The feast of the Triune God is a feast of welcome and restoration of the whole creation, starting now and continuing into the life to come, and you’re invited. Period.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 28 A
Texts: Isaiah 25:1-9; Psalm 23; Matthew 22:1-14

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

There’s only one question for you today: are you coming to God’s party?

It’s going to be glorious. David says the cups will overflow and the feast will be spread between enemies, it’s a reconciliation feast. Jesus says the feast celebrates the joining of the Son of God with the creation, and all can come. Isaiah says God’s feast starts here but continues beyond death, destroying death in the process, and it is for all peoples, a feast of rich food and well-aged wines. It sounds wonderful.

And you’ve got the invitation in your hands, embossed with the royal seal: “child of God, beloved of God, come to my party, eat and be filled with my goodness.”

So, are you coming or not?

You realize, don’t you, that we don’t have to read this whole parable, with all the destruction, right? You can stop early. If the invitees had come, there just would have been a party, a feast, a celebration. No one has to miss this feast, not in Isaiah or Psalm 23 or Jesus’ parable.

But, maybe you think it’s cheating to stop the parable early, when the meal’s ready, and all are told to come.

That’s fair. We should look at the painful parts of this parable.

The first invitees ignore the invitation, abuse and kill the people who came to get them. Their city is burned to the ground with everyone in it. One guy who comes in the second sweep rejects the robe provided for him and gets bound hand and foot, tossed into the outer darkness, where there’s weeping and gnashing of teeth. Many are called, but few are chosen, you say. That’s how the parable really ends.

Fine. Let’s consider that. Matthew says all these parables we’re hearing in these weeks were told by Jesus in the first days of Holy Week. And we can’t pretend these late parables aren’t filled with strong warnings of punishment by Jesus for those who don’t comply.

There are a couple possibilities. Jesus is under intense stress as he approaches Good Friday. He’s running out of time to teach, and knows he’s going to suffer horribly. At least half his disciples – the male half, since the women seem to acquit themselves much better – keep missing his point and misunderstanding his mission. Maybe he’s frightened they’ll never get it, so he fills his parables this week with threats to get their attention.

Or maybe he meant every word. Maybe Jesus really meant you don’t get second chances. You turn from God’s invite, and that’s it. You’re outside God’s grace and love. It’s a horrible thought, but it’s possible.

But if I can’t stop reading the parable early, you can’t stop reading early either.

If I have to read all the way to “many are called and few are chosen,” I insist you read all the way to the end of chapter 28, the end of Matthew. (While you’re at it, check out the other three Gospels in full, too.) You’ll going to see an entirely different picture. There may be mystery over why Jesus said these harsh things, but there’s absolutely no mystery about what Jesus actually did.

Because whatever Jesus meant to say with his threatening words in Holy Week, he does none of it when he rises from the dead. He does the opposite.

The king burns the city who rejected the wedding, and kills everyone? The Risen Christ sends his disciples back into the city to proclaim the Good News of the resurrection, even to those who rejected it before, in hopes that now they’ll come to the party. He insists they start with Jerusalem.

The king takes a guy and throws him into the outer darkness? Jesus, God-with-us, on Friday will allow himself to be bound hand and foot and thrown into that very outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. And will bring back everyone from the darkness into resurrection life.

And “many are called, but few are chosen?” The Risen Christ sends the Holy Spirit at Pentecost and pours God’s grace and power over anyone who wants it, and then sends out those Spirit-filled ones to try and get to every person on earth. Christ chooses everyone.

There is something so simple and joy-filled about all of these late parables of Jesus.

But we obsess over the judgment parts. It’s as if we need to insist that the awful punishments threatened by the Son of God still apply, still must be accounted for, or else we despair about how God’s love in our human flesh would make such threats.

But why focus on those parts? Every single parable here starts with invitation and joy and can stop right there. If you just focus on that invitation and joy. If you hear Jesus’ loving voice saying, “come to me.” You’ll find a joy glorious to behold.

So – are you coming to God’s party or not?

It’s a party for here and for now. God’s clear about that. God intends the abundance of creation to be shared with all God’s children on earth, with all having enough to eat and drink, all sheltered, all whole, all happy. We’ve got more instructions than we need from God’s Word as to how we can help that feast happen here in this life. But if you don’t want to be at a feast with everyone, if you’re worried that if everyone’s cup runs over, yours might go dry, maybe it’s not your thing.

It’s a party for everyone, “good folks and bad folks,” Jesus says. David says your enemies are invited to God’s feast, too. Maybe that’s the dealbreaker. You only want to feast with God with your people.

Why reject Isaiah, though? Isaiah says the party’s going to keep going after you and I and everyone dies. Eventually, the party favor everyone gets is that no one ever has to leave the party. Death is now a blip, and the feast just keeps going. In even more raucous joy and celebration. For all people, Isaiah says.

In a moment, we’re going to have a feast.

It’s not exactly the same as these we’re hearing of. We sometimes call it a “foretaste of the feast to come,” a sign of what God’s feast will look like not only in the world to come, but if God’s way is done, in this world as well.

Because you and everyone are welcome to come and eat God’s very being, to be blessed by God’s undying love for you, to be forgiven and healed and made whole. Anyone here who wants to come to the feast can come. This feast reveals what God’s greater feast is meant to be, even on this earth. So we never turn people away.

Maybe this time, as you eat and drink, you can imagine the overfilled cups and groaning tables of the feast God intends for all on this planet, now and forever, and say, “yes, I really want to come to that party. And I want to help make sure everyone else is there, too.” Because Good News: the invitation has always been there for you. And for all.

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

Nothing in this life can separate you from God’s love in Christ. And of course, not even death itself.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The funeral of Eunice Ruth Hafemeister

Texts: Romans 8:31-39; John 14:25-29; Isaiah 61:1-3

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

Paul’s promise to the Romans is the best news we could hear today.

Talking about the challenges and suffering of our lives and of the creation, he says: “nothing will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” And he specifically says even death can’t. Death cannot keep you from God’s love in Christ. And in his death on the cross and resurrection to new life, Christ made this absolutely clear and trustworthy and certain.

Today we carry our sister Eunice to her rest, and it’s tempting to focus only on this amazing promise: death cannot separate us from God’s love in Christ. So Eunice, who has died, is in God’s arms now, in the life to come. That’s what we came here to hear and trust.

Except it’s only part of the promise. And only part of the truth.

Paul included a whole lot of other things in the “nothing”: life can’t separate you from God’s love in Christ either, he said. What’s happening today can’t, what happens tomorrow can’t. Except for death, everything else on Paul’s list happens in this life. Paul’s promise is mostly for here. Here, you are always in God’s love.

So while Eunice absolutely is in the arms of God right now, that’s nothing new. Because life, and the present, and the future, and nothing in the whole creation could separate her from God’s love in Christ, she has always been in the arms of God.

And she knew that. She’d want you to know that you are, too.

Dear friends, this gift of God in Christ is for you now.

The promise of God’s peace Jesus makes in our Gospel today is for you and for now.

He says so specifically. He’s going away, but he wants those who trust in him to know that they will not be alone, they don’t need to be afraid of this suffering world, and they don’t need to have troubled hearts.

God is with them. So God is with you. And that peace that the world can’t give, because the world lives in selfishness and anxiety and fear, that peace from God is yours now. You can be confident in that.

If you knew Eunice you heard this witness from her.

Of course she was human like us. She had doubts and fears and anxieties, and I’m probably not the only one who talked with her about her God questions.

But she had a deep and abiding confidence that God loved her always, and loved this world. She lived her life fully in that confidence, traveling, going on adventures with friends and family, always being of service to God and others. She taught countless people and shared her wisdom and faith with them. She lived every minute of her nearly 97 years as gift from God and was a blessing to her huge family of siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles, and even more to her family she raised with Lester.

This is her witness she leaves behind for us: that life can be lived trusting God is with you, giving you peace and hope that makes this life worth living. And also peace and hope for the life that’s yours to come.

Today, Eunice is just where she trusted she would be, where she was confident God was taking her.

We grieve because she’s no longer here with us. But we grieve with joy for her.

And the witness of God’s Word is that you don’t need to be anxious about you or your life or this world, either. Nothing that has happened to you or will happen, no matter how painful or difficult, can keep God from loving you in Christ. And giving you peace through God’s Spirit.

Living in this trust, life becomes a blessing with a joy and hope that transforms you. Life becomes a gift to live. As Isaiah says, you get your faint heart, your faint spirit, strengthened in God’s love and you become like a great oak tree.

But don’t just take my word for it. Or Eunice’s. Or even Paul’s.

Christ gives you the Holy Spirit who speaks in your heart and teaches you what you need to know to find God’s peace in this life. Reminds you of God’s love when you doubt or are afraid. Listen for that Spirit. God’s Spirit lives in you so you’re not alone, and God’s love shapes your life here. And gives you confidence in a life to come that is yours.

Trust God on this. Where else do you think Eunice got all her faith and trust? She got it where we all get it, from God living in her. And God now lives in you.

Nothing in this life or the next can separate you from God’s love. Nothing. So live in that peace now. Until you, too, go to that wonder that is to come that Eunice now knows fully.

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

You belong to God in the love of Christ and the Spirit will join your heart and mind to that of Christ for the healing of all things.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 26 A
Texts: Matthew 21:23-32; Philippians 2:1-13

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

We did not have a vineyard to tend. But we had a big yard.

It had a lot of sticks and twigs. Our trees shed them like a dog sheds hair. And Saturdays, before I was old enough to have a paying job of my own, I knew the command was coming: go pick up sticks. That meant hours, often on hands and knees, picking up every single twig.

See, my father had a manual mower, the kind with a reel of blades. It constantly jammed if there were sticks. The job needed doing.

I definitely recognized my father’s authority to order me out of the house on a Saturday morning. I didn’t ever question that or stay inside. And there was no mystery what was expected, what the job was.

Both those things center Jesus’ parable today.

At least one son acknowledged his father’s authority.

The non-working son clearly didn’t recognize his father’s right to command him. He said the right things but didn’t do them.

The chief priests and elders don’t want to recognize John’s authority or Jesus’ authority, but they’re too cowardly to admit it. Jesus exposes that they claim to acknowledge the authority of the God of Israel, but they’re not doing God’s will or recognizing those who do it, even with their vast knowledge of Scripture

Like their ancestors before them whom the prophets challenged, they say yes to God, but act as if their answer is no.

Those who say no but act yes already live in God’s reign, Jesus says.

The tax collectors and prostitutes Jesus mentions were seen as unrighteous because they broke God’s law. But they’re in God’s dominion before the religious leaders because they came to recognize God’s authority to direct their lives.

In the utter love and welcome and grace and forgiveness that Jesus, God-with-us, offered them in his person, they found a home when they had belonged nowhere. They found life when the world and their faith leaders offered death. So they’re living in God’s reign already, followers and obeyers of God’s Son, workers in the vineyard with Christ.

So which way of this divergence are you? The one where you know God has asked you to go into the vineyard, and you say the right God things, but you’d rather do your own thing, be the boss of your own life? Or the one where you are so overwhelmed by God’s love and grace and welcome that is yours in Christ, that you willingly answer Christ’s call to the vineyard to the best of your ability?

The problem isn’t not knowing what the job is, either.

There was no doubt for the sonswhat the vineyard work entailed. Or my yard work for me. Or the work Christ needs done in the vineyard of the world. The need is abundantly clear throughout Scripture. For today, just see Matthew, our Gospel partner this year.

God doesn’t want to lose anyone, we hear. So here’s the job: Love God with all your being and love your neighbor as yourself. Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. Rejoice in the abundant forgiveness God has given you by offering abundant forgiveness to others. Delight that God’s forgiveness and grace are going to all. Be light in a world where the shadows of evil abound. See Christ’s face in everyone who is hungry and naked, and ensure all can eat and be clothed and sheltered. Care about those in prison, and about the injustice of our prison system while you’re at it. Be good stewards of the gift we’ve been given, including the gift of the creation which we’ve damaged so badly and be a part of that healing. Welcome the strangers among us with open arms, don’t cage them or threaten them or send them back to be killed.

We could go on, but we don’t need to. The work of the vineyard has always been clear, even what you can do specifically. The call to work has always been clear. So – if you recognize God’s authority to ask such things of you in your life – are you going to go out into the vineyard or not?

Here’s good news: Paul says it’s not only a question of your will to work in the vineyard.

He urges this life in Christ in his letters, but today he shows how. Have the same mind in you that is in Christ Jesus. Be joined with Christ so Christ’s will is your will, Christ’s hopes are your hopes, Christ’s urgency is your urgency.

Yes, Paul says Jesus gave up his divine nature to become human. We can’t do that. But the love God poured out on the cross is the true relinquishing for Paul. And that love is the love that claimed you in the first place.

And with the gift of the Holy Spirit living in you, as Paul says so often, that love, that mind of Christ, changes you. Infuses you. So you become Christ’s love. And so it is God who is at work in you, Paul says today, enabling you to both to will and to work for God’s good pleasure.

So of course you’re going into the vineyard to work. You share Christ’s mind and heart.

So much of our walk with the Triune God is on the edge of mystery.

We don’t have clear answers to lots of things. Today’s readings are not one of those mysteries. Today God’s love for you is clear and God’s call to you is clear. There’s no mystery to what God wants to happen in the creation and how God sees you involved in that.

Because God is at work in you, and you share God’s heart and mind, you can even see the vineyard for yourself and see how much work is needed for the healing of all. And your heart, bound with Christ, wants that healing. In that clarity, let’s go out together into the vineyard to do what we can do as Christ for the good of all.

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

God’s grace and love are yours, and are for all: when they shape you and form your life, you will rejoice that no one is excluded.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 25 A
Texts: Philippians 1:21-30; Jonah 3:10 – 4:11; Matthew 20:1-16

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

Aren’t these two beautiful miracle stories today?

An entire city, notorious for its wickedness, repents and turns from its evil. Everyone confesses, and pledges a new life. And God – who was angered and saddened by their sinfulness – joyfully forgives them and relents from punishing.

A vineyard owner, desperate to get the harvest in, goes down to the local workforce center multiple times in the day. At the end of the day, this owner generously pays everyone a full day’s wage. Everyone feeds their families that night, all the children’s bellies are full.

These unexpected outcomes are miraculous. Or maybe “miracle” wasn’t the first word that came to your mind.

Maybe you kind of agreed with Jonah, considered sharing his seat outside the city.

Wicked people should be punished, we sometimes think. It’s not uncommon for us to see some horrible behavior and maybe wish Dante was right about the circles of hell.

Notice, however, before you fully commit and sit down, what Jonah really wanted. This wasn’t about hell. Nineveh’s threatened punishment was utter destruction here and now. Sodom and Gomorrah level. Except, unlike Abraham, who negotiated with God to avert destruction, Jonah wants to see it burn.

Now, Nineveh might have been wicked, but it was also the capital of Israel’s greatest enemy. Enemy capitals are commonly stereotyped as all evil and wicked. Even if Nineveh was worse than your average city, surely, just as Abraham pleaded about Sodom and Gomorrah, some in Nineveh must have been righteous. Loved their children. And, as God points out to Jonah, there were a whole lot of animals.

So, if you want to sit down and pout with Jonah that God forgives people who don’t deserve it, remember Jonah wants genocide.

OK, you say. Forget Jonah. Can I just agree with the hard workers who got ripped off?

Fair enough. They’re not calling for genocide. They’re grumpy that slackers who showed up at 5 in the afternoon got a full day’s wage.

But before you join their picket line, notice a few things. Jesus’ story doesn’t cast any judgement on the latecomers, or give a reason why they weren’t hired earlier. Maybe this landowner had poor strategic planning skills, only picking up a group at first, then throughout the day realizing more and more were needed. The workers might have been waiting all day for a job.

And second, the owner was fair and generous to the first ones. As a temp worker back then, there were likely plenty of employers who’d cheat you out of a day’s pay for a day’s work. You’re subject to the whims of the employer, with no Department of Labor to protect your rights.

And last, these are all hungry people. Day laborers have no confidence they can feed their family from day to day, they depend on getting hired each day. The owner simply gave the latecomers miraculous, compassionate, generous grace. He made sure they’d all survive the night. Everyone got what they needed, including the complainers. So, if you want to join the complainers, why?

Matthew’s community struggled with how to live in God’s grace.

The teachings of Jesus we’ve heard in the past few weeks, the process of reconciliation, the parable of the unforgiving slave, and today’s parable of the workers, are only in Matthew. It seems Matthew needed his community to hear Jesus’ thoughts on a critical problem they had with God’s grace.

The last two weeks the problem was, if you’re forgiven completely by God, why is it so hard to offer the same love and forgiveness to others? Today it’s even more baffling: if God chooses to offer complete and utter love and grace to all, why would you be angry? This time it isn’t whether you forgive, Jesus says. Now it’s whether you resent God forgiving someone else.

You could see this parable as talking only about life-after-death. If you do, and agree with the first workers, you’re saying some people don’t deserve to go to heaven. Why? What’s at stake in it for you?

But there’s also a risk of resenting God’s grace for all people still living in this world. There’s a way to read the parable for this time, right now. That God’s love and generosity and abundance are for all who are living, so all are safe and secure and full, whether or not you think they deserve it. And if you think they don’t, again, why?

Jesus leaves the question open: are you envious because I’m generous? Do you not like God’s new math?

That’s really the issue, isn’t it? God doesn’t count the way you and I do. God sees all God’s children as worthy of love and grace,not wanting to lose even one. Even if they’re wicked, God dreams they’ll turn and become people who love and make a difference. God’s absolutely against having an accounting department to track who deserves how much of what. Everything to everyone. It’s God’s simple math.

And it’s Gospel math. If the good news that the Triune and Holy God who made all things became human, lived and loved and taught and healed and died and rose from the dead, all to bring you and me and all things back into God’s love and life is true – and we live and die trusting that it is – then there is no accounting. Jonah doesn’t have to pay for his rebellion and desertion. You don’t have to pay for your failure to live and love as Christ calls you, or for any sins, great or small.

And no one – no one – gets less or more love from God depending on when they started following faithfully. Everything to everyone. And if that’s hard for you, Paul would like a word.

Paul wouldn’t comprehend the complainers in Jesus’ parable.

How anyone could rejoice in God’s unconditional, transforming love and want anyone else to be deprived of that. In this world or in the next.

So he urges his beloved Philippians, “live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.” Paul lived and proclaimed a life in Christ in all his letters, where, living in Christ’s Spirit, love and peacemaking and forgiveness and generosity and goodness and self-control and all these blessed things shape everything about you, inform and fill everything about you.

Until you’re so happy that you’re loved by God you can’t imagine anyone else not knowing that they are. Until, with the Spirit’s grace, you delight in God’s generosity rather than resent it. Until God’s love infuses your heart and life and becomes the shape of your heart and life. And you live your life in a manner worthy of the Gospel of Christ: no accounting, full generosity, love to all.

Now that’s a miracle worth praying for.

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