On Reign of Christ Sunday, the church considers what it means to follow a crucified king. Jesus rules from the cross, extending his mercy and compassion to all. As followers of Christ, we reject all forms of violence and instead go out to serve.

Vicar Erik Nelson
The Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 23 C
Texts: Jeremiah 23:1-6; Psalm 46; Colossians 1:11-20; Luke 23:33-43

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

Every Sunday, there’s something I notice that I don’t think many other people do.

In all the dozens of hours I’ve spent sitting right there, (point to my seat in the chancel) I’ve always looked up in the south chancel window, and looked for the ear.

Out of context, that ear in the stained glass seems totally random. But in context, it serves as a powerful object lesson.

This ear comes from Luke 22, the chapter directly preceding today’s Gospel reading. As the temple guards came to arrest Jesus, one of Jesus’ followers did something totally expected, totally natural. He wanted to defend Jesus. So he took out his sword and struck one of the attackers, a slave of the high priest, cutting off his ear.

Jesus’s response to this episode, though, tells us a lot about his identity as our ruler. He said, “no more of this!” picked up the ear, and healed the slave.

This episode is an example of what happens when we misunderstand what kind of king Jesus is, and what his reign looks like.

We often think Jesus needs us to take up swords to defend him. Sometimes these are literal swords, like the episode in the garden. But often we also see Christians tempted to take up the sword of the state or the sword of scripture to cast down their enemies.

But this is not the kind of leader Jesus is.

Jesus is a ruler whose reign is marked by tenderness and mercy. He loves his enemies and makes room at the table for everyone.

In Jeremiah, God is the one who gathers us up, mending our damage. In the Psalm, God breaks the bow and shatters the spear. In Luke 22, Jesus heals the slave’s ear.

And in Luke 23, Jesus gives us an even deeper insight into the reign of Christ, that is marked by forgiveness, compassion, and promise.

In the beginning of the reading, they take Jesus up to the place where criminals were taken to be killed. Of course, Jesus was not a criminal. He did nothing wrong.

But his life was a threat to his rulers. They saw the way he welcomed outsiders in, and went to the margins, and they heard him say that this was the way of God, his Father.

And this combination — claiming his identity as the Son of God, the long-awaited Savior-King, and challenging these old orthodoxies and strict binaries — led to the arrest and sham trial that got him killed.

As they took him to the hill and nailed him to the cross, they mocked him and jeered at him. All four Gospels tell us about the sign they made that said, “King of the Jews.” This was a funny joke to the Romans. They wanted to send the message that this is what happens when you challenge the empire.

And his response to that was only, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”

Jesus knew that the world protects power at any cost. Jesus knew that his ministry that challenged unjust systems and structures would be met with deadly force by the ones with the most committed to maintaining those structures. 

We sometimes put the blame only on the religious leaders who handed him over to be executed. Or we point only at the Roman politicians and soldiers, as they were ones who actually carried out the killing.

But we don’t see the ways that our own systems today continue to crucify Jesus. The image of God is seen in every unhoused neighbor who shivers in the cold tonight. Christ is crucified again and again whenever we act with callousness and cruelty against other children of God.

And yet we hear Jesus say, in the face of such violence and cruelty, “Father forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”

Jesus offers his killers — and us — forgiveness.

And in response to those grace-filled words, Jesus faces more cruelty. “He saved others; let him save himself. If he is the Messiah of God, God’s chosen one!” and, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!”

In the face of this mockery, Jesus was silent. Ironically, the things these soldiers said were true. Jesus could have saved himself. He could have called down armies of angels to defend him from death.

And yet he chose to stay there, refusing to inflict more violence, in a violent world, showing us a surprising, paradoxical image of God’s power. God’s love and power is shown to us most clearly in Christ dying for his friends.

The thing a bully wants most is a response. In his silence, Jesus didn’t give these soldiers what they wanted. In his silence, I hope these soldiers heard the shameful cruelty of their words.

In the face of our mockery, in response to our hard hearts, Jesus here gives us an opportunity to recommit ourselves to his way.

And in this last interaction, with the two other crucified people, Jesus shows us an image of his way… he shows us what his reign is like.

This first criminal continues the mockery, and in response to it, Jesus continues to be silent. 

The second criminal rebukes the first, confessing both his own sin, and Jesus’ innocence. His next line to Jesus, I think, reveals his guilty conscience, the deep shame he carried inside him.

He has faith that Jesus will enter into his kingdom, but he thinks he can’t come along. It’s not a kingdom for people like him. He says, “Jesus remember me,” because he thinks there’s no way he could deserve to be in that place. He could only be a memory.

But the way that Jesus responds overturns his expectations. He overturns our expectations. He shows us that the way of God, the reign of Christ, is marked by abundance and mercy. He tells him that today, you will be with him in Paradise.

Thank God that second criminal got to hear those words of life.

But my mind also goes to that first criminal. The one who, in the depths of his pain and anguish and grief, mocked Jesus.

I believe that those words of life were for both criminals hanging there. Those words of life were for the Roman soldiers who nailed him to the cross, and the religious leaders who ordered it. Those words of life are for us.

In his death, rising, and ascension, Christ broke the power of sin, death, and the devil.

In the midst of the crucifixion, Jesus remained the image of the invisible God. Our reading from Colossians tells us, “through Christ, God was pleased to reconcile to God’s own self all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of Christ’s cross.”

Thank God that we hear those words of life. We are reconciled to God. I tell you that today you will be with Christ in Paradise.

And it’s not because of any of our good works, and can’t be prevented by any of our wrongdoing. Before and beyond anything we do or don’t do, Jesus has told us that, “today you will be with me in Paradise.”

But thankfully, we don’t have to die today, in order to get there. In a few minutes, as we come forward to the table, to receive Christ’s body and blood, we will experience a moment with him in Paradise. 

But as we come to the table, we’re not meant to just stay here. We receive the body of Christ so that we might be the body of Christ in the world.

We come and receive Christ’s abundance that we might go and give from our abundance.

When we leave today, we bring Paradise with us. Every time we follow Christ’s example of forgiveness, compassion, and promise, eternity breaks into the everyday.

The reign of Christ is a now and not-yet thing. He reigns among us now. And he will come again to reign among us forever. All the wars will end. All the systems of oppression will be broken. All will be fed and warm and safe.

But we don’t have to wait until then to do the work. We can end conflict in our lives. We can work to overturn systems of oppression. And we can feed the hungry and clothe the naked and shelter the homeless now.

And in doing so, today, we will be with Christ in Paradise.

Thanks be to God.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

You and I may never make a measurable impact, be a visible success by the world’s standards, in serving Christ. But all we are called to be is faithful, and God gives us the strength we need.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 33 C
Texts: Luke 21:5-19; 2 Thessalonians 3:6-13

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

Jesus was right. We saw it.

Your group visiting our mission partners in Palestine stood last Monday morning on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. There was no Temple to be seen. A beautiful seventh-century shrine, the Dome of the Rock, and a mosque, stood there. Scholars can’t even agree exactly where on that huge platform this Temple that caused the disciples to gape in awe actually stood. So the chief rabbi of Jerusalem forbids Jews from walking on the Temple Mount because they might inadvertently commit sacrilege by straying onto what was once the Holy of Holies. No one knows for sure where it was. Nothing is left.

Not a stone will be left on stone? Jesus was absolutely right.

We saw that everywhere we went. At nearly every church erected on a holy place where Jesus and the women and men following him went, the story was the same. Again and again we heard that the first structures were built in the first centuries or often by the Byzantines, destroyed by the Persians, rebuilt by the Crusaders, torn down again by some caliph or sultan, and eventually rebuilt. Many we visited are only 20th or 21st century structures. As faithfully and lovingly as Christian believers built their impressive edifices, they didn’t last.

These are important words for us to hear.

For example, what about our building, this house of faith? Beautifully designed, carefully planned, lovingly cared for these 90 years. It would be easy to admire this place and all we do, and, like the disciples, say “we’ve got it all taken care of. Look how beautiful this is!”

Our tendency to trust in ourselves to secure our future, to look to build a legacy, to leave behind something permanent and lasting is folly. But this building and all we have could be gone in a moment, as people around the world constantly learn. That magnificent Temple was utterly destroyed only 40 years later. Palestinians regularly lose their homes in a single day to bulldozers. Churches are demolished by the next conquering force. Our democratic institutions prove fragile and vulnerable and susceptible to deep damage. Nothing will last.

Jesus isn’t trying to frighten. He’s almost calm as he speaks of end times, because his main goal is to invite you not to fear, not to worry about whether you’ll make a difference, or whether you’ll fail or be rejected. Instead, he says, focus on something else.

We need to unpack that a bit.

We might not be as focused on our building as I just made out. But we do hope to make a difference in this world. Whether it’s feeling like we’ve accomplished something to end racism or sexism or oppression or systemic violence or homelessness or poverty, we hope and wish we could make a lasting impact. To look back in five, ten, thirty years and see we made a difference.

Jesus says that’s just not guaranteed. In fact, he says you should expect to fail more than succeed. There will be setbacks, frustrations. Our efforts will be opposed, our spirits flagged, our hopes diminished. Our group came back from this trip pretty overwhelmed by the enormous, complex nature of the problems our partners face, and few answers as to how that could be transformed.

But that’s true of our work here, too. It’s never going to be easy to be a faithful follower, Jesus says. And we’re not likely to have huge, measurable accomplishments, either as individuals or as a community.

Which gives us a couple options.

We could circle the wagons, push away outsiders that don’t like us or that we don’t like, not worry about the planet because it’s all going away anyway, not worry about the suffering of others because we can’t stop it anyway, and just make sure we who are inside our circle of concern are OK. Given that goes against everything Jesus taught and lived, we’re safe to abandon this option.

But another way is found in Jesus’ parables of the end times. Jesus repeatedly tells stories where the master returns at a surprising time and honors the ones who simply tried to be faithful at their work. In other words, Jesus says again and again, just be about what you are called to be and do. Don’t worry about your impact. Just be faithful to your calling. Then, no matter how it all ends, you’ll be doing what needs doing.

And we know what that means for us. We can act on this.

There are needs, and we have God-given resources, and we can do something. There are children and adults in Palestine and India and Chile and Guatemala and Nigeria who need God’s care and love, and we can do something about that through our global work. There are partners in this city and through the work of our ELCA siblings around the country doing vital work for those in need of God’s grace that struggle for funds, and we can do something about that through our tithes and offerings.

There is ministry here in this place and in our neighborhood that needs doing the rest of this year and next year, and beyond, vital work of being God’s presence amongst our neighbors and seeing God’s presence in our neighbors, that in our serving and working and caring we can do something about.

So don’t grow weary in doing what is right, my dear family, Paul says.

Because nothing you do in Christ is ever in vain. Not your smile to the person on the corner with the cardboard sign and your greeting of peace. Not your helping of your neighbor, or your making a call to your elected leaders, or the time and passion and wealth you spend with your family in this faith community serving in any number of different ways. None of that is wasted. None is ineffective.

And: you’re in God’s hands and can’t ultimately be harmed, Jesus says, even if all this falls down. You’re in God’s grace and forgiveness, covering all you’ve done and haven’t done that’s hindered God’s work in the world. The grace of God fills you, the Spirit of God transforms you, and God removes your weariness.

In the end, nothing will last. But for now, you are needed, and Christ promises today you are blessed with Christ’s strength and courage, and wisdom to be able to serve.

So, my dear family, do not grow weary in doing what is right.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen