The Otherworldly Kingdom of Christ

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen & Church of the Incarnation

November 25, 2018

Year B: The Last Sunday after Pentecost / Christ the King

2 Samuel 23:1-7

Psalm 132:1-13

Revelation 1:4b-8

John 18:33-37

The Otherworldly Kingdom of Christ

            You may have seen in the news the other day that, while talking about Saudi Arabia, our Secretary of State, Mike Pompeo, said,

            “It’s a mean, nasty world out there…”

            And, whatever we may think about our Secretary of State and the administration he serves, I think we can all agree that he has given a pretty fair and accurate assessment of our situation.

            Very often it really is “a mean, nasty world out there.”

            We’re reminded of this terrible truth every time we turn on the news and see stories of war and cruelty and violence.

            We’re reminded of this terrible truth when we see stories of disasters probably caused at least in part by climate change - like the wildfires in California, which have killed and displaced so many people and destroyed so much property, in many cases all that people had.

            We’re reminded of it every time we walk down Bergen Avenue or through Journal Square, where we see so much poverty, addiction, so many people with grim expressions looking like they’re just trying to get through the day, so much suffering.

            On Thanksgiving night as Sue and I drove down the ramp off the Turnpike extension and were stopped at the Montgomery Street traffic light, there they were as usual – a couple of guys braving the bitterly cold temperatures begging for change from drivers like us stopped at the light.

            It’s a mean, nasty world out there.

            And then, think of the everyday, casual cruelty directed at people who are somehow different – who look different, act different, speak different, love different – think about how mean and nasty the world can be for them – for some of us.

            Of course, fortunately, there are many beautiful and inspiring things in the world, too. But, as our Secretary of State said, all too often, it’s a mean and nasty world out there.

I trust that this isn’t exactly news to you.

            No, of course we all know this. And, the truth is the world has often been - has long been - mean and nasty.

            Just look at first century Palestine, when and where Jesus walked among us.

First century Palestine was a time and place when and where the Romans ruled with an iron fist, willing to quickly crush any sign of rebellion with huge numbers of crucifixions – including, of course, the crucifixion of one troublesome rabbi from Nazareth.

            Today is the Last Sunday after Pentecost – it’s the last Sunday of the church year – what we call the Feast of Christ the King.

            And, it’s appropriate on this last Sunday of the year when we celebrate the kingship of Christ that our gospel lesson takes to nearly the end of Jesus’ earthly life – takes us to when Christ the King comes face to face with Pontius Pilate, the local representative of a very different kind of king, the ruler of the mean and nasty Roman Empire.

            A few weeks ago we talked about how Jesus’ closest followers and friends – the people who had front-row seats for his teaching and healing – we’ve had several examples of the apostles just not “getting” Jesus.

            Remember the brother apostles James and John asking Jesus for the best seats in the kingdom?

            In fact, it’s a consistent theme of the gospels that the apostles so often miss the boat, just don’t “get” Jesus.

            It’s probably historically true and was well known – known so well that the gospel writers couldn’t have cleaned up the story, even if they had wanted to.

 And, the fact that the apostles so often didn’t get it serves as a kind of encouragement to us today, we who so often don’t get Jesus, either – we who are, so often, of little faith.

            Anyway, if the apostles in the front row don’t get Jesus, we should not be at all surprised that Pontius Pilate – a notoriously mean and nasty official of a notoriously mean and nasty empire – he doesn’t “get” Jesus, either.

            Imagine the scene:

            There’s Jesus of Nazareth, all alone and probably looking worse for wear after his arrest – there’s Jesus of Nazareth rejected by the leaders of his own people -there’s Jesus of Nazareth with no crown and no army and no government and, seemingly, no friends – there’s Jesus of Nazareth who, Pilate has been told, despite all of that, somehow claims to be – or some people believe him to be – a king.

            Let’s be honest. We wouldn’t get it either.

            Despite this bizarre and unlikely scene, Pilate asks Jesus directly:

            “Are you the king of the Jews?”

            And, Jesus, in his usual Jesus-like way, doesn’t answer him directly but finally tells Pilate a great truth:

            “My kingdom is not from this world.”

            The otherworldly kingdom of Christ.

            And, for two thousand years we Christians have faced a choice – a choice between the mean and nasty worldly kingdoms or the otherworldly kingdom of Christ.

            Unfortunately, but not so surprisingly, all too often Christians past and present have chosen the mean and nasty worldly kingdoms – the kingdoms of people like Pontius Pilate and the Roman Emperor.

All too often, Christians have chosen power and influence in the mean and nasty world – have chosen to sit in the seats of honor – have shared the prejudices and cruelties of their time – have chosen to amass as much wealth as they can while others go hungry - have chosen to bless hatred and sprinkle Holy Water on the tools of war and destruction.

It’s no surprise that so many Christians past and present have so often chosen the worldly kingdoms – it’s just a whole lot easier to just get along with the powers that seem to be, and, let’s face it, the rewards are immediate and satisfying, at least for a time.

But.

But, that’s not who we are meant to be.

When we were baptized we became citizens of the otherworldly kingdom of Christ.

That doesn’t mean we spend our lives staring up at the stars or with our heads in the clouds.

No, dwelling in the otherworldly kingdom of Christ means living in such a way right here and now so that when other people look at us – when they look at how we live our lives – they just don’t “get” us.

I bet you’ve already gotten a taste of that.

A few decades ago, going to church on Sunday – every Sunday – was still pretty much the thing that people did. No one would look twice or think twice about it.

But, not so much anymore, right?

So, if and when you mention to family members and friends or even co-workers and neighbors that you go to church, I bet least some of them raise their eyebrows in surprise that you would still give up so much precious time – not to mention the money you might give to the church – not to mention if you participate in other ways.

If we’re doing this right, people just won’t “get” us.

Another, more specific example:

As many of you know, I’ve been bragging about our two weeks hosting Family Promise.

Maybe some of you are even starting to get a little tired of hearing about Family Promise, but, I don’t care because it was such an extraordinary effort and I’m really proud of it!

The other day I was trying to explain to someone from outside the church what Family Promise is and how it works.

I explained how, yeah, we had eleven homeless people – four families – living here for two weeks – and we had to provide all of the meals and spend time hanging out with them and two of us had to sleep over every night.

I explained that we had seventy-eight different people help out in lots of different ways.

And, this person I was talking to was too polite to say so, but I could see in his facial expressions – I could see his eyebrows go higher and higher – and I could almost read his mind:

“Wait, you had homeless people – people you didn’t know – living in your space for two weeks?”

“You had to feed all of those people for two weeks – people who aren’t even members of your church – people you’ll probably never see again?”

“You had to sleep over with those same people – sleeping on a less than comfortable air mattress in a chilly parish hall when you could have just slept at home, warm and comfortable?”

I could sense that, on one level, this guy was impressed by what we had done but he couldn’t really imagine doing the same thing himself, and perhaps even thought that if only these homeless people just worked harder they wouldn’t be in this situation.

I could see in his face that he didn’t quite “get” it.

And, of course he didn’t get it, because it was like nothing that we usually see in the world.

There was nothing mean and nasty about the hospitality we offered.

Actually, it was just the opposite: kind and loving.

By opening our doors to strangers in need, we showed ourselves to be who we were baptized to be – who we are meant to be.

So, a good “new church year resolution” would be less mean and nasty and more kind and loving.

Let’s live and serve together in the otherworldly kingdom of Christ.

Amen.

           

            

There is No End to God

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen & Church of the Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

November 18, 2018

Year B, Proper 28: The Twenty-Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

1 Samuel 1:4-20

1 Samuel 2:1-10

Hebrews 10:11-25

Mark 13:1-8

There is No End to God

            I suppose by now nothing much should surprise me, but I admit that I really am surprised that there are still Christian preachers out there – including some very popular and successful (well, by the world’s standards, at least) – some big-time preachers out there who still push the message that if we believe the right things and do the right things and, yes, give to the church the right amount of money, then God will surely bless us with health, wealth, and happiness.

            I suppose that message still finds a big audience because so many of us are discouraged and frightened, desperately looking for hope, searching for a way out of our present troubles.

            The problem is that this idea that if we just believe and say and pay the right things God will bless us with health, wealth, and happiness, it’s just not the message of Jesus.

            No, Jesus is quite clear that his way is the way of the Cross – it’s the way of love and sacrifice – and, it’s often the way of real suffering, too.

            The promise is not that God will make all of our problems go away.

            No, the promise is that God is with us through it all, through all the good stuff and especially through all of the bad stuff of our lives.

            The promise is that Jesus is with us even unto the end of the age.

            And, the promise is that even when things seem hopeless and we seem to have reached the end – well, the promise is that no matter how bad things are, God is still at work.

Because there is no end to God.

            In today’s gospel lesson, we pick up right where we left off last week.

            You may remember Jesus and his disciples have been in the Jerusalem Temple – the center of Jewish religious and political life.

            And, while there, Jesus let the scribes have it, criticizing them for walking around in their long robes, saying lengthy prayers just for show, sitting in the prominent seats, and for devouring the houses of widows.

            And, while in the Temple, Jesus also observed the poor widow dropping her two small copper coins – all that she had – into the Temple treasury. Jesus points out, not necessarily approvingly, that this poor woman has given far more than the others who merely give out of their abundance.

            Now in today’s lesson, Jesus and his followers walk out of the Temple and one of the disciples - sounding very much like a country bumpkin making his first trip to the big city – admires the magnificence of God’s house and exclaims, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!”

            I suppose the disciple must have expected Jesus to reply by saying something like, “Yeah, I know. Pretty impressive, right?”

            But, instead, Jesus predicts the destruction of the Temple – “not one stone will be left here upon another, all will be thrown down.”

            And after hearing this shocking and grim prophecy, the disciples understandably want to know when all of this is going to happen, but instead of giving a straight answer, Jesus warns the disciples – warns us – that other bad things will come and some will be so bad that we’ll think it must be the end.

            For the first readers and hearers of the Gospel of Mark – and for us today – Jesus’ prophecy about the destruction of the Temple isn’t a prophecy – it’s history.

            The Temple was, in fact, destroyed by the Romans in the year 70 and not much was left, just a retaining wall that still stands – known today as the Wailing Wall or the Western Wall.

            The destruction of the Temple was a cataclysmic event for the people of Israel, so crushing that many Jews thought that this must be the end – they thought that there was no way for the people of Israel to survive – no way for the people of Israel to remain in relationship with God - without the Temple and the sacrifices that took place there.

            But, God was still at work, inspiring the rabbis to reshape the Jewish faith, a faith that has gone on without the Temple for two thousand years – through lots of hard times.

            There is no end to God.

            And, when you think about it, for the first disciples that first Good Friday must have really seemed like the end.

            The One that they had known as friend, teacher, and healer – the one they had recognized as the long-awaited Messiah – Jesus had died the shameful death of a criminal on a cross.

            This must have been a cataclysmic event for the disciples – for those who watched from a safe distance and those who had completely abandoned him in his greatest moment of need.

            They must have thought that this was the end.

But, God was still at work, raising Jesus on the third day, inspiring the disciples to begin spreading the Good News, spreading the Gospel far and wide, until it reached all the way to Jersey City, and farther even than that.

There is no end to God.

You know, it wasn’t that long ago that some on the St. Paul’s side of our family wondered if maybe we were approaching the end.

Although we had remained a diverse and faithful congregation, attendance and giving had shrunk and the best-case scenario was that we could limp along for a while, drawing more and more from our investments, hanging in there for as long as we could.

And, over on the Incarnation side of our family, it was just last year that you faced a big decision about the future.

And, I don’t know, when you made the choice to unite with your brothers and sisters on Duncan Avenue, maybe for some of you that felt like the end, too.

But, we don’t have to look very hard to see that it was most definitely not the end.

We don’t have to look far to see that God was and is still very much at work, taking two sides of the family and knitting together a stronger, even more beautiful and vibrant congregation – a congregation increasingly free from worrying about survival and much more focused on serving the community.

Look at the Sandwich Squad.

Look at the Lighthouse. Yes, the last residents have left 68 Storms and maybe at the moment it feels like the end but God is still at work, putting together new and even bigger pieces and I’m convinced that rather than the end we’re just at the very beginning of a ministry to some of the most despised people in our community.

Look at Family Promise, where by the latest count, seventy-eight people – our parishioners, Grace Van Vorst parishioners, neighbors, friends – seventy-eight people contributed to the success of our hospitality to people who for two weeks had no other home but ours – a ministry that, I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but I feel like it has changed us – made us more joyful – somehow, I don’t know how, made us freer than we were before.

There is no end to God.

            So, like, I’m sure, all of you, I sometimes get discouraged and frightened by what I see going on around us and in our country and world.

            I get discouraged and frightened watching California burn and the tides rise and species go extinct.

            I get discouraged and frightened when I see the foundations of our democracy wobble and crack.

            I get discouraged and frightened when I see our young men hanging out on the corner with no real future and with so little sense of life’s value.

            I get discouraged and frightened when I see the desperate financial crisis facing our public schools.

            I get discouraged and frightened when I see how easily things and people get broken – one wrong move, one careless turn, one thoughtless word, one day everything’s fine and the next day it’s not and there’s no going back to the way things used to be.

            Like the disciples on Good Friday and like the Jews watching the Temple burn and collapse, for us sometimes it seems like this is the end.

            But, then I come here with all of you and I see with my own eyes - and I remember - that God is still very much at work.

            There is no end to God.

            Amen.

Life is Supposed to be Different Among Us

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen & Church of the Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

November 11, 2018

Year B, Proper 27: The Twenty-Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17

Psalm 127

Hebrews 9:24-38

Mark 12:38-44

Life is Supposed to be Different Among Us

            On Saturday, as I edit the Prayers of the People, and then each Sunday as I stand there listening to the lector lead us in those prayers, I pray – I think – I hope – that maybe the next week will be a week with no troubles – that next week we can finally get a break – that we won’t have anything to add to the long list of natural and manmade disasters.

            Maybe you also pray – think – hope something similar.

            There may or may not be much that we can do about natural disasters, like the terrifying wildfires burning California.

But, it would be nice if we could somehow cut down on the manmade disasters, which are so upsetting and discouraging.

            This time last week we were just absorbing the horrific slaughter at the Tree of Life Synagogue and now here we are today mourning the senseless slaughter of people just out for a good time at a country western concert in Thousand Oaks, California – and unbelievably some of the same people at that concert – including one of the victims - were survivors of the bloodbath at a much larger concert in Las Vegas last year.

            And, of course, on Tuesday we had an important election in our country – an election that once again exposed our bitter differences – a divide so deep that we seem unable to hear each other, let alone understand, or empathize with, one another.

            All of these manmade disasters raise a question:

            Has life always been this way?

Or, are we just more aware of it because of the speed and easy access of modern media?

            I don’t know, though I lean toward it’s always been this way.

            After all, today we mark the hundredth anniversary of the end of the First World War – a war that killed about 10 million soldiers and civilians, not including those who died because of famine and illness.

            There have always been manmade disasters, yet close to the heart of our faith is the belief that this is not the way things were meant to be – that, because of our sin, humanity has gone horribly wrong.

            And, also close to the heart of our faith is Jesus’ teaching and insistence that whatever horrors are going on out there, life in the temple – life here here among us - is supposed to be different.

            Over and over throughout the gospels, Jesus uses many opportunities and situations to teach us – to remind us – that life here among us is supposed to be different.

            For example, if you were here a couple of weeks ago, you may remember that we heard the story of the brother apostles James and John asking Jesus if they could sit at his right hand and left hand in the kingdom.

            Remember that?

            And, after hearing this request, the other apostles get angry with the brothers, presumably because they want a shot at the having the best seats in the kingdom of God.

            Very worldly behavior, right?

            And now in today’s gospel lesson we find Jesus and his disciples in the Jerusalem Temple – the center of Jewish religious and political life – the place where, in a sense, God was believed to dwell. But, there was also a long history of Jewish prophets and others being critical of the Temple and its leaders, and Jesus is very much part of this tradition.

            Anyway, Jesus and his disciples are in the Temple, where he offers a stinging critique of the scribes. These men were generally highly esteemed for their great learning, but Jesus simply isn’t having it. He calls them out as villains - villains who “devour” widows’ houses. He calls them out as hypocrites - hypocrites walking around in their long robes saying long prayers “for the sake of appearances.”

            No, Jesus is not too crazy about the religious leaders of his time –and, as someone who, um, sometimes wears long robes and recites long prayers in public, passages like this always get me thinking about what Jesus would make of the religious leaders of today – what Jesus would make of people who say they minister in his name – what Jesus would make of me.

            Maybe fortunately for us professional Christians, the story moves on quickly to another scene in the Temple – this time opposite the Temple treasury.

            And, at first glance, this second part of today’s gospel lesson looks like a perfect story for a priest who is trying to get his parishioners to pledge as much money as they can to keep the church going.

            Jesus observes a poor widow who gives two small copper coins – a tiny, tiny amount of money but it’s everything she has – the poor widow gives all that she has to the temple.

            After seeing this act of extraordinary generosity, Jesus tells his disciples, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all that she had to live on.”

            This story – the story of the so-called widow’s “mite” – is a story that has inspired a million stewardship sermons. We’ve probably all heard them and I’ve even given one or two – but, I wonder if we aren’t meant to learn a different lesson than giving all that we have to the church.

            Notice that Jesus doesn’t exactly praise the woman’s extravagant generosity. No, he simply states a fact: since she gave everything she had – and since she was, perhaps, generous to a fault – she did give more generously than the others who gave out of their abundance, who gave from the money they had left over.

            So, I wonder if this story that seems to be about generosity isn’t in fact just another part of Jesus’ critique of the Temple.

            We know Jesus isn’t crazy about the long-robed scribes living pretty well.

And, we don’t have to stretch our imaginations to conclude that Jesus doesn’t approve of the well to do giving merely out of their abundance.

 And, considering the system that Jesus is critiquing, I can’t imagine that he really approves of the poor widow giving everything she has to support that very system.

But, here’s the thing: I think the real issue for Jesus is that the temple – this house of prayer – this house of God – is just too much like the world

In fact, the temple system that Jesus critiques sounds an awful lot like the world outside, doesn’t it?

There are a few well-dressed people with all of the privilege who profit off of the backs of the poor – the poor who, willingly or not, give most, if not all, that they have.

But, Jesus teaches and insists that it’s supposed to be different in God’s house.

Life is supposed to be different in the temple.

Life is supposed to be different among us.

That’s what the brother apostles James and John didn’t get – at least, not yet, when they asked to sit beside Jesus in glory.

Life is supposed to be different among us.

That’s why Jesus is critical of the religious leaders of the first century – and is probably not so thrilled with many of us religious leaders of today – far too often it’s about our own glory, fame, and worldly power.

Life is supposed to be different among us.

That’s why I’m not so sure that Jesus approves of the poor widow giving all that she has – it’s too much like the world where the many poor are broke but the few well to do people continue to do just fine.

Life is supposed to be different among us.

You’ve all been around the block a few times, so I don’t need to tell you that too often things aren’t as different here among us as they should be.

While I don’t think I devour widow’s houses, I know that I’m not as aware as I should be of how much I benefit from being a white man in our society – and how much I benefit from being automatically given respect because I’m ordained.

And, it’s true that some of us merely give out of our abundance while we place too many burdens on a few.

Life is supposed to be different among us.

But, you know, when I get discouraged I’m reminded that more and more, life among us does look different than life out there in the world.

Our church has been diverse for a long time, but I’m struck by how in a time of such bitter division out there, we’ve for the most part managed to stay united in here.

Out in the world there is so much pressure and worry over material possessions – so much faith that the more we have the happier we’ll be – yet here there is so much generosity - so many of you have signed up to welcome our Family Promise guests, or have given to Mia’s vision, or have increased your pledge in a time when everything seems so uncertain or made a pile of sandwiches for the hungry or even just given up something you really like and that some maybe even need – yes, I’m talking about coffee hour – in order to make room for people who have no home.

Life is supposed to be different among us.

Finally, a quick story:

The other day one of our parishioners celebrated his birthday, but he didn’t celebrate it with family and friends, didn’t go out to eat, didn’t make a wish and blow out the candles, didn’t receive gifts – at least not those wrapped in a box.

No, he spent his birthday hanging out with our Family Promise guests and spending the night sleeping on an inflatable mattress rather than at home in his own bed.

When I went home for the night, I left him happily playing a game of checkers with one of our young guests.

Life is supposed to be different among us.

And, sometimes, it really is.

Amen.