Christ Jesus doesn’t want to be a king; Christ wants us to be Christ, following him as the Truth of God in this world.

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

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

We have a problem with this festival day. Jesus doesn’t want to be a king.

A few years ago, we joined many other Christians in renaming this festival “the Reign of Christ” to minimize the masculine language of the title king. But today Jesus is clear. We didn’t think deeply enough. Jesus doesn’t want the title king at all. He doesn’t want to be put in any kind of hierarchy, benign or otherwise.

Twice in Jesus’ trial Pilate asks him if he’s a king, and twice he says no. The first time, he says if he were a king, his followers would be fighting for him and he wouldn’t be standing in this trial. The second time, he says that Pilate’s the one who called him a king. But, Jesus says, “I was born and came into the world for only one thing, to witness to the truth.”

Yet for most of Christian history, we’ve insisted on making Jesus a king anyway, lifting him up as Ruler of all things, singing coronation hymns. Some of us claim he’s a different kind of king than worldly rulers – it’s why this festival was started in the first place. But far too often we have fought to make Christ our King a winner, proving him wrong in his confidence about us before Pilate, proving we don’t understand him.

The history is clear. Whenever we make Christ our King, people die.

When we make Christ a King we get the Inquisition and the Crusades and kill millions. When we put Christ’s cross on our banners, it ends up on our shields and war machines, and people die. We get Cortez slaughtering the Mexica for the glory of that cross. We create the Holocaust. We commit physical, spiritual, and cultural genocide on the native peoples of our land. When we lift up a hierarchical Christ the King we end up with two millennia of a Church that abuses, patronizes, demonizes, sexualizes, and excludes women, so much so that an outside observer might conclude the Church hates women. When we worship Christ as Supreme Ruler we get Christian nationalist fascism that wants to reshape our nation into a twisted, white-centric dystopia claimed to be under Christ’s rule.

But it’s always been this way. After the resurrection, the disciples asked Jesus if now was the time he was going to restore Israel, throw off Roman oppression. It’s as if they said, “we totally misunderstood that you were going to die. We were wrong. But now you’re alive again, we’re back to conquest, right? Now you have real power.”

Even as we look at the current national landscape, how many of us have fantasized about Christ coming in and sorting all this out, punishing evildoers? No matter how well intentioned, historically no outcome to a hierarchical view of the Triune God avoids getting out swords and hurting people.

And so Jesus says, “you say I’m a king. But I came only to witness to the truth.”

That’s the heart of it. Jesus, God-with-us, came to witness to the truth about God. Not our truth. Our need for hierarchy. The only truth the Triune God is willing for us to know and understand. And here it is:

God being born to an impoverished refugee family isn’t a nice detail to bring out when we consider immigration issues. It’s God’s central truth. Jesus walking as God-with-us among the poorest, the hungriest, the weakest, the most vulnerable, isn’t a side note to our view of God. It’s the only note. Jesus, one with the Father and the Spirit in the Trinity, hanging bloody on a cross isn’t a bump to overcome on the way to resurrection. It’s the only truth about God’s love that God wants you to know.

The truth, Governor Pilate, isn’t an idea. It’s Jesus, God-with-us. “I am the truth,” he said. Everything you and I need to know about God, everything, is contained in this human vessel, from birth to death.

This is the only truth Jesus wants us to know and follow. The only God God wants us to know is a refugee, impoverished, oppressed, killed by the hierarchy of the world. A God only seen serving others. A kneeling God, washing feet and sores, and offering a hand of love. God doesn’t want us to indulge our pathetic human need to elevate someone into a hierarchical authority structure. God’s truth is here, in the least, the lost, the broken. Period.

Faithfully celebrating the reign of Christ can only be on God’s terms. In God’s truth.

Where we rejoice and praise God when people are fed and cared for, when justice happens, when love changes hearts. Where we proclaim the only reality of the Triune God that matters, that God is with those who are refugees, impoverished, oppressed, killed by the hierarchy of the world.

What that means for our celebrating the reign of Christ, I don’t know. For the most part, the New Testament writers push language about reigning over all things into the world to come. Maybe there we’ll be able to praise the Trinity as the ultimate Ruler of All without hurting people.

But for now, for here, you and I know where God is. And if we’re going to follow the Truth, that’s where. Nowhere else. We don’t even put God on a pedestal. God will just get down anyway and go where God only wants to be found.

Jesus had an odd confidence, telling Pilate, “my followers know the difference.

 They know I’m not a king.” So far we’ve proven we don’t know that very well.

But maybe Jesus was just expressing hope that we could figure it out. Maybe Jesus was saying to you and me, “If you’ve been listening to my voice, I’m confident you’ll hear this. And hearing, follow that truth.” And amidst all the slaughter and hate the Church is guilty of, if you look in history you can also see plenty of Christ’s followers who heard this voice, learned this truth and lived in this reign as God lives in it. Praising God the only way God will accept it, by lives of love amidst a world of pain and suffering. Love even to enemies and those who hate.

And here’s what those followers learned: when they followed God’s actual Truth, Jesus, God was always with them. They’d face ventures of which they couldn’t see the ending. They’d start down paths they’d never trodden on before. They’d face perils and dangers unknown to them before. But they’d do this knowing God’s hand was guiding them, God’s love supporting them. Always.

And so they followed.

What do you think? Do you want go along with Pilate and everyone else? Or do you want to follow the Truth, follow Christ on a path that will be with God all the way and bring healing and hope to you and so many, to the whole creation?

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

Where love is, God is. That’s your hope, and why you are the hope of the world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Twenty-fifth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 32 B
Texts: 1 Kings 17:8-16; Mark 12:38-44; Psalm 146

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

It’s really a matter of what you want to focus on today.

Do you want to consider Elijah’s context, where he’s fleeing from a narcissistic evil tyrant who abuses his people, a king furious at Elijah for daring to speak God’s Word to him?

Or Jesus’ context, occupied Palestine under imperial oppression, where some of the wealthy religious leaders are manipulating the system and crushing people to enhance their wealth, “devouring widow’s houses,” as Jesus says?

Today we’re dealing with deep grief, anxiety, disgust, anger, and dread at what has happened. We legitimately fear for our neighbors’ safety, some of us even fear for ourselves. A lot of people are going to be hurt in the next years, people we love and people we don’t know, if the promised written plan for our country is now executed by those coming to power. That resonates with King Ahab, and Rome, and these wealthy elites.

But they’re just not the important thing here. We sang in our psalm not to put our trust in rulers. They’re just not worth it. And if we don’t focus on them, what we see in both stories is a shining ray of hope.

We see a poor widow act with empathy against all reason.

She and her son are nearly finished. She has enough flour and oil to make one bit of so-called bread, and when they eat that, what’s left is the long, excruciating process of starving to death.

And this prophet wants her to share. Says God will make her jug of oil and jar of meal never run out, if she helps him. Now, there’s no chance she’s ever seen magic food storage bins. No reason to think Elijah’s not just saying this so she’ll feed him.

But she does. This woman with nothing to do but die and watch her son die, shares what she has with this crazy man.

It’s an awesomely beautiful thing to see, the light of this love.

And look – there’s another poor widow acting against all reason.

Maybe she’s one of those widows cheated by the leaders Jesus just condemned, but however she became so poor, she’s down to two chips of copper that aren’t worth a penny.

And she comes into the treasury, where there are thirteen containers with metal trumpet shaped tops that people noisily throw their money in as an offering. Josephus says seven were labeled, designating commanded offerings for doves or sacrifices, or for incense, and so on, and six were labeled for voluntary offerings. Others say only one or two were voluntary ones. But given that Jesus praises her choice, this widow surely went up to the “voluntary” chest.

And she gives all she has. We don’t need to know why to be dazzled by the light of such beautiful, willing generosity.

Our psalm doesn’t trust rulers. But it does invite us to trust and sing praise of God, who cares for all in need.

A God who, we sang, gives justice to those who are oppressed and food to those who hunger, who releases captives and gives sight to the blind, who lifts up all who are bowed down. A God who cares for the stranger and sustains those on the margins of society. And who frustrates the way of the wicked, we sang.

This is the God to whom these beautiful women belong. A God who empowers them to act as God’s love, even if it seems ridiculous and irrational to others.

In these women, you can see the shining light of God’s love in the world. And find hope.

So here and now, can you also see God with us, in our world?

I see God right here, in all of you. Grieving, struggling with fear and anger, worrying who won’t survive this new future, and whether there’s anything we can do about it, you came here anyway. To be with each other, love each other. Even if it’s your first time, you came looking for God. To see if God has a word of hope for you, for the world. You being here is a shining ray of hope that God is here.

And we’re baptizing a little boy today, a sure sign of God’s presence. God will claim Adam and bring him through the waters into the family of Christ. But notice how we frame God’s action. His parents and sponsors will promise to make sure he’s part of a community of faith so he can learn, as we do here, to trust God, proclaim Christ in his words and deeds, care for others, and work for justice and peace. To join us to proclaim Christ, care for others, and work for justice and peace, as we say at the end when we welcome him “into the mission we share.” Today we see in Adam another blessing who will bear God’s creative and redeeming word into the world with us. Oh, this is a shining ray of hope that God is here and will always be here, if God keeps finding people to share this mission.

And you will come to God’s table today, our sure and weekly sign of God’s grace. And yes, it’s a Meal of forgiveness and God’s love for you. But it’s also food for the journey, waybread, strength and filling to help you and me have courage for what we can do today and the next days. It’s God’s lifting up of our hearts to see that even we are God’s grace in this broken world. This shining ray of weekly hope is a certain sign that God is with you and me and all God’s children. For the long haul. For the hard work. For the healing of all things.

The 8^th century Christian who wrote the hymn our choir will sing this morning saw what we see today.

Where charity and love are, that’s where God is. In every act of love in a world filled with hate, a world where plans for hate are written and ready to be executed, in every act of love God frustrates the wicked. With us. With you. How can you stop millions of people acting in God’s love in every part of this world?

These two wonderful women gave their all, and that’s your invitation. To pour your heart and love into God’s mission, to care, as God does, for all who are vulnerable and lost and afraid, for all who are hungry and homeless and oppressed. Don’t be discouraged if you think you don’t have much to offer, that your love surely can’t make a difference. A tiny bit of flour and oil, a couple chips of copper, the world disdains as nothing.

But God knows better. Your love, your offering, is as powerful as anything in this world. Because where love is, God is. Let that be your shining ray of hope today, even as God shines from you as you go out into the world.

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

Ask God for what you need, trust it will be given, and be ready to be a part of God’s answer.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
All Saints Sunday, year B
Texts: John 11:(17, 30-31) 32-44; Isaiah 25:6-9

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

“If you had been here, Lord, my brother would not have died.”

Mary has a valid point. Jesus, her teacher, friend, master, healed people all the time. If he hadn’t dithered and come late, he could have saved her brother’s life. Martha’s already said this to Jesus.

“If you had been here.” So much anger can fill those words. So much pain. So much sadness. If only God would show up and end the suffering of our lives, our nation, our world. A world where the stink of death and the bitter smell of hatred pervade. Where people live under horrible oppression and suffering. Where we’re hoping and praying and working so that we don’t lose our democracy this week. Even if we don’t, there’s so much to be done, so many things to heal and change, starting with ourselves and including all the pain of this world.

If you were here, God, none of this would have to happen.

And Isaiah isn’t helpful, promising hope in future days to come.

In those days, the shroud of death that covers the world will be torn away, death will be swallowed up, and a feast for all people will be held. Then, Isaiah says, then we’ll sing for joy: “this is the God for whom we have waited, so God would save us. Let’s be glad and rejoice in God’s salvation.”

But how is that helpful? It’s a blessing today as we celebrate our beloved saints who have died and now are with God in the life to come. We rejoice they’re living in that hope and truth of God’s new life.

But is that the only answer we have, just wait? It’ll all be good in the sweet by and by? Martha at least rejects that argument. When just before this reading, Jesus says her brother will live, she almost dismissively says, “I know he’ll live in the resurrection.” It’s as if she’s saying, “don’t bother me with that old promise. I needed you now. He needed you now.”

You probably expect I’ll say now what I always say, “God comes to the world in you and in me.”

And maybe in the face of what our nation is going through right now, you’re tempted to share Martha’s disdain and say, “don’t give me that tired old song. We need God here now, in ways we can see and know. Too much is at stake. If God were here, everything could change.

And you’d have a point. If the Triune God who made all things truly loves all things, why wouldn’t God just fix what’s not right, end oppression and injustice, stop the wars, make all things new right now? It seems a reasonable thing to ask of any god worthy of that title.

But have you considered what that would mean?

If God wanted to stop the war in Gaza, how would God do that? Force Netanyahu and Hamas to change? Or just take out the top leadership on both sides and let the vast majority of the people on both sides who want peace and hope find their way? God could make all weapons of war vanish everywhere. That would help.

And if God was going to make all things right in our country, just how would God do that? Force those who hate to stop hating? How would that work? Would they be punished? Their minds wiped? Or do you want God to make sure the election goes a certain way? Again, how would God do that? Take over the minds of voters on one side?

Are any of these solutions even tolerable to consider? Do you want to live in a world where the God of Creation uses power and strength to force things a certain way? Maybe if it’s other people being forced. But what if God decides that the reason we have poverty and hunger and economic disparity is that you have too much, along with a bunch of others, and God just takes it away by force?

We’re not talking about a miracle that ends a brother’s deadly disease. When we long for God to come and make things right, we’re talking about massive problems. And the only way they can really be fixed is the way God decided to use.

This is what the sisters don’t yet realize: For Jesus to be Messiah, as Martha has said he is, he’ll have to set aside power for the sake of love.

It will soon lead to his death. But the way God chooses to be with us is to come in love. A love willing to lose everything for the sake of that love. Because – and this is a huge risk for the Triune God but it’s the only way that makes any sense – because if God comes to us in person in love, God can call us into that love ourselves. God can change our hearts with that love so that we are loving. Not forcing us into God’s way. Loving and inviting us into God’s way.

This is the way of the cross, but it’s also the only way God can see to really heal this world. To really change the way people live with each other and care for this planet. By loving them into it. And risking that they’ll reject that love and keep hating and destroying and oppressing. But God trusts that if enough are changed into God’s love, they can make a difference, because even small acts of love can make ripples that ultimately change great things.

So it’s not a tired old song to say “God is already here, in you, and in me.”

It’s the only reason to have any hope. Wars will be stopped when people embody God’s love for all instead of focusing only on their need to be right and in charge. Oppression will end when people embody God’s love and risk their comfort and security to let go of things that cause that oppression and work together to make a world where all people can live in hope and in peace. Where strangers are welcomed as family, and the vulnerable are protected and cared for by all. Where violence and hatred become the tired old songs, the relics of a bygone era, and everyone sees the face of God in everyone else.

It’s funny that the easiest part of faith seems to be to trust that our loved ones who have died are in God’s life in the world to come.

That’s our joy and our hope. The hard thing seems to be seeing that God’s answer to “if you had been here, none of this would have happened” is to say, “I am here – in all of you.” And then to trust that God is and will keep on working in you and me and people of goodwill and people of all faiths and people of no faith, to bring love and healing to this world. Changing one person at a time, until all know this healing.

And remember, Jesus said today, “Didn’t I tell you that if you trusted me, you would see the glory of God?” What if we tried trusting God and this plan, trusting the Triune God’s love to change us and the world? What glory might we begin to see, even here, even now?

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

https://youtu.be/PqZnGadMrmoAsk God for what you need, trust it will be given, and be ready to be a part of God’s answer.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
Sunday of the Reformation, using Lect. 30 B
Text: Mark 10:46-52

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

“What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked Bartimaeus.

It’s a strange question. Isn’t it obvious? He’s blind, you can heal.

Except Bartimaeus asked Jesus for mercy. And Jesus has already given forgiveness to a paralyzed man before offering to heal. Maybe Jesus just wants some clarity. What do you really want me to do?

Or maybe Jesus is asking a deeply profound question. You have come to me, the Son of God, asking for mercy. What exactly is it that you want me to do for you?

The question’s partly practical.

Jesus wonders specifically what Bartimaeus wants. Healed eyes? Something else?

So if God-with-us looks you in the eye and asks, “what do you want me to do for you?” what will you say? Do you want courage to face these challenging times? Do you want your faith strengthened? Do you want hope? Do you want healing of your body, or mind, or soul?

On this Sunday when we celebrate the continuing reformation of the Church, and remember our roots, we know Christ’s people, whether institutions or individuals, are still involved in far too many things that work against Christ’s way, supporting systems of oppression, even sometimes promoting evil in the name of Christ. So do you want God to reform the Church again, to call the people of Christ back to the mind and heart of Christ for this world?

And then there’s this world. Our anxiety and fear are palpable as we get closer to this election, so many of our neighbors are struggling and afraid, and there seems no end in sight for these wars that are destroying so many lives. So, do you want God to just fix what’s wrong with this world, ending all our anxiety? To step up and end oppression and injustice? “What do you want me to do for you?”

But there’s more to this: Bartimaeus trusted Jesus could do what he asked.

Somehow, begging alongside the road near Jericho he’d heard of this teacher who healed. And when he realized Jesus was on his road, that this was his chance, he leapt at it. He trusted Jesus could heal him.

So regardless of what you want the Triune God to do for you, do you even trust God will or can do it?

Healing stories like these make it hard for us to answer that question. Because we see that physical healing like this seems to happen much more rarely than when Jesus was doing his ministry, we can prematurely restrict our hope for God’s healing to come in any ways. We know God can do miracles. But we often act like the crowd, only to ourselves, saying, “don’t bother to ask.”

So we act as if we’re on our own for the healing of our nation, our society, the bringing of justice and peace. We pray for God to act, but we tend to expect God won’t. And sadly, we can even doubt God’s ability and willingness to give us those interior gifts we need, courage, hope, strength.

This is our crisis of faith right now.

If Jesus was walking outside on the street right now, would we imitate Bartimaeus and ask for mercy? Or tell ourselves “don’t bother God with that,” as if we know what God would answer.

What if you let Bartimaeus help you, and those others who’ve called on Christ for mercy, asked for what they wanted, and received grace and life from God? Because what those who preceded us in the faith declare, and what some people you and I have known personally proclaim, is that God is fully able and willing to help you in your need, in your want.

That, in fact, if you tell God what it is you want God to do, God will most definitely answer.

Now, you’ll need to learn from these folks how to recognize God’s answer when you get it.

Look at Bartimaeus. Jesus knew he needed something more than eyesight. He needed Jesus in his life, to walk with him, to lead him, to love him. And as soon as he gets his physical sight back, he follows Jesus.

That’s God’s primary way to answer: calling you into a relationship of life and love that guides and shapes you. All the things you want and need inside – more courage, less fear, more faith and trust, hope, a new way of seeing the world – all those things God wants for you even more. They may come gradually, over time; God usually works that way.

And God wants this for you because if you are changed into a follower like Bartimaeus, someone who trusts and learns from God, you will become God’s agent in the world for the healing of all the other things. The big issues of changing the Church, our society, the world – all those will happen through regular people, the healed Bartimaeuses, the healed you and me, who work as God’s own in the world. Whatever happens in this election, we’ll still have a lot of work to do. Whatever happens with wars and oppression and systemic violence, all can start to change when those who follow Christ act as Christ and make a difference.

So, when we’re in a crisis of faith, Bartimaeus reminds you and me to stay on the road and watch for God; and then follow.

Trust God is working in you and in the world, and listen to those who testify to what God has done in them. Ponder what you want from God and ask it. Don’t let anyone – especially yourself – tell you not to bother God with your fears and concerns.

And then follow Christ, as Bartimaeus did, with all the others who follow. Then you’re never alone, not in crises of faith or moments of joy and clarity. And it is this crowd of witnesses, this motley group of followers along with you, who will be agents for God’s healing and hope in the world. God’s answer to all who ask for mercy.

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