Midweek Lent, 2024 + Love One Another + Week 1: Agree with One Another

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
Text: Romans 12:16-18, 21

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

A man was stranded on an uncharted desert island for 20 years.

When he was found, he took his rescuers on a tour of the island where he’d lived alone for so long. He showed them his hut, the place he got fresh water, where he’d planted food. They wondered how he kept himself sane all alone for so many years. He showed them another hut. “This is my church,” he said. “I pray here every week, and that gave me hope and kept me together.”

On the tour, they noticed another hut further away, seemingly abandoned, falling apart. They asked what it was. He said, “Oh, that’s my former church. I had to leave, there was too much disagreement.”

Now that’s a silly old joke. But there’s nothing funny about disagreement in church communities. The joke rings true because most of us personally know faith communities or church bodies that split over disagreements, even moving down the street and putting up another building.

Disagreement within a Christian congregation can destroy the life of the community and the faith of the people. If we’re commanded to love one another, agreeing with each other seems a needed starting place.

But you probably noticed today’s readings never said “agree with one another.”

When we imagined exploring the “one another” teachings this Lent, to help us embody Jesus’ great command to love one another, “agree with one another” stood out as a challenging one. It was from the last chapter of second Corinthians. But Romans 12 had more substance surrounding it that seemed to offer a fuller reading in worship.

Except the NRSV didn’t translate Romans 12 like 2 Corinthians 13, “agree with one another,” even though it’s the same Greek. We’ll get to that in a moment.

What you heard today was Paul’s literal phrase: “have the same thing in mind toward one another.” It’s important to understand that deeper root here. Because Paul’s Romans likely weren’t ever going to agree – in our sense of the word – on some very important issues. But Paul says that, in spite of that, they need to have the same thing in mind toward one another.

The Roman Church was divided against itself.

Paul’s people were a mix of Christians, some who were Jewish, some who came to Christ from non-Jewish peoples. And there were problems. The Jewish Christians still kept the Torah, considered themselves Jews, but also members of the body of Christ. For them, the two were inextricably joined. The Gentile Christians came to Christ from different religious and ethnic places, and cherished that they were welcomed and loved as they were, and made members of Christ’s body.

Paul is trying to get the two groups to realize that their disagreements and differences aren’t the important thing. Their identity as members of Christ’s body far outweighs their differences.

Paul doesn’t try to convince either side to give up their issues. Each can practice their faith as they do. But he pleads, encourages, demands, that they find that deeper unity in Christ that transcends their disagreements. That they have, as we heard today, the same thing in mind toward one another: no matter if one group still fully practiced their Jewish faith as disciples of Christ, and the other did not, they were one.

It was and is the love of Christ that joined them, not their agreement. Not even on issues both groups were convinced were deeply important. Paul believed they could thrive as a community of Christ with these differing points of view respected and tolerated and loved in each other.

Which brings us to the translation NRSV made of Romans 12.

“Live in harmony with one another,” our usual translation reads.

“Have the same thing in mind toward one another” becomes not “agree with one another” but “live in harmony with one another.” And that’s beautiful.

I love to sing in a choir. Multi-part harmonies where each section sings their own line but all come together in beauty are deeply fulfilling to sing. You know this joy when we sing all together but in parts and God is present here.

And it’s a wonderful model for Paul’s words. In music, there can be many parts that don’t agree as such. The tenors go one way, the altos another. Each needs to know their line, embrace it, love it, sing it. But ultimately all need to sing together. Harmony only happens when more than one part is heard.

No one part is “the right one.” Sometimes they may even seem to conflict. But the greater song is the important thing to keep in mind. Even as we weave around each other in our differences, we are singing the song of Christ together.

This is a challenging thing for a community to learn.

But Jesus didn’t create a community based on winning and losing, where some are “right” while others are “wrong.” And people leave for other communities where everyone agrees with them.

Jesus created a community through his blood and body that lives in harmony, that finds truth together, not in shouting and opposition. And with the song of the Triune God weaving amidst our harmonies, our different lines, the song we sing together as a community more and more becomes the song of God for the creation. A song that made all things and will heal all things.

Have the same thing in mind toward one another. Live in harmony with one another. And listen for God’s healing song to emerge for our lives and the life of the world.

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

You are called to these practices to deepen your faith journey so you are a blessing and hope in the world, water in a desert.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
Ash Wednesday
Texts: Isaiah 58:1-12; Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21; 2 Corinthians 5:20b – 6:10

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

Should we be doing what we’re doing here tonight?

If you listen carefully to our readings you might get the distinct impression that both the prophet and the Son of God discourage outward signs of repentance such as we do tonight.

Jesus warns against those who mark their faces when they fast to so others know they’re doing it. Isaiah’s people are doing the familiar repentance ritual of putting on burlap clothes and pouring ashes over their heads. And God says: is that what you call acceptable to me?

Yet at the center of this liturgy we will confess our sins, and have ashes placed on our foreheads. It’s not pouring a bucket over our heads, but it’s definitely marking our face.

Remember this, though. The people who created the lectionary were pretty smart people. They could read. They saw Isaiah 58 and wanted it read today. They remembered Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Mount and thought, “that’s the Gospel reading.”

So maybe there’s something deeper here we’re missing.

The three spiritual practices Jesus names form our great Lenten call, to which you’re invited tonight.

The giving of alms he names first, sharing your wealth to help your neighbor in need, then prayer, and finally fasting. All of these Jesus encourages, endorses.

Just do them for the right reasons, Jesus says. Don’t do them to impress others. If you’re doing spiritual practices, walking your baptismal journey, don’t do it so others can see you and admire you. So if you’re getting ashes today so you can show people how pious you are, or if you really want to go out with friends without washing your forehead, Jesus suggests you re-think your motivation.

But if this Lenten journey, begun in confession and the mark of ashes, realigns you with God and God’s call to you, that’s good. Fasting, prayer and giving of alms are deeply important things to do, because that’s the way to life.

And that’s exactly what God says through Isaiah.

The people in their burlap sacks, with ashes falling off their hair, face, and head, complain that God doesn’t even notice them.

But God says, I don’t care about sackcloth and ashes. That’s not a proper fast. The fast I want is that you invite homeless people into your home. I’ll notice that. Loose the bonds of injustice in your world, help the oppressed go free? I will see and rejoice in that. Provide food to those who hunger and clothes to those who have none, and your life will be like a light breaking forth at dawn, God says. I will definitely see that.

Giving up something for Lent, as we do, isn’t a true fast for God, either. True fasting is rejoining God’s way and life to be a blessing to others.

These are some of the most beautiful verses in Scripture.

The joy God promises you and me comes when we find our spiritual journey in being God’s blessing and care for others. When you become God’s light in the shadows of this world. When you are a watered garden, abundant blessing to others who are fed by your goodness and kindness. When you’re like a spring of water that never fails, God says.

That’s the goal of our Lenten disciplines, our Lenten journey. That in giving alms, in prayer, in fasting as God hopes we fast, we become more and more a blessing to our neighbors and our world. And find blessing and life in return.

There’s one more thing to know: you are definitely going to die.

When you receive ashes, you’ll be reminded of this. “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” That sounds depressing.

But Jesus and the prophet don’t see that. The joy that comes from realigning with God’s priorities and hopes, with God’s love for all people, isn’t lost by the realization you’re going to die, it’s deepened.

That remembering gives you hope. And direction. If you live in the absolute truth that your time is limited, even if your end is after many more years to come, you have the incentive to seek the joy of your baptismal journey right now. To take advantage of today because no one promised you tomorrow.

Tonight we begin our yearly renewal of our baptismal calling.

And what Isaiah dearly hopes, what Christ Jesus longs to see, is that what we practice in these weeks becomes our pattern, the shape of your whole life. That in doing these things you live fully into the truth that you are a beloved child of God, called to bear God’s love and life into the world. To be a lush, watered garden, a spring of water for your world.

And since you will die some day, today’s the day to get started. Now’s the time, Paul says. Give alms. Pray. Fast. And you will see the joy spring out of your heart and pour into the world for the hope of all.

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

There are two hills where Jesus stands, and two lights: it’s the second one outside the city that matters to you and the universe, not today’s hill.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Transfiguration of Our Lord, year B
Text: Mark 9:2-9 (plus 10)

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

Jesus must have had a subpar marketing department.

Everything about how this event was handled seems like a mistake.

If you’re going to reveal your true divine glory, competent marketing people would tell you to invite the money, the folks who fund your mission, to convince them. Jesus should have invited Joanna and Susanna and Mary Magdalene up this hill. They and a bunch of other unnamed women disciples were the financial backers of this whole operation.

Or, good marketers might suggest, invite the ones working against you. Dramatically put the fear of God into them so they come over to your side. Also you’ve got Israel’s two great heroes, Moses and Elijah right there, affirming you’re legitimate. Jesus should have invited the scribes and Pharisees.

But he only invites Peter, James, and John. For no known reason, except they seem to be among the leaders. And worst of all, he forbids them from saying anything to anyone about what they’d seen. He shuts down all media concerning this event, until he has risen from the dead.

It’s a massive contrast with the other hill Jesus will soon climb.

On this second hill, outside Jerusalem, he will again meet with two people. But this time they’re two criminals, not great leaders of Judaism, and they’ll all be hanging on crosses.

This time Jesus doesn’t get to invite who comes, or insist on silence. Everyone in Jerusalem can see if they want. It’s a public spectacle.

And this time, instead of glowing with divine light, Jesus is naked, bloody, beaten, humiliated.

This is the revelation that everyone sees, the Jesus the world experiences. Someone doesn’t seem to have paid very careful attention to the visuals of these two events.

We certainly would like to see something like the first hill.

Moses and Elijah, and Jesus glowing like the sun in all his divine glory. Wouldn’t our faith be stronger if we’d see something like that?

Well, my mother had a vision of Jesus. She and my father were discussing marriage on a bench by Lake Phalen in St. Paul. There were real challenges they faced. And she looked up and saw Jesus, and immediately was at peace, and the decision was made. I asked her where he was, was it just his face, how did she know it was Jesus, what did he look like? She never could answer that – visions are hard to retell.

But I realized long ago it didn’t bother me that I’ve never had a vision like that. Like the choice of Peter and the others, I have no idea why Jesus appeared to my mother. And while it changed her life, in truth, her vision was never the core of her faith.

What my mother witnessed to me again and again was the unconditional love of God. She trusted it fervently and lived it. My father taught me to love theology, to think critically, to care for words, especially words of faith. My mother taught me God’s love.

But my mother’s theology of grace wasn’t related to her vision. It was grounded in the love of God in Christ that she knew from her deep and long study of Scripture, and their regular worship and devotional life. Her trust in God’s love came from that other hill.

See, there really wasn’t a marketing failure.

The important hill to see is the public one. The vision to see is the humiliating, bloody one. That is, if you really want to know what God is doing in Christ. Any theophany worth its salt will have the god-figure glowing and shining. In mythology and world religions, events like the Transfiguration are a dime-a-dozen.

But no one would expect God to come in person and die on that hill outside the city. But it’s the only thing that truly reveals God.

In Mark only three times does someone call Jesus the Son of God. First, a voice from the heavens at his baptism, just for Jesus’ ears, “you are my beloved Son, I am well pleased with you.” Second was here, this time saying for witnesses to hear “This is my beloved Son, listen to him!”

But the third time it wasn’t from the heavens. It was from the earth, from one of us. That’s how you know this is the hill to watch. The third time it’s a Roman centurion who recognizes God when he sees how Jesus died. Somehow this foreigner who knew nothing of the God of Israel, said, “Truly this man was the Son of God.” And this is your sign: this is where you’ll also recognize God.

The light shining from the cross is the true light to look for.

It’s not a shiny god-moment like today’s Gospel. There’s a reason Jesus didn’t want people to talk about the Transfiguration until they’d seen him die and rise. Because the light that shines from the darkness of the cross reveals God’s true identity.

It pierces the love of God into every shadow and every evil in the world. It exposes evil to the truth of God’s love, a love that will die just to bring you and me and all people and all things and the whole creation back into the life of the Trinity. There’s not much to learn from a God who can glow on a mountain. But the life of the universe depends on the true God offering God’s own life at the cross.

God’s love seen here is vulnerable, self-giving, and it transforms. It brings about Jesus’ resurrection and yours. This cross-shining light of love heals your heart of your pain and sorrow, forgives your sin and evil, holds you now and always in peace.

And this cross-shining light of love empowers you to offer yourself in love to this world. Jesus never told anyone to keep silent about this light. Instead, he said to all who would follow: bear this in your heart, in your body, into the world. It will be your life, and you will bring healing to my broken world for me.

So, you didn’t miss anything by missing this light show.

It just isn’t that important for you or me or the world. It actually seems that the importance of the Transfiguration was for Jesus. He needed Moses and Elijah’s encouragement and support as he turned his face to that second hill.

And as we begin our Lenten journey this week, practicing our baptismal calling, we also remember where we are headed, to the hill that really matters. But you’ve already seen it, been changed by it, shaped by it. So, even now you and I can bear that cross-shining light into the shadows that surround our world. And watch the love of God transform us and all things.

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

You matter to God, too. You get to ask for healing and hope, too. You are God’s beloved, always. Trust that.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Fifth Sunday after Epiphany, Lect. 5 B
Texts: Isaiah 40:21-31; Mark 1:29-39

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

God’s people felt abandoned by the God who had chosen them.

In exile, they wondered why God disregarded them, ignored their bitter path.

And today Isaiah speaks hope: “Have you not known? Have you not heard? The God you call I-AM-WHO-I-AM is not only Creator of the ends of the earth, this God never tires, never grows weary, and is coming to bring power to those who are faint, to strengthen you, God’s people. You are going to be healed, restored.

This is beautiful. But it’s remarkable to me that Israel felt they could cry out their pain and sorrow to God. Because I’m sometimes not sure I have the right to ask God for such healing and hope for me.

In our Prayer of the Day we asked, “Make us agents of your healing and wholeness.”

And we lean into that prayer. So many suffer in the world from hunger and need, and there are so many massive problems in our world, from racism to sexism to oppression, to rising fascism here. And in this place we know the Triune God has called us to do something. To be Christ’s healing. So of course we pray, “make us agents of your healing and wholeness.”

But do you know you get to ask God for healing, too? And I don’t mean “you” for this whole congregation here. I mean you, singular, you personally. Do you know God cares about your pain, your suffering, your struggles? Do you know you’re permitted to pray, “send me an agent of your healing and wholeness, please”?

Have you not known this? Have you not heard?

It’s hard to know what we know and believe we also have a right to ask for help.

The privilege so many of us enjoy, some more than others even in this community, is real. We know that so many of our neighbors daily suffer from things we can’t imagine experiencing. We’ve learned to open our eyes and see that privilege, and in this place – I see it all the time – in this place we are a group of people committed to making a difference.

But there’s a trap there. With a faith like the one we share, you might find it hard to believe you also get to name your pain and ask God to help you. Maybe it’s part of the cultural truth of this area that so many of us learned: “Don’t complain, lots of people have it worse than you.” It’s definitely deeply rooted in my DNA. Why would I tell people if I was in pain or suffering? Isn’t that just whining, compared to the horrors that so many go through?

But have you not known? Have you not heard? God loves you – you specifically – with a love that cannot be stopped by anything.

Jesus, in deep wisdom, commanded you to love your neighbor as you love yourself.

For Jesus, it’s simple: the loving of neighbor you want to do starts with you loving yourself. A friend of mine puts it this way: if you want to live a life of non-violence, the first step is to not be violent to yourself.

So if you’re suffering, you deserve to ask for healing, too. If you’ve got decades of abuse to work through, or new diagnoses of disease facing you, if you’ve felt ostracized or left out, if you don’t think you belong, or matter, or will be missed, God wants to bring life to you. And if you are so filled with guilt over your privilege, or your implicit biases, or your participation, unwilling or not, in the systemic evil that surrounds us everywhere, you get to be forgiven, too.

Jesus said God so loved the cosmos God came to us in the Son, not to condemn but to heal, to save. (John 3:16-17) But Jesus also says God so loved you that God came for you. For your healing. For your new heart. For your abundant life. Don’t omit yourself from the “cosmos.” You also count to God.

Have you really not known this? Didn’t you hear today?

Isaiah says, and you sang the same in the Psalm, that God counts the stars and calls them all by name, doesn’t miss a single one. But God also heals the broken hearted and binds up their wounds. The Triune God who holds the entire universe of stars in embracing love, calling them by name in joy, still notices your tears, your sorrow, your pain, your fear, and comes to you, too.

I-AM-WHO-I-AM gives power to the faint ones, Isaiah says, and strength to the powerless ones. That means you, too. Those who wait for I-AM-WHO-I-AM will fly like eagles and never get weary. That means you, too.

It’s right there in these stories of Jesus.

Jesus is doing all these healings and exorcisms, and is probably exhausted. So he heads to Peter and Andrew’s home. And Peter asks him to heal his mother-in-law. Maybe Peter worried he was imposing. Maybe he didn’t. But he asked. And she was made well.

All these people heard about someone healing and driving out demons and flocked to Jesus. They didn’t think, “it’s not for me, others have it worse.” They thought, “how can I not go?”

But you already know this. You’ve heard this.

You’re here or joining online because deep down you need to hear that God loves you. Whether you feel attacked by demonic powers or stricken by medical illness, whether you don’t know where the pain is from or you do, whether you have a sadness needing comfort or a fear needing hope, you came here to see if maybe, maybe, you can find healing and wholeness from God, too. And that’s a good thing.

And yes, in worship you will hear that you are called to be Christ’s love in the world, to reach out to others with God’s wholeness. That’s good and right, too, and you take it very seriously.

But just for today, maybe try to trust this: The Triune God has come to this world in Christ for you. For your healing. For your life. For your hope. There is no one more important in God’s eyes than you, and no one God wants to hear from right now more than you.

Have you not known? Have you not heard? You are God’s beloved, and always will be. Go ahead and ask for what you need. God’s waiting for that very thing, and never gets tired or weary.

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