NO COMPROMISES
by William J. Bausch
Jn 18:33-37
The gospel today gives us a rich tapestry of a scene fraught with drama and color as the two protagonists square off. Pilate is nervous. He has been in and out of the praetorium seven times, between the people and the prisoner. In his heart he knows Jesus is innocent--after all, his wife had a dream about that. But in his mind he knows he must play the game of politics, and so he mixes up a compromise: he washes his hands and then sends Jesus off to his death.
And so Pontius Pilate comes down in history as the great compromiser. He represents all who compromise their principles and so continue to sentence Christ to his death. On the other hand, there are those who do not compromise, those who demonstrate by their lives that Christ is king and they will follow him. When Christ is king, when Jesus really matters to people, the compromises fall away before the truth. Let me share a couple stories about people who would not compromise.
- In April, 1940, Nazi Germany invaded Denmark. There was little resistance because the Danes felt it would be hopeless. A puppet Danish government got on as best it could. But then, in 1943, German policy toughened. It was decided to impose on Denmark the same "final solution" of exterminating Jews, as elsewhere. Suddenly, there was a remarkable transformation within Denmark. German officers leaked the plan to the Danish resistance. Escape routes were quickly organized. Jewish people tell how complete strangers approached them in the streets with the keys to their houses so they could hide. Train guards and boat captains joined the plan. Within a few weeks, all but a few of the 7000 Jews had been whisked over the Oresund to safety in Sweden. Some even tell how their escape boats were boarded and searched by German patrol vessels, yet the Germans let them through. For many Danes it eventually meant the concentration camp and death. But faced with the very human need of the Jews, it seemed that a whole nation--and many Germans, too--turned their back on political compromise and performed a true and great act of love.
- Private Joseph Schultz, a loyal, young German patrol soldier, was sent to Yugoslavia shortly after it was invaded. One day the sergeant called out eight names, Schultz's among them. They thought they were going on a routine patrol, and as they hitched up their rifles, they came over a hill, still not knowing what their mission was. There were eight Yugoslavians there, standing on the brow of the hill; five men and three women. It was only when they got about fifty feet away from them, when any marksman could shoot out an eye of a pheasant, that the soldiers realized what their mission was. The eight soldiers were lined up. The sergeant barked out, "Ready!" and they lifted up their rifles. "Aim," and they got their sights. And suddenly in the silence that prevailed, there was a thud of a rifle butt against the ground. The sergeant, and the seven other soldiers, and those eight Yugoslavians, stopped and looked. And Private Joseph Schultz walked toward the Yugoslavians. His sergeant called after him and ordered him to come back, but he pretended not to hear him. Instead, he walked the fifty feet to the mound of the hill, and he joined hands with the eight Yugoslavians. There was a moment of silence, then the sergeant yelled, "Fire!" And Private Joseph Schultz died, mingling his blood with those innocent men and women. Later found on his body was an excerpt from St. Paul: "Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres."
- When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you hang my first painting
on the refrigerator, and I wanted to paint another one.
When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you feed a stray cat, and I thought it was good to be kind to animals.
When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you make my favorite cake just for me, and I knew that little things are special things.
When you thought I wasn't looking, I heard you say a prayer, and I believed there is a God I could always talk to.
When you thought I wasn't looking, I felt you kiss me good night, and I felt loved.
When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw tears come from your eyes, and I learned that sometimes things hurt, but it's all right to cry.
When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw that you cared and I wanted to be everything that I could be.
When you thought I wasn't looking, I looked, and wanted to say thanks for all the things I saw when you thought I wasn't looking. - In her book Out of Africa, Isak Dinesen tells the story of a young man from the Kikuyu tribe who worked for her on her farm for three months. He suddenly announced that he was leaving her to go to work for a Muslim man nearby. Surprised, Dinesen asked him if he was unhappy working for her. He told her that all was well, but that he had decided to work for a Christian for three months to study the ways of Christians, and then work for a Muslim for three months to study the ways of a Muslim. After experiencing both, he was going to decide whether to be a Christian or a Muslim.
As always, the gospel comes back to haunt us. Light and darkness, right and wrong, principle or compromise, Pilate or Jesus: it was all there then, just as it is all here now. Every day. "For this I came into the world, to testify to the truth." That is what we are here for, too--isn't it?
(Reprinted with permission from The Word In and Out of Season, pp. 119-122. Copyright 2000 by William J. Bausch. Twenty-third Publications, Mystic, CT. [This resource, as well as many others, is available at a discount through the Homiletic Resource Center. If you enjoyed this homily, you might consider purchasing the BAUSCH TREASURY, a complete set of his homiletic books, including his new ones The Yellow Brick Road, The Word In And Out Of Season and A World of Stories for Preachers and Teachers, as well as all of his previous publications: