The path of Christ is foolishness, a stumbling block, nonsense, and we know that from the beginning. It is also the only way to life for us and the creation?

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The feast of the Holy Cross
Texts: 1 Corinthians 1:18-24; John 3:13-17

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

You have to admire Paul’s honesty.

He starts his letter to the Corinthians calling his promise, his proclamation, his witness, foolish. Deluded. Making no sense to the Jewish people or any other people on earth.

“We proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles,” Paul says. From the start let’s be clear, he says. What we say about Christ isn’t going to connect with just about anyone.

He could actually have named two other groups. What he often calls the flesh, or the world, what we might call our culture, our way. And second, the very Church itself, born out of the cross of Christ and gathered by the Spirit’s fire. Both also struggle with the cross.

So Paul says: look honestly at the truth of our proclamation. And know that it’s in opposition to nearly everything everyone expects about the way the world works.

But it’s what Jesus proclaimed.

Jesus said, “The Son of Man must be lifted up, so whoever trusts in him might have eternal life.” The path to God’s life starts at the cross, where we see our Savior lifted up for the life of the world. Lifted up, as Jesus proclaims later, to draw all people to himself, all things into God’s embrace. (John 12:32)

And Paul says this way of the cross is clearly opposite to the way most desire. But it will save the world. All things will be healed, saved, brought into God’s life and love through this sacrificial love. And as those who see Christ lifted up allow themselves to be lifted up, cut down, walked on for the sake of others, then the world of power over others, of domination and might, will crumble and eventually fall.

And that’s where the rubber meets the road. When the historical event of the cross makes a demand on how people live their lives, how they they think things work.

It’s where all these groups struggle.

They just don’t know what to do with the cross.

The proclamation of Christ’s cross was a stumbling block to Jews because they couldn’t envision the one true God, the maker of all things, so debased, so lowly as to assume human form and die.

The proclamation of Christ’s cross was foolishness to Gentiles because they’d ridicule a pathetic group of believers who followed someone who ended in a humiliating public execution.

The proclamation of Christ’s cross is nonsense to our culture because the world can’t comprehend an all-powerful Creator of all things giving up that power in love. If you’ve got power, wield it, use it, the world says.

And the proclamation of Christ’s cross largely appears to be irrelevant to the very Church Christ called. The Church has learned to live as if the cross is unimportant to its life, sharing a bed with military and political power for centuries, calling it God’s will, a practical way to preserve the institution. And because we like power, being winners.

So, Paul says, let’s be honest. Name at the start what’s at stake.

The path to God’s life is the path of stumbling, foolish, irrelevant nonsense.

Can you see the stumbling block? he asks. You don’t get to tell God what to do, you only get to decide if you’re going where God has already gone, into disreputable places and places of loss. To love those who would hurt you.

Can you see the foolishness? Paul asks.  To stop defending the church, our congregation, yourself, even God. This path doesn’t lead to impressive, powerful things people have to respect.

Can you see the nonsense? he asks. To move out in vulnerability and weakness, offering only love and grace in your words, actions, and decisions, instead of fighting to make sure you win or the church wins.

Can you see how this might appear irrelevant to your life? Paul asks. If people always need to adjust to you, if your needs are always foremost, if your trust in God depends upon whether you have success and security, if being right is the most important thing, if sacrificial, vulnerable love is something you’re unwilling to do, what does that tell you? he asks.

That’s the honesty Paul calls for.

But such honesty is why you and I are here tonight.

Tonight, and at every Eucharist, when we gather at the Table of Christ and claim those visceral gifts as our own, Christ’s Body and Blood, we declare Paul’s words from later in this Corinthian letter: “When we eat of this bread and drink from this cup, we proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” (1 Cor. 11:26)

This isn’t some morbid obsession, to stop and proclaim Christ’s death at every Eucharist. It is declaring the truth each time, so we remember this is our way. So we continually focus on the path we walk with Christ, a path of loss and death that gives life.

The cross marks our lives, our worship, our rituals, our gestures, our faith, precisely as a reminder of Christ’s path, and ours. And with this sign we commit to our path.

“The message of the cross is foolishness,” Paul says . . . “but to us who are being saved it is Christ the wisdom of God.”

We seek wisdom in foolishness, because that’s where God’s way is. We seek power in powerlessness, because that’s what God does. We seek strength in weakness, because that’s how God works. We seek victory in losing, because that’s how God wins. This foolish, nonsensical, stumbling block truth about the way the Triune God really works in the world is life. Millions before us have learned this and found life for themselves and for the world.

So with God’s help let’s walk this foolishness together, catch each other when we stumble, help make sense of the nonsense together, and find the relevance of this way for our life and the life of the whole universe.

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

Following Jesus is about more than being generous and cooperative people. Through Jesus’ suffering, death, and resurrection, God reconciles all creation to Godself.

The Rev. Beth Ann Gaede
The Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 22 A
Texts: Jeremiah 15:15-21; Romans 12:9-21; Matthew 16:21-28

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

If you follow New York Times columnist David Brooks, you probably saw this week’s reflections on a question novelists and poets, philosophers, theologians, and maybe you have long pondered: Are human beings fundamentally good or fundamentally bad? Are people mostly generous, or are they mostly selfish?

As Brooks lays out his argument, he first cites a recent psychological experiment in which 200 people in seven nations around the world were each given $10,000, free, and then reported how they spent the money. On average, the participants spent more than $6,400—nearly two-thirds—to benefit others. (https://www.nytimes.com/2023/08/31/opinion/human-nature-good-bad-generous.html)

Brooks then goes on to cite a Harvard researcher who says: “Across a wide range of experiments, in widely diverse populations, one finding stands out: In practically no human society examined under controlled conditions have the majority of people consistently behaved selfishly.”

Brooks concludes, “Humanity hasn’t thrived all these centuries because we’re ruthlessly selfish; we’ve thrived because we’re really good at cooperation.”

I’m going to dare to assume that, people being people, Jesus’ followers were pretty much like the folks these scholars studied—basically generous and cooperative.

So if that was the case, why did Jesus say, “If any wish to come after me, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Mt 16:24)? Couldn’t he assume people would listen to their good instincts and, hoping to make the world a better place, follow his teachings and imitate his ministry? Why did he talk about denial and the cross—that scary-sounding stuff?

As so often happens when we read the Bible, the context of a passage provides clues about it. And last week’s Gospel lesson is indeed helpful. There Jesus asks his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” (v. 13) The text goes on:

And Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” And Jesus answered him, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you but my Father in heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church.” (vv. 16–18)

Peter, it seems, really gets it. He understands who Jesus is, what his message and mission are. He’s all in for Team Jesus! Three cheers for Peter!

But today, continuing with the next verse of Matthew’s gospel, we learn that Jesus starts to tell his followers what lies ahead for him: “He must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes and be killed and on the third day be raised” (v. 21).

And how does Peter respond? “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” Not surprisingly, Jesus scolds Peter: “Get behind me, Satan!” (vv. 22–23).

Oh, Peter! He was so close, looking for all the world like a faithful disciple—and he totally blew it! After walking in Jesus’ footsteps, sitting at Jesus feet, breaking bread at Jesus’ table, even being designated as the rock upon whom Jesus will build his church, Peter doesn’t understand who Jesus is and what he is about.

Peter is not the only one who has trouble grasping what it means to follow Jesus. We gather from the apostle Paul’s letters to various Christian communities that he is in good company. That’s why Paul writes to the Christians in Rome:

Hate what is evil; hold fast to what is good; … Be patient. . . . Live in harmony with one another. . . . Live peaceably with all. . . . If your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink. . . . (Romans 12)

Paul is describing a transformed life. He’s telling these folks, in detailed, practical terms, to be generous and cooperative.

But wait! What about the research David Brooks cites that says human beings are generally decent to one another? Do they, do we, really need a list like Paul’s?

Well, the thing of it is, Jesus is more than a model of neighbor love. Following Jesus is about more than being generous and cooperative.

I’m not minimizing or dismissing the value of Paul’s guidance for the Christians in Rome. Hardly! Paul is a wise teacher, a good pastor, and of course we need to pay attention to him.

But Jesus the Messiah, God’s anointed one, is inviting Peter and the other disciples, and us, to work toward a much grander vision. God’s yearning is not only to create generous and cooperative people but to reconcile all creation to Godself.

When we view the life of love, patience, and peace that Paul talks about through the lens of Jesus’ suffering, death, and resurrection, we see an entire cosmos that is healed, whole, and connected. All things, even the rocks, trees, and stars, are restored. All relationships are just.

As Jesus warned, following him is not easy. Jesus’ suffering, our suffering, is real. The cross, the cross Jesus asks us to carry, is heavy. Participating in God’s grand vision demands courage and stamina. But Jesus’ suffering and death are followed by his resurrection. And in that resurrection, the powers of sin and death that divide creation are overcome.

Maybe people do have a capacity to be generous and cooperative. (We can continue to debate that point, if you like.) But in Jesus, God is working to overcome everything that interferes with the wholeness of creation. All things are reconciled by God through Jesus. We are reconciled—to one another, to all creation, to God. In this journey, we find life. Thanks be to God!

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

You and I are called-out and sent as God’s anointed in the world, anchored on the moving foundation of God’s love in Christ; and even death can’t stop such a church.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 21 A
Texts: Isaiah 51:1-6; Romans 12:1-8; Matthew 16:13-20

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

Listen to me, you people who pursue righteousness, Isaiah says.

Listen, you who seek the God-Who-Is. You who long for God to take the beauty and wonder that we see every day in the creation and apply it to the barrenness and devastation we also see in our world, apply it to our society and culture and life together on this planet. Listen, Isaiah says: to find that, look to the rock you came from, the quarry from which you were cut. The Rock that is your God.

Then God’s voice takes over: Listen to me, God says. I will bring salvation, deliverance, justice as a light to all people. What you hope for, I will do, God says. This is the rock our hope stands on.

And today the Son of God seems to repeat that promise. The rock on which I build my church, says Jesus, God-with-us, is so strong nothing can prevail against it.

But Jesus may be seeing it differently.

Jesus speaks of the “church,” the ecclesia, literally “the ones called out.” He says the gates of Hades cannot prevail against such a called-out community of God’s people. Hades to the Greeks is like Sheol to the Hebrews – not a place of punishment, just the place people go when they die. So Jesus says here the church will be sent to the very gates of death itself and break them. The church is moving, according to Jesus.

So, we are built on a rock, the trust we share with Peter that Jesus is God’s Christ, God’s anointed. But we’re not supposed to huddle up as church in our fortress on that rock, defending ourselves there. To be church is to be called out and sent. So we’re on the offense here, riding on a moveable foundation – the rock of our trust in God’s Anointed One – to bring God’s light and love and healing to the places of death and shadow and pain in this world.

To do this, Paul says God will transform you for this work, if you allow it.

Paul urges, “don’t be conformed to this age,” and that makes sense. If you and I are called out and sent into the suffering and pain of the world to bring God’s healing and restoration, we have to be different than what causes that suffering and pain. It does no good if we’re sent out and act in ways that perpetuate oppression, violence, suffering, the death we are sent to break through. We need to be different.

And that’s the hope: you can be transformed by God in Christ. So can I and all who follow Christ. Be transformed, Paul says – it’s not something you do, it’s done to you by God in Christ. Be made different, Paul says. Let God make you into Christ. And you will be part of God’s restoration and healing as Isaiah sees.

And every single transformed child of God is needed, Paul says.

You and I, and all anointed to be Christ in the world, are all part of one body, the Church. The called-out ones.

But we’re also all different, and that diversity is gift and blessing. To bring about the restoration God promises, it will need all kinds of people, all kinds of gifts. This is a world-changing plan.

So, Paul says, God needs people with compassion. And God gives some that gift. God needs people who are good at encouraging. God gives some that gift.

God needs people who are prophetic, who hear God and speak that word. God needs people who can teach, people who are generous in their giving, people who are able to minister to others. And God gives all those gifts, as needed for the plan. And many more gifts are needed, and are given – Paul’s list is only partial.

So our diversity, your difference, is critical, absolutely necessary to the plan of healing all things.

Now, we don’t hear it today, but this calling out and sending is a difficult path.

We only heard the first half of this Gospel story and the first half of Paul’s proclamation to the Romans. Next week we’ll hear the next parts of both. Next week Jesus will say he will suffer and die to break the gates of death, and asks all who follow to be ready to take up their lives of love sacrificial, too. Next week Paul will put a shape to the transformed life, a life of self-giving love, of honoring others, of peace-making. All very challenging, all costly.

Peter’s problem with this suffering path is evident next week. But we all have those moments where it seems too much for us to handle. So remember it’s fully part of what today’s readings call us to be and do.

For now, though, hear the joy.

You who pursue righteousness, who seek the God-Who-Is, rejoice. God is restoring and healing all things. Through your transformed mind and heart, and your specific gifts and calling. Through mine. Through all God’s anointed Christs in the world. And the gates of death can’t stop this – no oppression, no evil, no structures, no systems – nothing can stop the called-out anointed ones who bear Christ in the world.

And maybe you’ve realized what this also means – if the gates of death can’t keep out this love in this life, they’ve got no chance to stop God’s love in your death or mine. This promise of God we trust is also the foundation that moves with you through your death into the life that is to come. So you never need to be afraid.

Because nothing harmful can prevail against such transformed servants of God, against the love of God in Christ Jesus that is moving out into the world for the life of all things.

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

You have a voice, God hears you and will answer; but everyone else has a voice, too, all are welcome, so you’ll want to get on that path.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 20 A
Text: Matthew 15:(10-20)21-28

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

This is absolutely clear and certain: from very early in the Church’s life, the mission was to all people, Jews and non-Jews.

It began with Jesus, God-with-us, who reached out inside and outside Jewish boundaries, and it continued in the early Church with the ministries of Philip and Paul, and then beyond. This wasn’t without conflict and tension. Many of Paul’s communities struggled to live into this multi-cultural life in Christ. The Jewish Christian leadership in Jerusalem needed convincing. But from nearly the beginning, the mission was to all people on earth.

The question is, when did Jesus know that? Luke and John suggest this was the plan from the start, John reaching back to the creation itself, Luke foreshadowing it before Jesus’ birth, and making it clear in Jesus’ first sermon. But Matthew and Mark seem to see it differently. Before this, there’s a healing of a centurion’s servant in Matthew, and in both Mark and Matthew a Gentile demoniac is healed. But the mission is overwhelmingly to the Jewish people so far.

Only Matthew and Mark tell today’s story, and it feels like a turning point. In their narratives, this is when Jesus truly embraces a new path, re-focusing the entire Christian mission in the world.

Which means this woman is the one you really need to be looking at.

She’s Canaanite, not Israelite. She’s definitively outside every boundary Jesus and his followers have. She has no standing with them, no voice, no power, no reason they should heed her. Yet she’s heard enough of this Jewish rabbi that she knows this man might have an answer to her desperation over her daughter’s mental and spiritual health. So she comes and asks for help.

First Jesus seems to ignore her. Then, when the disciples want her sent away, he appears to affirm them, saying, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.” In effect, “she’s not my problem.”

But she won’t have that.

2,000 years before “and yet, she persisted,” Matthew anticipates that bravery. He starts verse 25: “But she came.” She came? She was already there. Which means after verse 24 and Jesus’ declaration, the disciples started moving her out of Jesus’ presence. But she came. Pushed them aside. Did what she had to do.

She claimed her voice, her right to ask. And in response, Jesus uses an unmistakable racial slur, saying you don’t take children’s food and give it to dogs. You don’t need to grasp ancient idioms to hear how horrible and indefensible that is. It would be just as insulting and awful for anyone to compare human beings that way today. And people do that today.

But she came. Even when Jesus called her a dog, this marvelous, beautiful woman claimed her voice again, said, “fine, call me a dog. But even dogs get crumbs.” And she broke Jesus. For the second and last time in Matthew, Jesus praises someone’s faith, and once again it’s a Gentile. Second time’s the charm, because now Jesus is changed. She reminds him of his love for all God’s children, and that she herself is a beloved child of God. He hears her. He heals her daughter.

And the floodgates open.

From here, Jesus immediately continues around the north side of the Sea of Galilee, in Gentile territory, and does all kinds of healings and exorcisms. Then he feeds another huge crowd, this time 4,000 or more, all Gentiles. The abundance of God’s bread of life is now for all the world.

She started that. She might be the most important person in the history of the Church. And if you’re troubled by Jesus’ language, and you should be, please note the very rare thing Jesus does: he hears the powerless person and changes his mind and direction. The insult, the rejection of someone who isn’t his concern, people in power do that all the time. But Jesus listens, and this woman changes his mind. And the world was never the same.

There are two things to note:

First, if you’ve been marginalized, oppressed, your voice has been disregarded, she’s your hero.

If people’ve ignored you, your gifts, your thoughts, your opinions, if your suffering or experience has been discounted because of who you are, or because you were raising inconvenient and threatening things to people in power, this woman says, just keep coming.

Claim your voice. Ask your question. Tell your truth. Even if followers of God’s Christ push you away, ignore you, marginalize you, even if God seems to, don’t let them. Be the one of whom the narrator says, “but she came.” Because God will hear you, and you may even change God’s mind. Your voice counts, you count, and you are beloved child of God.

But if you’re a follower of this Christ, God-with-us, learn from this.

If you’re following Jesus, and wish he’d send away all the people with inconvenient voices, all who don’t believe as you do or think as you do or look like you or act like you, watch Jesus carefully here.

If you’re tired of people saying they’d like you to use different language to refer to them, tired of people calling you privileged, tired of people talking about their suffering and saying they experience a very different world than you; if you’re tired of those saying they don’t feel safe with the same police you’ve always trusted; if you wish all these voices would go away so you could just be with Jesus, watch Jesus very carefully here.

Because this is where God-with-us takes a fork in the road. And that path is going to lead further and further away if you miss the turns he makes.

The road of Christ divides here, whether it was new to Jesus or always the plan.

The Triune God who lived among us as Jesus, the Incarnate One, and now lives among us as the Holy Spirit in each of us, is also living and moving in all people. Because all people are God’s children, not dogs.

This is the mission. And the one you’re following is going on this divergent road. Along with all those voices that are inconvenient and challenging, with all those who change God’s mind from time to time. There’s every reason in the world to follow Jesus on his fork in the road and absolutely none to stay in the other direction. One way leads to life for you and for all. The other leads to death, because there is no hope or love or joy on it.

And remember: the good news is for all. Even if you’re worried about taking this diverging road, even you can come to God, claim your voice, and be heard. Because you, and all, are beloved children of God.

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