God’s grace and love are yours, and are for all: when they shape you and form your life, you will rejoice that no one is excluded.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 25 A
Texts: Philippians 1:21-30; Jonah 3:10 – 4:11; Matthew 20:1-16

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

Aren’t these two beautiful miracle stories today?

An entire city, notorious for its wickedness, repents and turns from its evil. Everyone confesses, and pledges a new life. And God – who was angered and saddened by their sinfulness – joyfully forgives them and relents from punishing.

A vineyard owner, desperate to get the harvest in, goes down to the local workforce center multiple times in the day. At the end of the day, this owner generously pays everyone a full day’s wage. Everyone feeds their families that night, all the children’s bellies are full.

These unexpected outcomes are miraculous. Or maybe “miracle” wasn’t the first word that came to your mind.

Maybe you kind of agreed with Jonah, considered sharing his seat outside the city.

Wicked people should be punished, we sometimes think. It’s not uncommon for us to see some horrible behavior and maybe wish Dante was right about the circles of hell.

Notice, however, before you fully commit and sit down, what Jonah really wanted. This wasn’t about hell. Nineveh’s threatened punishment was utter destruction here and now. Sodom and Gomorrah level. Except, unlike Abraham, who negotiated with God to avert destruction, Jonah wants to see it burn.

Now, Nineveh might have been wicked, but it was also the capital of Israel’s greatest enemy. Enemy capitals are commonly stereotyped as all evil and wicked. Even if Nineveh was worse than your average city, surely, just as Abraham pleaded about Sodom and Gomorrah, some in Nineveh must have been righteous. Loved their children. And, as God points out to Jonah, there were a whole lot of animals.

So, if you want to sit down and pout with Jonah that God forgives people who don’t deserve it, remember Jonah wants genocide.

OK, you say. Forget Jonah. Can I just agree with the hard workers who got ripped off?

Fair enough. They’re not calling for genocide. They’re grumpy that slackers who showed up at 5 in the afternoon got a full day’s wage.

But before you join their picket line, notice a few things. Jesus’ story doesn’t cast any judgement on the latecomers, or give a reason why they weren’t hired earlier. Maybe this landowner had poor strategic planning skills, only picking up a group at first, then throughout the day realizing more and more were needed. The workers might have been waiting all day for a job.

And second, the owner was fair and generous to the first ones. As a temp worker back then, there were likely plenty of employers who’d cheat you out of a day’s pay for a day’s work. You’re subject to the whims of the employer, with no Department of Labor to protect your rights.

And last, these are all hungry people. Day laborers have no confidence they can feed their family from day to day, they depend on getting hired each day. The owner simply gave the latecomers miraculous, compassionate, generous grace. He made sure they’d all survive the night. Everyone got what they needed, including the complainers. So, if you want to join the complainers, why?

Matthew’s community struggled with how to live in God’s grace.

The teachings of Jesus we’ve heard in the past few weeks, the process of reconciliation, the parable of the unforgiving slave, and today’s parable of the workers, are only in Matthew. It seems Matthew needed his community to hear Jesus’ thoughts on a critical problem they had with God’s grace.

The last two weeks the problem was, if you’re forgiven completely by God, why is it so hard to offer the same love and forgiveness to others? Today it’s even more baffling: if God chooses to offer complete and utter love and grace to all, why would you be angry? This time it isn’t whether you forgive, Jesus says. Now it’s whether you resent God forgiving someone else.

You could see this parable as talking only about life-after-death. If you do, and agree with the first workers, you’re saying some people don’t deserve to go to heaven. Why? What’s at stake in it for you?

But there’s also a risk of resenting God’s grace for all people still living in this world. There’s a way to read the parable for this time, right now. That God’s love and generosity and abundance are for all who are living, so all are safe and secure and full, whether or not you think they deserve it. And if you think they don’t, again, why?

Jesus leaves the question open: are you envious because I’m generous? Do you not like God’s new math?

That’s really the issue, isn’t it? God doesn’t count the way you and I do. God sees all God’s children as worthy of love and grace,not wanting to lose even one. Even if they’re wicked, God dreams they’ll turn and become people who love and make a difference. God’s absolutely against having an accounting department to track who deserves how much of what. Everything to everyone. It’s God’s simple math.

And it’s Gospel math. If the good news that the Triune and Holy God who made all things became human, lived and loved and taught and healed and died and rose from the dead, all to bring you and me and all things back into God’s love and life is true – and we live and die trusting that it is – then there is no accounting. Jonah doesn’t have to pay for his rebellion and desertion. You don’t have to pay for your failure to live and love as Christ calls you, or for any sins, great or small.

And no one – no one – gets less or more love from God depending on when they started following faithfully. Everything to everyone. And if that’s hard for you, Paul would like a word.

Paul wouldn’t comprehend the complainers in Jesus’ parable.

How anyone could rejoice in God’s unconditional, transforming love and want anyone else to be deprived of that. In this world or in the next.

So he urges his beloved Philippians, “live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.” Paul lived and proclaimed a life in Christ in all his letters, where, living in Christ’s Spirit, love and peacemaking and forgiveness and generosity and goodness and self-control and all these blessed things shape everything about you, inform and fill everything about you.

Until you’re so happy that you’re loved by God you can’t imagine anyone else not knowing that they are. Until, with the Spirit’s grace, you delight in God’s generosity rather than resent it. Until God’s love infuses your heart and life and becomes the shape of your heart and life. And you live your life in a manner worthy of the Gospel of Christ: no accounting, full generosity, love to all.

Now that’s a miracle worth praying for.

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

We do not belong to ourselves, individually: we are one together in Christ for our good and for the good of the world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 24 A
Texts: Romans 14:1-12 (13); Matthew 18:21-35

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

In the beginning, when God began to create, our hebrew forebears say God didn’t think it was good for us to be alone.

God made more than one human, so we wouldn’t be alone. God constantly encouraged human beings to love each other. Because we need each other to live. So we form communities, families, build relationships. Now, all of us need alone time, too, to varying degrees. But none of us would survive long all by ourselves.

And the necessity of human community is the first key to understanding the forgiveness and restoration in our Scriptures today.

The second key is to remember that communities shape the people in them.

The truth that forms a community, their reason for being together, can lead to people who do good and people who do evil. Today the power of evil emanates from all kinds of communities who are bound together out of fear, or out of hate, or out of greed, or out of prejudice of all kinds. In those communities, people are formed to the evil that gathers them.

But a community grounded on love, or centered on justice, such a community can also transform the people within it. If you belong to a group who shares values of wholeness and mercy, who works for justice among people, you will be shaped by that community to those values.

Our community is bound by Christ.

There are lots of differences between us, and lots of similarities, how each sees the world, understands themselves, lives their life. We’ve had our differences over the years, some serious. Some here you might call your friends; others might irritate you. But that’s OK, you probably irritate someone here, too. But none of this is as important to this community as what joins us: we are baptized into Christ, called into the Body of Christ to be loved by God and learn to love each other. In this community you and I have found welcome, and home, and companionship, and love, and grace. And it has shaped you and me for good.

And now we’re ready to hear about the Romans.

The Roman church was a messy and beautiful church just as our vicar described last week. They were a group of Christian congregations connected to Paul, perhaps founded by him. There are Jewish Christians and Gentile Christians together. But they’re seriously at odds.

It seems at this time the Jewish Christians have less influence, they’re weaker. The Gentile Christians seem to be in charge. The Jewish Christians keep kosher, follow the Torah. The Gentiles – never having been Jewish – do not. They eat all kinds of foods and don’t keep the Jewish festivals.

And they’re fighting with each other. Each group mocking the other, calling them wrong-headed, unfaithful. They’re not loving each other. And Paul is deeply dismayed.

You see, Paul had a beautiful vision he got from Christ in his calling.

In this vision of the church, diversity is beloved, cherished, a gift of God. All who come to Christ can keep their cultural treasures, their patterns and blessings, their ethnic distinctions, even if others don’t share them. Jews can be Jews, Gentiles can be Gentiles, but all are called together under the greater unity of Christ.

But this vision barely got off the ground. The communities we know in Scripture, such as Rome, Corinth, the Galatian churches, all seemed to struggle mightily with it. There’s scant evidence it survived Paul himself; we see very little in the history of the Church.

But it is Christ’s vision for the Church. And it’s still possible with the grace of the Spirit. Today Paul explains it again: In your community of Christ, love each other in your differences. Rejoice in them. Respect them. If you have to do your thing, good. But don’t do it for you. Do it for Christ. If all serve Christ with their habits and life, a community of love and grace can exist in joyful diversity.

Paul says we do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves. If we live, we live to the Lord. If we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s. That’s the key.

And that, Jesus says, is why you and I are called to forgive. Why we’re given the task of reconciliation. Why restoration of community is the heart of how we live as Christ. Because we’re bound together in Christ. And we’ve been changed here. Forgiven infinitely by God.

Jesus’ parable brings this home: the whole community has a stake in forgiveness.

It isn’t just about the slave who’s forgiven millions who couldn’t forgive a thousand dollars in turn. At the heart of this story is this line: “When the other slaves saw what happened, they were greatly distressed.” This breach, this absence of forgiveness, affected everyone who knew them. Threatened the community.

Forgiveness and restoration are crucial to our community because if any are at odds, everyone is hurt. If you withhold forgiveness from another person here, another sibling, all of us suffer.

And in this community of Christ, gathered together by the Triune God’s sacrificial, death-breaking love, our whole life depends on being God’s forgiveness to each other.

But there is a deeper implication to Jesus’ parable and Paul’s plea.

Our love for each other, our forgiveness and restoration, or lack of it, will be our witness to more than us. The Church is meant to be a blessing to the world. So are you. So am I. And if we’re not – and you know this because you see it happening in our world and despair – if those who carry Christ’s name carry it in hate and spite and wickedness, then the world will be greatly distressed at it, or worse, see our witness as fraudulent and harmful.

So we do not live to ourselves even here. If, with the Spirit’s grace, we are changed here, learn to forgive as we’ve been forgiven, to be a part of God’s restoration among us, it is so that we leave here to be a part of the same outside, with whatever diverse people we can form a community with who share our values of justice and peace and mercy.

And just imagine what might happen in our city or world when God sends us out on the road.

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

The path of Christ is foolishness, a stumbling block, nonsense, and we know that from the beginning. It is also the only way to life for us and the creation?

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The feast of the Holy Cross
Texts: 1 Corinthians 1:18-24; John 3:13-17

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

You have to admire Paul’s honesty.

He starts his letter to the Corinthians calling his promise, his proclamation, his witness, foolish. Deluded. Making no sense to the Jewish people or any other people on earth.

“We proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles,” Paul says. From the start let’s be clear, he says. What we say about Christ isn’t going to connect with just about anyone.

He could actually have named two other groups. What he often calls the flesh, or the world, what we might call our culture, our way. And second, the very Church itself, born out of the cross of Christ and gathered by the Spirit’s fire. Both also struggle with the cross.

So Paul says: look honestly at the truth of our proclamation. And know that it’s in opposition to nearly everything everyone expects about the way the world works.

But it’s what Jesus proclaimed.

Jesus said, “The Son of Man must be lifted up, so whoever trusts in him might have eternal life.” The path to God’s life starts at the cross, where we see our Savior lifted up for the life of the world. Lifted up, as Jesus proclaims later, to draw all people to himself, all things into God’s embrace. (John 12:32)

And Paul says this way of the cross is clearly opposite to the way most desire. But it will save the world. All things will be healed, saved, brought into God’s life and love through this sacrificial love. And as those who see Christ lifted up allow themselves to be lifted up, cut down, walked on for the sake of others, then the world of power over others, of domination and might, will crumble and eventually fall.

And that’s where the rubber meets the road. When the historical event of the cross makes a demand on how people live their lives, how they they think things work.

It’s where all these groups struggle.

They just don’t know what to do with the cross.

The proclamation of Christ’s cross was a stumbling block to Jews because they couldn’t envision the one true God, the maker of all things, so debased, so lowly as to assume human form and die.

The proclamation of Christ’s cross was foolishness to Gentiles because they’d ridicule a pathetic group of believers who followed someone who ended in a humiliating public execution.

The proclamation of Christ’s cross is nonsense to our culture because the world can’t comprehend an all-powerful Creator of all things giving up that power in love. If you’ve got power, wield it, use it, the world says.

And the proclamation of Christ’s cross largely appears to be irrelevant to the very Church Christ called. The Church has learned to live as if the cross is unimportant to its life, sharing a bed with military and political power for centuries, calling it God’s will, a practical way to preserve the institution. And because we like power, being winners.

So, Paul says, let’s be honest. Name at the start what’s at stake.

The path to God’s life is the path of stumbling, foolish, irrelevant nonsense.

Can you see the stumbling block? he asks. You don’t get to tell God what to do, you only get to decide if you’re going where God has already gone, into disreputable places and places of loss. To love those who would hurt you.

Can you see the foolishness? Paul asks.  To stop defending the church, our congregation, yourself, even God. This path doesn’t lead to impressive, powerful things people have to respect.

Can you see the nonsense? he asks. To move out in vulnerability and weakness, offering only love and grace in your words, actions, and decisions, instead of fighting to make sure you win or the church wins.

Can you see how this might appear irrelevant to your life? Paul asks. If people always need to adjust to you, if your needs are always foremost, if your trust in God depends upon whether you have success and security, if being right is the most important thing, if sacrificial, vulnerable love is something you’re unwilling to do, what does that tell you? he asks.

That’s the honesty Paul calls for.

But such honesty is why you and I are here tonight.

Tonight, and at every Eucharist, when we gather at the Table of Christ and claim those visceral gifts as our own, Christ’s Body and Blood, we declare Paul’s words from later in this Corinthian letter: “When we eat of this bread and drink from this cup, we proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” (1 Cor. 11:26)

This isn’t some morbid obsession, to stop and proclaim Christ’s death at every Eucharist. It is declaring the truth each time, so we remember this is our way. So we continually focus on the path we walk with Christ, a path of loss and death that gives life.

The cross marks our lives, our worship, our rituals, our gestures, our faith, precisely as a reminder of Christ’s path, and ours. And with this sign we commit to our path.

“The message of the cross is foolishness,” Paul says . . . “but to us who are being saved it is Christ the wisdom of God.”

We seek wisdom in foolishness, because that’s where God’s way is. We seek power in powerlessness, because that’s what God does. We seek strength in weakness, because that’s how God works. We seek victory in losing, because that’s how God wins. This foolish, nonsensical, stumbling block truth about the way the Triune God really works in the world is life. Millions before us have learned this and found life for themselves and for the world.

So with God’s help let’s walk this foolishness together, catch each other when we stumble, help make sense of the nonsense together, and find the relevance of this way for our life and the life of the whole universe.

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

Following Jesus is about more than being generous and cooperative people. Through Jesus’ suffering, death, and resurrection, God reconciles all creation to Godself.

The Rev. Beth Ann Gaede
The Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 22 A
Texts: Jeremiah 15:15-21; Romans 12:9-21; Matthew 16:21-28

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

If you follow New York Times columnist David Brooks, you probably saw this week’s reflections on a question novelists and poets, philosophers, theologians, and maybe you have long pondered: Are human beings fundamentally good or fundamentally bad? Are people mostly generous, or are they mostly selfish?

As Brooks lays out his argument, he first cites a recent psychological experiment in which 200 people in seven nations around the world were each given $10,000, free, and then reported how they spent the money. On average, the participants spent more than $6,400—nearly two-thirds—to benefit others. (https://www.nytimes.com/2023/08/31/opinion/human-nature-good-bad-generous.html)

Brooks then goes on to cite a Harvard researcher who says: “Across a wide range of experiments, in widely diverse populations, one finding stands out: In practically no human society examined under controlled conditions have the majority of people consistently behaved selfishly.”

Brooks concludes, “Humanity hasn’t thrived all these centuries because we’re ruthlessly selfish; we’ve thrived because we’re really good at cooperation.”

I’m going to dare to assume that, people being people, Jesus’ followers were pretty much like the folks these scholars studied—basically generous and cooperative.

So if that was the case, why did Jesus say, “If any wish to come after me, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Mt 16:24)? Couldn’t he assume people would listen to their good instincts and, hoping to make the world a better place, follow his teachings and imitate his ministry? Why did he talk about denial and the cross—that scary-sounding stuff?

As so often happens when we read the Bible, the context of a passage provides clues about it. And last week’s Gospel lesson is indeed helpful. There Jesus asks his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” (v. 13) The text goes on:

And Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” And Jesus answered him, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you but my Father in heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church.” (vv. 16–18)

Peter, it seems, really gets it. He understands who Jesus is, what his message and mission are. He’s all in for Team Jesus! Three cheers for Peter!

But today, continuing with the next verse of Matthew’s gospel, we learn that Jesus starts to tell his followers what lies ahead for him: “He must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes and be killed and on the third day be raised” (v. 21).

And how does Peter respond? “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” Not surprisingly, Jesus scolds Peter: “Get behind me, Satan!” (vv. 22–23).

Oh, Peter! He was so close, looking for all the world like a faithful disciple—and he totally blew it! After walking in Jesus’ footsteps, sitting at Jesus feet, breaking bread at Jesus’ table, even being designated as the rock upon whom Jesus will build his church, Peter doesn’t understand who Jesus is and what he is about.

Peter is not the only one who has trouble grasping what it means to follow Jesus. We gather from the apostle Paul’s letters to various Christian communities that he is in good company. That’s why Paul writes to the Christians in Rome:

Hate what is evil; hold fast to what is good; … Be patient. . . . Live in harmony with one another. . . . Live peaceably with all. . . . If your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink. . . . (Romans 12)

Paul is describing a transformed life. He’s telling these folks, in detailed, practical terms, to be generous and cooperative.

But wait! What about the research David Brooks cites that says human beings are generally decent to one another? Do they, do we, really need a list like Paul’s?

Well, the thing of it is, Jesus is more than a model of neighbor love. Following Jesus is about more than being generous and cooperative.

I’m not minimizing or dismissing the value of Paul’s guidance for the Christians in Rome. Hardly! Paul is a wise teacher, a good pastor, and of course we need to pay attention to him.

But Jesus the Messiah, God’s anointed one, is inviting Peter and the other disciples, and us, to work toward a much grander vision. God’s yearning is not only to create generous and cooperative people but to reconcile all creation to Godself.

When we view the life of love, patience, and peace that Paul talks about through the lens of Jesus’ suffering, death, and resurrection, we see an entire cosmos that is healed, whole, and connected. All things, even the rocks, trees, and stars, are restored. All relationships are just.

As Jesus warned, following him is not easy. Jesus’ suffering, our suffering, is real. The cross, the cross Jesus asks us to carry, is heavy. Participating in God’s grand vision demands courage and stamina. But Jesus’ suffering and death are followed by his resurrection. And in that resurrection, the powers of sin and death that divide creation are overcome.

Maybe people do have a capacity to be generous and cooperative. (We can continue to debate that point, if you like.) But in Jesus, God is working to overcome everything that interferes with the wholeness of creation. All things are reconciled by God through Jesus. We are reconciled—to one another, to all creation, to God. In this journey, we find life. Thanks be to God!

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