These parables are full of surprises: grace to those who don’t deserve it, truth about where we find Christ in our lives, and, most of all, a King who becomes a servant to save the world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
   Christ the King, Last Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 34 A
   texts:  Matthew 25:31-46 (referring to all of Matthew 25, plus some more)

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

Did you notice both groups of the King’s servants were surprised at the truth?

Both wanted to serve their King, care for him; neither knew how.  The only difference is one group took care of people with needs, one did not.  The last day brings a stunning surprise when they are called before their King, who tells them the truth.  “We had no idea,” they all say.

This surprise is only one of a number of surprises these judgment parables we’ve heard lately spring, things that aren’t what they seem, situations that don’t turn out as we expect.  If we’ve struggled with these stories, feared them, it’s because, like the servants of the King, we’re not in on the surprise.

We could be.  Everything we need to understand the truth of these parables, of our relationship to our Lord, of life and death and eternal existence, is given us, if only we look.

So let’s look.

We start with this first surprise.

It’s remarkable: in the 25 years I’ve studied these parables, discussed them, taught them, heard others speak about them, most of the time people want to talk about the judgment, the sentencing.  If the actions called for today are mentioned, it’s related to the threat.  People say “do these or else, that’s what Jesus is saying,” or people won’t consider living in this way, frozen in their fear.  Most reading these parables come away scared, worried, or self-righteous.

If you insist on focusing on the judgment, the “eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels,” fine.  Then notice what Jesus has given us.  In this insider parable, Jesus has told his disciples, his followers, the very people who, like the ones in the parable, want to serve their King, precisely what they need to do to do that, and avoid judgment.

I don’t believe Jesus is threatening us here.  But if you insist on that, know this: you have the answers to the final exam.  If there’s going to be a judgment such as this, none of us will be the second group.  None of us.  We’re not going to be surprised, that’s our surprise today.

We, unlike they, know exactly where our King is.  In the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick, the imprisoned.  So even if you fear this judgment, this fire, you’ve got all you need to avoid it: take care of the least of these.

But the next surprise is that the judgment itself is not to be feared.

A few chapters earlier Jesus tells this story of the kingdom: there was an owner who hired people to work in his vineyard.  The first at 6 a.m. were promised a full day’s pay.  During the day he hires more, because there’s more work.  With less than an hour to sunset, he gets a few more.  At the end of the day, everyone gets a full day’s pay, regardless of their work.

Do you see?  Those who take care of the “least of these” for decades are no better off at the judgment than those who do it only a little.  In other words, if we have the answers to the final, in Matthew 22 Jesus says he’s throwing out the final results, everyone’s getting an A.  Everyone.  Even those who sat around all day.  That’s a shock.

Now, we don’t mind if we get slack from Jesus.  But if (in our opinion) we are prepared bridesmaids, slaves faithful with our God-given gifts, folks who care for the least of these, we can be less than thrilled if someone who doesn’t do much also gets a free pass of grace in the end.

“Are you envious because I am generous?” the owner says in that parable.  “Can’t I do with my wealth what I want?”  That’s the point: God’s generosity is for all, even us.  Because let’s be honest: none of us works a full day, we all fall short.

As Jesus dies on the cross he takes all of our tests, all of our work, all we have done, good and bad, and throws it out.  He says, “I’ll take care of this.  I’ll love you all.”  We see it almost right away after the resurrection when he first re-claims all his faithless disciples and names them as his chief witnesses and leaders in bringing God’s grace to the world.

The cross also reveals we don’t need to fear the authority figure.

That’s a big problem we have here.  The groom says “I don’t know you.”  The master kicks out the third slave and gives his talent to the first, and slave-owner is hardly a nice model for God.  The King says that because some of his followers didn’t know or do, well, they can go to you know where.  None of these sounds like someone to be trusted, let alone loved.

If we look only at these three parables we miss the biggest surprise of the whole Gospel: Jesus, the Son of God, consistently flips our expectations about being our Lord upside down.  When the disciples fight over which is greatest, Jesus reminds them, only a few chapters earlier, they are to serve each other, because that’s what he does.  “The Son of Man,” he says, “came to serve, not to be served.”

Now do you see?  The slaveowner of the second parable becomes a slave himself and dies in service.  The bridegroom gives his life for his neglectful, unprepared friends.  The king ascends his royal throne, only it’s a cross, and he is crowned by being tortured to death.

None of these parables make sense if we read them alone.  They’re told to disciples, to us, and we only understand when we stay with the Storyteller through the cross and the empty tomb.  So yes, in these stories we are called to serve others, use our gifts, be prepared.  But only because our King, Master, and Groom is already on his knees doing it himself.

Have you had enough surprises?  Here’s a big one.  If we stop fearing the authority, and quit obsessing on the judgment, we actually find the point of these parables. 

The largest amount of words in these parables, the bulk of what is said, is our Lord and King inviting us to join him in bringing life to the world.  Asking us to prepare for his coming reign by making it happen in our lives.  Asking us to use the gifts we’ve been given for the sake of the reign of God.  Asking us to expect to see our Lord in the eyes of those in need, and to expect such relationships to bless us in return.

Now that we know we need not fear our Lord, we begin to see these stories for what they are: our Lord’s gracious call to be of service as his followers.  What if we let go of our fear and anxiety and were just that?

The biggest surprise is that we’re surprised at all.

Everything we’ve ever seen in Jesus should have shown this path to us.  None of these calls to action are surprises, given Jesus’ other teaching and life we’ve heard and known.  Fear of the judgment should never have been our obsession, given Jesus’ death and resurrection.  We live trusting in God’s free and undeserved grace given us through Christ Jesus, not in terror of God.

We shouldn’t be surprised by this, but that’s OK.  The only question is, will we follow our King and Lord into this path of love and service for the sake of the world, trusting grace and forgiveness will be what he has said, trusting the path of sacrificial love will bless us as much as those we love, trusting we are in the hands of the Triune God who only hopes that we will join all God’s children in restoring this earth to what it was created to be.

The vision of what we could be, living as these parables invite, is thrilling to imagine.  I can’t wait to see what happens next as we mature into this life.

It might actually surprise us how wonderful it is.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

The true nature of the Triune God is known to us first at the cross, and then in the astonishing generosity of love and grace that we learn there; our sharing of that generosity with the world is the path of life and light.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
   Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 33 A
   texts:  Matthew 25:14-30; 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11; Psalm 90 (all); Zephaniah 1:7, 12-18

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

 “Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid.”

That’s the key to everything.  “Master, I knew what you were really like, so I was afraid.”  In our readings today it’s life or death to know the true nature of our Master.  Is God as Zephaniah says?  That’s horrifying and frightening to contemplate.  There’s not a shred of mercy in the prophet’s words today.

Yet Paul says not to worry, God hasn’t “destined us for wrath.”  We are meant to receive salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ who died for us, whether we are awake – the way Paul urges us to be – or asleep – the way the people of the world are.  Either way, Paul comforts, trust in the death of Christ Jesus and in God’s love.

It’s a drastic difference.  There are people of many different faiths who shout with Zephaniah: God is to be feared, punishment is severe.  This parable’s end sounds like Jesus is saying that, too.  That’s frightening; we thought Jesus loved us.

It feels a lot better to cling to Paul’s words as our lifeline; we’d sleep better at night.  But if Paul’s wrong, if in spite of Christ Jesus and his death and resurrection we still need to fear the wrath Zephaniah proclaims and Jesus here seems to endorse, it would be better to face it now, and not trust a false hope.

“Master, I know the truth about you.”  The third slave was sure he knew.  How can we be sure?

First, remember we can’t take any Scripture out of context, without the rest.

The Bible has at least 66 different books, more with the Apocrypha; we claim them all as God’s Word.  Zephaniah has to talk to Paul, who has to talk to Matthew.  Matthew’s Gospel has to deal with Mark’s, and Luke’s, and John’s.  We don’t ignore any of it, but try, with God’s help, to see God’s connecting Word throughout the entire Scriptures.

None of our voices today has the whole story of God, but together help us see the truth.

So Psalm 90 befriends us as we speak with Zephaniah today.  Recognizing that all generations are in God’s hands, the psalmist admits great fear at considering the wrath of God, knows in God’s justifiable anger we cannot live.  But the psalmist moves beyond the fear Zephaniah raises in us: “Return, O LORD, how long will you delay?” we sang.  “Be gracious and come to us, give us your steadfast love.”

Unlike the third slave, the psalmist invites us to look deeper into God’s heart, past the wrath, and say, “Master, I know the truth about you, that you are good and gracious and loving.  That’s what I will trust, instead of fearing your anger.”  This end of Psalm 90 leads right into the heart of Paul’s proclamation, and Paul’s claim rests on the death of our Lord Jesus Christ.

That’s the real path to the truth.  Because of the cross of Christ, we can’t ever read any judgment of God in Scripture the same.

Whatever Zephaniah meant in his time, he absolutely means something different now.  On the cross the Son of God enters that judgment and suffering, enters our evil.  Whatever God tells the prophets to warn, it becomes God who goes into the heart of that judgment in person.

Consider what it means in this parable that “outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth,” is precisely where Jesus goes.  That’s where we find him, at the end of the parable with the outcasts, sinners, wretches.  With us, if we’re in that dark place of fear.  We can’t forget the cross and panic whenever we hear verse 30.

The third slave also feared his master would take things that didn’t belong to him, things he didn’t earn.  He was right, if we’re talking about Jesus.  “Reaping where you did not sow, gathering where you did not scatter seed”?  That is the truth of the cross.  Everything Jesus “harvests” at the cross, pain, suffering, abandonment, torture, sorrow, death, all grow from seeds he didn’t put in the ground, from plants he didn’t nurture and water.

If there’s anyone in the darkness and weeping of judgment, they’ll see our Lord at their side, even if the rest of us run away.

You want to know the true nature of the Triune God?  It couldn’t be clearer.  We see it not in the judgment of Zephaniah or the end of Jesus’ parable, but in the cross on which the Son of God died for love of the world, love of us.

Even the Master in this parable shows God’s true nature.

We get so stuck on the parable’s end we miss that the third slave was actually wrong.  Jesus tells a story of a generous, gracious and trusting Master, not the caricature the slave feared.  He entrusts huge amounts of money – millions in our dollars – to three of his slaves.  Whatever he wanted them to do with it, he gave them great wealth to care for in his absence.  This isn’t a mean-spirited master, this is a generous man who trusts his slaves with all his wealth.  Think of the relationship with them such trust implies.  Now, slave number 3 expects the worst.  But look at the other two.  They take the huge amounts entrusted to them and do something with them.  When the master returns, they joyfully give it all back.  He’s thrilled with them, offers them greater responsibility, invites them into his joy.  This is a relationship of love and trust.

The truth is, the third slave had long been living in the outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth already.  He lived in fear, jealousy, bitterness, resentment.  His problem is not the nature of his master; his problem is his own trapped nature.  His friends had a very different life.

What if we just keep our eyes on the first two, then?

Why fret about number 3, unless we’re planning on copying him?  Jesus will be with him and bring him out of the darkness, that’s what Jesus does.

But why choose to live our lives fearing God’s wrath, looking over our shoulder for a God who isn’t even wanting to harm us?  Why choose to be bitter about God wanting us to use God’s wealth and gifts for God’s needs?  Why choose to live our lives in darkness, ignoring the truth both about God’s gracious love and God’s incredible trust and generosity in giving us great wealth to share and care for?  What do we gain by that path?

What would happen if we opened our eyes to the reality that, like these slaves, we have nothing except what God has entrusted to us – abilities and privilege, time and money – and all Jesus is interested in is that we use it to further God’s reign of justice and love?  Living as the first two sounds like a path to life and joy.

“Therefore encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing,” Paul says.

That’s great wisdom.  Let’s help each other remember this truth.  We know the true nature of the Triune God is generous, trusting, forgiving, gracious.  Even if we bury our gifts, even if we live our lives in darkness and fear, in that dark weeping we find our crucified and risen Lord next to us.  Because God’s love is so deep and so great God always comes into our darkest places to find us and bring us home.

But why bury the gifts?  Why selfishly hoard them as if they are ours?  What would be the point of that?  This of course is related to what we share with each other for our ministry here, what many of us are pledging to do for next year.  We make promises mostly to God, but also to each other, that we will seek to use God’s entrusted wealth wisely, as God would dream.  But it actually is about the fullness of our lives: every action we do, every dollar we spend, every word we say shows our understanding of God’s nature, whether it’s a true understanding or a false fear.

We encourage and build up each other by reminding ourselves of the astonishing truth about the nature of God, who loves us so deeply and has entrusted us with so much.  Together we can learn what it is to use as much of it as possible to share with the world and participate in the reign of God now, until the age to come.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

The true nature of the Triune God is known to us first at the cross, and then in the astonishing generosity of love and grace that we learn there; our sharing of that generosity with the world is the path of life and light.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
   Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 33 A
   texts:  Matthew 25:14-30; 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11; Psalm 90 (all); Zephaniah 1:7, 12-18

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

 “Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid.”

That’s the key to everything.  “Master, I knew what you were really like, so I was afraid.”  In our readings today it’s life or death to know the true nature of our Master.  Is God as Zephaniah says?  That’s horrifying and frightening to contemplate.  There’s not a shred of mercy in the prophet’s words today.

Yet Paul says not to worry, God hasn’t “destined us for wrath.”  We are meant to receive salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ who died for us, whether we are awake – the way Paul urges us to be – or asleep – the way the people of the world are.  Either way, Paul comforts, trust in the death of Christ Jesus and in God’s love.

It’s a drastic difference.  There are people of many different faiths who shout with Zephaniah: God is to be feared, punishment is severe.  This parable’s end sounds like Jesus is saying that, too.  That’s frightening; we thought Jesus loved us.

It feels a lot better to cling to Paul’s words as our lifeline; we’d sleep better at night.  But if Paul’s wrong, if in spite of Christ Jesus and his death and resurrection we still need to fear the wrath Zephaniah proclaims and Jesus here seems to endorse, it would be better to face it now, and not trust a false hope.

“Master, I know the truth about you.”  The third slave was sure he knew.  How can we be sure?

First, remember we can’t take any Scripture out of context, without the rest.

The Bible has at least 66 different books, more with the Apocrypha; we claim them all as God’s Word.  Zephaniah has to talk to Paul, who has to talk to Matthew.  Matthew’s Gospel has to deal with Mark’s, and Luke’s, and John’s.  We don’t ignore any of it, but try, with God’s help, to see God’s connecting Word throughout the entire Scriptures.

None of our voices today has the whole story of God, but together help us see the truth.

So Psalm 90 befriends us as we speak with Zephaniah today.  Recognizing that all generations are in God’s hands, the psalmist admits great fear at considering the wrath of God, knows in God’s justifiable anger we cannot live.  But the psalmist moves beyond the fear Zephaniah raises in us: “Return, O LORD, how long will you delay?” we sang.  “Be gracious and come to us, give us your steadfast love.”

Unlike the third slave, the psalmist invites us to look deeper into God’s heart, past the wrath, and say, “Master, I know the truth about you, that you are good and gracious and loving.  That’s what I will trust, instead of fearing your anger.”  This end of Psalm 90 leads right into the heart of Paul’s proclamation, and Paul’s claim rests on the death of our Lord Jesus Christ.

That’s the real path to the truth.  Because of the cross of Christ, we can’t ever read any judgment of God in Scripture the same.

Whatever Zephaniah meant in his time, he absolutely means something different now.  On the cross the Son of God enters that judgment and suffering, enters our evil.  Whatever God tells the prophets to warn, it becomes God who goes into the heart of that judgment in person.

Consider what it means in this parable that “outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth,” is precisely where Jesus goes.  That’s where we find him, at the end of the parable with the outcasts, sinners, wretches.  With us, if we’re in that dark place of fear.  We can’t forget the cross and panic whenever we hear verse 30.

The third slave also feared his master would take things that didn’t belong to him, things he didn’t earn.  He was right, if we’re talking about Jesus.  “Reaping where you did not sow, gathering where you did not scatter seed”?  That is the truth of the cross.  Everything Jesus “harvests” at the cross, pain, suffering, abandonment, torture, sorrow, death, all grow from seeds he didn’t put in the ground, from plants he didn’t nurture and water.

If there’s anyone in the darkness and weeping of judgment, they’ll see our Lord at their side, even if the rest of us run away.

You want to know the true nature of the Triune God?  It couldn’t be clearer.  We see it not in the judgment of Zephaniah or the end of Jesus’ parable, but in the cross on which the Son of God died for love of the world, love of us.

Even the Master in this parable shows God’s true nature.

We get so stuck on the parable’s end we miss that the third slave was actually wrong.  Jesus tells a story of a generous, gracious and trusting Master, not the caricature the slave feared.  He entrusts huge amounts of money – millions in our dollars – to three of his slaves.  Whatever he wanted them to do with it, he gave them great wealth to care for in his absence.  This isn’t a mean-spirited master, this is a generous man who trusts his slaves with all his wealth.  Think of the relationship with them such trust implies.  Now, slave number 3 expects the worst.  But look at the other two.  They take the huge amounts entrusted to them and do something with them.  When the master returns, they joyfully give it all back.  He’s thrilled with them, offers them greater responsibility, invites them into his joy.  This is a relationship of love and trust.

The truth is, the third slave had long been living in the outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth already.  He lived in fear, jealousy, bitterness, resentment.  His problem is not the nature of his master; his problem is his own trapped nature.  His friends had a very different life.

What if we just keep our eyes on the first two, then?

Why fret about number 3, unless we’re planning on copying him?  Jesus will be with him and bring him out of the darkness, that’s what Jesus does.

But why choose to live our lives fearing God’s wrath, looking over our shoulder for a God who isn’t even wanting to harm us?  Why choose to be bitter about God wanting us to use God’s wealth and gifts for God’s needs?  Why choose to live our lives in darkness, ignoring the truth both about God’s gracious love and God’s incredible trust and generosity in giving us great wealth to share and care for?  What do we gain by that path?

What would happen if we opened our eyes to the reality that, like these slaves, we have nothing except what God has entrusted to us – abilities and privilege, time and money – and all Jesus is interested in is that we use it to further God’s reign of justice and love?  Living as the first two sounds like a path to life and joy.

“Therefore encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing,” Paul says.

That’s great wisdom.  Let’s help each other remember this truth.  We know the true nature of the Triune God is generous, trusting, forgiving, gracious.  Even if we bury our gifts, even if we live our lives in darkness and fear, in that dark weeping we find our crucified and risen Lord next to us.  Because God’s love is so deep and so great God always comes into our darkest places to find us and bring us home.

But why bury the gifts?  Why selfishly hoard them as if they are ours?  What would be the point of that?  This of course is related to what we share with each other for our ministry here, what many of us are pledging to do for next year.  We make promises mostly to God, but also to each other, that we will seek to use God’s entrusted wealth wisely, as God would dream.  But it actually is about the fullness of our lives: every action we do, every dollar we spend, every word we say shows our understanding of God’s nature, whether it’s a true understanding or a false fear.

We encourage and build up each other by reminding ourselves of the astonishing truth about the nature of God, who loves us so deeply and has entrusted us with so much.  Together we can learn what it is to use as much of it as possible to share with the world and participate in the reign of God now, until the age to come.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

We needn’t worry about our place in God’s love; however, Jesus, before his death and resurrection, grounded in that love for us, seems to have deep concerns about our awareness of our calling as children of God and our willingness to live in that calling and serve.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
   Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 32 A
   texts:  Amos 5:18-24; Matthew 25:1-13

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

We know preparation is key to a good party.

If you’re having guests to your house, there are things that need doing.  The house needs to be deep-cleaned, clutter put away.  Food needs to be purchased and prepared.  Tables need setting, dishes need polishing.  Candles might be needed.  The guest list needs to be checked so no one is left out, invitations need to be issued.  Parties don’t create themselves.

Why then are we so skittish about this parable?  We shudder at the “I don’t know you” from the bridegroom.  We don’t like the judgment on the careless ones.  We, who claim the unlimited grace of God in Christ Jesus, hear this parable and cry out, or mutter, or think to ourselves, “This sounds pretty legalistic!”

Maybe we’re using that word to avoid the heart of what it means to be a disciple.  If every time Jesus says something that remotely sounds like he’s asking us to do something we throw up the “legalism” defense, it’s worth asking what that says about us.  If we believe salvation in Christ is only about our being loved by God, that the Son of God can have no expectations on us, that as long as we worship and hear that we are forgiven, we can do what we want with our lives, well.  Can I introduce you to the prophet Amos?  He had something to say about that.

We’re entering a challenging stretch these next three weeks.  If we’re squeamish about Jesus calling us to tasks, our struggle only begins today.  Just wait until we hear the next two parables and the prophetic words chosen to accompany them.

There are two typical ways Christians in this country seem to face these challenges.  Today Jesus invites us to consider a third way, his way.

Our usual way is the approach of the grace people.

We believe we cannot earn God’s love, it’s ours already.  We declare we have been claimed by God in baptism, made clean in the death and resurrection of Christ Jesus, and have life with God now and forever.  We read the Scriptures with this truth as our lens, our way of interpreting.

But sometimes when we grace people hear a parable like today’s we don’t like it.  So we run away from it in fear, hoping we didn’t really hear it, or we happily ignore it.  With the latter, sometimes people will even say Jesus likely didn’t tell this parable, it’s probably Matthew’s creation.  Doesn’t sound like Jesus, we might say, so we’re free to dismiss it.  If we live the fear option, we push this parable aside so we don’t have to consider it, hoping if we simply say it’s legalistic we can get to grace and not be troubled any more.

There are other Christians who take the approach of the judgment people.

The lens they use for Scripture is the lens of our sin.  We’re awful people, they say, and Jesus has called us to straighten up and fly right.  If we don’t do that, we’re in trouble.  These Christians are seemingly happy to declare lots of people heading to hell for their sins, and grace, while proclaimed, seems to be only possible for those who never make mistakes.

When judgment people hear a parable like today’s it’s manna from heaven.  Be prepared or you’ll be left out, they say.  Sure, God forgives, but not if you’re not ready.  Be wise and be ready and enjoy heaven, or be foolish and regret it in hell for eternity.

This begs the question: why don’t we want Jesus’ approach?

We who focus on grace want to say, “Why can’t we just know we’re loved by the Master and leave it at that?”  Those who focus on judgment say, “Jesus is clear here: we’ve got things we have to do, job requirements.”

But our Master, if we look at everything he taught and did, including his death and resurrection, says this: “Why can’t I have both?  I love you wholly and fully, with an eternal love.  I set aside all my divine power and glory and went to the cross to open your hearts to my love.  Risen from the dead, I forgive you of all things and welcome you to God’s party that will last forever.”

But then he says in this parable, “Can’t I also, grounded in that love, ask you to do your work and get ready for the party, ready for my rule, ready for my life in the world?”

This isn’t judgment, and it isn’t conditional.  The love of God in Christ Jesus cannot be taken from us.  But this parable points out a deeper reason for Jesus’ coming as one of us.

Jesus comes to invite us to new life for the sake of the world.

The forgiveness of God in Christ Jesus isn’t tied to our doing our work, our being prepared.  God’s forgiveness assumes we will sin, otherwise it’s not needed.

But Jesus came not only to forgive, he came to teach us how to live God’s true, abundant life.  To show us how God will heal this world and bring the party of God’s new creation: by using the very people who made the mess to get the place cleaned up.

This is the heart of his teaching.  Look at all the parables he tells of servants being awake and prepared at all times for their master’s return.  They’re supposed to be about their jobs as they wait, keeping all things ready, so when the master comes back, he’ll find a clean house, clean sheets, full cupboards, and a fire in the fireplace.

Or as he says in this parable: God’s planning a party of life and restoration for this whole world.  The Bridegroom, the Son of God, is the center of the party.  Everyone’s invited, wise and foolish.  But a good party needs preparation.  Oil for the lamps, so the world in darkness is lighted up, so we can see each other’s faces in joy, so the procession can be festive and bright.  The house of this world needs to be cleaned, food prepared enough for all, not just those who have it, and the guest list filled up to include every child of God on this planet.  This is a huge party, this justice and peace of God.  It’s going to take some doing.

It’s immature of us to run away from this work by falsely tying our eternal salvation to it.  That’s what children do, blaming their parents for asking them to work in the life of the home, thinking that means their parents only love them when they do right.

God’s truth is, Jesus both loves us fully and unconditionally and at the same time asks us to be about our work to get ready for God’s great feast of hope and renewal.  We know we are growing into maturity in Christ when we can hold both those truths together and rejoice in our Christly life.

Why the warnings, then?  Why would Jesus tell parables with scary endings that imply if we fail we’re left out?

Jesus knew his prophets, knew Amos.  Amos tells the people God hates all their worship, festivals, rituals, sacrifices.  Amos shocks them into hearing God’s cry for justice by telling them God hates that they’re doing the very things God commanded them to do.  They trusted in their worship, doing as told, but ignored the other commands.  They neglected the starving poor, participated in crushing those who struggled under their rich lifestyle.  They needed to wake up.

Jesus does the same as Amos.  These parables from Matthew 24 and 25 are told privately to the disciples.  They are insider warnings, intended to shake them from their comfort zone, wake them up, get them alert.  They’re jolting because they’re supposed to be.  Jesus knows human nature, and it’s as if he anticipated we’d ignore his call to preparedness and servanthood, simply resting in our forgiveness and doing nothing.

So he shakes us up a little, because of his central purpose: he repeatedly says he came to seek and to save the lost.  He constantly ran into people who were lost but claimed they weren’t.  So he’s waking his disciples up, shocking them to take his call seriously.

The minute they, or we, say, “Oh no, I’ve not been working for the kingdom, I’m probably not prepared, I’ve only taken care of myself, I’m in trouble,” at that moment we discover God’s grace.  Then we learn firsthand Christ Jesus came to seek and to save us.  When we know we have messed up, we need never worry that he’ll say “I don’t know you.”  Because he’s looking for the lost, to bring them home.  All we need to do is recognize we’re lost, we’re broken, we’re dead, and he’ll make us new, even in this life.

As long as we think we’ve got it all figured out, we need this parable to wake us up.  So we can hear the good news that we are loved and get back to work getting ready for the party.

This parable is full of God’s grace: we, and all God’s children, are invited to the party God is making in this world and the next.  That’s secure.

Now all that needs doing is to prepare for this party.  So let’s be about it.  We don’t know when the Bridegroom, our Lord, will return, so we’ll just keep the house clean, feed people, take care of things.  We’ll make sure the invitation gets out to as many people as we can reach in our lifetime, and make sure no one thinks they’re not good enough for the guest list.  We’ll take care of our little part of this world, and work toward God’s justice and peace, because it’s our job.  And because we know we are loved by God eternally in Christ.

The wonder of God’s plan is that through such work of all God’s people, the justice and peace the Scriptures envision and promise will come to pass.  That’s God’s great miracle, God’s delightful twist: as we prepare, do our jobs, the party comes into focus, even now, and continues forever.

And let me tell you, this party is going to be spectacular.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

We needn’t worry about our place in God’s love; however, Jesus, before his death and resurrection, grounded in that love for us, seems to have deep concerns about our awareness of our calling as children of God and our willingness to live in that calling and serve.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
   Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 32 A
   texts:  Amos 5:18-24; Matthew 25:1-13

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

We know preparation is key to a good party.

If you’re having guests to your house, there are things that need doing.  The house needs to be deep-cleaned, clutter put away.  Food needs to be purchased and prepared.  Tables need setting, dishes need polishing.  Candles might be needed.  The guest list needs to be checked so no one is left out, invitations need to be issued.  Parties don’t create themselves.

Why then are we so skittish about this parable?  We shudder at the “I don’t know you” from the bridegroom.  We don’t like the judgment on the careless ones.  We, who claim the unlimited grace of God in Christ Jesus, hear this parable and cry out, or mutter, or think to ourselves, “This sounds pretty legalistic!”

Maybe we’re using that word to avoid the heart of what it means to be a disciple.  If every time Jesus says something that remotely sounds like he’s asking us to do something we throw up the “legalism” defense, it’s worth asking what that says about us.  If we believe salvation in Christ is only about our being loved by God, that the Son of God can have no expectations on us, that as long as we worship and hear that we are forgiven, we can do what we want with our lives, well.  Can I introduce you to the prophet Amos?  He had something to say about that.

We’re entering a challenging stretch these next three weeks.  If we’re squeamish about Jesus calling us to tasks, our struggle only begins today.  Just wait until we hear the next two parables and the prophetic words chosen to accompany them.

There are two typical ways Christians in this country seem to face these challenges.  Today Jesus invites us to consider a third way, his way.

Our usual way is the approach of the grace people.

We believe we cannot earn God’s love, it’s ours already.  We declare we have been claimed by God in baptism, made clean in the death and resurrection of Christ Jesus, and have life with God now and forever.  We read the Scriptures with this truth as our lens, our way of interpreting.

But sometimes when we grace people hear a parable like today’s we don’t like it.  So we run away from it in fear, hoping we didn’t really hear it, or we happily ignore it.  With the latter, sometimes people will even say Jesus likely didn’t tell this parable, it’s probably Matthew’s creation.  Doesn’t sound like Jesus, we might say, so we’re free to dismiss it.  If we live the fear option, we push this parable aside so we don’t have to consider it, hoping if we simply say it’s legalistic we can get to grace and not be troubled any more.

There are other Christians who take the approach of the judgment people.

The lens they use for Scripture is the lens of our sin.  We’re awful people, they say, and Jesus has called us to straighten up and fly right.  If we don’t do that, we’re in trouble.  These Christians are seemingly happy to declare lots of people heading to hell for their sins, and grace, while proclaimed, seems to be only possible for those who never make mistakes.

When judgment people hear a parable like today’s it’s manna from heaven.  Be prepared or you’ll be left out, they say.  Sure, God forgives, but not if you’re not ready.  Be wise and be ready and enjoy heaven, or be foolish and regret it in hell for eternity.

This begs the question: why don’t we want Jesus’ approach?

We who focus on grace want to say, “Why can’t we just know we’re loved by the Master and leave it at that?”  Those who focus on judgment say, “Jesus is clear here: we’ve got things we have to do, job requirements.”

But our Master, if we look at everything he taught and did, including his death and resurrection, says this: “Why can’t I have both?  I love you wholly and fully, with an eternal love.  I set aside all my divine power and glory and went to the cross to open your hearts to my love.  Risen from the dead, I forgive you of all things and welcome you to God’s party that will last forever.”

But then he says in this parable, “Can’t I also, grounded in that love, ask you to do your work and get ready for the party, ready for my rule, ready for my life in the world?”

This isn’t judgment, and it isn’t conditional.  The love of God in Christ Jesus cannot be taken from us.  But this parable points out a deeper reason for Jesus’ coming as one of us.

Jesus comes to invite us to new life for the sake of the world.

The forgiveness of God in Christ Jesus isn’t tied to our doing our work, our being prepared.  God’s forgiveness assumes we will sin, otherwise it’s not needed.

But Jesus came not only to forgive, he came to teach us how to live God’s true, abundant life.  To show us how God will heal this world and bring the party of God’s new creation: by using the very people who made the mess to get the place cleaned up.

This is the heart of his teaching.  Look at all the parables he tells of servants being awake and prepared at all times for their master’s return.  They’re supposed to be about their jobs as they wait, keeping all things ready, so when the master comes back, he’ll find a clean house, clean sheets, full cupboards, and a fire in the fireplace.

Or as he says in this parable: God’s planning a party of life and restoration for this whole world.  The Bridegroom, the Son of God, is the center of the party.  Everyone’s invited, wise and foolish.  But a good party needs preparation.  Oil for the lamps, so the world in darkness is lighted up, so we can see each other’s faces in joy, so the procession can be festive and bright.  The house of this world needs to be cleaned, food prepared enough for all, not just those who have it, and the guest list filled up to include every child of God on this planet.  This is a huge party, this justice and peace of God.  It’s going to take some doing.

It’s immature of us to run away from this work by falsely tying our eternal salvation to it.  That’s what children do, blaming their parents for asking them to work in the life of the home, thinking that means their parents only love them when they do right.

God’s truth is, Jesus both loves us fully and unconditionally and at the same time asks us to be about our work to get ready for God’s great feast of hope and renewal.  We know we are growing into maturity in Christ when we can hold both those truths together and rejoice in our Christly life.

Why the warnings, then?  Why would Jesus tell parables with scary endings that imply if we fail we’re left out?

Jesus knew his prophets, knew Amos.  Amos tells the people God hates all their worship, festivals, rituals, sacrifices.  Amos shocks them into hearing God’s cry for justice by telling them God hates that they’re doing the very things God commanded them to do.  They trusted in their worship, doing as told, but ignored the other commands.  They neglected the starving poor, participated in crushing those who struggled under their rich lifestyle.  They needed to wake up.

Jesus does the same as Amos.  These parables from Matthew 24 and 25 are told privately to the disciples.  They are insider warnings, intended to shake them from their comfort zone, wake them up, get them alert.  They’re jolting because they’re supposed to be.  Jesus knows human nature, and it’s as if he anticipated we’d ignore his call to preparedness and servanthood, simply resting in our forgiveness and doing nothing.

So he shakes us up a little, because of his central purpose: he repeatedly says he came to seek and to save the lost.  He constantly ran into people who were lost but claimed they weren’t.  So he’s waking his disciples up, shocking them to take his call seriously.

The minute they, or we, say, “Oh no, I’ve not been working for the kingdom, I’m probably not prepared, I’ve only taken care of myself, I’m in trouble,” at that moment we discover God’s grace.  Then we learn firsthand Christ Jesus came to seek and to save us.  When we know we have messed up, we need never worry that he’ll say “I don’t know you.”  Because he’s looking for the lost, to bring them home.  All we need to do is recognize we’re lost, we’re broken, we’re dead, and he’ll make us new, even in this life.

As long as we think we’ve got it all figured out, we need this parable to wake us up.  So we can hear the good news that we are loved and get back to work getting ready for the party.

This parable is full of God’s grace: we, and all God’s children, are invited to the party God is making in this world and the next.  That’s secure.

Now all that needs doing is to prepare for this party.  So let’s be about it.  We don’t know when the Bridegroom, our Lord, will return, so we’ll just keep the house clean, feed people, take care of things.  We’ll make sure the invitation gets out to as many people as we can reach in our lifetime, and make sure no one thinks they’re not good enough for the guest list.  We’ll take care of our little part of this world, and work toward God’s justice and peace, because it’s our job.  And because we know we are loved by God eternally in Christ.

The wonder of God’s plan is that through such work of all God’s people, the justice and peace the Scriptures envision and promise will come to pass.  That’s God’s great miracle, God’s delightful twist: as we prepare, do our jobs, the party comes into focus, even now, and continues forever.

And let me tell you, this party is going to be spectacular.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen