God has crossed any chasms between us and God, and now empowers us to bridge the chasms between us and all God’s children, for the life of the creation.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 26 C
Texts: Amos 6:1a, 4-7; Psalm 146; 1 Timothy 6:6-19; Luke 16:19-31

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

There are two great chasms God shows in these readings. The important one isn’t the one you think.

Jesus tells of two of God’s children who die and end up in very different places. One is in God’s presence forever. The other is in torment in, well, the other place. And in Jesus’ story, Abraham says there’s a vast chasm between the two places, and none can cross it.

But it’s the other chasm that God is far more concerned about. The chasm between Lazarus and this rich man in their earthly lives, one eating well in a beautiful house, and one living on the streets with the dogs. The canyon between these two deeply distresses God.

It’s the same chasm Amos decries, declaring God’s judgement on those who lounge on their beds, eating and drinking and being entertained, while their neighbors starve and struggle for life. Hundreds of years of God’s prophets decry the huge chasm between those who are safe and secure, wealthy enough to never miss a meal or doubt about shelter, and those whose every moment is a struggle for survival.

That’s the chasm that makes all these readings so uncomfortable for us today, with our sofas and houses and food and IRAs and privilege. And it breaks God’s heart.

And if God’s children won’t fill this chasm and bridge it, God will be on one side.

We hear it all the time from our Scripture reading in worship and at home. We sing it in our psalms and hymns. Mary sang it. Moses and the prophets declared it. Jesus lived and proclaimed it. The early church centered their lives around it. Here’s how today’s psalm we sang says it: God gives justice to those who are oppressed, food to those who hunger, freedom to the captives. God cares for the stranger and the orphan, lifts up all who are bowed down.

If you and I sit on our comfortable, well-fed side of the chasm, these readings today – and all of Scripture – say God’s going to be on the other side. God wants no gap between God’s children. God wants all to live in freedom and abundance and justice and mercy. But if we keep digging the canyon deeper, or ignoring it, if we ignore those at our gates and on our streets, God will never. God will be with them. On the other side.

But God’s Word has good news for us today, too.

Even if God is on the side of those who struggle, God always keeps reaching out to our side. We have these constant, regular admonitions from Scripture because God simply won’t stop hoping that somehow we’ll hear, be changed, and that this chasm in our world will close.

God could have abandoned the northern kingdom of Israel to their greed and wealth and abuse of poor and oppressed people. But God sent a farmer from the southern kingdom of Judah, Amos, to the north, just to get across God’s word of warning. A warning that included God’s hope that these people would hear, be changed, and so change their world.

Jesus hopes that just maybe rich people like us who hear his story will remember Moses and the prophets and their call to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God, and will be jarred to change. And to change our world.

The joy here is that God hasn’t given up on you. Or on me. Or on the Church. God’s love is for all God’s children, including those in the houses, at the full tables, with the IRAs. God hopes maybe you’ll finally be drawn off the sofa and out the door to start bridging the canyon between God’s children. And if you and I do, and more and more do, this chasm will finally cease to exist.

1 Timothy transforms our fear into hope as well.

Like Amos and Jesus, this writer is also deeply concerned about the chasm between those who have and those who don’t. So again, through this writer, God’s hope for you and me to change still flows.

But this writer says if all God’s children with houses and tables and pantries and IRAs start sharing, become rich in good works for others, become generous, simply do good, we will know what real life is. Life that really is life, this writer says.

God’s true grace is that a world with no chasm between God’s children, where all have enough and are fed, is joy and life in a way that those of us with the houses and tables and IRAs don’t know right now.

You see, Lazarus and this rich man would both have had a truly abundant life if there had been no gap. If everyone had enough to eat, and a place to stay, and medical care for whatever their needs were, it would have been a good, abundant, joyful lif for all. If anyone is in need, you are, too, God’s Word says. If any one suffers, you do, too. And the way to life for one is life for all. That’s Christ’s real life. Abundant life. Joyful life.

But in case you still can’t shake the threats of Jesus’ story, there’s more good news.

Notice that Jesus tells a parable he has every intention of proving wrong.

He has Abraham say that the second chasm in these readings, that is, the eternal chasm between those who are with God in the next life and those who are not, is so wide, so vast, it can never be bridged.

But this is God-with-us talking. God in our flesh, who has literally crossed that chasm already. Who will, on the cross, permanently fill it. Make his sacrificial love the bridge to bring all God’s children back into the loving embrace and dance and life of the Triune God. Rich man and Lazarus and all – all will be with God in the life to come.

Jesus has absolutely no intention of following through on the fear of this parable, throwing you or anyone into torment after this life. He is living – and dying – proof of God’s insistence on ending all the distance between God and God’s children. No chasm is wide enough to keep God from crossing.

But Jesus also does what Abraham says it won’t matter to do.

Abraham tells the rich man that if his living brothers don’t heed the Scriptures they won’t be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.

But Jesus will actually rise from the dead. Christ’s sacrificial love will die for you and me and the whole creation and be transformed into life that creates and restores all things. The Triune God’s resurrection life, poured into you by the Spirit, will empower you and me to start filling the chasm in this world and building bridges. Will fill God’s children with life and the power to change everything and bring all to hope and justice and mercy.

This is the life that really is life – sharing, being generous, bridging gaps, tearing down walls.

Sure, it means giving up more and more of our privilege, more and more of what we have. It means learning new priorities and letting go of our human need to hoard and store up for ourselves. It means opening our eyes to see those at our gates and in our streets as God sees them. It means opening our hearts to care for the same people God cares for, the ones we keep singing about here. It means closing the chasm between God’s children in this world so all may live.

But this is the life that really is life. The only life worth living for you and all God’s children. Nothing can keep you from it, if you really want it.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

This utter foolishness of God, the cross of Christ, is the only wisdom that will give us, and the creation, life.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Holy Cross
Texts: 1 Corinthians 1:18-24; John 3:13-17

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

None of this makes any rational sense. That’s what we celebrate tonight.

You understand that Paul’s not embarrassed when he says the cross of Christ is foolishness and will trip people up? He’s saying with hope that what we cling to for our life and the life of the world is ridiculous by the world’s standards. But it is God’s wisdom that will heal all things.

The world says: use power, control your environment.

Isn’t that what makes human beings great? We can dominate and rule all creatures and the natural world, can even control and dominate our fellow human beings. Might makes right.

But you see what that’s given us? Dysfunction and grief in families because people seek to get their own way at any cost. The oppression and devastation of systemic sexism and racism, embedded in the very fabric of our society and in our own minds and hearts, even if we don’t want it there. The violence and destruction of war, whether it’s nations destroying millions of people or one person taking out a gun and shooting someone else (and often dozens). Our world is riddled with pain and suffering caused by human beings seeking power and control.

But at the cross we see the God of the universe do something completely different.

The holy and Triune God has literally all power to do anything. But on the cross, God-with-us said, “I won’t fight you or anyone. I will love you with my whole heart, my mind, my soul, my strength. Even if you kill me.” This is the path to true life. You’ve seen what power and domination does, God says. Now see the true power of weakness.

That’s the foolishness we proclaim. But it’s God’s wisdom. Healing comes when we set down our weapons. When we don’t control. When we let others harm us rather than hurt them. When we love with God’s foolish unconditionality, God’s reckless vulnerability. This will make a world where all can be safe and whole and loved. Because this weakness can even break down all the systems and structures of power and domination in this world.

And there is great beauty in such vulnerability. Even if the world sees ugly scars.

There is life-transforming beauty in the gift of forgiving offered from one to another. There is life-restoring beauty in someone losing so that another might live. There is world-changing beauty in a society embracing letting go of power for the sake of the powerless.

The path of vulnerable love, God showed at the cross, is the only path that brings hope and healing, and life to all people, not just the strong. The only path that shares God’s abundance rather than hoarding it. The only path that sees the beauty of a precious human being in the eyes of every person.

Can you rejoice in the foolishness of this? Trust the ridiculousness of how you are healed by God and of the shape of your love, your path?

In our worship, we do things to help us get there.

We eat a meal of the body and blood of this crucified God. And we say with Paul, “when we eat of this bread and drink of this cup, we proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” Taking this food into our very bodies we eat the foolishness of God and proclaim the foolishness of God. And this food makes us foolish like God.

We bow to a cross as it’s carried into our midst, as it hangs over our altar, to show in our bodies we once again accept this cross-shaped life, this cross-shaped love, as our own life and love to live.

With our hands we draw a cross upon our body made of dirt and breath, renewing our commitment to that shape of love, and agree again to let God’s foolish wisdom shape us.

None of this makes any rational sense. That’s what we celebrate tonight.

God’s foolishness is actually the only thing that can break what truly makes no sense: this world’s obsession with power and violence and control, an obsession that is killing people and their spirits, killing species, killing this planet. That’s the true nonsense, the truly ridiculous – to continue to play by the world’s rules knowing they lead to death and despair.

Tonight we celebrate. And we pray, as we celebrate: shape our lives to your cross, O Christ. Shape our love into a cross-shaped grace that will bring your foolish love ever deeper into this broken world. So that no one will be lost but all will find life and healing in you.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen