Aaron Tindall-Schlicht, Elder
Who else here is a fan of ancient politics and justice systems? Just me?
Maybe it’s an unexpected off-shoot of my misspent childhood in musty old bookstores reading secondhand pulp fantasy novels. I have formative memories of being on the edge of my seat during the contentious election of the new Archprelate in David Eddings’ The Sapphire Rose—basically a magical version Conclave for introverted and reclusive preteens. So hearing a little bit about the political environment the Jewish people were living in under Roman rule this week was great for me.
Here is some background from Wikipedia: Pontius Pilate was the governor of the Roman province of Judaea in 33 AD, serving under the Emperor Tiberius. This version of Judaea encompassed the northern half of the modern state of Israel and the Palestinian West Bank, and had been under Roman rule since 63 BCE, sort of waffling between direct rule by the Romans and indirect rule under Jewish kings. It was formally inducted into the Roman Empire in 6 AD, and governed by Roman governors like Pilate. This era was marked by unrest and conflict between the Roman occupiers and the majority Jewish population of the province, with several uprisings and wars, culminating in the razing of Jerusalem and near depopulation of the region by 136 AD. Not a peaceful time. A time when the Jewish people likely often looked for a divine warrior to intervene on their behalf, delivering them like Moses from Roman rule.
And instead they got an unhoused, pacifist philosopher that broke bread with collaborators like tax collectors. In retrospect, I can see why they were a bit miffed.
But the bit of our scripture that spoke to me most this week lies in a slightly different direction. I am fascinated by the portrayal of Pilate in the story of the end of Jesus’ life. Honestly, he gets a very strange treatment, given the circumstances. In the movie of Jesus’ life, he should be a villain, sneering at our hero, Jesus. He is at the center of the maelstrom of events that lead to the crucifixion, eventually signing the execution order himself. But here, he is portrayed as thoughtful and discerning, constantly questioning and resisting the masses’ baser desires to see Jesus punished and executed, eventually washing his hands of the matter.
In our reading today, Pilate seems to be befuddled by the situation unfolding before him, trapped by the mechanics of the political situation of his government’s occupation of the region. The Jewish people apparently can’t execute Jesus because of Roman laws, but Jesus hasn’t really broken any Roman laws… and yet the Jewish people still refuse to let him be released. So what the heck is Pilate supposed to do with this guy? It seems like Pilate is sort of breaking the fourth wall, looking directly into the camera and shrugging like he’s a character on The Office. It’s a weird juxtaposition with the way that the Jewish people, Jesus’ own people and our own spiritual forebears, are portrayed as howling for blood, and the man who actually signs the execution order is here having a calm discussion of philosophy with Jesus like he’s a character in an Oscar Wilde play.
“What is truth?” Pilate asks. And I picture him throwing up his hands as he asks it. Like, “What are you even talking about? What does ‘truth’ have to do with THIS situation?”
What is truth?
As Americans living through 2026, how would we answer this question? We are living in a world of fact-checkers, “alternative facts,” hallucinating AIs, community notes on X, and an epidemic of people running things who can’t even seem to agree that the sky is blue.
We couldn’t even agree on how to treat people who were dying of a disease that caused a global pandemic.
We can’t even agree if we’re at war with Iran right now.
What is truth?
Academic researcher Dr. Sam Martin studies political storytelling and civic identity. In the wake of the deadly turmoil in Minneapolis, she says that “in fast-moving crises, early official statements often become the scaffolding on which public judgment is built. Sometimes those statements turn out to be accurate. But sometimes they do not. When the public repeatedly experiences the same sequence – confident claims, partial disclosures, shifting explanations, delayed evidence, lies – the damage can outlast any single incident. It teaches people that ‘the facts’ are simply one more instrument of power, distributed strategically. And once that lesson sinks in, even truthful statements arrive under suspicion.”
Dr. Martin cites in her work political philosopher and refugee Hannah Arendt, who writes in her work, “Lying in Politics,” “The result of a consistent and total substitution of lies for factual truth is not that the lie will now be accepted as truth and truth be defamed as a lie, but that the sense by which we take our bearings in the real world … [gets] destroyed. …If everybody always lies to you, the consequence is not that you believe the lies, but rather that nobody believes anything any longer.”
I don’t know about you, but these days I often feel like throwing up my hands and echoing Pilate. “What is truth?” At a certain point, does truth even matter? Will truth change things?
But we are a people who have access to truth. Objective truth. God’s truth.
Our passage this morning does not allow Jesus to answer Pilate’s question. Not here, not directly. And some have taken that to be a statement in itself, as if Jesus is being coy. As if Jesus wouldn’t take that opportunity to speak truth to power. I respectfully disagree; the scene merely moves on. Pilate walks away. And anyway, Jesus has already answered the question. He has been answering it all along.
In John 14:6, “Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’” John 17:17 says, “Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth.” And here is John 8:31-32: “So Jesus said to the Jews who had believed him, ‘If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.’”
Truth will set us free. In times like ours, we must see beyond these momentary “alternative facts” to the greater truth, God’s truth.
Okay, that’s great, Aaron. But the Bible, as it represents God’s truth, contains many conflicting messages. Which truth is the truth?
I was on a call this past week for a get-out-the-vote group that Zuni is involved with, Fight for Our Lives, and one young man on the call asked a really important question. He said (and I’m paraphrasing), “We talk about fighting. But we never answer the question, what does that mean? What does it mean to fight? Is fighting voting? Protesting? What does it mean?” I’m still not sure how to answer his question. Maybe the answer is different for all of us.
I see a connection to this lack of truth in our world today. How do we combat that? Not just the alternative facts themselves, but the way that people lose faith in there being objective truth out there. In times like these, times of turmoil when we would really love some divine deliverance, like the Jewish people under Roman rule, how do we do this?
Psalm 119:160 says, “The sum of your word is truth, and every one of your righteous rules endures forever.” The SUM of God’s word. The sum of the Bible. And is there a better summation than that of Jesus himself in Matthew 22?
“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”
Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”
This is a place where we can start: loving God with all our heart, and all our soul, and all our mind. And loving our neighbors as a reflection of that love. Loving our neighbors as action. This is our truth. Here at Calvary, we have chosen to not have a pastor. Instead, we are led by one another. And that is a metaphor for what our world needs right now: cooperation. Reaching out. Taking turns leading, hearing each other out. Letting go of old patterns, old prejudices, and stepping into something new.
So when we see people throwing up their hands like Pilate and asking, “Does any of this even matter?” we can say with confidence: Yes, it does. Ephesians 4:15-16 says, “Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ. From him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work.”
We can do that. We can speak truth, God’s truth, out of love for our neighbor and love of God, fearlessly and with the confidence of people of truth. We can take that into our worn and war-torn world, inspiring our neighbors and restoring the people’s faith that truth exists, and is accessible to all.
Amen.
Calvary Presbyterian Church 