Repentance is not frightening, not for Jesus or Zechariah; it is turning into the warmth and light of God’s gut-level love, which transforms you and continues to dawn over the universe.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Second Sunday of Advent, year C
Texts: Luke 3:1-6; Luke 1:68-79 (today’s appointed psalmody, the Benedictus – translation used here is the ELLC text [1990] as sung at liturgy today); Philippians 1:3-11

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

Zechariah’s foretelling of what his son John’s mission will be is breathtaking.

“You, my child, shall be called the prophet of the Most High, for you will go before the Lord to prepare the way, to give God’s people knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins. In the tender compassion of our God the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

Zechariah envisions his son preparing for the coming of God’s light into a dark world, letting God’s people know their sins are forgiven. John would point to the coming dawn of God’s tender compassion, his father sang.

Somehow John’s actual ministry feels very different.

John is one of the people in the Bible one doesn’t actually dream of meeting.

John’s message is strident, harsh. He calls for repentance, a turning into God’s ways, with a fiery rhetoric that alternately threatens and calls out insulting names. We don’t think of the dawn of God’s light, the hope of salvation and forgiveness of sins, when we think of John the Baptist.

So, repentance as we’re used to hearing it from John is frightening. “Turn back to God, you sinful people, or it will be bad for you.” As we’ll hear next week, John warns of God’s coming wrath, of God’s ax at the foot of every fruitless tree.

John’s preaching carries none of the aching hope of Zechariah, the longing for God’s dawn of salvation that John was supposed to bring.

John’s context may have sharpened his focus, and driven his passion.

Luke anchors the coming of John in historic time. We can date his start of preaching to the year 28 or 29, the fifteenth year of Emperor Tiberius’ reign. Luke insists on reminding us that God’s coming in Jesus happened for real, in datable, recordable time.

But his list in chapter 3 says a little more than that. Luke places John’s preaching in the heart of a number of leaders, people in power, who were feared by the people, some of whom did great wickedness. Pontius Pilate, the oppressive governor of Judea; Herod Antipas, Herod Philip, brothers, and wicked, corrupt rulers both; Annas and Caiaphas, leaders of those who arrested and condemned Jesus. The emperor himself, Tiberius. This is the political landscape when John appears at the river Jordan.

So, Luke says, in an age of tyrants and despots who cannot be trusted, God’s Word came to John, and told him to declare a new reality. Prepare the way, because God is coming into this world that is ruled by such people. Maybe the evil of John’s times fueled his urgency, his fire, his threats. Zechariah’s beautiful vision would have to wait, because a lot of unfruitful, unfaithful people were going to need to change, or be cut down, if the way was to be ready for God’s coming.

But what Zechariah saw happened. Not in his son John, but in the one John pointed to, in Jesus.

The ministry and preaching of Jesus reflect Zechariah’s hope. Jesus showed people God’s salvation, proclaimed the forgiveness of sins. Jesus embodied God’s “tender compassion” as Zechariah sang it. Jesus acted so differently, John began to worry that Jesus wasn’t the One John was sent to prepare the people for.

We don’t want to disregard John’s urgency. The world always lives in an age of corrupt tyrants, and avoiding facing the evil of our day, or participating in it, is not a faithful path for us, any more than it was for our forebears. But we do follow Jesus, not John. We are saved by Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, and Jesus is the face of the Triune God for us.

So as we hear John’s call to repentance this Advent, what if we listened to it through the song of Zechariah? Through the promise that old man sang that did come to pass in the Son of God, God’s Word-made-flesh?

Zechariah promises that out of God’s tender compassion, the “dawn from on high shall break upon us.”

Zechariah is mixing a metaphor here. He speaks of dawn, the breaking of light into the darkness of night, the gradual lightening of the sky before the glorious sun breaks over the world.

But this dawn, Zechariah sings, rises out of God’s tender compassion. And “tender compassion” isn’t strong enough to convey Zechariah’s words. He literally sings of the “merciful heart of God.” Even “heart” isn’t enough. The word is literally “guts, insides, bowels.” The ancients located the center of love in our guts, so true love is gut-level love, love you feel in your deepest insides. God’s dawn, Zechariah sings, is a dawn of the deepest mercy of God for the world.

So, Jesus had John’s urgency to preach repentance, but he did this by declaring this gut-level love and mercy of God, saying, “turn from your sin, to this.”

When you’re in the dark, lost, afraid, and you see a glimpse of light, the relief and joy to turn into the new path of hope is overwhelming. When you’re freezing to your bones, and your blood is ice, and you sense a beckoning fire, leaning toward the warmth is delight. This is repentance.

