You are a precious human being, made of dirt and God’s breath, and God, who knows what it is to live as you, invites you to see and love all others made like you.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 22 C
Texts: Luke 14:1, 7-14; Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16

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

God loves playing in the dirt.

That’s what our ancient Hebrew forebears tell. After their first creation account of an eternal, almighty God speaking creation into existence, they tell a completely different creation story. In the second account, they tell of a God who gets down to earth on divine hands and knees, plays around in the mud, and makes humans.

Then, this hands-on God breathes life into them. Even what the Hebrews called humans in the story tell this wonder: the man isn’t referred by name, only as “earth,” or “dirt,” in Hebrew “adam.” Adam. The woman isn’t referred by name, only as “life,” or “breath,” in Hebrew “chavah.” Eve.

These ancient Hebrews give us the gift of understanding each human being as a precious, miraculous merger of dirt and breath, earth and God’s Spirit.

Hold that for a moment as we listen to Jesus today.

Because Jesus asks you and me, who hear this story of an awkward dinner party, to be humble.

In the Greek of the New Testament, as well as in the Aramaic Jesus spoke, and the Hebrew of the Jewish people, the words for “humble” and “humility” meant to “bring down.” You could use it to describe leveling a hill, or, as we know well from Isaiah, a mountain being laid low.

But “bring down” gets us into all sorts of trouble. It leads to proud, privileged people telling oppressed people to be humble, literally putting them down, and covering that sin with the assumed virtue of divine command. We still see that today, especially from people who do the same job I do. But it also leads people who are struggling, who do not have privilege and status, to put themselves down, trying to be obedient. Neither is what Jesus means.

It’s the Romans who help us. Latin speakers used a different image for this concept than “bringing down.” “Humus” in Latin means earth, ground. And the Latin words you and I still use for this idea come from that word for earth: humble. Humility. Literally: grounded.

To be humble is to be down to earth, Latin says. And if you join that to what the Hebrews believed was the heart of humanity, earth filled with divine breath, you see an astonishing wonder in Jesus’ teaching today.

Actually, Jesus is his teaching.

The Word of God from before all time, God’s Sophia, Wisdom, creating with the Creator and the Spirit at the beginning, became human. A being of dirt and breath, just like you and me. The ancient Hebrews thought God liked playing in the dirt. But the first to trust in Jesus as God’s Messiah believed God actually became dirt.

To be down to earth, humble, the divine, all-powerful, eternal God became one of us. Lived in and experienced being made of the same minerals and water and breath that make us who we are.

Because – and this is most important – God loves these beings of dirt and breath. Loves you. Loves me. And God needed to see us as we are, from our view. To learn about us from inside our skin.

That means today’s writer to a different group of Hebrews is giving the wrong incentive.

This preacher says “do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that, some have entertained angels without knowing it.” But Jesus, God-with-us, sharing our dirt and our breath, says, “do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that, you will entertain a human being. No more, no less. But a beloved person made of dirt and breath, like you.

The preacher of Hebrews isn’t wrong. We might entertain angels among us. And Christ taught us to look for his face in every person we meet. That’s a blessing we don’t want to forget.

But today Jesus says, how about seeing everyone else as dirt and breath, just like you, when you look in their eyes? Whether you see one of our smallest, Annika, baptized with her brother James today, or the two revered saints among us whose centenary-plus birthdays we rejoice in today, from youngest to oldest we’re all dust, dirt filled with God’s breath. And that is precious and holy to God.

All the things we seem to notice and categorize most, color and gender and size and age and culture and language and customs, all these are just God’s frosting on the cake, God’s delight in diversity. They are to be treasured and valued and enjoyed. But at the core, Jesus says, remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return. And so are all you meet. So love them, because they are you.

And if Christ can change how our eyes see, so many things will be healed.

All our categories – rich, poor, friends, enemies, stranger, neighbor, race, gender, creed – make objects out of beloved people. If you’re jockeying for good seats at the party or for the front of the line, you’re seeing objects, not people. If you support oppressive structures and value some people more than others because of how they present themselves, you’re seeing objects, not people. If you live in privilege and expect you deserve things, and are offended if you don’t get them, you’re seeing objects, not people.

But Jesus says true life is found when you look into the eyes of every human being you see, and see another human being. Not a category or a type or an object. A beloved child of God. And as more and more see with these eyes, all oppression and violence and hatred and all that ails our world will fall apart.

So, if you want to be humble as Jesus asks you, just remember your Latin.

Remember that to be humble is to be down to earth. To be who you are. Rejoice that you are a precious, miraculous merger of dirt and breath and you are not the only one.

Open your eyes, and see all these others God has made and rejoice. Find and live in that mutual love for and with all people that the preacher to the Hebrews urges, and then see what God will change inside you and in this world.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

God’s long-term plan for healing all things is a path of joy and hope, which we’ll find when we choose to walk it.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 21 C
Texts: Isaiah 58:9b-14; Luke 13:10-17

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

It’s easy to see and smugly point the finger at the bad person in this Gospel.

This synagogue leader, working his way through the crowd repeatedly telling people in need of healing to go away and come back when it isn’t Sabbath, is clearly wrong. How could he not rejoice that this woman received life and healing from God on this Sabbath day?

But there’s a trap in how easy it is for us to point that finger. We see these stories and easily say, “those Pharisees, those scribes, those leaders – what idiots they were, and how ignorant of what God was doing.”

Be careful, Isaiah says. When you point the finger, the prophet declares, whether at our indignant, angry friend in this story, or at others we could name, you are missing the life God hopes for you. You’re missing a truth God is showing that you need to see to live. And today, that truth is we’re often very much like this synagogue leader.

It’s easy to mock our friend here because this is so obviously a reason for joy.

In a small village like this, this woman, crippled with scoliosis, bent over double for nearly two decades, was likely known to everyone. To have this visiting rabbi stop his sermon, call her over, and heal her, would have been joy and wonder to all, Sabbath or no Sabbath.

That’s why we love Jesus’ healing miracles. God’s goodness is obvious, God’s healing is immediate, and it’s time to celebrate. We’re stunned at the religious leaders who repeatedly can’t see this obviousness.

But Jesus didn’t come to do healings. He often resisted doing them. Many times afterward, he told people not to tell anyone. His mission was far different. The healing the Triune God intended in coming as Christ in our human body was far greater than these miracles.

God’s greater mission is to bring healing to the whole creation. Everything.

The healing God sees the world needs is so much greater than individual diseases. God’s children are dying of hunger, are being destroyed by war and violence. So many of God’s children can’t find homes in which to live, so many work multiple jobs in a vain attempt to feed their families on unfair wages. God’s children are crushed by other children of God because of their skin color or their gender or their orientation, crushed by laws and systems and embedded behaviors and attitudes. God’s children living in other countries suffer because God’s children living in this country hoard resources and abuse the planet at a rate far beyond our numbers.

And it is the healing of all this that the Triune God intends to bring this world, the prophets declare and Jesus proclaims. But such healing isn’t a one time, immediate thing, like this woman today. It takes much longer. Such healing comes when God changes me and my heart. You and your heart. This community and our heart. And more and more communities and cities and nations. God will heal the whole creation by transforming God’s children one at a time, putting them in community, and sending them into the world on a mission of God’s love and justice and mercy and peace.

And now we recognize our own inability to see and our unwillingness to do.

We’re astonished that anyone wouldn’t be blown away by such a healing as this woman received. But healing that unfolds so slowly is much harder to see, and easily derailed by God’s own children. And the problems that ail our world are so great they seem intractable. So we can despair and even become apathetic.

But we can also resist being a part of God’s mission. If God’s long healing is going to happen, all sorts of changes will come for you and me. If systems need to be dismantled, that’s going to affect you and me. If you have embedded biases keeping you from seeing certain others as God’s children, those will have to be changed. In all that needs to be healed by God through you and me and all people, countless things will inconvenience, or frustrate, or frighten, or anger you and me.

So we can easily fall into our friend’s pattern today, grumbling around the edges that there have to be other ways, that this shouldn’t have to change so much, that surely all this isn’t necessary. We can say, sure, God desires justice and peace and mercy for all. But can’t I stay the same while that happens? Does this have to really change so much inside me, and in our community, and in our society and world?

Now, you and I can say no to working in God’s healing mission, just like this leader.

We can say we’ve got other priorities, we don’t really want to be changed, or see our society and world change as they need to for God’s dream to become reality.

But if we do that, we have a serious problem. You see, just this summer we promised Felix at his baptism, and Oren and Joanna at theirs, that they’re joining us in this mission. Today we’ll promise Isaac, and next week James and Annika. We welcome those who are baptized into the mission of Christ we claim to share. We promise to join them in bearing God’s creative and redeeming word to all the world. We promise to pray for them and their parents and sponsors so these children can learn to trust God, live this mission of God’s healing in their words and actions, care for others and the world God made, and work for justice and peace.

The Triune God’s part of baptism is not in question. Today God will claim Isaac as a beloved child in Christ, wash him and seal him with the cross of Christ. The Holy Spirit will continue to work in him, transforming him to be Christ.

But if we’re going to make promises, we’d better be ready to mean them and live them. We can’t send these six, and all the other children we’ve carried to baptism’s waters, into God’s healing mission for the world, God’s reign of love for all God’s children, God’s dream of justice and mercy and peace, all by themselves.

God’s mission sounds dauntingly hard to do. That’s why we hesitate.

But that’s because we haven’t really understood the joy God is offering. If we focus on the challenges of walking Christ’s path, we miss that it is the only path of life and hope and love and grace. It’s a beautiful life, living in God’s reign, loving God and neighbor, even in a broken world in desperate need of healing.

Isaiah says when you stop pointing the finger and start offering your food to the hungry and satisfying the needs of the afflicted, you enter an amazing new world of hope and life together.

You become a light that breaks through the deep shadows of night that cover our world. You become a watered garden that feeds and nourishes many. You become like a desert filling with rivers and grass and fruit trees. You become a spring of clean water that never fails.

That’s the delight of the path of Christ, the joy of the mission of God’s healing.

If God can open your eyes to see this joy in God’s long plan of healing, you’ll never want to walk another path. And we can take the hands of Felix and Oren and Joanna and Isaac and James and Annika and all we’ve promised to join in this mission, and walk with them together bearing God’s healing in our life and in our world.

After today’s miracle, two groups emerged. Some, shamed by Jesus’ rebuke, were filled with anger. But the vast majority of those in the synagogue celebrated the wonderful thing God had done.

That’s the group we want to choose to be in, the people of joy. There’s nothing keeping you from that party except maybe you yourself. And if God can convince more and more of us of the joy of this path, then the healing of all things God desires so deeply can come even sooner than we might ever have dreamed.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

Be kindled with the fire of the Spirit again, and God will help you be a part of the healing of all things. Even if you can’t often see it.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 20 C
Texts: Luke 12:49-56; Hebrews 11:29 – 12:2

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

The fire was almost out for these people.

No flames, just fading red embers cooling. Their life of faith was sluggish, dull, stuck in malaise.

They used to be on fire. They heard the Good News and found the thrill of conversion and new community in Christ. Later, they went through a time of persecution. Some lost their property, some were imprisoned, but their fire of faith burned. Adversity banded them together, strengthened their faith.

But this community to whom Hebrews was written had cooled off considerably. Conversion and persecution were long past. They might be in the second or even third generation, and people do drift away. While those who remain just get tired. Too many problems in the world, with little to excite their faith, find hope in God’s leading.

That’s why an unknown preacher wrote Hebrews. It’s a sermon meant to fire up tired believers.

Today’s part is all about encouragement.

The preacher lifts up hero after hero from the past, beloved ones known from Scripture. Rahab, Gideon, Daniel, the widow of Zarephath. So many others. People who trusted God’s promises and lived faithful lives, served with courage and hope. Even in the face of persecution and death.

This preacher tells them to notice two things. First, all these heroes died before seeing the completion of God’s work in the world. But their trust in God wasn’t based on whether they experienced everything being made right again, or even anything good happening. Their trust was based on God’s faithfulness.

And second, these heroes are now this community’s cloud of witnesses. They’re running the race of faith and life, and these faithful witnesses are cheering them on.

So, the preacher exhorts, let’s run with perseverance the race set before us, releasing all the weight of despair and fear and anxiety and dread that drags us down. Be kindled again.

And now you see that Jesus’ desire to bring fire to the earth isn’t a threat.

Jesus feels the same as the preacher of Hebrews. After three years his disciples still aren’t getting it, still making mistakes, misunderstanding things. There’s been more and more opposition, so they’re getting anxious. And they can sense Jesus’ own growing weight of anxiety as he gets nearer and nearer to his death.

Are my followers ever going to be on fire for God’s reign? Are they ready for the setbacks and the challenges? They seem to want me to do everything. How can I get them aflame with passion for bringing God’s good news to all who desperately need it?

Jesus might also be anxious about you and me.

We’re a lot like the people of Hebrews. Most of us aren’t new converts, haven’t been persecuted. We can easily take our life of faith for granted. We can be sluggish, dull, as followers.

Partly because of the size of the problems in this world we know God wants us working on. Issue after issue, problem after problem. When you look at all the challenges in our society and can’t see much hope for changing even one of them, how do you stay charged up?

And partly for the same reason as the people of Hebrews. We live our lives of faith in our everyday, ordinary world. It’s hard to pay attention and listen to God’s voice all the time in a world where there are so many voices. It’ hard to stay excited for daily growth and challenges, to focus on all the good decisions we need to make. So we settle into patterns, habits, living our lives without much awareness of our life as Christ, for how we are vulnerable in our love, for changing the world. We just get up, do what we do in the day, go to bed, and repeat.

But Jesus says, “how I wish your fire was already kindled!” And don’t you wish that, too?

Except that will mean division, Jesus says.

If you’re fired up about your life in Christ, if the Spirit’s flame is burning in you to become more like Christ, to be a part of God’s healing and justice and mercy, that’s going to ruffle some feathers.

You know this. How many of us have stories of Thanksgiving dinners and family birthday gatherings where the division and tension over critical issues in our world was obvious and painful? How many have loved ones we don’t talk to about certain things, knowing it will get into fights and anger?

And it’s not just about politics, or even just about the United States. God’s desire for you and me and all God’s people to live in mercy and justice, to be safe and whole and loved and fed and sheltered, for all to know God’s abundant, rich life, all this is beyond your life and mine, beyond Minnesota or the U.S. God dreams this for all people.

And if the fire of the Holy Spirit draws you into that way of life, that path, that hope, you’re going to see some divisions. In families, yes. But even in the Christian faith. So many who bear Christ’s name are working against Christ’s way, God’s path the Spirit is firing us up to walk. They’re promoting hatred and destruction and oppression in the name of Christ.

Jesus would prefer all God’s children were together on the side of God’s mercy and justice, afire to work for the healing of all things. Right now, and maybe for a long time, it’s going to split people from each other. But he’d still prefer you’d be rekindled, alight with the Spirit for this work, this life.

So you and I come here every week to be relighted, rekindled.

We may not see the healing of all things, or even much of a small part, the preacher of Hebrews reminds us. But we’re following Jesus on his path and even our small part will make a difference. As Rabbi Rami Shapiro has said, “Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work. Neither are you free to abandon it.”[1] It is enough for you to be you, to be kindled with the Spirit to love as Christ in your place.

And remember, you and I, and all who love God’s justice and mercy and are led by God to Christ’s path, are not alone. We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses of those who have gone before us, who now are joined by our brother, Gary, witnesses who know how hard it is to stay afire, how challenging the divisions can be, how daunting the world’s grief really is, and who are cheering you, and me, and all God’s faithful ones to keep at it.

We need God’s fire. There may be divisions. But in the Spirit we keep following Jesus on his path of faithfulness, trusting it is the way of life for all things, surrounded by witnesses cheering us on.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

[1] Rabbi Rami Shapiro, paraphrase and trope on a portion of the Pirke Avot (Sayings of the Fathers, Talmud)