All people and creatures are bound together in Christ in healing and life.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 28 C
Texts: 2 Kings 5:1-15c; Luke 17:1-11

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

They weren’t alone.

Sure, in one sense these ten suffering from a terrible, contagious skin disease were alone. They were banned from contact with loved ones, neighbors, the world, having to shout “unclean” when any came near.

But they had each other. They walked with each other, they made a community. Ten people who understood suffering and pain, loneliness and rejection, sadness and fear, and shared that life with each other when no one else could.

Naaman also had community. A servant girl, a hostage of war, who cared enough for him to suggest a possible cure. A king who valued his leadership enough not to exile him but to generously enable his cure attempt. Servants who loved him enough to insist that he consider trying the prophet’s treatment.

And so it is with us.

Our community here is made up of people suffering from many different things. This community embraces a deep sense that no one here is unbroken. We have no expectations that any here have it all together, that any have no sin, that any have no pain, that any here haven’t suffered rejection or loss or sadness. I’ve never heard anyone say about another in this community, “That’s just not normal.” We expect we’re all in need, and we love each other because of it.

It takes years of a community learning to love those who are hurting, who’ve been turned away elsewhere, who suffer silently, to understand that here woundedness is our normal. You don’t have to pretend you’ve got it together, not here. You don’t have to lie to yourself that people won’t love you if they knew the messes you made, not here. You don’t have to fear that if your truths were told you’d no longer be welcome. Not here.

Our shared sense of need for God leads us here, to this place.

Here is where we are healed, together. Here we meet a scarred, wounded Christ at this table and are given love and life, together. Our little band of sick people shows up here on a Sunday morning and together, like these ten, says, have mercy on us, God! Hear our prayer, and come heal us!

And the healing we receive here, God’s welcome, God’s love and forgiveness, teaches us to love each other, to band together with each other, to be Christ to each other.

And this, too: the healing you receive here, the healing I receive, teaches us to always be ready to welcome others into this group of wounded, sinful, needy people who seek God’s healing and life.

Today we see Syrians and Samaritans included in God’s healing, too.

Not just the chosen ones. All are beloved. Christ draws all people, all things, into the life and heart of the Triune God at the cross. No boundaries, no exceptions.

And the Christ who heals you asks you: what if you learned to see everyone – not just folks here, everyone – with the same understanding as those you know here, the same compassion, expecting all to be wounded as well, wanting to walk with them and help and be helped?

When you understand this breadth of God’s love and healing, all sorts of Jesus’ teachings become clearer. This is why you’re commanded to pray for and love your enemies. Then you admit they’re part of you, they belong, so they can’t be enemies. And empathy for their pain leads you to pray for the removal of their hate, so they can be whole and healed in God, too.

This is the heart of Christian life: all suffering belongs to all of us, all pain matters to all of us, all people are part of us because all are in God’s loving embrace.

And Jesus invites you to see healing is deeper than just physical health.

Jesus says to the thankful one, “your faith has saved you,” or, “your faith has made you well.” For Jesus, being saved is being healed in God’s love and in God’s community even if some ailments remain. God’s healing and wholeness is real even when individual pains aren’t taken away, because in Christ we find the healing of our spirit, our heart, our mind, our life, together.

So Paul can be content in any and all circumstances, even after praying that his suffering be removed and not having it removed, because he is part of Christ, part of Christ’s family, and knows Christ’s peace.

And so we, who know so many whose physical or mental illnesses aren’t removed, who know that everyone here, and all God’s children, are wounded, inside or out, who know that the pains and suffering of this world will not all be fixed in our lifetime, we find salvation and wholeness in the deeper healing of God’s love that has made us one and whole in Christ with all creatures.

We haven’t talked about gratitude yet. Maybe we don’t need to.

Naaman overflowed with gratitude for his healing. One of the ten who was healed broke from the group and ran back and gave thanks to Jesus. We don’t know about the other nine, but they’re not the point.

When you know the amazing gift of healing and wholeness you have in Christ and in each other, you don’t need to be reminded to be grateful for it. Not a day goes by without me being thankful to God for all of you, for this community of wounded people who walks with me in my woundedness, and are Christ to me, who, with me, gathers at this Table seeking forgiveness and life and wholeness.

And the more we understand the connectedness God has made between us and all God’s children, and everything else in creation, the more we see the place of this broken, troubled, wounded world in God’s heart and life, gratitude comes pretty easily.

You belong, always, to this fellowship of broken ones. And everyone, all people, even the hard ones, do too. And in that community God’s healing comes. In this world, and even in a life that is to come.

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

Faithfulness, not faith, will be how you change the world in Christ.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 27 C
Texts: Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4; Luke 17:5-10 (with ref. to Matthew 8:23-27)

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

The storm terrified even these experienced sailors.

