This is a day of joy and celebration: you are alive, you are found, and you are home.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
Ash Wednesday
Texts: Joel 2:1-2, 12-17; 2 Corinthians 5:20b – 6:10; Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21 (shaped by Jesus’ story in Luke 15:11-32)

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

This is not a day for your shame to overwhelm you. This is not a day for your guilt to crush you.

This is not a day for your imminent death to terrify you or lead you into despair.

That is not what we do today.

This is a day of homecoming. A day of rejoicing. A day of celebration.

Jesus told a parable about a father and two sons that ended in a great party, noisy, joyful, full of food. A party of resurrection celebrating that the one who was dead is now alive again. That party is today.

Because today this is the voice of the prophet for you: “Return to the Lord your God, who is gracious and merciful. Return to the Lord your God, who is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.” Today this is the voice of God’s servant for you: “We entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.” And today this is the voice of God for you: “At an acceptable time I have listened to you, and on a day of salvation I have helped you.”

“Now is [that] acceptable time, now is [that] day of salvation.” That day is today.

But, you say, I get ashes on my forehead today to remind me that I will die.

How is that not something to frighten and dismay me?

Yes, you will hear today that you are dust, and that you will return to dust. Just as the younger child had to face the truth that sitting in a pigsty eating pig’s food was death before he knew he needed life, so you and I need to face our truth. Just as the elder child needed to hear that his bitterness and resentment toward his brother and his own father was death before he could come into the party, so you and I need to hear that reality.

But the One who calls you to return home, the One who longs for you to be reconciled, has faced death itself to love you home. Has defeated the power of death forever. If you are dust, and you know that you will return to dust, then today is a day of joy and hope. Because the holy and Triune God not only has a love that cannot be stopped by mere death, this God is your God and loves you with that love. A love that even raises you from the daily deaths and sufferings you know here and fills you with life now.

And when the dead realize they are alive, it’s time for a party, a celebration, Jesus says.

But, you say, I confess my sins today, I sing with David my grief over my failures, my broken heart and life.

How is that not something to be ashamed of, to feel crippling guilt over?

Yes, you confess your sins today, and the sin that binds you. You look at your life, your actions, your inaction, and you say, “I know I have failed to love my God and love my neighbor in so many ways.” Just as the younger child needed to face his mistakes, his sinful disregard for his father, his wastefulness, and admit it before he knew he longed for his father’s embrace and kiss, so you and I need to face what we have broken in our lives and in the world. Just as the elder sibling needed to realize that his own self-centered actions and self-righteous behavior led to his pain and suffering, and equally disregarded his father’s love, before he could hear that his father loved him deeply and forever, so you and I need to admit the hidden things we do, the habits, the ways of thinking and being that destroy others and destroy our own peace of mind.

But today you see your God going out on the road looking for you, longing to bring you home. You hear God’s voice calling through the prophet, “return to my love,” and through the apostle, “be reconciled in my love.” Your welcome is assured before you ever face your sin and wrongdoing.

And when the lost are found, when the homeless are brought home, it’s time for a party, a celebration, Jesus says.

That’s why the Table of Christ is spread for you today.

You wake up in your pigsty or in your bubble of self-righteousness and find a great feast spread for you in the love of the God of all creation. A meal of love and forgiveness and healing for you, joining you to the reconciling death and resurrection of the very Son of God.

You will eat and drink and taste the goodness of God for you. You will remember, even as you wash off your ashes tonight, the healing waters of baptism that have poured over you and called you beloved.

You will hear, “this is for you. For you.”

This party, this celebration, is for you. Because when the dead live and the lost are found, all God wants to do is throw a party.

So rejoice, beloved of God. This is your day. This is your homecoming.

This is the acceptable time, the day of healing for you. This day begins and ends in the unconditional love of the Triune God that kills death with life, and runs out on the road looking for all who are lost.

You are loved by a God who will not be satisfied until all the lost sheep, all the lost children, are home safe and sound.

That’s the treasure in your heart that surpasses all other treasures, the treasure that can’t be rusted or stolen. And when such treasure fills your heart, where else can your heart be but fixed solidly within that treasure, that joy?

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

Audio file of Gospel and sermon:

In the Transfiguration encounter, the disciples see Jesus in a new light. They already know Jesus is the Son of God, but on the mountaintop they experience that reality in a way that leaves them spiritually transformed and strengthened for the darkness that lies ahead.

Vicar Bristol Reading
Transfiguration of Our Lord, year A
Texts: 2 Peter 1:16-21; Matthew 17:1-9

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

For the Apollo astronauts on missions to the moon, one of the most transformative experiences was actually looking back at the earth. Seeing their own planet from tens of thousands of miles away was so moving that many of them spoke about it for years after. Eugene Cernan, one of the Apollo 17 crew members, put it this way: “What I was seeing, and even more important what I was feeling at that moment in time, science and technology had no answers for.” He used the words spiritual, dynamic, beautiful, and overwhelming. He wasn’t the only one to describe the experience of seeing earth from space as a mystical one. Apollo 14’s Edgar Mitchell said he had felt an ecstatic sense of oneness and connectedness. He called it an epiphany.[1]

Of course, the astronauts knew, before they ever went to space, what the planet was like. They knew that earth was round, that it was mostly water, that it was covered in a swirling atmosphere. Still, the experience of actually witnessing it was nothing short of a revelation. A radical change in perspective allowed them to see something they already knew in a way that left them transformed. It wasn’t about facts; they already knew the facts. It was about feeling. And they carried that feeling with them, even after they returned to earth’s surface, searching for words to convey what they’d witnessed.

Do you think that’s how Peter, James, and John felt after experiencing the transfiguration of Jesus? They’d seen a sight that was certainly spiritual, dynamic, beautiful, and overwhelming, a sight that was hard to put into words. They’d had an epiphany – literally –the light of divine power shining into the physical world. Matthew tells us that Jesus face and clothes blazed like the sun, the whole mountain was shrouded in a bright cloud, and the voice of God proclaimed: “Jesus is my beloved son. Listen to him.”

Now, the disciples already knew this. They have already seen and heard that Jesus is the Son of God. These are his closest followers, after all. They’ve seen him heal the sick, and still storms, and multiply fish, and walk on water! John the Baptist had certainly mentioned that Jesus was the Son of God.[2] Even exorcised demons admitted that Jesus was the son of God.[3] And Jesus himself had said as much to these same disciples, telling them, “All things have been handed over to be my by father, and no one knows the father except the Son.”[4] In fact, only days before the transfiguration, Jesus had asked Peter directly, “Who do you say that I am?” and Peter had said, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”[5] The disciples already understood that Jesus was the Son of God.

But it is one thing to know a theological truth; it is another thing entirely to have God Almighty declare it to you directly while blinding you with light on the top of a mountain. Jesus is shining like a beacon, and the ghosts of prophets past have shown up to chat with him. The disciples seem relatively okay with all of that; Peter is ready with a religiously appropriate response. But then the voice of God thunders “Listen!” and they are simply overcome. They find that they can’t even stand in the face of this epiphany.

They’re seeing the teacher and friend they know so well in a whole new light. Here, right in front of them, is the incarnate Word, Emmanuel, Son of God, love’s pure light, touching them, lifting them up, and comforting them. “Do not be afraid,” Jesus says. That is the word of God that needs to be listened to: “Do not be afraid.”

The disciples have been brought to their knees by this moment, but they need to get up, get going, get down the mountain, and get back to the work of proclaiming and living the Gospel. And they will need courage and strength to do so. This moment has changed them. We say that it is Jesus who was transfigured, but the disciples also have been transformed. And undoubtedly they will carry this experience with them into everything that is to come.

Jesus tells them not to talk about it for now, but perhaps they would have struggled to find adequate words anyway. How do you describe an epiphany? How do you express something that is beyond language? These disciples have been “eyewitnesses to Christ’s majesty,” as 2 Peter says, and they will hold onto that memory like a lamp shining in the dark.[6]

And it will get dark. They will need this reminder of the light, this reminder to not be afraid.

The transfiguration reaches back to the incarnation, to the light of Christ coming into the world as a tiny baby: Jesus, a human being, fully radiating God’s glory, the finite somehow containing the infinite. But the transfiguration also reaches toward the Passion, toward the cross, when darkness presses in on the light of Christ from all sides, threatening to swallow the light whole.

Jesus has told the disciples that he will face suffering and death, but they have been adamantly resistant. Peter actually confronts Jesus at one point when Jesus says he must be killed.  Peter pulls him aside and says: “God forbid it! This must never happen to you!”[7] But it will happen to him. And, even then, even on the cross, the light of Christ will still be fully radiating God’s glory. The light will not ever be overpowered, even by death.

But that will be hard to see and understand for those living through it, like Peter. The disciples will need the memory of this mountaintop encounter to reorient them in the confusing and grief-filled times to come.

You are about to take that journey to the cross with them. This is the end of the season of Epiphany, and we move now into the season of Lent. And perhaps you, too, will need this light to carry into the dark. The light is a gift that is meant to sustain you when the path is filled with sorrow and pain; to bring you courage when your fear has brought you to your knees; to give you strength when you need get back up and get back to the work of living the Gospel.

Even if you know, theologically, that Jesus is the Son of God, you may still need to come back to this mountaintop so you can feel it. In your heart, in your spirit, in your bones.

You do not have to make sense of every spiritual encounter with the living God. You do not have to come up with a religiously appropriate response. You do not have to find the right words to explain what it means to you. Sometimes it is enough simply to be present to it, to be awed by it, and to treasure God’s word of loving comfort: Don’t be afraid. The light is there even when it’s hard to see, and the darkness will never, ever overcome it.

Amen.

[1] To read more about these astronaut quotes, see Hendrik Hertzberg, “Moon Shots (3 of 3): Lunar Epiphanies,” The New Yorker, August 12, 2008, https://www.newyorker.com/news/hendrik-hertzberg/moon-shots-3-of-3-lunar-epiphanies.
[2] John 1:34
[3] Matthew 8:29
[4] Matthew 11:27
[5] Matthew 16:16
[6] 2 Peter 1:19
[7] Matthew 16:22

Jesus’ way, the way of Christ, is a way of life: choose it – even though it’s hard – and you will know God’s life abundant.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Sixth Sunday after Epiphany, year A
Texts: Matthew 5:21-37 (adding in 17-20 from last week’s Gospel); Deuteronomy 30:15-20

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

“Choose life,” Moses says.

Standing before the whole people of Israel, preparing to enter the land promised them by God, Moses tells them, “you’re going to have choices ahead.” Choices that lead to life, to blessing. Choices that lead to death, to curses. Following in God’s way is choosing life. Choose that, Moses says.

So does Jesus today. This section of teaching is one that many would rather not read or hear. It sounds harsh and daunting, it activates all sorts of guilt that people would rather not have to look at or hear about on Sunday morning. These teachings have the reputation of both being read legalistically or simply ignored when inconvenient.

But today’s Gospel is full of Good News. Jesus says again and again, “Choose life.”

Here is life, Jesus says:

Life is found when people appropriately deal with their anger, and don’t discard others by insults or hate. Life is found when people reconcile and don’t discard difficult relationships. Life is found when people of faith don’t take each other to court, discarding trying to personally solve the problem. Life is found when all people are valued for who they truly are, not objectified as something to be used, whether that’s sexual lust or other similar ways of discarding a person’s worth. Life is found when people remove the things in their life that hurt others and themselves. Life is found when men can’t discard their wives in divorce with a simple certificate and throw them out of the house, the specific injustice Jesus criticizes here. Life is found when people’s word matters, and they can simply say “yes” or “no” and be believed, they don’t have to swear on something to convince others they’re trustworthy.

Can you see the good news here? Jesus describes a community where every one is of value to every one, where no one is discarded like old trash. Each of his examples speaks of relationships that are broken when one person doesn’t see God’s face in the other, doesn’t honor the other.

Jesus says, can you see why God’s way is better life? Can you see the joy of a community that followed these words?

But we set up barriers that keep us from choosing Jesus’ life. Here’s one: we say, “Jesus teaches these things knowing that we can’t do them.”

The idea is that Jesus sets God’s standards so high here no one can attain them. People love to claim this. (Some go on to say Jesus does this so we know we need God’s forgiveness at the cross.)

This flimsy barrier collapses under the merest touch of logic. Half of Matthew’s Gospel is Jesus’ teachings, and all four Gospels claim Jesus spent the majority of his three years of ministry teaching his followers what it was to follow him.

What good teacher gives lessons that have no application in the students’ lives? Why would Jesus take such care to lay out in detail the life of God’s reign, the life of following Christ, thinking no one could actually do it? It’s nonsense. And Jesus never, ever, says, “I know you can’t do this, but I’m going to tell you to do it anyway. You’ll be glad of it when I die on the cross for you.”

Everything in this chapter is something you can do. Right now. (And if your particular besetting challenge isn’t anger or lust, then you can work on what is yours, whether it’s pride or greed or envy or fear or whatever – Jesus talks about them elsewhere.) You can choose life, and choose to act as Jesus says here. It’s well within your grasp.

So, having that wall knocked down so easily, we quickly throw up a second barrier: We can’t do this all the time.

We’re not perfect, we say. We’re never going to be 100% reconcilers, or peacemakers, or lovers of enemies. We’re going to try and we’re going to fail. This chapter can’t be done.

Again, just a little push blows this barrier over into the dust. Surely if you are kind half of the time it’s much better than never being kind. If you control your anger once, and refrain from hating once, that’s surely much better than never. If you were raising a child, you’d understand that child might sometimes struggle to be good, but you’d delight when you saw progress, wouldn’t you?

Well, as Jesus says, if you and I know that much, how much more will God? Of course God understands that if you choose this, if you follow Jesus’ path, you’re going to stumble sometimes. You’re going to fail. But the point is to choose this life, be a follower. Then even when you stumble, you’re still on the right path, the path to abundant life.

A little anxious now, we erect another barrier: but if I fail, God won’t be pleased.

God knows I might fail, but will God be happy if I forget these ways, if sometimes I don’t do them?

This barrier cost a lot more to knock down. Jesus gave his life to take this one away. The holy and Triune God faced death on a cross to prove once and for all that you and the whole creation are worthy of God’s love. Nothing can separate you from God’s love in Christ, that’s unchangeable truth. That’s what Jesus’ death and resurrection mean.

So, when you stumble or fail as you choose life, the way of God, you are still loved, forgiven, blessed. You are God’s precious child. Nothing, nothing can take that from you. Jesus will go on in Matthew’s Gospel to say that it is the will of his Father in heaven that not a single one will be lost. Not one. That means you, too.

Choose life, Jesus says. Take this path. I’ll forgive you when you fail, and help you back up.

We’re running out of building materials, but we try another barrier: Jesus frightens us in these verses because he threatens us with hell.

How can we trust we’re forgiven, we say, if Jesus says those who don’t do these things are liable to the hell of fire?

Well, Jesus has already answered that on the cross, and by proclaiming God doesn’t intend to lose anyone. But Jesus in the Gospels also doesn’t seem to understand hell the way Milton and Dante shaped it, eternal damnation, and in this section he doesn’t even use the word hell. He speaks of the “Gehenna of fire,” a burning garbage dump outside Jerusalem where the poorest of the poor lived on the edges. Literally hell on earth. It may be Jesus is repeating Moses: if you don’t choose life, you choose death. A life where you rage and hate and insult is a hellish life to live. A life where you keep doing the things that harm you and others is a hellish life to live.

But even if Jesus means hell after death, according to Jesus – who is, remember, the Son of the eternal and Triune God, so he gets to make this decision – according to Jesus, God’s plan is that the population of hell will be exactly zero.

So, Jesus says, choose life. Follow this path without fear of punishment when you fail, without fear of falling out of God’s love. There is literally no way in hell that could happen.

Our last, desperate barrier is left for you to ponder.

Because the only thing that can keep you from choosing life, seeking to follow Jesus as he commands today, trusting that this will be a life abundant, a life of God’s grace, a life of reconciliation and peace between you and your family, and this community, and, if it spreads to the world, even between nations, the only barrier left is this: what if you just don’t want to do this?

What if you want your faith to just be trusting in God’s love, and knowing that you will live with God after you die? Both are truths to cherish.

But what if you don’t want God to change you, you don’t want to have to look hard at your life and make different decisions in following Jesus? What if the problem all along has partly been that you want to go on doing whatever it is you do?

Every single one of us likely has moments where we put up this barrier. I have. So just hear Moses again one more time, and then ponder what you’ll do. Moses says: you’ve got choices that lead to death and choices that lead to life. You are God’s beloved, nothing can change that. So, choose the path of life, so that you can live.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen