To tell the truth

Sermon by Pr. Craig Mueller on Good Friday + Friday, April 3, 2026

What is truth? It’s Pilate’s memorable question.

To tell the truth was the name of a popular television show that began in the 1950s and lived on in syndication. Who has seen it? Three contestants claim to be a person with an unusual distinction or occupation. One is telling the truth.
The other two are impostors. Four celebrity panelists ask the contestants questions to figure out who is telling the truth. Of course, it was a more innocent age then.

Today truth is elusive. What to believe? Was it generated by AI? Is it a downright lie? Is it fake news? If it’s on the internet, if it’s shared on social media, can you trust it? If you keep telling people an untruth, are they cajoled into finally accepting it?  

There is no common trusted source of news these days. Half the country can believe one thing, the other half another thing. Whether valid elections or justified wars or the blend of nationalism with religion. And not just here, around the world populations are divided by interpretations of so-called truth. 

To tell the truth. It’s no longer a game.

In this sesquicentennial year, the Battle Hymn of the Republic comes to mind. And this line: “As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free. His truth is marching on. Glory, glory ___” You know the next word. We’ll shout it tomorrow evening. I would wager that half the Christians in this country would say that it is appropriate to sing The Battle Hymn in church; the other half wouldn’t—claiming it justifies violence and killing in the name of religion. It isn’t in our hymnal, by the way.

His truth is marching on, so go the lyrics. What is this truth?

On Good Friday Pilate and Jesus go back and forth about the meaning of truth. And the meaning of kingship. Is Jesus a king? Some cry out, no king but Ceasar! Some held signs last Saturday that said, no king but Jesus. In a time when many see Christianity predominantly expressed by the far right, we need to keep saying and keep marching with this truth: not all of us. Not all of us embrace a faith that seems to be about hate and exclusion.

Earlier in John Jesus says, “you will know the truth and the truth will make you free.” It seems natural to expect that liberation from empire would require armed violence.

Jesus claims that his kingdom is not of this world. If it were of this world, soldiers would come to his aid. As one writer puts it, while sitting on the judgement seat, Pilate utters cynical words echoing through the ages: what is truth? All while presiding over a cosmic miscarriage of justice and the sham of Roman law and order. Jesus’ kingship unmasks the myth of redemptive violence and domination.

In John’s telling of the passion, the death that Rome intends for shame becomes a sign of liberation, evoking Passover. Jesus is killed when the Passover lambs are being slaughtered. Not Rome, but God is victorious over the forces of death and dominion. It is finished, Jesus cries. Completed by the self-controlled and unflappable martyrdom of Jesus, to quote one scholar. Today, in another time of war and suffering, we do well to return to John’s passion for a renewed vision of peace, resilient agency, and life.

We tell another truth tonight. The truth of our mortality. Amid a death-denying culture we proclaim that death is the path to transformation and resurrection.

Glory, glory. Like Saint Paul, we glory in the cross. You come as one among us, into human time, we will sing. In the cross of Christ I glory, we will sing. Not the theology of glory that Luther railed against, a triumphal approach to life that emphasizes achievement, success and reward. Rather, the glory of a crucified God, bending to us in weakness. For this I came into the world, Jesus declares. A glory hidden in poverty and humility. A glory that upends all worldly power. The glory of Christ, lifted on a tree, drawing all people to himself.

This truth is marching on through the ages. This truth dwells among us this night. Passion. Love. Sorrow. Hope. They all mingle together. All that it means to be human.

The hymn we will sing around the cross centers in this paradox.  Power in weakness. Beauty in vulnerability. Wisdom in folly. Life in death. The deepest truth we treasure.