This couldn’t be the first storm they’d seen on the Sea of Galilee. These were home waters, but winds rose so high they feared they’d be swamped and all would drown. Meanwhile their beloved Teacher is sound asleep on a nice cushion, oblivious to the chaos and their terror. They wake him up, charging that he doesn’t even care if they perish.

And Jesus says, “Why are you afraid, ‘Littlefaiths’? and calms the storm. (Matthew 8:23-27, with some detail from Mark 4)

Normally translated “you of little faith,” it’s just one word, like a nickname: “Littlefaiths.” Maybe it’s a nickname he’s used before. It could be insulting. Except for Jesus’ words today.

He says the size of your faith isn’t relevant.

Maybe you are good old “Littlefaith,” afraid most days, doubting yourself, wondering if God cares about your life, this world. But today Jesus says “Littlefaith” is just enough.

With just a little faith you could move a mountain, Jesus says, as Matthew tells this story. Here, in Luke, Jesus says with just a little faith you could uproot a mulberry tree and fling it into the sea. When Jesus calls you “Littlefaith,” it’s a term of endearment, a nickname of hope: because if you had even a little faith, you could do amazing things.

Thing is, we’re in a world where a massive storm threatens to overwhelm everything, and it sometimes feels we’re in this mess alone, God isn’t doing anything. “Don’t you care that we’re perishing?” many of us have cried out to God in these days. Healing this world’s pain feels far more serious than tossing trees into the ocean.

Habakkuk agrees.

Habakkuk cries out just like the disciples did in the boat, wondering how long he has to call for help while God doesn’t listen. Destruction and violence are everywhere, he says, the law is slack, and justice never prevails. The wicked surround the righteous. And Habakkuk is frightened. Tired of asking God for help that never comes.

Once again it’s stunning that words written thousands of years ago seem to have been written and saved up for just this time, our world, this pain and oppression and violence and injustice we know. So we tiredly wait alongside a prophet most of us hardly remember is in the Bible, wondering what God will say.

And God’s answer sounds a lot like our Gospel reading.

There is a vision for the healing, God says to Habakkuk. If it seems to be delayed, wait for it, because it’s surely coming. And then God says this: the righteous will live by their faithfulness.

Now, Martin Luther loved this verse, and understood it to say the righteous will live by faith. He tied that into his deep insight that we are saved, made whole with God through faith alone, by God’s grace alone.

But the word is better translated faithfulness. That is, it’s not whether you have enough faith. It’s whether you’re being faithful. Which is exactly Jesus’ point today. It doesn’t matter what the master does or doesn’t do. All that matters is that you are faithful in your serving.

So for you and me, Littlefaiths all, it’s not about asking to have our faith increased, as the disciples did today. God’s answer is that we find just enough faith to be faithful. To do our calling in this world. Even if the storm is still raging. The mountain standing. The tree rooted.

See, that’s the challenging part. There’s no promise the storm will calm right away.

God tells the prophet that God’s healing is coming, but he might have to wait. The mountain of evil and oppression and injustice that we hope to remove from our world is a mountain. It will take time. The roots of racism, sexism, prejudice, self-centeredness grow deep into the heart of our world, and our hearts. That tree will not easily be uprooted and thrown out.

And worst, Jesus seems to treat slavery as normative here. Nothing in the parable says “end slavery now.” Words like these became powerful ways for white slaveholders to keep their feet on the backs and necks of the people they abused and oppressed.

But that’s not the end of the story.

The Way of Christ, the way of faithfulness, has changed the world profoundly.

Slaves certainly heard this parable when Jesus said it. He attracted people at the margins and loved them in God’s name. The early church drew heavily from people who were slaves, impoverished, oppressed. They found hope in a God who cared for them enough to become one of them, who called them beloved even if others saw them as dirt.

And those followers of the Way, with their faithfulness, eventually broke slavery around the world in most places where they lived. It took centuries. Far too long, many would say, and they’d be right. But the tree was uprooted nonetheless.

So you look at a deeply rooted tree and say “how could anyone make that come out of the ground and fly into the ocean?” But notice: Jesus never says you can’t use tools. He never says how much time it will take or how much patience it will need. He just says with a little faith you can do amazing things with your faithfulness.

God’s way of healing the world needs God’s people. That’s how God works.

And if you have just a little trust, enough faith to say, “I’ll try to be faithful as Christ today, work at those roots, dig at the problems however I can,” you will see things change. Even if very slowly.

But you know that already. Over hundreds of years, so many mountains have been moved, so many trees uprooted for the life of the world.

Now we’re facing our own. And when you focus on faithfulness as your way you will find hope. And you, beloved Littlefaith, will be a hope that others can cling to.

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