God’s dawn is the advent of the merciful love of God rising out of the guts of the life of the Triune God, aching to restore the creation, to embrace all God’s children, to heal all things. A love so powerful it will face death to bring the universe back into the inner life of the Triune God. A love that offers forgiveness of sins, restoration into relationship with God, true salvation and healing for all. Repent into that, my friends. That’s where you want to turn.

And this is a true dawn, this gut-level love of God, for it deepens and grows until it is known everywhere.

The love and longing Paul has for these beloved Philippians in today’s reading is overwhelmingly beautiful, pouring out of nearly every verse.

And at its center is this astonishing declaration: “For God is my witness, how I long for all of you with the compassion of Christ Jesus.” It’s the same word Zechariah uses for God’s merciful insides. The same love that is in the guts of Christ Jesus for the universe now is in Paul’s guts, the deepest parts of his being.

That means this gut-level love of the Triune God can spread to others. God’s deepest, internal love gradually dawns over the whole universe by transplanting itself into heart after heart, transforming each into divine love.

You are the dawn from on high coming from the merciful guts of God. You are. Because you have known this deep, abiding love of God in Christ Jesus, you have treasured your forgiveness, your acceptance, your peace of mind that God’s love has given you. And like Paul, that has changed your own insides, so now that love fires your love for others. It overflows, Paul says, because you share the same heart. And the dawn increases in intensity.

The Talmud tells of such a dawn.

“How do we know,” the rabbi asks, “when the night is over and the day has arrived?”

One student replies, “Night is over and day arrives when you can see a house in the distance and determine if that’s your house or the house of your neighbor.” Another responds, “Night is over and day arrives when you can see an animal in the field and determine if it belongs to you or to your neighbor.” A third says, “Night is over and day has arrived when you can see a flower in the garden and distinguish its color.”

“No,” says the rabbi. “No. Night is over and day arrives when you can look into the face of the person beside you and you can see that he is your brother, she is your sister, when you can see that you belong to each other. Night has ended and day has arrived when you can see God in the face of the other.” [1]

That’s when tyranny and corruption and wickedness fall before the dawn of God’s love. When you and I repent, turn from our sin, into the light and warmth of God’s gut-level love and radiate it from our center, our insides. When we love all God’s children with the same love we know from God, and can see all creation as sisters, brothers, can see God’s face in all.

And so the dawn grows, shining over all who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, guiding all feet into the way of peace that comes with the rising of God’s light over a new creation.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

[1] Adapted from Rabbi’s Blog, Temple Sharey Tefilo, https://www.tsti.org/blog-rabbi/?p=49 (original halakhic passage is in the Jerusalem Talmud, Tractate Berakhot, 9b)

 

Jesus gives us warnings and strength for our journey of faith, exactly what we need to survive and thrive as Christ in the world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The First Sunday of Advent, year C
Texts: Luke 21:25-36; 1 Thessalonians 3:9-13

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

“On the earth [there will be] distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves.”

Ever increasing numbers of hurricanes, with ever deepening intensity, with ever greater destruction. Tsunamis and earthquakes seemingly all the time. More than nations are distressed and confused, Jesus. Elsewhere Jesus warns of rising evil, of humanity doing wickedness, of persecution and wars at the end of things, and we see this now. We look at the “signs,” as Jesus calls them, and think the end must be close.

But here’s what’s really confusing. Virtually every generation of Christians since Jesus uttered these words has seen the same things, faced the same anxiety, come to the same conclusions. In 30 years of preaching on these texts, I’ve often spoken of how these frightening times seem upon us, and yet, we’re still here. Virtually every generation has been sick at heart over the state of the world, and wondered about Jesus’ words.

His parable of the fig tree doesn’t help much, either. We can tell with trees, that when buds form, leaves are coming, when the leaves turn color, winter is coming. But we can’t read the “signs” Jesus talks about with anything other than confusion and anxiety. We have no idea what to interpret from these events. It’s more than we can do just to deal with the problems themselves, let alone read future truth in them.

So, if every time looks like the end times, maybe we need to change our approach to these words.

If for 2,000 years we’ve proved we can’t make sense of the “signs,” let’s move deeper into Jesus’ words, and find the one piece of clarity Jesus gives: what to do in the midst of them.

Consider this: if you’re going out on a journey into an unknown land, with unknown risks, and unknown problems, would you rather go out knowing nothing, having no supplies, or go out with words of warning and encouragement, equipped to survive?

When a parent sends their child out as a young adult for the first time, whether to college or a new life, or just on their first journey separate from the family, lots of advice is given. Packing lists are checked, warnings about possible dangers are named, support is given. “Don’t pick up hitchhikers; if your car breaks down, call this number; did you pack underwear?”

That’s what Jesus does today. Ignore the predictions, and hear the tremendous gift of what Jesus actually says. “It’s going to be tough out there,” he says. “You’re going to see things, experience things that are going to terrify you. Don’t be surprised or confused by that. And here’s what to do as you travel, how you’ll survive.”

If every time looks like the end times, “Be on guard so your hearts are not weighed down,” Jesus says.

First: guard that your hearts aren’t weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness. Dissipation means staggering, dizziness, and headache caused by drunkenness. As you journey in a fearful world, Jesus says, don’t deaden yourself with wasteful, empty living, dulling your senses with anything that does what drunkenness does. Your heart needs to face reality with all its wits and intelligence and skills. Whatever it is you consume to distract or deaden or dull yourself, chemicals, entertainment, acquisition of things, whatever – consuming these will cost you.

Also: guard that your hearts aren’t weighed down with anxiety over your daily life, he says. Anxiety can lead to the deadening, dulling choice. But Jesus also doesn’t want you to go the opposite direction and let the worries and anxieties of the world overwhelm you.

If your heart is weighed down by what you’re doing to avoid reality or by your obsession with reality, it will draw you deeper and deeper down. Then as things get harder, you’ll sink under the weight. These things – avoiding and obsessing – are like making quicksand for yourself, Jesus says. They make you paralyzed, unable to move or live.

And since every time looks like the end times, “pray for strength to escape all these things,” Jesus says.

This is the second part of Jesus’ gift: there is help on this perilous journey. Rachel recently got a flat tire and asked me to teach her how to change it on her own, so she’d know how if it happened again. That’s what Christ promises here: help and assistance for how we might live as Christ in the world when we’re out there and it feels like we’re alone. And Paul gives shape to this help.

First, Paul says today, Christ will increase your love for one another and for all, make it abundant, overflowing. On your journey, Christ will expand your heart in love for the others in your community, and even in love for all – all! Your heart will gush with love, the opposite of being weighed down, which will make the path of danger also one with joy and blessing.

And then, Paul says, Christ will strengthen your heart in holiness as you await the coming of Christ. Now that it’s filled with love for each other and all, Christ will shape your heart in holiness, that you live as Christ, for Christ, in the world. You’ll receive the skills, gifts, tools necessary to walk Christ’s path, even in the valleys of shadow.

Last, Paul writes to a community. Jesus creates a community. We have each other, and together we watch the sings in the world, practice our skills, and support each other as Christ on the road.

There’s no point in anticipating Christ’s second coming at the end of time if we miss Christ’s coming in us now to live in the world we actually have.

This is Jesus’ third gift today. When we see the world like this, Jesus says, that’s when we know God’s reign is near. Maybe we’re not meant to think of that in terms of time. Rather as God’s reign as Jesus proclaims it, God’s rule and presence in our hearts and lives. At the worst of the world, that’s when we know most that God is with us. Now. Here. On the journey.

Maybe the world will end today. Maybe it won’t end for a thousand years. It doesn’t matter. You know your path, you know what to expect now, and you know Who goes with you and blesses you with all you need.

So go and be Christ’s coming in this world. It desperately needs it.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

 

Truth is not a thing to be grasped or fought over; Truth is the One who is God-with-us, who gives us and the world life when we abide in relationship with this Truth.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Reign of Christ, Last Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 34 B
Text: John 18:33-37 (added 38a)

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

“What is truth?”

Pilate’s question lingers over this story, over Jesus himself.

And it’s a potent question in our day. Today there isn’t even agreement amongst ourselves as a nation about whether facts are static, real, measurable things. People can, and do, shout “Fake news!” any time something is said that is inconvenient or troublesome to their public persona or point of view.

Truth has become relative. No one can stand in the public square and declare, “This is the truth” without many disputing it. Not on the grounds that the truth is something else, but still discoverable, but on the grounds that “that’s not my truth.” The bitterness and spite in our public arena is amplified by each group or person claiming “their” truth is the only truth, while treating the facts and truth others speak as make-believe or personal opinion.

Yet, we gather here each week with a shared understanding. We believe, and we believe together. Coming here we have an expectation of some kind of agreed-upon truth. We might disagree about nuance or interpretation, but our gathering here together, as a community in worship, implies that as a community we seek truth together, that we even find truth together.

So, Pilate’s question is still vital for us. What, indeed, is truth? Well, it depends on what you mean by truth.

For Pilate, truth was a complicated goal.

Already on a short leash from the Roman emperor due to previous missteps in his governance, this prefect of the troublesome province of Judea faced the truth that he might lose his job. What information he had about Jesus’ case is unknown. As we heard, Pilate wants to know if Jesus is the King of the Jews. Which could translate, “King of the Judeans.” Since Pilate was the Roman prefect of the Judeans, the sole authority in the empire for that province, if Jesus was claiming overlordship of that province, Pilate needed to know.

Perhaps Pilate really wanted to know the truth of Jesus’ case. Is he a criminal or is he innocent? Does he claim to be a king or not? Is he a revolutionary threat or a harmless lunatic? What we do know is that after Pilate said, “What is truth?” he immediately went out and told the religious leaders that he “found no case against [Jesus].”

Seemingly he found the truth about Jesus: the charges were unfounded. And yet, he still issued an order of execution for a man he had declared to be innocent. Truth, for Pilate, seems to be whatever will keep him in his job longer.

The truth about Jesus is also complicated for Christians.

There’s likely nothing Christians have fought over, hated each other about, and broken the community of Christ for more, than the truth about Jesus.

Is Jesus God or is Jesus a human being? Is Jesus a king or is Jesus a servant? Is Jesus a shepherd, or is Jesus a sacrificial lamb? Is Jesus a peacemaker or does Jesus bring a sword?

Generally the Church tries to nail down these paradoxical realities of what the Scriptures say about Jesus into an agreed doctrine. So, for example, in the fourth century, long, drawn-out theological battles over the “true” nature of Christ Jesus finally led to the formation of the Nicene Creed we still proclaim. Fully God, fully human, the Church declared, and used carefully chosen theological terms, as if somehow we could parse out the very details of the mystery of the Son of God in meaningful distinctions.

But if we pay attention to Jesus in John’s Gospel, truth is not something to be nailed down.

John’s Gospel weaves the word “truth” throughout, and it’s not about having your facts straight.

In John 1, we hear that “the law was given through Moses, [but] grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.” So, Christ Jesus, God’s eternal Word who participated in creation and now has taken on human flesh, brings “truth” into the world.

Then, in John 8, Jesus says: “If you continue in my Word, you are truly my disciples [my followers, my learners]; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” Now the eternal Word of God, in human flesh, invites those who would follow him to abide, live, continue in this same Word of God, and find truth that frees.

But in John 14, Jesus makes the truth about truth abundantly clear: “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

This is the great wonder: The Truth is in fact the Son of God himself, the Incarnate Word. Truth isn’t something we can grasp or fight over. Truth isn’t something I have and you don’t. Truth is a Someone. “I am the way, the truth, and the life” means we don’t find God by knowing or believing the right things. It means the One who is Truth embodied brings us to God.

The true Truth cannot be controlled, boxed up in a perfect theology, or fought over. The true Truth can only be known in relationship.

This is what Jesus wants Pilate to see.

It isn’t whether Jesus claims to be a king as Pilate defines king. Jesus asks, “Do you say I’m a king on your own, or did others tell you?” Jesus wants to know what Pilate says of him, what he claims. The only ones who know Truth, Jesus says, are “my followers.” The only ones who know the Truth are the ones who live in relationship with the Truth, with Jesus.

“Everyone who belongs to the Truth listens to my voice,” Jesus says. You don’t belong to a thing, to an abstract argument, to a stated fact. You belong to a Someone, to a Person. And in belonging, you hear that Person’s voice and follow.

So too, we find the true Truth, the Incarnate God in our lives, not by argument but by living with the One who is the Truth.

“If you continue in my Word, live in my Word,” Jesus says, “you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free. I will make you free.”

True followers live in the Word and in relationship with the One who is the Truth. Is Jesus a king or a servant? Instead of arguing that out, trying to teach the truth, Jesus put on a towel, knelt, and washed his followers’ feet. In relationship, Jesus showed them Truth. And then he said, “Go, do the same. Be like me, live as servant. Be the Truth yourself.”

And Jesus didn’t make a philosophical argument about the kind of King he was, or a theological lecture about self-giving, sacrificial Love. He allowed himself to be arrested, tortured, and executed, and in the power of God’s eternal life, rose from the dead as Ruler of all things. In relationship, on the cross Jesus showed them Truth. And then he said, “Go, do the same. Be like me. Love, as I have loved you. Be the Truth yourself.”

The question isn’t “what is truth?” It’s “Who is Truth?”

And thanks be to God you have met this Truth in Word and Sacrament, in this community of children of God formed by God’s love and grace. Here you live as Truth to each other, and by your lives witness to the undying love of God that fills you and all things. Here you learn to follow, to love, to serve, to abide in Truth for the sake of the world. And for your own sake.

And this One who is Truth truly makes you free.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen