The Triune God reverses from wrath and enters into the darkness and evil of this world to bear the weight for us, to offer us peace and joy in the love of God that embraces us and the creation.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 28 A
Texts: Exodus 32:1-14; Psalm 106:1-6, 19-23; Philippians 4:1-9; Matthew 22:1-14

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

God’s anger is terrifying in these readings.

The God who rescued Israel from Egypt, carried them through the Red Sea, fed and watered them in the wilderness is now, at the foot of Mount Sinai, threatening to “consume them.” “Let me alone,” God says to Moses, “so that my wrath may burn hot against them.” God will make Moses the new Abraham, once God has destroyed the others.

If we hear today’s parable in the usual way and assume the ruler in the story stands for the Triune God, then the anger of God in this parable equals the anger at Sinai. The ruler sends troops to the city of those who rejected the invitation, destroys them all, and burns their city.

No one disputes that the Holy and Triune God has every right to be angry at whatever God might be angry at. If we, created in the divine image, can and do get angry, of course we have to believe God can and does. It’s just horrifying to witness here.

It’s not a surprise, though.

God’s anger at Sinai is because these people whom God lovingly broke out of oppression and slavery, saved from the Egyptian army, and provided for in their wandering, have created an idol out of gold and held an orgy in honor of it. Only forty days and nights after receiving the Ten Commandments, Israel’s breaking a bunch of them.

And in the parable, those invited to the wedding feast not only reject the invitation, they mock it. Some go back to their own business, but others seize the representatives and kill them. The ruler is justifiably furious about the treatment of the invitation and these faithful servants.

If we assume that the Holy and Triune God can and does get angry over human behavior, we’re surely not surprised that idolatry, unfaithfulness, blasphemy, and murder would inspire such righteous wrath.

Here’s what we don’t see coming: the Holy and Triune God doesn’t act on this wrath.

At Sinai, Moses “stood in the breach,” as we sang with the psalmist today, and said firmly to the God of the universe: “you can’t do that.” Moses argued that God’s reputation was at stake, that Egypt would witness the destruction of these people and conclude that their God was evil and brought them out just to kill them. And God WHO IS changed God’s own mind about the disaster planned for Israel.

But, you rightly notice, if in the parable we see the ruler as standing for God, there’s no Moses here. The ruler simply sends in the army, kills the wrongdoers, and burns down the city.

The problem is that interpretation doesn’t take into account the end of the parable.

Jesus told this parable in the middle of Holy Week. That accounts for Jesus’ anger and strong language. Jesus is, of course, under tremendous pressure and deeply frustrated at the rejection of the elders of God’s people, as his Holy Week parables reveal. But today’s parable doesn’t end here, where we stopped. This is around Wednesday of Holy Week, and within twenty-four hours Jesus will be kneeling in anguish in Gethsemane. Within forty-eight hours he’ll be dying on the cross. That’s where this parable ends.

And there’s your Moses, my friends. The Holy and Triune God doesn’t need Moses to “stand in the breach” on behalf of God’s people anymore. The Incarnate Son of God stands there now.

In Gethsemane Jesus struggles between wanting to destroy the leaders who rejected God’s embrace, and the divine desire to enter fully into the evil and pain and darkness of the world to draw all things back into God.

And we know Jesus’ final decision in Gethsemane. He will not bring armies of angels to destroy his enemies. He will allow himself to be arrested and tortured and brutally killed. He will, in fact, to use his own words, willingly go into the “outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth” himself. That’s where the ruler in this parable is at the end of it.

This all deeply matters to you and me. It’s not just about the past.

Even if our idolatry doesn’t take the form of a golden calf and an orgy, we seek other things to rule us, things that are more comfortable, visible, tangible, than a God who cannot be seen, who challenges us to live in God’s way. That’s undeniable. What we look to for our greatest good – our finances, our reputation, the approval of others, our own way of doing things, whatever– becomes the driving force in our decisions and actions, not God.

And the invitation to join all people at God’s feast of life, to see God’s celebration as the point of this life and the shape of the next, seems too good to pass up. But we humans pretty easily set aside God’s inclusive invitation in favor of a narrow, self-centered, smaller view that we’re what’s important, our needs are what we care about. Everyone else is on their own.

Seeing God’s wrath at idolatry and rejection is terrifying because we know we do the same things.

Yet Paul says to you today: Rejoice. Don’t be anxious. God is near.

We’ve heard Paul tell us these past weeks that Christ Jesus humbled himself and endured death on the cross, that that is God’s plan and God’s loving action. Not wrath. Not destruction.

And so, Paul has told us, that means that belonging to such a God gives you the confidence, as it did Paul, to live in whatever circumstances you find yourself. Paul knows his sin and failing, and trusts that God’s answer in Christ is grace, not judgment, because of the cross. Paul knows torture, rejection, imprisonment, hunger, suffering, because of following Christ. And yet he is at peace, even in his jail cell, because Christ is with him in the darkness.

It’s simple, Paul says. Jesus reveals that God’s mind is changed to love, not wrath.

So, rejoice in God’s changed mind, Paul says. Pray with thanksgiving to the God who is near you, and God will calm your anxious heart. Focus on what is good, honorable, commendable, just, pure, Paul says. It will help you not be overwhelmed by all the problems we face.

And keep on doing the things you’ve learned and received and heard in Christ, Paul says. Keep being faithful. Stand in the breach for others if they need it, because there is pain and suffering in this world, even if we learn to focus on the good and the commendable and the beautiful. You might be needed in the breach as Christ was needed, to offer your life as love to your neighbor and to the world.

And when you do all these things, Paul says, you will find the God of peace is with you. Not the God of wrath. And that’s life for you, and for the world.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

The way of Christ – a way of life and love and peace – stumbles us out of our way of death, breaks open our hearts to be like God’s, and heals all things.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 27 A
Texts: Matthew 21:33-46; Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20; Philippians 3:4b-14

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 is a stumbling block. A rock that breaks things into pieces.

Jesus says so, not his enemies.

He quotes Psalm 118, “the stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord’s doing and it is amazing in our eyes.” We know that Psalm. We sing it every Easter morning, rejoicing that Christ, the rejected stone, the Crucified One, has been raised from the dead. Is the Rock on which we build our life, the Cornerstone of the hope of the universe, the Foundation of the Church.

But that foundation, that rock, that cornerstone, trips people up, causes them to stumble? Breaks them into pieces? How can Jesus be both cornerstone and stumbling block?

Jesus is just telling the truth, nothing more.

Jesus isn’t threatening to break us in pieces or knock us over on our path if we do wrong. He’s still God-with-us, the Risen Christ, whose love for us and the creation never ends, the foundation of our hope. But he’s saying, following me means you will fall over me when you try to go your own way. You have habits, behaviors, attitudes, that need to be broken and gotten rid of, or you can’t follow in my way.

In First Corinthians, Paul said the cross of Christ is a stumbling block, not only to others, but even to us. It’s not just a stumbling block to our minds, though, to understand what God is doing at the cross. Today Jesus says it’s also a challenge to us in our everyday life, our discipleship, our following.

“Lose your life to find it,” Jesus says. Following the One who loses his life for the sake of the world means that’s our path, too. And that’s a huge stumbling block to us. We fear being knocked out of our comfortable way of doing things. We fear letting go of things, fear the pain we might feel. But if you’re following Christ and nothing ever causes you to stumble out of your own path, nothing ever is broken out of you and lost, you’re probably not following Christ.

You don’t have to fall over Jesus at all, though. You can dodge the stumbling block. Just don’t follow Jesus.

No one is forced to follow Christ on the path of self-giving, losing love. If you don’t want to stumble over Jesus, or be broken open, just go your own path and you’ll never encounter even a misstep.

But if you see that Jesus’ way is a way of life and hope for you and for all, you won’t be able to dodge the stumbling block.

If you believe that a way of love of God and love of neighbor is a way that will heal the world, if you know that Jesus’ way is a way of making peace, of merciful justice, if you see that love of enemies is the hope of reconciliation for all people, then Jesus is going to be tripping you up a lot in your everyday life. Breaking you open.

Because the way that dodges the stumbling block, avoids being broken, is a way that we see all too much today. That appalling display last Tuesday night in the “debate” is just the ugly face on a world where far too many live for themselves, whether others are hurt or not. The hatred we see for others in our leaders, in our culture, the systemic problems that cause so much needless suffering, the destructive selfish behaviors that shock us to see even in ourselves, these are all on the path that avoids being broken and tripped up.

The path of life Jesus offers the world, the path that looks so wholesome, and good, and fulfilling, and hopeful, is found by stumbling into Jesus’ way and being willing to be broken open for love – love of God, love of neighbor, love of the creation.

But remember: on Christ’s path you are always, always with the One who loves you with an eternal love.

If you follow Jesus, yes, you’ll stumble over taking up his cross, you’ll be broken open. But you’re following the One who tells you daily you are forever loved in the heart of the Triune God, and that life follows death, healing follows suffering. You’re following the One you trust with your life.

When Israel heard the Ten Commandments, they must have been a bit of a stumbling block. They learned that living into them was hard. Habits needed to be broken, new paths taken. But the Commandments were given them by the God who took them out of slavery in love and led them to a new land. The Commandments showed a way for the community of God to live and thrive, even if they meant sacrifice, and they came after they’d all seen for themselves how loved they were by God.

Paul says the same thing to the Philippians today: he’s been so changed by belonging to Christ – a belonging that has cost him dearly many times – he’s learned nothing is too hard to let go of if it means becoming more like Christ’s love, that even losing all things is gaining because of God’s love in Christ that owns him.

They could have had a party in this parable, you know.

They could have enjoyed a rich harvest of grapes, realized that they didn’t own the vineyard and in gratitude shared the produce with the owner and with all their neighbors, and celebrated. Feasted. Sipped wine made from their own grapes. Instead, they killed the owner’s representatives, even the owner’s son.

But that Son willingly died to give them life. Rose from the dead to reverse the judgment that they’d lose the vineyard. Came back to say, “now that I’m alive again, could you please live in this vineyard that you don’t own in such a way that all share in its fruits? All are blessed?”

The way of Christ calls you to stumble from walking your own way, a way of hurt instead of healing, a way of hate instead of love, and that’s actually a good thing, because it leads to joy and celebration. The way of Christ breaks habits that harm you and others and the world, and that’s actually a good thing, because it leads to mercy and justice. A harvest of abundance in the vineyard of this earth, enough for all.

“You are my beloved,” God says to you in Christ. “Let me trip you out of your way that leads to death, break open your heart to be one like mine, and you will find life you never dreamed existed.

And so will my whole creation.”

In the name of Jesus.  Amen