Four things give us hope in a world of fear: Christ opens our access to God; we can hold tightly to the abiding love God has for us; we can provoke each other to good; and our community, together, is where God does all this.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Twenty-fifth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 33 B
Texts: Hebrews 10:11-25; Mark 13:1-8

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

What do you expect these days when you check the news?

Do you open your paper, log into your news site, turn on your radio, and expect you’ll hear something hopeful? Or that you’ll be dismayed or frustrated?

As each new day begins, do you expect signs that all we face is improving, whether it’s the pandemic, or critical changes to our society, or even possibly a strengthening of our democracy? Or do you simply expect it’s bad, and it’s going to get worse, because when you’ve allowed yourself to hope you were badly disappointed?

The disciples, at this point in Holy Week, are hopeful.

They’re small town folks in the big city as Passover approaches, and they’re a little overwhelmed: big buildings, big city, big crowds. They sigh appreciatively at the impressiveness. But Jesus throws cold water on their awe. He tells them it’s all going to be torn town, destroyed. And it will, only 40 years later. He says things are going to get bad before they get better. And they do, starting with Jesus’ death.

Today’s Gospel begins a long section of apocalyptic warnings that though God is working in the world, lots of things will not go well – wars, violence, threats to mothers with children, and so on – and they shouldn’t be surprised by that. I’ll bet they were. But we’re not.

We seem less surprised by these apocalyptic readings the more we hear them.

Each November the lectionary nears the end of the Church Year with readings from Scripture’s apocalyptic texts. Warnings of the end time, encouragement to believers, challenges to be awake and alert.

These don’t shock us anymore. It’s been a long time since any of us looked at our world and said, “Look how great it all is, how our civilization is prospering, the big buildings, the big cities, the big crowds!” Jesus’ warnings that the world will oppose God’s grace and love, and that things are falling apart, are pretty much what we expect, not something startling.

Maybe that’s a blessing of this end-of-year focus. As we check the news each day, to know Jesus said it might get this bad somehow helps.

But we still need to know how to cope, don’t we?

How not to be “alarmed,” as Jesus urges. Can we live in these end times – even if they last beyond us – faithfully and with courage? Face each day’s news saying, “God is with us and we have a job to do and we will be alright?”

“Glad you asked,” says the writer of Hebrews. In fact, this preacher – it’s more a sermon than a letter – blesses you today with the direction you need to not only endure these times but thrive and be God’s blessing. “Let us do these four things,” the preacher says. There we will find God. And hope.

Let us approach God with confidence.

You have full and open access to God, Hebrews promises, because God in Christ has opened the way into God’s house for you and all people. All we’ve heard about Jesus from Hebrews these past weeks in worship leads to this joy: Christ Jesus has done the priestly work once and for all of connecting humanity to God. God’s door is open. You can approach God with a true heart and full trust.

So how will you cope with these apocalyptic times? Bring all your concerns, your confession, your anxiety, your complaint, your fear, your grief, your frustration, to the God whose door is always open to you. Who in Christ has made a way for you to approach God with confidence and trust.

Let us also hold fast to our hope without wavering, because God is faithful.

You belong to a God, Hebrews reminds you, who has made a new covenant with you and all people. Written on your heart. A covenant of abiding and eternal love and grace where God promises even to forget your sins forever.

In Christ’s resurrection, God has proven to be faithful, Hebrews says. If God says you’re forgiven, loved, blessed, and promises never to remember your sins, you can hold that hope forever.

So how will you cope with these apocalyptic times and your concerns about your part in them, good or evil, known or unknown?

Cling to the hope that you are eternally and constantly loved by the Triune God who, in Christ, has entered death and brought life through it, a life that now is yours to fill you always. Cling to the hope that nothing, nothing can separate you from God’s love in Christ – not these times, not what you do or don’t do. Hold tight to that as if your life depends on it. Because it does.

And let us also consider how to provoke each other to love and good deeds.

You know what Hebrews means, don’t you? That loved one who irritates you by reminding you of things you do or don’t do that contribute to the problems of our world? Who reminds you of our interconnectedness and calls you – by their modeling and their words – to be better in this world, to pay attention to your words and actions? We all know people like that.

Good, says Hebrews. Let’s all be that way. Clinging fast to the truth that you are loved and forgiven by God, and in that hope, help each other find the way you are called to live.

Let’s consider how we can provoke, irritate, bug each other to love and good deeds. That’s how God will heal this world from these apocalyptic times. That’s the birth pangs Jesus talks about: your love and mine, and the love of all God’s children are bearing life, gradually vaccinating the world with God’s love until healing and life happens for all.

And let us not neglect to meet together as the times get harder.

You are not alone in these times. That’s God’s gift, the community of those who trust the birthing of God’s life and love is happening. Together we’re able to stand and move and live and love.

From the community of believers you learn to trust in God’s open door, and find help in clinging to the hope that you are loved. And this community of Christs will provoke you, as you, Christ yourself, provoke them, to love and good deeds.

So let’s not neglect meeting together. A great hardship of our time apart was that we were apart. We found ways to connect with some over the Internet. But being together in God’s presence in worship, sharing song and silence; encouraging each other in person, loving each other, challenging each other in person, we lost for a time. Now we know more than ever that we need to be together as God’s people in these times.

All this we experience – this is the birth pangs of God’s new creation, Jesus says.

So don’t be alarmed: God’s love is working in your heart and in mine and in the hearts of God’s children everywhere, and God’s life will break forth. Is breaking forth even now.

Let us hold on to that hope together, as God walks beside and in us, leading the world toward the birth of God’s new creation.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

God shares our suffering, brings life in the midst of death, even if we think we’re abandoned by God: is that enough for you?

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
All Saints Sunday, year B
Texts: John 11:32-44 (adding vv. 17, 20-31 as well); Isaiah 25:6-9; Revelation 21:1-6

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

You know what our real problem with this Gospel story is, right?

The problem we have with this Gospel, the one we don’t talk about, the neighbors in Bethany name openly. They see Jesus weeping and say, “look how much he loved him! But how come if he healed that blind person we heard about, he didn’t keep this person he loved from dying?”

The problem we have with this Gospel, the one we don’t talk about, Martha and Mary both name openly. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother wouldn’t have died.”

The problem we have with this Gospel, the one we don’t talk about, is that secretly in our hearts, we agree with them all.

But somewhere along the line someone taught Christians never to criticize God.

I’ve worked as a pastor for over 30 years, and it is deep-rooted in us. Our first instinct might be to agree with Martha and Mary and their neighbors. But we can’t say that the Son of God blew it.

So we make theological excuses for Jesus’ behavior here. We try to explain away why he delayed coming.

And we keep quiet about what’s really on our heart when we see the suffering of our neighbors, or the death and dying of loved ones, or our own suffering and pain. We’re afraid to say out loud that if God really cared, God would do something, afraid to suggest God dropped the ball, or worse, doesn’t care.

But the folks in this story have a legitimate complaint. And you know it.

Three times in chapter 11, Jesus’ love for this family is named. The sisters sent Jesus a note that said “Lord, the one whom you love is sick.” Then John says, “Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, he stayed two days longer.” Last, the neighbors see Jesus weep and say, “He really loved him.”

But Jesus delayed coming for two days. This family he loved asked for help – a healing he’d done dozens of times to people he barely knew – and he declined. Whatever his reasons, none absolve him from this charge: if he loved Lazarus so much, why didn’t he prevent this death?

And we have the same, legitimate question when we see a suffering world, with persistent evil, or pray for healing that doesn’t seem to come, or long for God to intervene in whatever way. If “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so” is true, and if God loves you, or our neighbors, or those who are poor, or those who are oppressed, or whomever, so much, why doesn’t God do something to prevent this pain and suffering?

But you’ve been sold a lie if you think you can’t criticize God. Just read your Bible.

God’s people regularly complain about God’s apparent indifference to their pain or suffering, especially in the Hebrew Scriptures. Even heroes of the faith do.

But look no further than today’s Gospel for permission. Martha hears Jesus is near and runs out to meet him in all her frustration and anger and fully lets him have it. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died,” she rails at this one who supposedly loves her.

Mary isn’t Martha. Martha’s grief is seen in anger, Mary’s in overwhelming sadness. When Jesus finally gets to her, Mary chokes through her tears her feeling of being abandoned by this one who supposedly loves her: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

Look at these sisters whom Jesus loved. They say to you, “Bring it to God if you have to. Your disappointment. Your sadness. Your anger. Your criticism.” Neither of them worried Jesus might be upset. They spoke truth to God-with-us, their Lord, the One who loved them and whom they trusted for life.

If you still doubt them, look how Jesus responds.

Jesus lets Martha rant, and responds the only way she wants: he engages her arguments. She wants nothing to do with his first try – don’t talk to me about my brother living again at the end, she says. What about right now? What about getting here on time to stop this?

Then Jesus – still not offended – offers himself to Martha. He says, “You know, I am resurrection and life for you right now. No matter what happens. I am your life and hope, and in that life you never have to feel death’s grip on your heart like you do right now.”

Then Jesus apparently asks, “how’s Mary?” He knows he owes both sisters. Martha gets Mary, and because Mary is not Martha, he’s different with her. He sees them all weeping and is deeply moved himself. Begins to weep himself. He shares her tears, feels her pain. Because he loves her. He loves Martha. He loves Lazarus. Why wouldn’t he weep with them?

So, is what Jesus does enough for you?

Take away the miracle at the end. It’s beautiful and all, but you and I and this whole world live on this side of the closed tomb, the side of death and suffering, where it stinks. Where people die and stay dead. Where people are oppressed, the powers that oppress seem unlimited, and suffering continues unabated.

If we live our lives on this side with Mary and Martha, before the miracle, is Jesus’ response enough?

It seems to be for Martha. She proclaims a beautiful statement of her trust in Jesus for life right now (because she’s clearly not expecting Jesus to do what he does at the tomb.) Mary’s the quiet one, it’s hard to tell if Jesus sharing her tears is enough.

But is it enough for you? To know that God weeps with you? That the Triune God’s face we see in Jesus shows a God whose love for you is real, and who shares your pain, the world’s pain? That even in the worst of circumstances God somehow offers you Jesus’ promise to Martha of being life in you?

And maybe we shouldn’t be so quick to stop before the end of this story.

True, none of us have ever been at a graveside where this happened. None of us expects that all of the systemic things that ail our world are suddenly going to go away and all God’s children are going to be singing Kumbaya together in the center of Minneapolis. But there are things you can rely on as certain:

First, God loves you enough to be with you wherever you need God to be. Not always acting as you necessarily want or hope, but with you. Listening to your anger with love and answering with a promise of life in the Spirit that can sustain you in a world of death. Embracing your tears and weeping alongside you.

And second, God does do miracles even now. The Triune God brings life in the midst of death in this world. Watch for it – in our world, in your life. God works through and in you and me, and God’s resurrection life in Christ will not be denied. Even if it takes years to raise our world to life out of the death it’s in. Or years for God to heal your heart and show you how loved you are.

And lastly there’s this hope, too, that we remember deeply today: there is life to come after we die. A life where, as Isaiah and John say today, God wipes away all tears and ends all dying and weeping forever. That is real and true and it is promised you and all creation by God-with-us, Jesus the Christ.

See how much God loves you? Loves the world? Can you trust it can be enough?

In the name of Jesus.  Amen