Held Together

Scriptures:      Jeremiah 23:1-6,                      Psalm 46

                        Colossians 1:11-20                  Luke 23:33-43

Today is Christ the King Sunday, also known in inclusive language as Reign of Christ Sunday.  Christ the King Sunday or Reign of Christ Sunday began as a feast within the Roman Catholic Church.  It is a relatively recent addition to the liturgical calendar, having been declared by Pope Pius XI in 1925.  Now, the Roman Catholic church observes many feasts that Protestant churches cheerfully ignore, but Anglican, Lutheran, and many mainline Protestant churches, including our own denomination, adopted it as well.  Protestant churches may have adopted this feast as a way of protesting – because that’s what we Protestants do, we protest, it’s how we roll – as a way of protesting against totalitarian political ideologies such as fascism, as practiced in Italy, German and Spain, and Communism, as practiced in the Soviet Union and the satellite countries it dominated.   Leaders who ruled under these totalitarian political ideologies demanded allegiance at a much deeper level than voting and paying taxes – they attempted to dominate and control virtually every action and even every thought of their citizens, demanding a level of devotion of which only God is worthy.  And so, in proclaiming Christ as King, Catholic and Protestant churches declared, at the same time, that Mussolini and Hitler and Stalin weren’t.  This was a return to the insights of the early Christians, for whom saying, “Jesus is Lord” also meant that Caesar was not.

On Reign of Christ Sunday, the Gospel depicts Jesus as a king who doesn’t act much like our idea of an earthly king, using his kingly power in unkingly ways.  Next year, on Reign of Christ Sunday, we’ll be reading from the account in Matthew’s gospel of Jesus as ruler presiding over the nations, and dividing the people as a shepherd would divide sheep from goats, telling some that whatsoever they had done for the least of Jesus’ sisters and brothers – feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, clothing the naked, welcoming strangers, caring for the sick, visiting those in prison – they did for Jesus, and telling others that whenever they withheld all these things from Jesus’ sisters and brothers, they withheld them from Jesus.  Two years from now, we’ll read from John’s account of Christ before Pilate.  And today, of course,  we read about the crucified Jesus telling the penitent thief, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”  To the religious leadership and Roman guards who looked on, Jesus’ words must have seemed laughable, one dying criminal talking nonsense to another.  But seen through the eyes of faith, it is Jesus, not the religious leadership, not the Roman guards, who is in charge, and who can fulfill what he promised.  And this is the paradox of faith. On one hand, Christ on the cross had power that no earthly king on even the most magnificent throne could claim, power over time and eternity.  On the other hand, Christ seems to be a ruler who in his earthly ministry had little time for thrones, but whose power showed up among the last, the least, and the lost.  The message on the back of the bulletin cover describes this eloquently, and I’m half-tempted to tell you to just read the back of the bulletin cover and send you home early.  I’ll resist that temptation – but I do invite you; more than that, I implore you, to read the back of the bulletin cover when you get home, and read it again throughout the coming week, to be alert for the unlikely places in which Christ may be enthroned in our midst.

Our reading from Colossians invites us to consider even more deeply the paradox of Christ’s power manifesting itself through powerlessness.  Paul speaks in lofty terms about what Christ does – rescues us from the power of darkness, transfers us into his kingdom where there is redemption and forgiveness.  Paul speaks in lofty terms about who Christ is:  “the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven”…  and by now this very heady language is either making our heads explode or putting us to sleep, because it’s so abstract…reading all this makes me feel a bit like I’m in a hot air balloon floating up and up and up……but then Paul goes on:  “by making peace through the blood of his cross.”   And those last words, “the blood of his cross” brings all that lofty language right back down to earth, right back down to our level.  Christ does all these incredible things almost too big for us to get our arms around – holding all things together, reconciling to himself all things – and he does it, not by demanding and decreeing and declaring, but by suffering and dying. 

Theologians speak of the historical Jesus and the cosmic Christ.  We meet the historical Jesus in the synoptic Gospels, Matthew, Mark, and Luke.  We know the story of Jesus of Nazareth – born of a virgin, born in a stable, refugee with his family for a time in Egypt, grew up, worked with Joseph as a carpenter, baptized by John the Baptist, tempted by Satan, began his ministry of teaching and healing and casting out demons, arrested, unjustly condemned to death, crucified, buried, rose again, ascended into heaven.  But John’s gospel and some of Paul’s writings – such as Colossians -  connect the historical, earthly Jesus to a mystical, cosmic dimension….similar to when we say that Jesus is both human and divine.  Remember that Christ is not Jesus’ last name, but a title, meaning “anointed one”.  Colossians says that all things in heaven and earth have been created through Christ and for Christ. (Colossians 1:16)  This may remind us of what we read in the beginning of John’s gospel: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God.  All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.” (John 1:1-3)  Ephesians speaks of God having chosen in Christ before the foundation of the world (Ephesians 1:4), with a “plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.” (Ephesians 1:10)  And we see, perhaps, a glimpse of this cosmic dimension, along with Peter, James, and John, in the gospel accounts of the transfiguration, in which the three disciples on the mountaintop saw their teacher in a new way, radiant, and in conversation with Moses and Elijah in a dimension in which past, present, and future were all one.

So what’s the point?  We need to connect both to the historical Jesus and to the cosmic Christ, the cross and the crown, Jesus as human and divine, to begin to sense what God is like.  Take away the divine, and you have Jesus as a human teacher who taught about love both in his words and his actions, who lived and died many a long year ago.  Take away the human, and you have God as an impersonal force, like the wind and the waves, terrifying power without love.  Jesus is the entry point – the door, the gate – to understanding God and the universe as being directed by and toward love.

So what’s the point?    Colossians and John’s Gospel say that all things in heaven and earth were created in Christ, and Ephesians speaks of an endpoint at which all things in heaven and earth are gathered back together in Christ.   All things.  All things matter to God.  All things count for something in God’s sight.  In Christ we are connected to all things, past, present, and future. 

This is not the message we get from our society.  We are taught to look out for number one, to look out for ourselves, and perhaps our families.  We’re taught that the goal of life is to accumulate more for ourselves – “he who dies with the most toys, wins” – regardless of what that means for those around us.  We’re taught to see some groups – those we connect to – as good, and those who are different as bad….and we may even come to the place where we think our world would be better if we could just get rid of some of the so-called bad people in it, as the Crusades tried to get rid of Muslims, and the Inquisition tried to get rid of non-Catholics, and Hitler tried to get ride of Jews and gypsies and gays and all sorts of people he deemed not fit to live.   And we’re not taught to see the creation as having any value at all in its own right, but only to see it as raw material for our getting and spending, as the canvass on which we paint our lives.  And then when we die, we’re taught only to care about our own salvation, or perhaps also that of our family, as we hope to see our departed loved ones again. 

Franciscan writer Fr Richard Rohr – and I’d invite you to look him up - calls this normal mode of operation “dualistic thinking”, as we divide the world into categories of us vs not us – black vs white, saint vs sinner, heaven vs hell, the world of boundaries and borders.  And we need all this as we begin our spiritual development.  But we need to let it all go if we are to mature into the fullness of God’s will for us – this is what is meant when we speak of “laying down our lives so we can find our true lives in Christ” and “dying to self, so that we can rise with Christ”.   And this “letting go” inevitably comes with pain, with sacrifice and suffering.  Christ holds all things together, and so we are connected not only to the persons and things that comfort us but to the persons and things that threaten us……until we come to the place where we no longer experience them as a threat. 

We live in a war-torn world, in a deeply divided country, in a violent city in which we can’t get through a week without blood on the sidewalk.   It may be a real stretch to know to the marrow of our bones that God loves us, deeply, passionately……and to know to the marrow of our bones that God loves the person we can’t stand, the one that makes my stomach heave every time I hear his or her voice, every bit as deeply and passionately, and loves the creation – the trees, a salamander, the deer that crossed the road in front of us, the tomato plant in our back yard,  deeply and passionately.  Love really does make the world go ‘round, make the universe go ‘round – not just the sappy infatuation of a silly love song, but God’s passionate care for all things, that passionately connects us to all things.  

Paul told the Colossians that Jesus reconciled to himself all things in heaven and earth through the blood of his cross – and he invited them into this work of reconciliation, as he encouraged them, “May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light.”   While the world worships power that acts through force and coercion, the power of God that holds the universe together acts through patience, and endurance, and suffering, and sacrifice….like that of Jesus on the cross, as he invited the criminal next to him into Paradise.   May we walk together in the way of Jesus, walking the way of the cross, laying down our small, selfish lives, so that we can participate in the true life of Christ.  Amen.

Generations (Baptism Sermon)

Scriptures:      Isaiah 65:17-25,   Psalm 145:1-5, 17-21

            Romans 6:1-6      Luke 1:68-79

Today is a special day in the life of Emanuel Church, because today we baptize Vanessa, daughter of Margo and Nick.  In a small congregation like ours, to welcome Vanessa into the family of faith is a great joy.  In a few moments, Vanessa’s parents and godparents will make promises on Vanessa’s behalf, to raise Vanessa in the faith, to teach her to love God, to follow in the way of Jesus and to resist the powers of evil.  And Vanessa’s parents and godparents aren’t the only ones making promises today.  We have promises to make as well, as we promise our love, support and care to Vanessa and her family.

There are two passages in the New Testament that speak of the meaning of baptism.  I Peter 3:18-22 speaks of those baptized as being saved through water, as Noah and those in the ark were saved from the flood.  The passage also speaks of baptism, not only as removal of dirt from the body, but as an appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ.   And Romans 6:1-6, which we read earlier in the service, speaks of baptism as dying to sin and rising to new life in Christ. 

And so today begins of Vanessa’s journey of faith. 

In a larger sense, though, Vanessa’s journey of faith is part of the great pilgrimage of faith of all God’s people that began with Adam and Eve, and that involved such leaders as Abraham and Sarah and their son Isaac and grandson Jacob, and Jacob’s son Joseph, who led his people to settle in Egypt. After the death of Joseph, Pharoah enslaved the people.  Moses led God’s people from slavery to freedom, and Joshua led them into the Promised Land. . There were the judges – both men and women – who led God’s people after Joshua’s death.  Samuel was the last and greatest of the judges, and after Samuel came King Saul, King David, King Solomon, and after the split of the ten tribes of the Northern kingdom of Israel from the two tribes of the southern kingdom of Judah, all the kings that led each of the two kingdoms until the fall of the northern kingdom to Assyria and the exile of the southern kingdom into Babylon.  After the exile, leaders such as Zerubbabel, Ezra, and Nehemiah led the exiles from the southern kingdom back to Judah and rebuilt the Temple.  But Judah was later conquered by Greece and still later by Rome – and it was under the Roman occupation that a girl named Mary, engaged to a man named Joseph, conceived by the Holy Spirit and gave birth to a baby named Jesus, who taught and healed and called disciples until he was arrested as a threat to the Roman occupation and crucified – and rose again on the third day.  The teachings of Jesus spread all over the known world of the day, and ever wider as more of the world was discovered. 

Many centuries later, a small group of German immigrants gathered in 1857, and in 1861, as our nation entered into a Civil War, they established a German Reformed Church called Emanuel, which later became part of the Evangelical and Reformed Church and later the United Church of Christ.  The Rev. J. G. Neuber was their first German Reformed pastor.  Pastors such as Emanuel Boehringer, John Gantenbein, John Forster, George Meischner, Victor Steinberg, Ronald Keller and many others faithfully led this congregation through a Great Depression and two World Wars, up to the present time, as this neighborhood has changed with the passing years.   Through all that time, in the words of Psalm 145, “one generation has praised God’s works to another”.  Our longtime members can still tell you the Bible verses they memorized and the hymns they sang at their confirmation – and I still hold onto hope that some day we might again have a confirmation class here at Emanuel.  And today, Vanessa Rae Tilton becomes part of that long, long line of the faithful of all ages, as Vanessa’s parents and godparents promise to teach her to follow in the way of Jesus.

The faith of those present today was handed down by those who went before – and yet, our faith is not a hand-me-down faith, is not some time-worn relic or curio foisted on each generation like an ugly Christmas sweater, to be stuffed in the back of a dresser drawer.  Rather, each generation is encouraged to take what was taught us and make it our own, let it guide our thoughts and actions, so that the life and teachings of Jesus live on in each of us.

In our Gospel reading, Zechariah, the father of a baby who would become John the Baptist, the forerunner of Jesus, speaks of his hopes and dreams for his son.  And Vanessa’s parents and godparents have hopes and dreams for the person Vanessa will become.  Who knows who Vanessa will be when she grows up, or where life will take Vanessa.  But we pray that the teachings of Jesus will guide her, wherever her life’s journey leads, and that she will pass those teachings on to her children and grandchildren.   The pilgrimage of faith is like a relay race, each of us running our portion, each of us passing the baton onto those who will run when we have run our part of the race.

Our Old Testament reading from Isaiah was written in the time after the exiles returned from Babylon to Judah.  While they were grateful to be home, the work of rebuilding bogged down, and the people became discouraged.  What they thought would be a happy ending to their exile became the beginning of a new time of struggle in their own land.  Isaiah wrote to encourage them, giving them a vision of what God was creating through their efforts – a Jerusalem in which there would be no weeping or distress, where everyone would live out their full life expectancy, where everyone would have enough, where there would be peace.  And this vision from Isaiah helped to sustain the efforts to rebuild. 

We all get bogged down in the mundane details of daily life, and we can become discouraged.  We also need a vision to sustain us.  Amid the frustrations and seeming impossibilities of each day, remember that we worship a God of infinite possibilities.  Our thoughts, our words and actions each day, are like seeds, and we can only guess at what fruit they will yield. 

I’ll close with words from Hebrews 12, a passage I keep coming back to:  “ Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely,^[a] and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, ² looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of^[b] the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God.”  May we run our race faithfully and well.  Amen.