Oak Chapel United Methodist Church

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Pilate pacing about, wringing his hands, muttering. "Damn that Herod. He sends me all his problems! Here's this obvious innocent, this Jesus of Nazareth, in chains, no less, in the wee hours. For this he has me awakened! Why? Because he, and the whole bloody lot of them -- fanatics to a man -- want this Jesus executed -- fast -- and Jewish law won't permit it. So they want me to be the heavy. Sure. It's lonely at the top.

On the one hand was Pilate's own good judgement: the calm, reasoned judgement of a sophisticated Roman. (A Roman unlucky enough, however, to have been sent to Palestine, the world's nuthouse, a nation of religious fanatics.) He knew the charges against Jesus were phony, he could tell just on the face of things. Moreover, he had received what might be considered a sign from God in his wife's troubled dream, warning him not to harm Jesus. (But how much stock can be put in a woman's dreams?) On the other hand, there was political pressure: the fanatical ravings of the priests and the shouting mob. Who could possibly understand why this thing was so important to them? "Can't we be civil about this? Can't we reach some compromise? Must we execute an innocent man?" And then there came into his madness a method. He had one other prisoner in custody, a notorious criminal named Jesus Barabbus, and reasoning that the people would never ask for such a vicious person to be released among them, offered the crowd a prisoner (any prisoner) for Pentecost. It was brilliant. Nobody loses face. We don't have to say if Jesus is innocent or guilty. Nobody dies. They'll call for Jesus Messiah, of course (They'll have no choice.), and I'll release him, and go back to bed." But they called for Barabbus. Go figure. And a tired, frustrated Pilate says, "O.K. Jesus Barabbus is yours. You deserve him. Now, what shall I do with Jesus Messiah?"

He didn't intend it, but in asking that question Pilate gave to the Christian Church one of its great preaching texts. In the King James version, Pilate asks, "What shall I do with this man Jesus, who is called Christ?" If you can't preach a sermon on that, dearly beloved, you ought to hand it up. "What shall I do with this man Jesus, who is called Christ?" It is a question on one escapes.

Some years back church leaders would talk about "Christ-centered" preaching, "Christ-centered" faith, "Christ-centered" living. I guess the expression seemed a tad heavy after a while, perhaps a little stilted, so we set it aside. But, in so doing, we may have lost the sharp focus of faith which that expression ("Christ-centered") was meant to assure. If you think about it, Christ is the gateway to everything else. What do we know about God -- a God so distant, so different from you and me? We know what Christ told us about God. We feel the Holy Spirit, and recognize it for what it is, because Christ foretold it. We surely would not be reading ancient Jewish history, nor reciting ancient Jewish poetry back and forth in church, were it not for the fact that Christ read it and obviously considered it God's word. Without Christ there would be no New Testament. So we would not have the Bible, except for Christ. Our faith doesn't begin with the creation story, as do most ancient faiths. Nor do we begin with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Nor with Moses and the Ten Commandments. We look backward, through the eyes of Christ, to see these things. Our faith begins in Jesus. Everything else follows. The old-timers, with their Christ-centered this and their Christ-centered that, may have had a point. Maybe Pilate did ask the question of the ages, the only question that really counts: "What shall I do with Jesus?" How you answer that question says it all.

One possible answer today is simply to ignore Him, to put him in the closet with the other old stuff and forget him. That is precisely what our wider society, society outside the church, has already done. And not to worry; there's no stigma attached to it. We don't have to crucify Jesus (After all, we're against violence.) -- we can just set him aside. As if he makes no claim on us. I am amazed when parents of young children say, with beatific smiles on their faces, in regard to their children's religious instruction, "We're going to let them make up their own minds on that." Which means, in most cases, we're going to ignore religion in our home. Notice, we're not going to "let them make up their own minds" about going to the doctor. We're not going to "let them make up their own minds" about attending school, nor about taking baths, nor about eating properly. But, when it comes to the very heart and soul of life, to a child's developing faith, we're going to be wimps. Of course children will make up their own minds! Whose minds did you think they would make up? Everybody has to answer Pilate's question for himself, someday. Someday these same children will also have to decide for themselves about their health and their education, and might choose to ignore both -- and pay the price. And they might decide to ignore Christ. But let us not, in the present, live before our children, as if Christ were never here. He is widely ignored, but hopefully not among us.

Another way to answer Pilate's question, "What shall I do with Jesus?" (and a very popular way, today), is to water Jesus down and make him a namby-pamby teacher of morals. Jesus was a teacher, you bet he was -- the best! And he did teach ethics. But if you read his teachings (and don't take somebody else's word), you will see that the ethic of Jesus is the toughest in the world. He adds a third commandment, it seems to me, in most moral situations, and we are usually prepared to go with him only two. Like this: The animals (and people who live like animals) know who their enemies are, hate them, and try to kill them whenever they can.

Civilized people find peaceful means of co-existing with their enemies. (We're o.k. so far!) But Jesus says, "Love your enemies. Do them good." Whoa!

Or this:
The animals (and people who live like animals) grab whatever they can of this world' treasure. Civilized people (that's us) draw up careful property laws and observe them. Jesus said, "Give it away. Try your best not to have anything. What you do have, use it to help others. Whoa!

Or this:
The animals (and people who live like animals) are, first and foremost, self-preservationists. The fundamental rule of nature is to stay alive.
Civilized people understand that sacrifice (even the sacrifice of one's life) is sometimes necessary in the service of a greater good. But they try to keep that sacrifice to a bare minimum.
But Jesus said that dying to this world, giving up one's life, was not the last principle but the first principle of living. Whoa!

So, if you want to make Jesus an ethical teacher, and nothing more, make sure you read him right. The ethic of Jesus is more than just paying your bills and not being late for Lions Club. It is the hardest ethic to follow, and nobody succeeds at it. Which leads to a third thing we might do with Jesus.

We might add to his earthly life and teachings a divine dimension. And that we must do. Now and then I see a church sign that advertises "the full Gospel". It always seems a bit of a shot, as if the rest of us are offering only a partial version of the thing. If they mean a "balanced Gospel", I am more sympathetic. It is very possible to get our faith out of balance (That's what heresy is all about.): to emphasize Jesus' humanity over his divinity, to emphasize judgement over grace, to be "hipped" on this or that. We've all known Christians who couldn't stop talking about one narrow aspect of the faith, at the expense of all the rest. When we set out to answer Pilate's question about what to do with Jesus, we need to begin with a balanced view of the man. Yes, a teacher -- a tough ethical teacher. Yes, a savior -- a wonderful savior, without whom I would be lost. Yes, God. That is very important. It can't be ignored because he claimed it for himself. As Harry Cole often reminds me, he either was what he said he was or he was a crazy man. Nobody in his right mind claims to be God. Unless he is. Read the Gospels and see if you can come to any other conclusion.

What shall I do with Jesus? How does he fit into my life? Shall I ignore him as a mere relic of history? Shall I make him my ethical guru?. Do I know what a difficult life he demands? Will I take the whole gospel and let him be God -- in the world, and in my life? It is a powerful question, but I am asking it of you this morning quietly, without shouting. It's just something we have to face.

This Fall we will offer Disciple Bible. Some of you have taken it. For those who haven't, it's a thirty-four week, very serious commitment to read and study scripture and to discuss it in small groups with trained leaders. I hope you will choose to participate. Disciple Bible is the most successful program being offered in Protestant churches today. When it was introduced, a decade or so ago, many predicted it would never fly: to ask busy people to commit to such a discipline. At present over a million have done so. In preparation for your decision, I want to make you a dare: will you (personally -- not your brother, not your sister, not your wife) will you read the four Gospels -- Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, over the summer? That's an easy assignment. You can start this afternoon. The Gospels, of course, tell the life of Jesus. And will you ask yourself, as you read, "What shall I do (What shall I do!) with this man Jesus, who is called Christ?" The question kinda sticks in your mind.