Advent calls us to live in hope that God is with us today, to trust that the kingdom of God is at hand.  So we stay awake, and keep watching for signs of God’s coming and presence in our lives and in the world.

Vicar Meagan McLaughlin
   First Sunday of Advent
   Texts: Isaiah 64:1-9, Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19, 1 Corinthians 1:3-9, Mark 13:24-37

Grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.

I can still feel the anticipation that filled me as a child when Thanksgiving came, and I knew Christmas was “just around the corner.” When we were expecting company, I would watch from the couch in our living room, because it had a great view of the street and I would be able to see the guests arriving. I spent the entire month of December, figuratively speaking, leaning over the back of the couch, trying to make the time go faster! I was desperately curious about all the details of the parties being planned—what food would be served, when my cousins would come in from out of town, what service we would attend at church, what Santa would bring me, and could I please, please, please go along when my dad went to pick up my grandmother and great aunts? Every minute seemed like an hour, hours like days, days like weeks.  Christmas was all I could think about, and at the same time it felt like it would never get there. Advent is a time to follow what Jesus calls us to do in Mark—stay awake, keep watch, and I certainly had that down, even if I was more focused on parties and presents than the birth of Jesus!

Time has changed since then, or perhaps, it is my perception that has changed. Now rather than being painfully slow, the month of December flies by so quickly that I hardly have time to realize that it’s Advent before suddenly here it is—Christmas Eve. Being who I am, I am always prepared, at least in one sense. The presents are bought and wrapped, the tree trimmed, food for the family meal prepared. But spiritually and emotionally, I am always taken by surprise when Christmas comes. I spend more time on my to do list and less time leaning over the back of the couch, and as the years go by I find myself yearning for the time I spent as a child simply anticipating.

Our effort to be present and wait during Advent is certainly not helped when we have to walk past several aisles of Christmas decorations in the store in order to get to the Halloween costumes in mid-October, all the while listening to Deck the Halls and Frosty the Snowman piped through the sound system. Everything around us seems to call us to a flurry of activity . . . . buy, bake, order, send, and hurry up because time is running out! And of course, it is important to do the things necessary to get ready to welcome and celebrate with family and friends. But in the midst of all of this activity, on top of the regular daily life that continues, it is easy to forget that Advent is about waiting, and it is particularly easy to forget what we are waiting for.

So, what are we waiting for? The obvious answer is that Advent is a season of waiting for Christmas, Jesus’ birth. But it is so much more than the birth of a baby that we await. God, in all God’s fullness—the God who, as Isaiah described, makes the mountains quake, the God who Mark tells us has the power to make the sun dark and the stars fall, the God of all creation—came to live with us in the messiness of life in the person of Jesus. We remember not just the historical event of Jesus’ birth, but the reality of God’s presence and work in us and in the world, here and now. Advent is a time to remember that God is with us today, a time to live in hope.

When we look at the world, it can sometimes be really challenging to have hope. All we need to do is read the headlines to see evidence of pain, suffering, and evil in the world. This week in Ferguson, Missouri, and cities all over the country, we see fear, anger, even rage in the wake of the grand jury decision to exonerate Police Officer Darren Wilson of Michael Brown’s death. Just a mile down the road from here, thousands of people rallied for hours on Tuesday night, calling for justice. If we listen, we hear stories of those who live in fear, who have experienced the daily threat of discrimination, who can’t ever forget that they are treated differently in countless ways because of the color of their skin. If we listen, we hear stories of those who commit themselves to protecting others, often putting themselves at risk, and know daily the reality that they or someone they love may not come home. Setting aside guilt or innocence, right or wrong, justified or unjustified, in these events the damage and grief of centuries of systemic racism has been brought fully to the surface. We are all impacted, in one way or another. It is overwhelming, and it is hard not to turn away, to minimize the pain. Today, on the first Sunday of Advent, we take a few minutes to hear these voices, and ask the question of how we can have hope, and see God at work, in the midst of it all.

The pain of this world is not new. In the verses before our passage from Mark, Jesus describes war, betrayal, murder, destruction. And he encourages his followers, promising that nothing is too much for God to overcome. With the psalmist, we can bring the brokenness of our communities, and our own pain and brokenness, to God, and cry out—“Give ear, O Shepherd of Israel, shine forth. Stir up your might, and come to save us! Restore us, O God; let your face shine, that we may be saved.”

The miracle of the hope we have in Advent is that we are waiting on a God who has never turned away from our pain. As Christians today, whatever circumstances we find ourselves in, whatever challenges we face, we await the birth of Jesus knowing the rest of the story—Jesus lived, taught, challenged, loved, forgave, healed, called. And Jesus died—and rose again. Death was not the last word then, and it is not the last word today. Jesus transformed people’s lives, and we are invited to put ourselves completely in God’s hands, like clay ready to be formed by the potter, willing to be changed, to be made new.

In Advent, we are called to live in hope that God is with us today, to trust that the kingdom of God is at hand. Waiting, anticipating, living in hope don’t easily find their way onto our “to do lists,” but in this moment, for this season, it is the most important thing for us to do. We don’t know the day or the hour when the kingdom of God will be fully accomplished, but we can keep watch, and if we do, we will see glimpses of it. We can see God at work in the world in the way people love and care for each other, in voices courageously speaking truths that are hard to hear, in the beauty of creation. And we can call out like a watchperson—Hey, look, there it is, God is here, did you see it?—so those around us will also know that we have great reason for hope. We are called to witness to God’s presence by being the hands and feet of God in the world ourselves, by showing God’s love and care for others and calling for justice where it is due, so others can see God at work through us. And most of all, we can put our trust in God, who sends Jesus to show us that we are never alone.

I plan to spend a lot of time leaning over the back of the couch this Advent, anticipating God’s coming into the world anew. I invite you to join me, so we can support each other in our commitment to take seriously the call to keep watch for the presence of God in our midst. We don’t know the day or the hour, but there is plenty of room on the couch, and it has a great view.

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

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