think he was anyway? Forgiving sins, claiming authority over the
temple, riding into Jerusalem as God‟s chosen king—in these ways and others
Jesus made himself out to be God. He claimed to be the truth. He said that the
ultimate fate of individuals and nations would be decided by what? How they
reacted to Jesus himself. Did they believe? Did they follow? Or did they reject
him and his grandiose claims? So, Jesus made truth claims, possibly the biggest,
most radical truth claims ever. Not “I believe I am right about this. What do
you think?” But rather “I am the ultimate reality around which you ought to base
your whole life.” Given his audacity, was he making a power play? Remarkably,
surprisingly, astonishingly … no! Jesus entered the city of Jerusalem in a
dramatic way that made an audacious royal claim. On the surface that would seem
like a grab for power. But Jesus had a different understanding of the words king
and kingdom than the standard dictionary definition. He laid claim to the title,
but he also aimed to redefine the whole concept. Take just a couple of obvious
examples. Kings rule by force. They have to. No government can hope to retain
order unless it is willing to enforce law. Yet Jesus came unarmed. When he was
arrested in Gethsemane, Simon Peter drew a sword and cut off a guy‟s ear. He was
clearly operating in the standard model of kingship and power. But Jesus told
him to put the sword away. Let there be no violence. I love what Jesus said to
Peter, “Put your sword back into its place; for all who take the sword will
perish by the sword. Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will
at once send me more than twelve legions of angels?” In other words, “If
violence and coercion were the right way to do this, don‟t you think I‟d do it
right? If I were just after power, … well, I‟ve already got that. Peter, I am
going to do this my way—God‟s way.” Jesus came to Jerusalem to conquer, but not
by violence, by a force more powerful than violence: love. You can call that a
power grab if you want to, but love is not a coercive force. Jesus never forces
himself on anyone. He went to Jerusalem in order to die for his enemies, at
their own hands, and praying with his dying breath, “Father, forgive them, for
they know not what they do.” I ask you: Is that a power play? No. In fact, it is
the exact opposite. Jesus claimed to be God‟s own truth, yet we find no force,
no coercion, no arm twisting, nothing of the traditional understanding of power.
Instead we find only love, and such great love that he died willingly for his
enemies, letting them put him to death, and praying for their forgiveness all
the while.
Truth, Power, and the King Who Broke the Mold 5
We are going to have to rethink everything we thought we knew about truth and
power. Not just the radical skeptics, but we Christians too. Jesus turned
everything upside down. And he did just what the Father wanted him to do. That
wonderful hymn praising Christ in Philippians brings these two things together,
and also adds a bit of practical application for Christians: Let the same mind
be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did
not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in
human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even
death on a cross. Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name
that is above every name … [2.5-9] He emptied himself. He took the form of a
slave. He was obedient even to death on a cross. That‟s not a power play. God
did exalt him, so that Jesus is able to say as he gives the Great Commission,
“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” Nevertheless, this
is an authority we can trust. It is based not on violence but on love. A
person‟s actions can be coerced, but never the heart. If you have power, you can
make people do what you want, but you can‟t make them want to. You can‟t make
them love you. This is why totalitarian regimes are always fragile, why
dictators are always paranoid, why rulers like Stalin and Kim Jong Il and many
others beside them kill and imprison their citizens. It is the classic dilemma
of the absolute monarch: Do I try to make my people love me, or do I make them
fear me? Despots always go with fear because it is more effective and reliable.
Not Jesus. Jesus went with love. He is not interested in coercion. His agenda
was not to make everyone holy and moral. If that had been the extent of it, he
could have done that. Bring down the legions of angels and enforce the Old
Testament‟s holiness code ruthlessly. Jesus wanted more. He aimed for nothing
less than to reconcile God and humanity. In his teaching of the Law, he
emphasized that what really matters to God is the condition of your heart. If
you do not kill, but you harbor hatred, you are guilty of murder. The only
reason you don‟t actually commit the crime is you are a coward. God has never
been interested in a world full of robots. God created us capable of love. He
gave us the freedom to love, which includes also the freedom not to love.
Perhaps this is why God put one tree in the Garden of Eden off limits. It was
not a burdensome command.
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It was not as if Adam and Eve would be just itching to eat that particular
fruit. It was not a cruel test. It was merely an occasion for love to be freely
given, or not. And even when humanity chose not, God went right on loving us.
Forget Adam and Eve and all of humanity; even when you choose not, God still
loves you, and through Jesus he provided a way for reconciliation between God
and you. I believe we ought to give deep thought to what Jesus‟ actions during
holy week mean for our concepts of truth and power. We cannot dismiss truth by
saying all claims to truth are disguised grabs for power. The most extreme truth
claim ever turned out to be the exact opposite of a power play. That should make
us open our eyes and look for truth. I doubt, however, that many here today have
ever seriously doubted that truth exists. Most of you may be cautiously
skeptical, but you are far from being so radical you deny truth is even
possible. Most of you, I suspect, believe in moral absolutes—some things are
right, and some things are just wrong. That is good. Still, I trust there is
something in this sermon for you. Whoever you are and whatever you believe, you
need to know an important truth about yourself: You are loved. Paul expressed
the classic Christian self-understanding in Galatians 2.20: “The Son of God
loved me, and gave himself for me.” The Son of God loved you, and gave himself
for you. It is true, he claims your allegiance. He makes demands of those who
come to him. Nothing less than full surrender and obedience will do—obedience
not to the church or any church leader—obedience to Jesus himself. But, and this
is crucial, all who come to him must do so freely. Your response must be the
response of love. Knowing his love for you and his grace, you love him and give
yourself freely to him. A commitment to Christ is always like a marriage entered
willing and freely for the sake of love. It is not like rape, against your will.
Nor is it like prostitution, where love is bought. It is rather the delighted
act of lover and beloved. Just as important, Jesus‟ authority can be trusted. At
times the clear will of God and your own will may be at odds. For example, Jesus
commands us to forgive our enemies. Maybe you have an enemy you don‟t want to
forgive. You might be tempted to say, “I don‟t want to do this. Lord, why would
you make me?” And you might feel as if you are being coerced. But you are not.
Forgiveness only works if you do it from your heart. In situations like this,
you have to trust that Jesus is doing what is best for you, even if you don‟t
happen to like it. Yes, he exercises authority. He is Lord. But because we have
seen his great love for us, we can trust his authority. He is not manipulating
us for his own ends. Why would he ever need to? He loved you so much that he
gave up his power and glory and suffered and died for your sake. If you can‟t
trust him, you can‟t trust anyone, not even yourself.
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And that‟s what this sermon comes down to. Jesus rode into Jerusalem in a way
that made the audacious claim to be your king. Can you trust him? Can you trust
anyone or anything? Even yourself? You face so many claims to truth, so many
claims to rightful authority. Most of the time they turn out to be nothing more
than thinly disguised attempts to control, manipulate, or exploit you. Jesus is
different. He really loves you. More than anyone else does. More than you love
yourself. He backed up his claim by dying on the cross for you. This was a
totally unprecedented things for a king to do, but you realize what it means? It
means you can trust him. It means he is the truth. It means you can know the
truth and love him too. Amen. rev_mauldin@yahoo.com
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