When the situation in the world looks bleak, Reign of Christ Sunday is our reminder that God’s power of love, embodied in Christ on the cross, always wins, and that we are meant to be part of making God’s peaceful reign a reality.

Vicar Bristol Reading
The Reign of Christ, Last Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 34 C
Texts: Jeremiah 34:1-6, Colossians 1:11-20, Luke 23:33-43

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

Things look bleak. It seems like evil is everywhere. Each day brings devastating news of destruction and violence. Everything is falling apart. Who is to blame for what’s happening? It’s the incompetent, immoral, irresponsible leader of the nation – at least, that’s Jeremiah’s conclusion.

In the passage we heard this morning, the Hebrew prophet is grieving the fate of his homeland Judah, which has fallen to the Babylonians. The Judean monarchy was just not strong enough to resist the foreign empire with its different culture, different values, and different gods. Babylon has conquered. And now the precious city of Jerusalem has been sacked! The sacred walls of the temple have brought to rubble! Many of the Judean people have been taken away into exile, while those who are left split into conflicting factions. And it’s all the fault of a couple crummy kings.

The prophet explains that kings are supposed to rule like shepherds, protecting the sheep from danger. But Judah’s most recent kings have been misguided leaders. They have let the flock scatter. The only chance now is that there might come a king righteous enough and powerful enough to pull the nation back together. There might, someday, be a good shepherd.

Hundreds of years after Jeremiah’s time, someone finally came along who seemed to fit the bill. Jesus came from humble beginnings, but he was descended from the right lineage, the line of David, just as the prophet had foretold. Jesus spoke with wisdom beyond his years. With merely a word, he could heal deformities and illness, cast out demons, and calm storms. He fed thousands with next to nothing and even raised to life a man four days dead.

Could this be, at last, the promised Prince of Peace, the chosen one, the Messiah? Could this finally be the good shepherd? Many people thought so. Jesus drew crowds and changed lives. Yet, his growing popularity made the authorities increasingly nervous. He challenged established religious and social norms, and claimed divine power. But, curiously, he didn’t amass any armies or incite insurrections. He led no coups, took up no weapons. How would he protect the people if he didn’t fight?

Eventually, the opposition against him got organized. They arrested Jesus. They hauled him before the authorities and put him on trial. Frustrated, they demanded of Jesus: “Are you a king or not?!” But even then Jesus didn’t fight, and they convicted him to death, a criminal’s death. Surrounded by angry mobs, he ended up on a cross outside Jerusalem, the same city whose destruction Jeremiah had mourned generations earlier.

In this moment, it seems like history is repeating itself. Things look bleak. It looks like evil has won. Another so-called “king” looks like another failed leader. One criminal hanging next to Jesus expresses this sentiment: “Some Messiah you are! You can’t save us now. You can’t even save yourself.” Instead of calling down righteous judgment on his foes, Jesus speaks forgiveness, even as he loses his life. Instead maintaining his authority, Jesus humbly gives everything away. What kind of king does that? Everyone can see that this is not the king they’d expected after all…

Well, not everyone. Not the criminal hanging on the other side of Jesus. He sees the situation differently.  He sees Jesus as a king. Even though it looks like Jesus has been defeated, he says, “Remember me when you come into your kingdom.” When this criminal looks at Jesus, he sees one who rules with mercy, not domination. One whose victory comes through sacrificial love, not retribution. That’s a different kind of power, and somehow, at the darkest moment, the most unexpected person recognizes it. Whatever Jesus’ reign will look like, he wants in. These are the final moments of this criminal’s earthly life. This man is dying, and yet the power he sees in Jesus gives him immense hope. He puts his complete trust in Jesus, even on the cross, and so he says, “Remember me.” And in return, Jesus speaks acceptance and promise. He tells the criminal, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”

This encapsulates the kind of power that the Triune God wields: a power that offers forgiveness for even the gravest of sins; a power that finds lost ones and carries them to Paradise; a power that brings abundant life out of certain death. This is, indeed, the promised messiah, the prince of peace, the savior of the world.

It’s no wonder that people failed to recognize it in Jesus, failed to see a king in the crucified – the reign of Christ is unlike any other. It’s still difficult to put our hope in the cross. It’s tempting to trust in the kind of power that rules with might, rather than the kind of power that empties itself in compassion. It’s especially hard to put our hope in the cross when we reach those moments in history when things look bleak, and the news is devastating, and national leaders are a disappointment.

Reign of Christ Sunday, the liturgical festival we celebrate today, serves as a reminder that – no matter how the situation looks – the power of sacrificial love has already won. Our ultimate ruler and judge, stands above and beyond the ups and downs of history. This festival was added to the Christian calendar almost a century ago, in the wake of World War I, as authoritarianism was gaining momentum around the world. Its message is no less critical to the present moment.

On this Sunday, we come to the story of Jesus on the cross and we encounter the power of God in Christ. It may look like weakness by human standards, but this power actually makes us strong. As Paul writes in Colossians, through Christ we are able to endure whatever the world brings. Christ holds the whole creation together and reconciles us all to God. That is a word of hope for every moment of human history.

Generations after this liturgical festival was instituted, it calls us to remember Christ, whose kingdom has come and is yet coming. When we pray together in worship, “Your kingdom come,” we invoke God’s desire for our world, a vision of peace, justice, and love that stands against earthly systems of violence, oppression, and greed. And we are meant to be a part of making God’s reign real: to be instruments of that peace, advocates for that justice, embodiment of that love – not just individually, but in our families, our communities, our congregation. Together, we live the sacrificial way of the cross, knowing that it is, always, the way of life, and trusting fully that God-in-Christ, our good shepherd, goes before us and goes with us on the way.

Amen.

Don’t be terrified. This is your opportunity to witness. And don’t be weary in doing what is right. These are God’s words of hope for you and for the creation.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 33 C
Texts: Luke 21:5-19; Isaiah 65:17-25; 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

Three things. That’s what the Triune God has to tell you today in a world that’s falling apart:

Don’t be terrified.

This is your opportunity to witness.

And don’t be weary in doing what is right.

Jesus’ apocalyptic warnings seem unnecessary today, with the massive problems that hang over us, whether it’s climate change, struggles with our democracy, still-pervasive racism and sexism that harm millions in our culture, fear of those who are different that leads to death and terror for people coming to our land for life and safety. Jesus talks about wars, earthquakes, famines, persecution, plagues. We’re seeing this.

And it doesn’t matter if every generation has believed they, too, saw the signs. I don’t care. What we face is real and frightening. We don’t need to discount it by saying, “well, everyone always thinks their time is the worst.” Whether this is the worst or not, whether this is the end of all things or not, is irrelevant. In nearly three decades of ministry I’ve never seen this level of concern and anxiety among faithful Christians before. Jesus’ words speak to today.

But hear this from your God: Don’t be terrified. This is your opportunity to witness. And don’t be weary in doing what is right.

Don’t be terrified, the Triune God says, because I am making all things new.

God will create joy and delight in the people of God, Isaiah proclaims. People will live in homes and have gardens, and enjoy the safety of their walls and the fruit of their growing. Weeping will be no more. Distress will be no more.

Now, we could say that this is clearly a promise of a life to come in Christ after we die. But the preaching of Jesus changes that timeline. Jesus proclaimed a way of God that could start this transformation early in this world. Hearts changed, lives changed, to follow God’s ancient command to love God and love neighbor, and all the suffering and distress that we see could start to shift. We know this because we’ve seen it shift in history. You know this because even in your life you’ve seen healing and restoration in the midst of suffering.

Don’t lessen God’s promise by only throwing it into a future after death. God says this: before you call, I will answer. While you’re still speaking, I will hear. That’s a promise for this life, this world. This new heaven and new earth don’t replace a creation that from the beginning God has declared good. They are God’s restoration of a creation we’ve broken into the world God envisioned from the beginning.

So, don’t be terrified, God says. I raised Jesus from the dead: my life and love can bring hope to anything, everything, even that which looks dead.

God’s Son tells you today, that means this is your opportunity to witness.

This is your time, Jesus says. He literally says, “This will lead to your martyrdom.” So it’s your time for martyrdom, but not by being persecuted or killed for being a Christian. Not here in the U.S. Here it is Christians who persecute and kill Muslims and Sikhs and Jews and others because of their faith. Which makes your martyrdom, your witness, even more critical to understand.

What Jesus has always said is, your faith is seen in your love, or no one will know it exists. It’s the witness, the martyrdom, of your sacrificial, vulnerable love as Christ in the world, the giving of all you have to make a difference in this world. That’s your opportunity. God’s promised new heavens and new earth begin with you, with me, with all God’s children, healing the world with vulnerable, sacrificial love.

That means in your family, with your friends, losing for the sake of love of the other. That means in your community, in your society, witnessing by your votes, your protest, your speaking to leaders, and your sacrificial life of justice and mercy to your neighbors. That means in your sacrificial giving, your pledging of that giving to your siblings in Christ in this place. Your giving, and today’s pledging of it, is not “to” anything – not to a Vestry, or to Mount Olive. It is your sacrificial love shared in this body of Christ so we can concretely bring vulnerable, sacrificial love together to our neighbors and our city and our partners across the world, and receive it in turn. This is your opportunity to witness with your very life that God has come to love this world back in Christ and to make all things new.

So Paul says, “don’t be weary in doing what is right.”

None of us are delusional enough to think that any of us has the leverage to change the course of the United States, or even our city. The problems that need resolving are so large that even knowing where to start on one of them is daunting. Let alone all 25 of them, or however many there are.

Don’t let that weary you, Paul says. God’s wisdom in Christ is that any difference you make, any difference, is world changing. You might only love another person as Christ, and bring healing to their day. In God’s eyes, that’s a new heaven and a new earth being born. If you are Christ’s vulnerable, sacrificial love among your friends, your family, your work, in your civic engagement, it doesn’t matter if you’re just one person. In each act of your love, God’s new heaven and new earth begin to happen. And God’s people all over are doing this, just like you.

And of course, as our pledging to each other today reminds us, you also have the gift of doing this love with all of us, together. Don’t underestimate what God can do in the world with the people of Mount Olive. God’s got a history of changing things through the people of God here. When Mount Olive feeds a neighbor, welcomes a stranger, works against injustice, partners with mission around the world, a new heaven and a new earth begins to be created.

So don’t be weary. It is often overwhelming. But as Rabbi Shapiro has said, “Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly now. Love mercy now. Walk humbly now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.”^[1] You are enough, God thinks, with your love and sacrifice and Christ-work. So are we, together. Trust that when it all seems too much.

It’s a hard world, Jesus says. But I am with you always.

God’s Spirit is in you, you are not alone. So don’t be terrified: God is making all things new. This is your opportunity to witness: your life of Christ love will make a difference. And don’t be weary in doing what is right: you’re not the only one God is calling to this, and your love is multiplied in all God’s children. And through you, and all of us, and all God’s children, a new earth and a new heaven are surely beginning right now.

In the name of Jesus. Amen

[1] Rabbi Rami Shapiro, paraphrase and trope on Rabbi Tarfon in Wisdom of the Jewish Sages: A Modern Reading of Pirke Avot (New York: Harmony/Bell Tower [div. of Crown/Random House], c. 1993), p. 41. A calligraphy of this was the cover of the service folder for this day.

It is easy to see the world and despair, or fear, or do nothing. But take courage, God is with you, and you will be strengthened to be a part of God’s healing.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 32 C
Texts: Haggai 1:15b – 2:9; 2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17; Luke 20:27-38

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 couldn’t see how to restore what was once so beautiful.

The Jewish exiles returned home from Babylon to disaster. Jerusalem’s walls broken, homes burned, and, worst of all, God’s Temple destroyed. Being home was wonderful, but what now? How can they imagine starting over?

The Thessalonians couldn’t see a possible future. First, they’d become terrified when their loved ones still died as they had before, even after believing in Christ. So Paul had to reassure them. Now apparently they got another letter, claiming it’s from Paul, warning them that the end of the world was at hand. How do you live with that fear hanging over?

The Sadducees couldn’t see the hope Jesus offered. They didn’t believe in resurrection, and Jesus, like the Pharisees, did. In spite of his wisdom, his teaching, his acts of divine power and mercy, they couldn’t see anything in Jesus except someone to be mocked, someone to be trapped into saying something ridiculous, if possible.

So the Judeans turned inward; they took care of themselves.

They rebuilt their homes, started picking up rubble, made a life in the midst of devastation. But as we hear Haggai speak, 18 years have passed since their return, and the Temple still lies in ruins. They haven’t rebuilt their house of worship, the house of God.

The Thessalonians fell into frightened inactivity. If our loved ones are dying, what’s the point of faith? If the world’s going to end, what’s the point of doing anything? Some apparently stopped doing work entirely.

And the Sadducees respond to their inability to see what God is doing in Christ with cynical baiting. They make up a horrible story based on Jewish law that mocks anyone who believes in the resurrection from the dead, trying to trick Jesus. They don’t seem to want enlightenment, just entertainment. Or worse, evidence for a trial.

Sometimes our readings seem to speak directly to our situation. Today is such a day.

The Church has long ended the Church Year with readings about the end times, apocalyptic Scriptures. Today, that seems fitting. The anxiety of all these people feels like our own.

We haven’t returned from exile, but as we look at the state of our beautiful earth, how we’ve destroyed it, how so much is in ruin, we despair. Even if everyone in this country agreed to start working on ending our contribution to climate change, even started trying to reverse it, finally joining the rest of the world in this task, we have no idea if we’re too late. We don’t know if we’ve ruined our home permanently and irreversibly. And we still can’t even get everyone to agree it’s a disaster.

Our cherished institutions of democracy and government seem to be on the verge of failing, too. Things we took for granted – rule of law, decency, the idea that there are facts, truths, that exist beyond personal opinion – we seem to be in danger of losing forever. We don’t know if we can restore any of this, even if we could get others to agree it needed to be restored.

So, like the exiles, we are tempted to despair at the sheer amount of work to be done, and turn inward, taking care of our own needs. Like the Thessalonians, we are tempted to do nothing, to sit out all these problems. If it’s all crashing down, what’s the point? And we are tempted to take the Sadducees’ path, mocking what we don’t understand, hiding our anxiety behind cynical criticism, pretending we’re not worried or despairing.

But did you hear what else was in our readings? Did you hear God’s voice?

God speaks in all these readings with hope and promise in the midst of the despair, the fear, and the feigned indifference.

Jesus – the Triune God’s Word in the flesh – ignores the cynical question and goes straight to reassurance: the point of resurrection, Jesus says, is that it is God’s life that makes you alive. You are children of the resurrection, children of God. What life after death will be like, don’t worry about that, Jesus says. Just know that right now, already, you are resurrection children, God’s life in you.

And that, Paul says, is where your hope comes from. God “loves you and through grace gives you,” Paul says, “eternal comfort and good hope.”

And Haggai brings it all together: “take courage,” he says three times, “take courage, says the Lord, for I am with you. My spirit abides among you; do not fear.” I am with you. My spirit lives in you. Don’t be afraid. That’s God’s answer to your despair, your fear, your confusion, even your inability to act.

And that’s not an empty promise. God’s Spirit is in you. You are not alone. That means things can change.

Paul says that the God who “loves you and by grace gives you eternal comfort and good hope” will also now “comfort your heart and strengthen it for every good work and word.” All this Christ-work, this servant work we’ve heard Jesus call us to this summer and fall, all that is ours to do, but it’s ours to do with the comfort and strength of God in our hearts.

So, Haggai says to his people, you can rebuild the Temple. God will be with you, and it will happen. Paul says to the Thessalonians, you can do your calling as followers of Christ, get out of your idleness, step up and be Christ, because you are not alone, God is with you. And Jesus’ calling to you and to me is grounded in our reality of being resurrection children. As Paul said to the Ephesians last week, the same power that raised Jesus from the dead now works in you.

And that’s how this world will be changed. That’s how God will restore all things.

It’s all about the heart, it turns out.

“Take courage,” Haggai says. Courage, literally heart-strength. That’s God’s gift to you. And that’s good news to all who suffer from injustice and oppression, all who despair over the devastation of this world, all who are torn from their families by our own indifferent and wicked leaders, all who struggle to be heard and seen for who they are, all who in any way wonder where God is, and whether God sees any of this, and whether God is going to do anything. God says, I am here. You are not alone. And in these my children – in you, God means! – I am bringing healing and life.

Dear friends, God is with you, giving your heart courage, and you are needed to make a difference. If God can raise Jesus, God can bring life to anything that is dead. And you will be a part of that. And so will I, and all God’s children, until the whole creation sings again.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

 

https://youtu.be/GulMuNVSeEI