The Incarnate Son of God is with us now, offering life on this side of the grave, promising to be our life and joy in the bleak ugliness of a world of death, and giving us our song of Alleluia.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen, All Saints Sunday, year B; texts: John 11:(17-31) 32-44; Revelation 21:1-6; Isaiah 25:6-9

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

This is a day when we speak of death like no other except perhaps Easter Day itself.  We gather to worship, as we always do, with those who have died and are at rest in this nave, at the side of our gathering space.  We gather to worship, as we always do, with those saints who have gone before us and surround the throne of God, sharing our praise and our worship.  We gather to worship, and on this day we sing of those saints of times past and of our past, icons of the faith and loved ones who taught us the faith, and we remember that they even now live in the presence of the God whom we have gathered once more to worship this day.  And in this space it’s a beautiful thing: beautiful sights, beautiful music, beautiful words, beautiful smells, beautiful people whose embrace of peace gives us life.  Our celebration of all the saints who from their labors rest is one of the more beautiful liturgies we do every year.

But this is a day when we speak of death like no other except perhaps Easter Day itself.  And on this day we hear Martha of Bethany speak a truth that is not beautiful, it is ugly.  On this day we encounter two sisters who see nothing but grief and sadness, anger and disappointment, not beauty and joy.  Martha’s truth is the reason: “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.”  Nothing can sugarcoat her reality, no words, no song, no beauty.  Her brother sickened, suffered, struggled, and died.  And now he rots, and he smells.  And if the Lord Jesus doesn’t understand that, Martha thinks, well, someone ought to remind him.

This is a day when we speak of death like no other except perhaps Easter Day itself.  So let us not forget what dear Martha said, the truth about this death we all face.  It is ugly.  It smells.  It terrifies us.  It is absence, not presence.  Helplessness, not strength.  There are tears.  It disrupts our lives, causes us to wake at night in a sweat.  Whether it’s the sudden death of a dear brother in Christ from our midst, or the unspeakable tragedy of hundreds dying at the waves of an incomprehensible storm, or the lingering, painful dying of someone we love, or the catastrophe of children lacking enough food to see their fifth birthday or even their first, there is little beautiful about death for us.  We cannot live a day without the presence of death, and to be honest, the fact that Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead 2,000 years ago really has no meaning for us today.  Good for him.  Good for Lazarus.  But we stand at gravesides in so many ways in our lives, the people we connect with in this story are these two sisters.  Because they, like us, are on this side of the grave.  They, like us, have faced the ugliness of death.  They, like us, have questions of Jesus, the Son of God.

These two beautiful sisters help us.  And they help us in the way they are different from each other.

Martha, the bold one, the one who is unafraid to speak up about her sister when she’s not helping with the dinner for their guest, Martha reaches the depths of her anger and disappointment in her pain.  She comes out on the road to confront Jesus, her Lord and master, the one in whom she hoped.  She is so angry that her brother died, as we all can be, but she is the more angry because she believes Jesus has caused this death by his indifference.

Her disappointment and wrath are palpable as she goes to meet him, not waiting for him to arrive at their house: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”  Death faced them, their beloved brother suffered, and they had sent word to the only One whom they knew could help.  They’d seen him heal others, this would be easy for him.  But he blew it.  He didn’t care.  He didn’t come.  And now my brother lies dead, and he stinks.  And all this stinks, Jesus.

Mary, the quiet one, the one who sat at Jesus’ feet to listen while her sister banged pots in the kitchen in annoyance with her, Mary reaches the depths of her sadness and disappointment in her pain.  She does not come out to meet Jesus at first.  She remains in the house, overcome by grief.  She weeps in her loss and pain, unable to speak, unable to do anything.  And only when he calls for her does she come out to see him.

Then her sadness spills out, her disappointment: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”  Death faced them, their beloved brother suffered, and they had sent word to the only One whom they knew could help.  They’d seen him heal others, this would be easy for him.  But he didn’t come.  And Lazarus died.  And Mary can only weep.

And for us, our grief and fear at death moves between the anger and sadness of these sisters.  But mostly, we share their disappointment: if Jesus is who we say he is, if he is the Son of God, if he truly loves us and can heal, then how can all this happen?  If the Triune God has created a beautiful world, and given us all we need, and loves us enough to become one of us, then how can any of this be allowed?  Why all this ugliness, this stench, this desolation that seems to pervade the world?

Isaiah says it well, it’s as if there’s a great death-shroud spread over the entire world, and if we sometimes get glimpses of sunshine and light, it’s only when there’s a brief tear in the fabric.

What is so powerful about Martha is her clarity of what she thinks she needs at this point.

Jesus doesn’t defend himself.  He says, “Your brother will rise again.”  And isn’t this the promise we always remember?  There will be a resurrection.  There is life in the world to come.  It’s the promise of Isaiah, and of Revelation today.  It’s the promise of Easter Day, the resurrection of Jesus himself, which promises life for us all after death.  That in the days to come, on the mountain of the Lord, in the new creation, the Lord will make all things new, will wipe away every tear, and death will be no more.  This is the salvation we have waited for, says Isaiah, says us.

Martha wants to hear none of this.  Not now.  She is still on this side of the grave, and has no interest in a future promise, at least not right now.  She says to Jesus, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.”  But she seems to suggest that doesn’t do anything for her problem with Jesus.

And perhaps that’s an honesty we would admit if we could.  As much as we believe and hope in the resurrection of the dead on the last day, and so we do, there are times when that hope doesn’t seem sufficient to counter the ugliness of today.  When we, like Martha, aren’t terribly helped by promises such as Isaiah and the Revelation give today.

It’s not that we don’t believe that we will be together in eternal life after we die.  Certainly we do.  Certainly Martha does.  It’s just that right now we’re not there.  We’re grieving, or angry, or disappointed with God.  We’re struggling with senseless tragedies and painful losses of loved ones.  And hope for the future sometimes doesn’t seem like enough.

Yes, yes, that’s beautiful, we say with Martha.  But we’re in the midst of the ugly right now.  What will you do about that, Lord?

And since we’re standing with the sisters, let’s look where they are looking.  Let’s look into the face of Jesus when we ask that question, and see, and open our ears and hear.

Because Jesus’ most important acts in this story happen before he ever gets them to roll the stone from Lazarus’ tomb.  Here are the really important things he does for them and for us:

He stands unafraid of Martha’s anger and disappointment and meets her where she needs to be met.  You have theological questions, Martha?  Let me give you one, he says.  What if you understood that I AM the resurrection and the life, and that you have life in me now and always, even if you die, and if you believe in me you will never die?

He isn’t just talking about resurrection at the end time, because Martha wants more than that.  And he gives her more.  He promises that trusting in him regardless of apparent circumstances, regardless of how ugly things seem, will mean life, even on this side of the grave.  And he asks Martha if she believes this.

But he also stands unafraid of Mary’s paralyzing sadness and disappointment and meets her where she needs to be met.  He doesn’t offer her theological argument, because Mary doesn’t want that.  He stands with her, loves her.  And weeps with her.

And in so doing he puts into action what he was telling Martha: that he will never leave us alone on this side of the grave, and he will grieve with us, and weep at the ugliness and stench of this broken world alongside us.  And that he will bless us and our grief by being present with us in it.  By being resurrection and life in the midst of an ugly, dead world.

And you know what?  As we stand with these sisters, then the question put to Martha in words and to Mary in presence is now put to us: is this enough?  Do you believe?

Do you believe, says the Lord, that I love you enough not to abandon you here in this ugliness?  That not only do I hold your loved ones and all the dead in my arms and raise them to everlasting life, but I come to be with you now, and will never leave you?

Do you believe that I am here in this place as you worship, blessing you with beautiful words, beautiful music, beautiful smells, beautiful sights, beautiful people to embrace you with peace, because that gift of beauty can help you through the ugliness?

Do you believe, says the Lord, that I actually come to you in that bit of bread and wine, that it’s me, your Resurrection and your Life, and that through that meal together you are fed by my life and sustenance and you are sharing that meal even with all those who have gone before you?  That my Word is alive and active in this place and in your lives and will lead and guide you into all truth, truth that frees and gives you life?

Do you believe this? Jesus says to us.  Is it enough? he asks.

John the seer heard these words in his vision, a voice coming from the throne of God himself, words he shares with us today: “See, the home of God is among mortals.  “He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them.”  And the Son of God says to us today, Do you realize that this vision is not just of the future but of the present?  That I am with you always, now, on this side of the grave?  That the home of the Triune God is among you, and God is living with you now?

This is Jesus’ answer to the sisters, and to us: I was here when Lazarus was sick, and died.  And I am here now, with you.  And in every way that matters I will always be with you, because this is where I am home, with you.  And I will hold you and bless you in the midst of all suffering and pain that this ugly world has, until you can see its beauty as I do.

This is a day when we speak of death like no other except perhaps Easter Day itself.  

And we speak truthfully of the ugliness of death, but it does not overwhelm us or destroy us, because of Easter Day itself.  Because this Jesus, our Lord, the Son of God, has destroyed death’s power and is able to keep the promise he made to those sisters and to us, to be with us here, on this side of the grave, until it is our time to go to our own rest.

Because the home of God is among mortals, and it is here we need our tears wiped and our questions answered, here we need the gift of trust and faith in the One who did not stay away but has come to be with us always.  So that it is more true than anything we know that we say, “even at the grave we sing our song: Alleluia.  Alleluia.”  And it is beautiful.  More beautiful than we ever could have imagined.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

God’s truth for us, that we are loved and forgiven and called to new life is freedom for us.  We are free in God’s love to reject it, to make no room in our hearts, but there is always room in God’s heart for us.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen, Reformation Sunday; texts: Jeremiah 31:31-34; John 8:31-36

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

We’re all powerfully tired of the election by now, I’m sure.  And one of the things I’m tired of is the abuse and misuse of the concept of freedom.  Americans have a convenient way of trumpeting the words of our founders and shaping the tune to mean whatever they want it to mean.  So we find ourselves each election year struggling with this peculiar American sin of people wanting freedom to do what they want, but who don’t want others to have the same freedoms.  Or people who want to be free of the government’s influence and control, but who wish the government to control others.  People who fail to realize that denying freedom to others always restricts and abridges their own freedom.  Freedom is a wonderful thing.  But we’ve become so used to having it that we barely recognize when we misuse it, or deny it to others.

Which makes Jesus’ words so compelling as they arrive in our lives near the end of this election cycle.  Jesus promises freedom to those who live in his word.  It’s a good thing, we think, to be free.  But if that means we have responsibility for our own lives, and for the lives of others, that’s also a very frightening thing if you think about it.  So when Jesus tells us today that when we live, abide, dwell in his word we find the truth that frees us, we need to be careful to ask ourselves if we know what that means, and once we know, if we want that freedom after all.

In one sense, we’ve never lived without this promise of freedom, for most of us have lived most of our lives hearing the promise of God’s forgiveness.

Jesus brings up the idea of slavery versus freedom, concepts easily understood in his day, but perhaps less clear to us who live in a relatively free society.  Those who do not face the reality of their sin, who simply act and live without thought, who continue trapped in their broken human nature without recognizing it, live as slaves to sin, Jesus says, even though they might think they are free.

Those who always know it’s someone else’s fault when they do wrong, live as slaves to sin.  Those who judge others while justifying their own wrong, live as slaves to sin.  Those who don’t resist their own tendencies to do wrong, but go with “it’s the way I’ve always been,” live as slaves to sin.

And it’s attractive, that’s why we do it.  You never have to face the hard questions, make the hard decisions.  Just act as you want, and justify it on that basis.  Go with the flow, and you don’t have to work to be different.

And so God’s love for us in Jesus is a word of life: we can be free from that bondage.  We need not be controlled by our instincts, unable to choose.  Forgiven and loved by God in Jesus, we are free.

We’re free to make decisions about our lives, to do what we choose to do.  To take responsibility for our lives and for the world.  And that’s God’s real problem.  Once we’re free, we can still choose wrongly as easily as well as when we were unaware of our enslavement.  And that we certainly do.

God takes a great risk in freeing us: what if we don’t choose well with the responsibility we’re given?

We don’t often think of God’s faith in us, but that’s the reality of our lives.  Think of a parent’s faith in a child.  At each stage of a child’s life there are things a parent needs to learn to trust the child to do.

And for that child, the trust is the key: When I think of times my children have wanted to know if I trusted them, the worst thing I could do was voice my doubts.  I needed simply to give them the message, the concrete sense, that I did trust them.

And of course parents have doubts.  They don’t know at any of the stages of their child’s life if they can handle that new level of trust.  And children often have very high opinions of their own ability to be worthy of that trust.  But at some point if any are going to be effective and good parents, they take a leap of faith and trust their children.  They are there if they fall; they pray that they can fix things if they go seriously wrong; but they must learn to trust.

And this is God’s reality: freeing us from slavery to sin, giving us freedom to choose right from wrong, to choose to love God and neighbor or choose not to, all lead God to a leap of faith.

There is no guarantee that we will live in love with God and each other.  In fact, human history suggests that it’s a good bet we won’t.  Yet Jesus reveals to us that the Triune God has decided to take that risk.  To risk faith in us.

And the image our readings today use to show this is the image of our hearts.  God makes a new covenant, a new promise, in Jeremiah.  Where God’s law, the way of God for us in the world, is written on our hearts, so we know it intimately.  And God promises to forgive our failings, even to forget them.

But the risk is that we won’t allow this to be written on our hearts, to change our hearts and lives.  And powerfully, that’s just what Jesus says in today’s Gospel has happened.

“You look for an opportunity to kill me,” he says, “because there is no place in you for my word.”  That’s incredibly chilling, hearing these two words from God together.  “I will write this on your heart – but there is no place in you for my word.”

Our freedom means this: we can make room for God in our hearts.  Or we can close them.

We can open our hearts to see all we have is gift from God, entrusted to us, and give back joyously and generously.  Or we can close our hearts and see all that we have is ours to keep.

We can open our hearts to look at others and see Jesus, and so reach out to them in love, offer them grace and forgiveness, be God’s love for them.  Or we can close our hearts and judge others and treat them as less than we are, unworthy of our love and attention.

We can open our hearts and see our brokenness and sin, and confess it to God, trusting in God’s love and forgiveness.  Or we can close our hearts and pretend we are righteous, needing no forgiveness or correction or grace from God because we know what is right even more than God.

“You look for an opportunity to kill me,” Jesus says, “because there is no place in you for my word.”  Is there room in our hearts for God’s love, God’s direction, God’s guidance?  Or in our freedom are we keeping it closed, lest by coming in God might change us, redirect us, make each of us into a different person?

We’ve been hearing this from the Scriptures now for most of the summer and fall, that God wishes to change us from within, make us new people, free us that we might become like the children of God we were meant to be.  But are we still seeking to kill Jesus’ influence in our lives, in our hearts, if it means we’re going to be someone different, as if we have no room for him in our hearts?

This is a hard word to think on.  But as we do, we remember this: no matter whether or not we have room for God in our hearts, what we know absolutely is that there is always room in God’s heart for us.

“If you continue in my Word,” says Jesus, “you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.”  And this promise is never taken back.  This gift is never withdrawn due to rejection.  Even after the disciples’ betrayal and failure on Thursday and Friday, the risen Jesus returns to them in love Sunday, and after.  Offering them forgiveness, even breakfast, and loving them.  That love is not withdrawn.  There is always room in God’s heart for you.  And that is our hope.

And the miracle is, no matter how often we’ve closed our hearts to God, not only is there always room in God’s heart for us, God always takes the chance that this next time, this once, we’ll make room in our hearts, too.  Again, the risen Jesus comes to the disciples and not only forgives and loves them.  He calls them to love, invites them to follow once again, charges them with a commission to spread God’s love to the world.

Jesus takes the leap of faith once more.  And so Jesus continues to do with us each day.

Freedom is a frightening thing.  It’s easier to be a slave to sin, to shun responsibility for our actions and our lives.

But freedom as God gives us is life.  Freedom in the love of God is life.  Freedom to be the love of God is life.

Do we have any room for this in our hearts?  Our good news is that God’s heart has room for us, for you, and always will.  God has taken a leap of faith in you, in all of us, hoping we’ll respond with our love for God and for the world.  This is the truth that is Jesus.  Once we know it, then we’ll really know what it is to be free.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

Jesus is a new kind of king who gives us a new perspective to see the world.  He walks the path to Jerusalem towards the cross, something we would never expect our king to do.  Through this unexpected journey, Jesus changes how we view God, the world, and our identity.  

Vicar Neal Cannon, Time after Pentecost, Sunday 29, year B; text: Isaiah 53:1-12, Hebrews: 5:1-10, Mark 10:32-45

As many of you may have heard, I spent these last few days out in Bismarck, visiting my grandmother who is in the last days of her life.  Much of my family was there, and when we weren’t sharing a tear or two together, we were telling stories.  So I was sitting there, sandwiched between my two uncles, who are the greatest “story” tellers of the bunch, and they start telling me stories of all the characters in North Dakota that they had gotten to know over the years.  Some were more memorable than others, and some were more repeatable than others. One in particular stands out that I wanted to share with you all today.

They were telling me a story of two family friends.  They were an older couple who had passed away within a short time frame of one another.  And after they passed away the sheriff came in along with some family and friends, and started to kind of go through their things, as people do when somebody passes away.  These people didn’t have much.  In fact they had hardly anything.  They lived on a farm and between them shared an old beater pickup truck.  They had no TV, and only had space heaters to heat their home in the winter.  They didn’t have particularly fancy clothes, and they were living in a very modest home, so much so that their floors were basically nothing more than floorboards on top of leveled dirt.

When they were going through their things, one of the family members remembered that they hid some of their savings under the floor, and when they found it, they found $90,000 in cash that had been tucked away underneath those floorboards.  And I think this gets us all wondering, what in the world were they doing storing $90,000 in the floorboards?!

Now, I don’t know about you, but I could find a lot of things to do with $90,000 in cash.  In fact, I’m pretty sure I could burn through 90,000 dollars pretty quickly.  I’d probably go out right away and buy a new car, get myself some new clothes, and probably go on a vacation or two before the year was over.

I got to thinking about this and I realized that this must have been a matter of perspective.  From an outsider’s perspective, they were poor.  This couple hardly had any nice things.  They didn’t have enough.  But to them, and perhaps a few people who were closest to them, they had plenty. They had a roof over their heads, a bed to sleep on, family, friends, and everything they needed in life.

Oh yeah, and $90,000 tucked underneath the floorboards that they apparently they couldn’t think of a way to use.

Our Isaiah text today is all about perspective as well.  The text starts out as a confession.  The author of Isaiah introduces a servant to us, and he admits, he’s overlooked this figure.  The servant is not rich, tall, or exceptionally attractive.  In fact, the servant wasn’t well received by those around him and so he was persecuted and rejected.  Then the author goes on and describes this person.

Tell me which person in the Bible this sounds like.  Verse 5 says this person was wounded for our sins.  Who in the Bible was wounded for our sins?  Verse 6 describes us as sheep?  Who in the Bible is our shepherd?  Verse 9 tells us that they killed the servant alongside wicked people?  Sounds a little bit like the crucifixion, doesn’t it?

Some of my professors at the seminary and most of the scholars I have read would probably take some issue with what I’m about to say next, but this is one time where the Sunday school answer is OK.  These lines make us think of Jesus.  As a Christian, I can’t help but see anything but Jesus in this verse.  It looks and smells and tastes like Jesus to me.

And I find it really interesting and helpful to us that our author admits that this servant of God just doesn’t look like much of anything at all.  The servant doesn’t look like the arm of God, but yet by the end of it all the author admits that there is something special about this character.  Something that changes the way he sees the servant.  The servant gives our writer a new perspective, a new lens to see God and the world.

And when I was reading this, I began to wonder if we would have the right lens to see Jesus today.  I mean, if you’ve been a Christian for a long time you’ve heard a lot about Jesus, what he was like, the things he taught, and if you put it together that Jesus was Middle-Eastern, you might have an idea of what he could look like, and what kind of things he might say, but what if he was in the back of the room?

Would we be able to pick him out? Would we welcome him right away?  Or would we be suspicious and unsure of him because he’s a stranger?

I think this comes down to what we’re looking for.  Sometimes when we think of Jesus we think of the divine Jesus, with light coming from his body, clothed in splendor and majesty, just like the songs, because, after all, Jesus is our king and lord.  But if Jesus came to us, as he was when he lived on Earth, he might just look like an ordinary guy.  And I wonder if we would notice him.

In our gospel lesson today, the disciples James and John have seen a whole lot of things from Jesus already.  Jesus, just a few short chapters before, gives a blind man sight.  He has performed a number of miracles and people are wondering who he is.  Who is this guy?  And the disciples think they have a pretty good answer.  He is the Christ.  The son of God.  He is given miraculous abilities and is clearly being lifted up by God.  Peter affirms this in the previous chapter when he calls Jesus the Messiah.

But James and John recognize this too because they have seen the things that Peter has seen.  And they start thinking to themselves that Jesus is more than an ordinary guy, Jesus is a king.  And what are kings good for?  Well, kings have power and authority, and so kings are good for asking favors.  So James and John go to the king and they ask him for a favor.

But here’s the problem.  Jesus is not the kind of king they are expecting.  Their minds are stuck on human kings.  But Jesus is a new kind of king.  Jesus is a servant king. And the disciples still don’t get it even though Jesus, for the third time in Mark, shows them where he is going, and he points to Jerusalem, and says there the Son of Man is going to die.

This changes the way that we see things.  When Jesus becomes a servant, this changes the way that we see God.  Before, God was on high, a cloud on a mountain, he was distant and over there sitting on a throne.  But what happens when God puts on flesh and looks like a person?

I think this is what is so moving about our text in Hebrews today.  The text tells us that Jesus went through everything that we go through as humans, all of our pain and suffering, and hardship, and God heard Jesus’ cries and tears. But what does it mean when Jesus cries?  We don’t want a Jesus who cries because to cry means too close to the human heart.  Sometimes I think we are a little more comfortable with a God that is far away.  To cry also means to be human, to some it even means to be frail, but we want our God to be untouchable.  But the problem is that when Jesus puts on flesh, he is frail.  He hurts, the same way we hurt.

This is what James and John are having trouble with in our text today.  They want Jesus to be their kind of king, but Jesus shows them that in his kingdom, influence comes through service, not power.  So when Jesus gives sight to the blind, heals the sick, and walks on water, they see his power, but they can’t comprehend his service.

So James and John approach Jesus to sit at his right and his left, Jesus says, you don’t know what you’re asking.  Do you see where I am going?  I am going to Jerusalem to serve the world.  And do you know what’s going to happen there?  I am going to be killed. And then he goes on and says that they have to drink this same cup and be baptized with the same water.  James and John, say they can drink from the same cup, but it’s clear here that Jesus is trying to flip their perspective.  Jesus is trying to show them that being his follower is not a road for self-glory.  This is a servant’s road.

And this changes how we see ourselves doesn’t it?  Because following Jesus cracks us open and makes us look at ourselves.  When we get a little too full of ourselves, Jesus brings us back to earth.  It reveals our flaws but at the same time it reveals our worth.  It tells us that God values humanity enough to be with us.

Following Jesus means that we see our communities and neighborhoods differently, because when we see how much the Triune God values the world and chooses to be in the world, it helps us to see the value of our neighbor more fully.  By asking to sit at Jesus’ right and left, James and John seek to be above their peers and their neighbors.  So Jesus changes their perspective, and tells them to be last.

Think the different ways we treat our neighbors here at Mount Olive.  What is the community meal about if not a new way of seeing our neighbors?  The community meal is not only a way to serve this community, but it’s also a new way of being with the people in this neighborhood and valuing the people here.  If you have not been I encourage you to go sometime and get to know some of the people and their stories.  Some are homeless, some are down on their luck, some are families struggling to make it.  And in following Jesus we choose to be with them and for them in loving service.

My friends, let us walk the path to Jerusalem with Jesus.  Let us see the world through this lens.  Because when we do we see everything differently and we see Christ more clearly.  Christ shows us that authority comes from service, not power.  That love comes from being with our neighbors, not above them.  Let us gain a new perspective.

Thanks be to God.

Jesus’ invitation is to enter the kingdom of God, the rule of God, by letting go of all that hinders us from following with our lives, and recognizing that this kingdom is now, not future, and lived in community.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen, Time after Pentecost, Sunday 28, year B; text: Mark 10:17-31

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

There are two powerful elements in this encounter between Jesus and the young man which are deeply compelling.  First is the earnestness, the eagerness of this young man.  He runs up to Jesus, he wants answers to his question from a teacher he calls “good”.  This is someone who wants to be where he is, and is completely engaged.  And the second is that Mark tells us this tiny detail: Jesus looks the man in the eye and loves him.  It’s the one time that Jesus calls someone to follow him where a Gospel writer adds that Jesus was filled with love toward the person.  Jesus recognizes that this questioner isn’t testing him, but is truly interested and serious about his question, and Jesus is filled with love toward him.  And so Jesus also takes him seriously in his answer.  The sadness of the story is that the young man didn’t follow, he went away.  It surely wasn’t the only time it happened, but it must have been very difficult for Jesus to watch him go.

The issue for us today is pretty simple: what if we were that young man?  Because we are that young man.  We have questions of our Lord Jesus, important questions.  And when we come to ask them, Jesus looks into our eyes with love and invites us to follow.  And the question lingers in the air: what will we do?

It’s complicated, though, isn’t it?  Complicated by what Jesus says next, about how hard it is for rich people to enter the kingdom.  Because it’s as if Jesus sees right into our hearts and knows exactly why we hesitate.  He knows before we even hem and haw what is holding us back.  It’s our wealth, our security, our belief about ourselves and what we deserve and who we are.

But maybe it’s good that he anticipates our response.  Because now, now we can reconsider.  We don’t have to answer the way we were going to.  We don’t have to walk away.  But to change our response, we need to get some things straight.

First, Jesus’ invitation to the kingdom is now, not future.

Remember what Jesus says at the beginning of this Gospel of Mark, “the kingdom of God has come near.” (1:14)  The same thing is happening here.  The kingdom of God, the reign and rule of God, are something Jesus invites us to enter now.  It’s a question of understanding differently what we means by being “saved,” which becomes clearer when we understand what Jesus means by “kingdom”.

This young man understands it differently than Jesus.  He’s thinking about what laws he needs to keep to “inherit eternal life.”  The implication is that he’s thinking about how he can be sure to have life after he dies.  For him, being saved, having eternal life, is a final destination question.  In other words, he’s thinking the way many Christians think.  How do I make sure I get to heaven?

But Jesus refocuses him immediately, because Jesus is thinking about the now, about the reign of God which he is beginning now.  Jesus understands this is a good man, he keeps the commandments.  But he’s not getting what it is to live under God’s rule.  Please note what Jesus knows, though: this is a good man.  He really does want to please and serve God.  But he wants it without knowing just what it will take to do that, to serve God with his life.

What Jesus needs him to realize is that living under God’s rule is trusting God for all things, not trusting his wealth, or his law-keeping, or his intelligence, or anything else.  These things are blocking him from living a life which sees everyone as a brother and a sister, living a life of joy which trusts that God will provide, living a life in God’s kingdom.

So this is the first learning from Jesus: this kingdom is now, is near, is here.  He wants us to know that the point of following him is to learn what it is to live with God in love and live in love with God’s people and God’s creation now.  To experience in every way what it is to live as God created us to live.  Not to live in such a way that we’re trying to keep the rules and make sure we get a good spot in the life to come.  (Even the disciples James and John will struggle with this, as we’ll hear next week.)

When Peter says to Jesus that they gave up everything to follow him, Jesus agrees, and says they’ll get that back and more – now, now, in the present age.  And then in the age to come, eternal life.  Yes, that is part of the promise of Jesus’ resurrection.  But let’s be clear: Jesus believes and says again and again that there is a quality of life in the kingdom which is ours to enjoy and cherish in this life.  A quality of life to which he invites this young man.  A new way of being and living in God’s love.

Second, the kingdom is not only now, it’s communal.  It’s about following for the sake of the whole community.

That’s what this man’s view of faith is keeping him from seeing.  He’s interested in finding out what law keeping he needs to do to be right with God himself.  Me and God, how can I do the right thing to get this “eternal life” you’re talking about, Jesus?

But Jesus tells him that he’s focused on too small a view.  The invitation to sell everything, give it to the poor, and follow, is an invitation to follow God’s rule for the sake of the whole community.  To see himself and his salvation as only happening within a whole community of believers, one where the poor are taken care of, where all are fed.  One where people are not reliant on their own ability and wealth, where people enter with nothing and find everything.  A community which models for the world the way people were created to be and to live, and which by its existence can transform the rest of the world.

That’s what Peter and the others are receiving, a whole community.  Yes, they may have left family and home to follow Jesus.  But now they have more sisters and brothers than they can count.  Homes in any community they enter, simply by finding other followers.  A community that gives them life and support and sustenance.

When God claims a child in baptism, and we welcome them into the kingdom of God, we are speaking on behalf of the entire Body of Christ, to which each of us belong, and this community of believers extends around the world, so that we are never alone, never apart from disciples of Jesus wherever we go.

Jesus’ invitation to this young man, and to us, and to all disciples, is to enter a way of life which is for the sake of the whole community, and which trusts and relies on God for everything, and trusts and relies on the community Jesus creates.

But here’s the third and hardest thing we need to get straight in our hearts and in our heads: the question before us is what’s keeping us from taking up Jesus’ invitation?

There’s no question that we are wealthy, though we always can think of people we know who have more.  We, as much as any generation of believers in any place on earth, are challenged by our belief that we need to keep ourselves secure by our wealth.  We want to be with God, we want a life of faith, but when it comes to giving up everything for the sake of following, we can’t imagine how we’d do that.  People even struggle to see how they might give 10% of what they have to God’s work and ministry; imagine what it would be like to be asked for 100% by Jesus.

But I don’t think it’s a question of all of us needing to leave here and sell everything and give it away.  It’s more a question of knowing what’s keeping us from following with everything we have.  It’s a question of knowing what owns us instead of the other way around.

Put it this way: to find out what it means to “leave everything” for the sake of living in Jesus’ kingdom, find out what your “everything” is.  It’s likely going to be the thing you get most defensive about when you are challenged to let it go.  The thing you most want to protect and keep from interference by anyone else.

And for most of us, one of those things is wealth.  It’s amazing how people can want God to tell others what to do about their lives in so many ways, but when Jesus again and again challenges our use of wealth we say, or think, “what I do with my money is my own business, and no one else’s.”

But for most of us, like this young man, there are also other “everythings,” things that we have that we can’t let go of but which are in our way.  Personality habits.  Behaviors.  Selfish decision-making.  Attitudes or beliefs.  Any number of things that we know are blocking us from fully following Jesus, fully living in the kingdom, but we’re just not ready to part from them.

That’s why Jesus says it’s so hard for the wealthy to enter the kingdom.  They’re a model of not being able to let go.  Because the more you have, the less you need others.  The pains and sufferings of the world are not your own, they’re someone else’s.  And maybe you and I will be willing to give a little to help another person.  But that’s not being saved.  That’s not life in the kingdom.

Life in the kingdom is fully entering into the community, taking on the other person’s problems and sufferings as our own, and being a part of them.  Giving up everything that prevents that, and if some of that is our wealth, using that wealth to make others in the community better.  It’s seeing everything as connected, everybody as connected, and living in love of God and love of neighbor not as a motto but as a way of life.

So now we know what’s at stake.  The question is, what will you say to Jesus?

This young man walked away.  He couldn’t imagine letting go of the wealth that gave him security, the law-keeping that defined him, his way of life that kept him who he was.  Jesus was inviting him to become someone completely different.  And he couldn’t do it.

In the next weeks we’re moving toward our semi-annual meeting, and a stewardship emphasis in mid-November to plan for our work together next year.  As we begin this time of our life together, it’s going to be easy to think it’s all about money.  Budgets are made, plans are engaged, and we ask each other to pledge wealth to do this work together.  And there’s no question it is about money in some ways.  And each of us should pledge with the thought in mind, what is Jesus asking me to let go of so that others might have life?

But it’s more a question of faith when we really come to think about it.  What Jesus invites us to live in is a relationship of faith and trust in God, and a life in a community of believers, not a group of individual believers.   Do you see the difference?  When we learn to let go of our dependence upon ourselves and our own wealth or skill or habits or intelligence or good works, we learn the joy of life in this kingdom, this community of God’s rule.  Our faith deepens and grows as we learn to trust.  And yes, it will come as our financial giving increases and we take more and more risks for the sake of others, for the sake of God.  But the end result is God deepens our faith.

So what will you say to Jesus?  He already knows it’s going to be hard for you, for me, we who have so much we can afford to cling to many things.  But remember, he’s looking at you in love, and inviting you to a life lived with God in trust which perhaps you’ve never even imagined was possible.  God bless us all as we hear Jesus’ invitation to this life, and give us the grace and faith to follow.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

We read the Scriptures as disciples of Jesus, the living Word of God, and are guided in our reading and understanding by our fellowship with the Triune God that Jesus has given, and by the love of God Jesus has revealed to us and called forth from us.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen, Time after Pentecost, Sunday 27, year B; text: Mark 10:2-16

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

If you want, you can blame Martin Luther if you’re feeling a little uncomfortable with that Gospel reading, or if you wish you’d been warned we were going to hear hard words from Jesus before coming today.  If Luther hadn’t insisted that each Christian ought to be able to have their own copy of the Scriptures, in their own language, and be able to interpret for themselves God’s Word for their lives, we’d not have this problem.  And if he hadn’t insisted on the Scriptures being read in the people’s language at worship, you might not read these words or hear them at all.  But here we are, with a second week of hard words from Jesus.

I think we need to take this opportunity and consider how we interpret the Scriptures.  What Jesus said about divorce, remarriage, and adultery couldn’t be clearer.  Yet I’m sure that if I announced from this pulpit today that from this moment on I would not preside at a marriage involving divorced people, and that I was beginning a campaign to get the ELCA to remove divorced clergy from the roster, I might be in danger of losing this call.  I expect that a lot of you would be angry and hurt by such a proclamation.

Now this is what we must understand together, and what each of us must individually consider.  I’ve no intention of making such an announcement.  But if it would anger you, or cause you to want me not to be your pastor, I’d like you to try and think why.  Why.  Because Jesus is pretty clear here.

Now, I’d say there are few, if any, people at Mount Olive who do not take the Bible seriously as a norm and guide for life.  Yet we disagree on things, even amongst ourselves here.  How is this possible?  And how do we read what Jesus says today and act differently than what he says, and still claim the Bible as our norm for faith and life?

We need to take a moment to recall how Lutherans interpret the Bible.

We don’t ignore anything, everything is considered God’s Word.  This is really important as a starting point.  So we can’t skip this passage.  We look at this passage, like all of them, very carefully.

But we look at it with at least three basic interpretive lenses:

First, Jesus is the living Word of God, to whom the written Word, the Bible points.  Therefore, Lutherans would say, everything in Scripture must lead to a deeper connection with our Lord and Savior and an understanding of God’s amazing grace in Jesus’ death and resurrection.  We call this a canon within the canon – Lutherans read the Bible through the lenses of God’s free grace in Christ, and consider those many powerful passages about God’s grace not only most important but also the ones which encompass the whole purpose of the Bible and shape its message for us.

Second, Lutherans read the Bible with a sense of context – both the context of the times in which the book was written and the people to whom it was written, but also the context of any passage within the whole of Scripture.

Third, leading from that, Lutherans let Scripture help interpret Scripture.  We try very hard to understand the connection of the whole of the Scriptures to any text, and use the Bible to help interpret itself.  That means that at our best we don’t proof-text.  We don’t take one verse out of any context and make grand claims for its ability to norm us.  We try to use the whole of Scripture.

An example is a seminary classmate of mine who’s a woman and a pastor, who once told me she wouldn’t have accepted ordination if the only reason the church did it was by ignoring the passage that says women should be silent.  What made her feel she could answer God’s call were the many passages describing women in pastoral ministry, the many places where the equality in the family of Christ was proclaimed, and so on.

So how do we read these verses today using these lenses?

First, these are Jesus’ words.  Jesus said them.  And we know Jesus very well.  Jesus, the Living Word of God, is risen from the dead and gives us life even though we are broken people, living too often as opponents of God.  He offers grace and forgiveness to all, even criminals crucified next to him.  So when a couple comes into my office, with one or both of them having been divorced, and they are seeking marriage, my sense of Jesus’ grace, of all that Jesus asks of me as a pastor and a disciple, throughout all of the Gospels, calls me to be open to that request.

We can’t read these words apart from our full knowledge of everything he is and all that he models for us, or from our full understanding of how Jesus then calls us to live, to pray, to love.  In just this small section, we see Jesus indignant that children are being kept from him.  That indignant Jesus, who wants no one excluded from God’s grace, is the same Jesus who says these hard words.  And that matters.

Second, there is a context here.  Jesus is actually protecting women in this passage.  We discover this when we explore the divorce practices in Jesus’ times.  Women could be divorced summarily by their husbands under Jewish law, by the husband simply declaring several times that he divorced his wife, and then handing her notice.  In this culture, if the woman didn’t have a son to protect and support her, divorce would leave her destitute, a beggar, an outsider.

And notice Jesus’ last sentence:  “If she divorces her husband . . .” and so on.  This is eye-opening.  Women didn’t even have the right to divorce their husbands then.  Yet Jesus assumes an equality of standing, even in his prohibition.  Women and men are equal under God’s law, a radical departure from tradition.

And last, Jesus is speaking here to support marriage, to underscore its divine approval, to strengthen families.

Third, Scripture helps us interpret Scripture.  It’s true Jesus is clear here.  Just as he is also clear throughout the Gospels that we are not to judge others.

Just as he is clear when he tells us to forgive each other in unlimited ways.

Just as he is clear when he says the sum of the law of God is to love God and to love our neighbor as ourselves.

Given this repeated mandate, I believe we simply have decided not to make a bad situation, or a painful situation, worse, by refusing to give second chances.  We’ve decided to offer forgiveness in Jesus’ name and to be gracious.  This doesn’t mean we like divorce.  I don’t know many Christians who’ve been divorced who do.  But it does mean we’re honest about it.  I still teach new couples that they should plan never to divorce, or else it will come too easily.  It still is not God’s will for marriage.

But we also know that sometimes divorce is the only option that seems possible, sometimes it’s tragically imposed, and sometimes it even must happen if a spouse is abusive.  Divorce is not always the worst evil in every situation.  There are simply too many times when we do not feel capable of being judge over each other on this.

But that doesn’t mean we’re ever completely certain that we are right in how we consider divorce.  And that’s important to remember.

Because of Luther, each of us can interpret the Bible for ourselves.  And as the Church, we collectively discern and interpret the Scriptures.  It’s a great gift.  But it’s also a huge responsibility.  We always interpret prayerfully and carefully, asking the Spirit to lead and guide us, and show us what we are called to be and do.  But we can still be wrong.

That’s why we belong to communities of faith, why we pay attention to what others in the greater Church are saying, why we find places where we are gathered together by the Holy Spirit.  So we check our interpretation with each other.  So we can struggle together, whether as a small group in a congregation or a council of bishops and leaders of the whole Church, or anything in between.

That can correct us when we falter.  But it also can be that, even within a community of faith like Mount Olive, and even in the greater Church, we will not agree on the proper way to do things, the godly thing to do.  As in this case, where the way most U. S. Lutheran congregations deal with divorce is not universally accepted as legitimate across the whole Church.

And that means we must know when it’s OK to disagree and when it isn’t.  What Lutherans have said is that we make our distinction based on whether it is central to the Good News that the Triune God has saved us in Jesus the Son.  The Augsburg Confession says that it is enough for unity in the Church that the Gospel is preached in its purity and the Sacraments are administered according to that Gospel.  What that means is that anything that affects our teaching and hope in the death and resurrection of Jesus for all people and for us is central.

All the rest is not essential for agreement.  It doesn’t mean other things aren’t important.  But it does mean we do not necessarily have to agree in order to remain together.  And ethical stances fall into this category more often than not.  Whether we accept and re-marry divorced people does not affect our salvation in Jesus.  Therefore we can and do disagree on this in the greater Church.

So what do we do if we’re ever wrong?  What happens then?  Well, it’s always good to ask that question of ourselves when we interpret Scripture.  I always try to keep a part in the back of my mind that says, “Keep listening, just in case you’re wrong on this one.”  It’s healthy for us to have that humility before God and before this Word, and before each other.  And so we keep listening to each other, and to the Church as we go, in case we’re wrong.  We’re not all going at this solo, and we need to listen to the Church Jesus has given us.

Even so, we might individually or as congregations or denomination, disagree with the rest of the Church.  If it’s not on an issue of central importance to the Gospel, even that can be OK.  But when we do, we must take extra care that we believe we’re listening clearly to the Spirit’s guidance.

But finally, it’s important that we learn to pray, read, discern, and then make our decisions and act.  We can’t just sit still and never act or do.  If we’re right, we thank God, whether we’re acting as individuals, congregations, or as the whole Church.  If we’re wrong, we trust in God’s gracious forgiveness and guidance to get us back on the path, individually or collectively.  As the Reformation showed, even the Church sometimes goes collectively astray and needs to be brought back.

But we know this is true, because Jesus, God’s Son has shown it again and again: The Triune God will not abandon us in our wrong decisions.  And please hear this:  the only way any of us will have eternal life is by Jesus’ forgiveness of all we have done.  If after prayer, conversation, and discernment, for example, I make a wrong call, I absolutely trust that Jesus will be able to forgive it as much as any other sin I have committed in my life.  I’ll have plenty in my bag that will need to be forgiven when I come to those gates; anything additional that I didn’t know about I’ll still need to trust to Jesus’ forgiveness.  And so will the whole Church.

God has given us a great gift in this written Word that leads and guides us.

And I’m convinced the more I do this ministry that Jesus meant it when he said the Spirit of God would lead us into truth when we’re ready for it.  As we live together in this community and as a part of the greater Church, let us always pray for God’s guidance and direction through the living Word, our Lord Jesus, to better understand what the Scriptures would tell us about how to live faithful lives as disciples and share God’s love with the world, and to fully live the abundant life he offers through this.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen