We are called together as a congregation, a community that eventually we see is global in scope, to help each other walk God’s path of love and so bring life to the world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Third Sunday in Lent, year C
Texts: Luke 13:1-9; Isaiah 55:1-9

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

Be careful not to read the Bible all by yourself.

Obviously, you can read it when you’re alone. We all do. Just don’t read it all by yourself, as if it’s only speaking to you. That can confuse you about God’s desires. Even leave you in despair.

Take Jesus’ ominous words today: “unless you repent, you will perish like they did.” What are you supposed to do with that? What repentance do I need to do to avoid perishing? Are we talking about actual death, Jesus? It’s frightening.

Or take Isaiah’s question. Isaiah invites you to walk God’s way and be fed by God’s words. They are rich food to you, Isaiah and the psalmist agree. So why do you seek things that can’t satisfy you? Isaiah asks. Why are you going astray? Less frightening than Jesus, but still, how do you walk God’s way if you’ve only struggled to do it so far?

But what if you don’t read the Bible all by yourself? You hear Jesus’ words and Isaiah’s invitation and remember you have this this family of God here on your side, walking with you. Jesus actually uses a plural pronoun here: “Unless you all repent, together, you will perish.” We still need to sort out the perish part. But at least you’re not alone in fear. We are called together to repent, to turn to God. We find God’s path Isaiah promises together. We find wisdom and courage together. We sense God’s Spirit together.

And in this community you’ll grow to understand just how many are with you.

As we listen to God together, we realize we aren’t hearing these words by ourselves as a congregation, either. We learn we belong to all God’s children, all who are created in God’s image, friend or enemy, family or stranger, near or far.

That’s different from Jesus’ questioners. They seem to want separation. They want to know if the Galilean pilgrims Pilate murdered in the Temple did something wrong, deserved it. Jesus decisively says no, they were no worse than any other Galileans. Same with those killed in a building collapse. Tragedy happens and people are hurt. Sometimes evil is done and people are hurt. It’s not a question of deserving.

So, together, now we understand: judgment isn’t needed in pain and suffering. Since we all belong to each other, to all God’s children across the globe, empathy and love and care are all that’s needed. The only pertinent question, ever, is: can we help? Can we love?

This is the way of God, the way of life, that Isaiah says is rich, filling food for you.

Jesus agrees. But it’s hard to tell that today. Truth is, Jesus should have workshopped his saying a little better, because it sounds like a mixed message. Those who suffer aren’t to blame but without repentance you’ll perish the same way?

But just separate the two. The first is true: no blame lands on those who suffer. But the second can also be true: if you – that is, all of us – don’t repent, turn to God, we’re on a path to death not a path to life.

Exactly what Isaiah says. We talk a lot about Christ’s path being difficult. Sacrificial living, self-giving love, being vulnerable and peacemaking in a violent world. It’s definitely hard. Challenging.

But what if you saw that path with Isaiah’s eyes? That walking as Christ is a way that gives you life and hope? That satisfies your deepest longing for wholeness, for love, for acceptance? If you’ve ever felt unsatisified with your life, with what your choices have led to, with anything in your experience, what if God’s way can satisfy you at your deepest places?

That’s the vision of God’s way we need to find together.

By ourselves – by yourself – it’s more challenging. But together with all God’s children, and with those of the past, witness after witness testifies to the life they found in God’s way. They declare with the psalmist that knowing God’s steadfast love is better than life itself. They find God’s way to be water in a dry and searing desert.

Because God’s way – the way of love of God and love of neighbor – is filled with joy and hope. When we love others, our hearts expand. We are blessed. We’re acting on the love of God we already know, but in that acting we are filled again by it.

Even the vulnerability and self-giving part is satisfying and filling. If we put up walls and strengthen our defenses against others we end up in a windowless tower where no light can reach us. But when we reach out and hold another we are held ourselves, and find hope and light and healing. We find God.

And God’s dream is that being filled, we will carry that same food into the world.

Like John the Baptist, Jesus connects our turning toward God with bearing fruit. Whatever’s going on with this poor fig tree, God will dig around it, fertilize it, encourage fruit that will bless the world. God’s Spirit is doing that gardening in you, nurturing, digging, encouraging. Bringing you to abundant fruit.

And since you’re not doing this all by yourself, the Spirit has help. We garden each other. Others help you root deeper in God’s love, help you face struggles, dry times. Why else do we come here week after week, longing to see each other, hoping for connection? Because in these connections we not only have a sign of God’s love, but God’s concrete action in each other to heal us and help us bear the rich food of God’s love into a world that’s starving to death.

My spiritual director, Lois, just told our group she did some remodeling.

She had grab bars installed in her bathrooms. You know, those smooth steel bars firmly anchored in the bathroom wall so you can hold on when you need support and help. (If you don’t need them, just wait a few years and you’ll understand.)

But our group realized together that grab bars are important for all of us. Not necessarily the physical ones. But that if I’m going to fall I can reach out and hold on to you and you will keep me up. You are my grab bars. We are grab bars for each other, for support and help when anyone needs it. We aren’t listening to God all by ourselves, struggling with Christ’s path all by ourselves, fearing the future and our role in it all by ourselves. And we hope to become grab bars for our neighbors and all who are suffering and in pain.

So hold on. Hold on. There’s a lot to be done, but you’re not all by yourself. Together the Spirit of God will bless us all to walk in this way of life and bear fruit not only for our community, but for the life of the world.

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

Midweek Lent, 2025 + Love Does No Wrong to a Neighbor +
Week 2: All peoples long for God, and God is with them

Vicar Natalie Wussler
Texts: Acts 17:16-32; John 4:1-42

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

Evangelism feels like a dirty word.

It’s the first word in our denomination’s name, yet we shy away from it, and for good reason. Evangelism has a pretty bad reputation in our 21st century minds, because for many of us, it means sidewalk preachers outside of sporting events with large signs threatening eternal torment if one does not repent and follow Jesus. Evangelism has meant seeing people as projects in need of converting and saving, rather than God’s beloved children, deserving of love exactly as they are. It’s associated with coercing people into pews without caring for their wellbeing. And on a large historical scale, evangelism has been a scapegoat for massive human rights violations–the crusades, the inquisition, the colonization of Christianizing of indigenous people in all corners of the world, the continued oppression of LGTBQ+ people, and the governing of women’s healthcare choices.

Love does no wrong to a neighbor. So if sharing our faith comes at the cost of someone else’s rights, their sanity, or their self expression, we don’t want anything to do with it. And yet, we are people of good news and ambassadors of Christ. We worship a God who loves all people and desires to be near all people. We are bearers of Christ in the world. So perhaps our evangelism and our sharing of good news could be something of more substance. And perhaps we could engage other people of faith in a holy sharing that could lead down a path toward real reconciliation and repair.

It starts with a deep understanding that God is already with all people.

God created all people, loves all people, and is compassionate to all people. Our Psalm says God’s mercy and love extend further and deeper than any of us could imagine. There is nowhere that is untouched by God’s love. And that’s good news for us. We are not tasked with bringing Christ anywhere, because there is nowhere that Christ is not already present. God’s love does not abide within the limits that humans set, nor is it exclusive to people who proclaim certain beliefs. And when we spend time with those who do not believe the same as we believe, we should reflect God’s compassion without agenda.

Jesus realized that. Jesus meets the Samaritan woman at the well. Jesus and this unnamed woman’s people had a violent past; both sides convinced that they both worship rightly in the correct places. Damage has been done in the name of their beliefs. Mistrust persists between Jews and Samaritans. Yet, Jesus initiates a conversation with this woman. There are so many societal reasons why Jesus and this woman should not be speaking like gender roles and religious conflict. But Jesus and this woman bravely break barriers to treat each other with kindness and compassion and they value each other’s voice.

Jesus treats this woman with dignity and respect. He recognizes her marriages as symptoms of an oppressive system that does not value women. He knows she’s likely experienced real trauma. Jesus sees her as someone who God already loves and is at work in. He sees her deep faith and desire for truth. And because Jesus has created an unexpected grace-filled space for her, she, in turn, begins to understand and trust in who Jesus is–first as a prophet then as the Messiah. She goes out to her community as the first evangelist. She shares her story, asks a question, and invites others to join her in a deeper understanding of who Christ is. God was already there, preparing the hearts of all to receive living water, the Holy Spirit, who nourishes our every spiritual need, quenches our thirst in love and mercy, and sends us out into the world to do God’s work.

Just as God was already with the Samaritans, God was already with the Athenians.

Paul trusted this. Before Paul ever began to talk about Christ, he spent time with the Athenians, learning about their culture and way of life. He engaged in conversations with them in synagogues and marketplaces, and he discovered that God was already with them and had already embraced them. And because of his openness to engage with them, the Athenians gave him an opportunity to speak on a large public platform, the Areopagus, where great minds debated big ideas. Paul starts his conversation with the Athenians by first acknowledging their devotion to their religion. He recognizes their curiosity as God-given. He offers no words of condemnation. Rather he speaks to them in their own language through the words of their own philosophers and poets and talks about their own shrines as a way to build common ground. He meets the crowd where they are and treats the Athenians as fellow beloved children of God. And through his words and the prodding of the holy spirit, some came to trust in Christ, and some decided to leave, and others decided to continue speaking with Paul to learn more about this God that’s foreign to them. And God still wrapped all the Athenians in a loving embrace, regardless of any creed they confess. That’s always been God’s way. So it should be our way.

We can follow in the footsteps of Paul, Jesus, and the Samaritan woman as we share our faith with others, loving and serving our neighbors as Christ without agenda before we speak about Christ.

When we start from a place of curiosity, radical listening, active compassion, and recognition of our shared humanity and belovedness to God, and when we humbly share our stories and our beliefs, and find common ground with our neighbors, we build bridges where there have been walls. And when we trust that God is already at work in the lives of our neighbors and repent of the ways Christ’s name has been co-opted to bring harm, our focus shifts. God changes our hearts to be affected by our neighbors’ stories. We can learn more about the God we worship.

And through our continued holy sharing of ideas, stories, and beliefs, we build partnerships that can lead to healing, not only for our relationships with our neighbors, but for the whole world. And if evangelism is marked by loving, serving, and sharing with those of different faiths without agenda, if it’s a willingness and openness to letting God change our hearts through the stories of others, if it’s working with beautifully diverse perspectives to bring peace and justice and healing, that’s an evangelism we can get behind. That’s an evangelism that can lead to repair of what’s been broken.

Let us anticipate seeing God’s face and hearing God’s voice through our neighbors of different faiths, and through our conversations and service; and through mutual listening and partnership we can begin to heal the harm that’s been done in Christ’s name.

May we be compassionate like Jesus, listen like Paul, be curious like the Athenians, and brave like the Samaritan woman. May our lives and the way we treat people testify to God’s all-consuming love.

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

Midweek Lent, 2025 + Love Does No Wrong to a Neighbor +
Week 1: All the vulnerable ones, all, are in your care

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
Texts: Deuteronomy 24:14-15, 17-22; Matthew 25:31-40

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

Remember who you were. That will determine who you are.

That’s how Moses leads us into Jesus’ parable. As God’s people prepare to enter the Promised land after forty years of wandering, Moses tells them never to forget where they came from. To constantly remember being exiles and aliens, fleeing from slavery, being rescued by God.

So when they live in the land and prosper, they will then protect anyone else who are aliens or vulnerable among them. Again and again, including in these words today, they’re told to care for the widows and orphans, the strangers and aliens. For those vulnerable on the fringes, with no room for error.

Because that’s who they were. If they can remember that, they’ll know who they need to be.

Moses’ words now belong to us.

How many of us have ancestors who once struggled this way, unwelcome, or poor, or hungry, or alone?

But it’s not just history. How many of us have struggled, needed help, wanted someone to see us and make a difference? Moses says we can’t be who God desires us to be when we forget we also are people who have needed others’ help in more ways than we can count.

That gives us new insight into Jesus’ story.

Jesus tells a story of people who naturally cared for others in need.

The first group, blessed by the King, didn’t know they were doing anything special or significant. In caring for “the least of these,” they did what was normal for them. When they saw hungry people, they fed them. They welcomed any strangers who showed up. They found clothes and homes for those who lacked. Took care of sick people and prisoners.

This was their nature. Who they were. The second group, whose verses we didn’t read today, also loved their King and wanted to serve. But they didn’t care for those in need. It wasn’t their nature.

That’s the difference. And Moses says the way to have our nature changed to care for all in need is not through guilt. It’s not looking patronizingly at people we should help. It’s simply remembering who we were and who we are. People in need. Moses says that when we see another person in need, we see our own face.

That’s what makes a difference in how we live in these times.

When so many who call themselves Christians seem to delight to exclude everyone on Christ’s “least of these” list, and actively work to harm them, what they reveal is that they don’t see themselves in those people. How could you treat others that way if you knew how often you are in need? How could you be cruel to someone who is just like you?

Our prayer, then, is that the Holy Spirit opens our eyes to see ourselves in others. To remember when we were desperate for help, longing for welcome, thirsty for love and grace.

When the Spirit gives us that vision, we are changed. We clothe those who need it because that’s who we are, care for those who are sick because that’s who we are, bring water to the thirsty and food to the hungry and find homes for the homeless because that’s who we are. It’s in our nature now.

Of course there’s another beautiful promise in Jesus’ parable, too.

When our nature is so changed, when we serve all others in need with our lives and voices and hands and wealth and love, we also serve Christ. When we look into the eyes of another we see Christ, too.

And because Christ is those we care for, they will care for us as Christ in return. In God’s plan, when all are transformed in their deepest nature into God’s love, the love returns to itself, back and forth, in and out, love received becoming love given.

This is Christ’s Way. And it is our Way. Who we are. At our heart. In our nature. And entering into the cycle of Christ’s love and healing will bless us and the world in ways only God can know and see now.

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

Christ’s tests face us every day, and with the Spirit’s help, we will pass through and bring life and hope to this world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The First Sunday in Lent, year C
Texts: Luke 13:31-35 (adding Isaiah 58:1-12 from Ash Wednesday’s lectionary)

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 more accurate to call what Jesus experienced in the desert “testing,” not “temptation.”

During and after the forty days he spent in the wilderness following his baptism, Jesus was challenged to decide what the way of Messiah would be. And the way of a true human being in this world.

But this wasn’t a once-off situation. These tests came back to Jesus repeatedly, including during his anguished prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane before his torture and death. What he chooses here at the start of his ministry he faces again and again.

There’s something else, too. All who wish to follow Christ face these same tests. And they’re also not a once-off deal. Individually, collectively, followers of Christ repeatedly face these tests.

The smart play, then, is to cheat off of Jesus’ answer sheet. Learn from his testing how you’ll face yours. How we’ll face ours. And what’s at stake is literally the life of the world.

Here are the three tests.

First, how will you help a world struggling with hunger, poverty, want? It’s not just Jesus considering making a sandwich out of rocks. The question is will the inequality, waste of abundant resources, the split between the few who hoard and the many who suffer, be miraculously fixed? Jesus, with divine power, could instantly make it possible for everyone to have enough food, shelter, clothing, health care. He chooses not to. There’s another way.

Second, how can you get people to obey God and do God’s will? Will you bow to the demonic powers that control and dominate to get what they want? Jesus could use his power to control the whole world, force people into whatever he felt needed to be done. He chooses not to. There’s another way.

And third, do you need God to prove you’ll be safe and protected before you act? Will you sit still and do nothing until you know you can’t be harmed, until you’re assured you’ll have to sacrifice nothing? This is particularly critical for Jesus in Gethsemane, where he could have resisted the cross, but chooses not to. There’s another way.

We face the same question of turning stones into bread, every day.

As we see catastrophic escalation of serious societal problems we’ve already been working on for years, what do we do? Sit back and pray that God take care of all this, miraculously rescue immigrants from deportation, create job opportunities, directly provide food and housing to those who lack? Change stones to bread?

We began this Lenten journey Wednesday with words from Isaiah 58, words worth pondering every day of this season and our lives. And for this test, the prophet is clear. God’s not interested in our prayer and fasting that puts it all on God to do. Isaiah says God needs us to act ourselves to heal what needs healing.

“This is the fast that I want from you,” God says in Isaiah, “that you loose the bonds of injustice, break every yoke. Share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house.” That’s God’s answer to the need for bread: you and I are to take care of this. The way of Messiah invites all people into the abundance of God’s gifts so they’ll share that abundance until all are safe, healthy, fed, sheltered, clothed. That’s how all will be healed.

The second test is far more dangerous to fail.

How do you make this a world in harmony with God? Ever since Constantine the Church has far too often chosen the way of power and domination. And so we’ve led wars and holocausts and inquisitions and heretic burnings, all in the name of God. The Christian right these days is just another manifestation of Christians failing this second test and joining with the demonic powers in the world.

There’s a huge need for God’s way of love and justice, and peace for all, to flourish in these days. We’re seeing the beginning of what’s already a horror show that likely will be a global disaster devastating many, especially the most vulnerable.

But God says through Isaiah,“you will be the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.” The answer to this test, as Jesus knew, isn’t to control, be in charge, use power to do what we want. Far too much evil and wickedness happens when Christians do that. The answer is to live as a vibrant minority, like yeast in flour Jesus says, working as hard as we can to make a difference wherever we can. Rebuilding ruins, raising up foundations, as Isaiah says. Even while others are knocking them down. To live as Christ’s love in all we do and trust that even if no one else does, we’re doing what God needs us to do.

The third test preys on our despair and fear.

Christ’s way might cost us. Stretch us in ways we’re not comfortable, ask us to give up and let go of things we’re not ready to get rid of. We’re tempted to sit tight and do nothing, hoping the worst of what’s happening won’t come to our door and haul us out.

But Christ says what happens to our neighbor happens to us. Even if we’re not fired or deported or arrested or vilified or persecuted, if any of God’s children are suffering, we’re suffering. This has been the Christian way from the beginning. Tomorrow, March 10, the church commemorates Sojourner Truth and Harriet Tubman, both of whom stepped out into the unknown and risked their lives for the sake of God’s children. Friday was the 60th anniversary of Bloody Sunday, where the peaceful civil rights march from Selma to Montgomery was stopped with brutality on the Edmund Pettis bridge.

The answer to the fear in this test is learning to trust God is with us and will strengthen and bless us in this work, in this caring, in this restoring, in this resistance. There’s no guarantee it won’t cost, or hurt. In fact, it probably will, Jesus always says. But this is the Way. This is who we are. We step forward and act, even if we don’t know what’s going to happen.

It’s not really cheating to crib off of Jesus’ answers.

In fact, the evangelists wrote this down for that very reason. To give you and me hope that there is a way forward. The only way God wants to see, because when people are changed, the healing of the world actually can survive and spread and grow.

But keep your eyes open. Hold each other’s hands. These tests will keep coming. They’ll change their looks, appear like something else to trick you. You’ll face these constantly, with God’s healing at stake.

But be of good courage. God is with you, the Spirit is changing you and giving you strength and hope. Together, we’ll face these tests and keep seeking the life of God for all. And as Isaiah says, when we’re doing this together, our light will break forth like the dawn and healing will spring up quickly. We’ll be like a watered garden, Isaiah says, offering God’s abundant love for the life of all things, even if sometimes all we see around us is desert.

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