Third Sunday in Advent/ Advent Midweek III

Third Sunday in Advent (B)

December 17, 2017

Text: John 1:6-8, 19-28

            Well, it’s no secret that I’m not always a fan of the CPH bulletin cover art.  Perhaps I’ve been a little critical in the past.  And so, when they get it right, we really ought to talk about it for a minute.  Take it out and look at the thing, if you will.  There he is, St. John the Baptist.  This isn’t the usual kitsch or the ambiguously “inspirational” picture to which we’ve been accustomed.  This is sublime art of the highest order.  Perhaps you even recognize it.  This is what’s left of the mosaic from the great Hagia Sophia, the ancient cathedral in Byzantium, or modern day Istanbul.  This is what has survived the ages and the violence.  I wish they would have shown more, but I won’t complain.  To your left, where the picture is cut off, you would see that St. John is bowing to a Jesus who is fully in control of the situation.  Our Lord holds in His left hand the Book of Life, and His right hand is lifted in the traditional posture of benediction, blessing St. John and us.  This is worth a Google when you get home.  It’s tremendous.  This is the surpassing value of art that preaches. Remember that when we start planning a building.  No kitsch.  Real, sublime, theological art.    

            Well, CPH gives us the St. John part of the picture, and it’s worth a thousand words, but I’ll only give you a couple hundred.  Look at his face.  It is downcast.  So much for Christianity being all smiles and kittens unicorns.  You’re just going to have to get over this idea that Christians are never sad, that they don’t suffer greatly, and should always be smiling.  It’s fake.  Knock it off.  John isn’t smiling.  You wouldn’t be either, if you’d suffered what he’s suffered for the sake of Jesus.  An ascetic life in the wilderness.  Rough clothing.  Only locusts dipped in honey to quell the hunger pangs, honey which he undoubtedly acquired with many stings.  Everyone who’s anyone is questioning his authority to do what he’s doing, baptizing and preaching.  The ruler’s wife, Herodias, is out to get him.  Herod puts him in the dungeon.  And then as a reward for his step-daughter’s lewd dance, Herod cuts off John’s head and serves it up on a platter.  So you’ll excuse John if he isn’t all handshakes and grins.  But notice at least two things about him.  His eyes, though sad, are intensely focused on Jesus, who is blessing him.  And his hand is pointing us to Jesus who holds the Book of Life.  That is John’s preaching office in a nutshell.  Fixed on Jesus.  Always pointing us to Jesus, to the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.  And the halo?  That indicates not that he’s sinless or some silliness like that.  That indicates that he has the righteousness of Jesus Christ by faith.  He has the Spirit, who enlightens him and gives him faith.  Jesus has a halo, too, in the picture, and His is more glorious than John’s, which is absolutely right.  The halos of the saints in Christian art are always a reflection of Jesus’ halo, Jesus’ righteousness.  They are saints because of Jesus. 

            John points to Jesus.  Always.  That is his Office.  He’d be horrified to know that he’s on the bulletin cover and Jesus is cut off.  Well, he’s just gonna have to get over it this time.  But we learn from St. John what it means to be a preacher of Jesus Christ.  John is always insisting that he is nobody, and redirecting us to Christ, who is everything.  Here the Pharisees are asking on behalf of the Jerusalem bureaucracy just who John thinks he is, and he confesses… he does not deny it, but confesses (notice the emphasis in our text), “I am not the Christ” (John 1:20; ESV).  He is not the Light.  His job is to bear witness about the Light, about Jesus.  He insists, “I’m nobody!  I’m not even the Elijah who is to come first!”  Well, he is.  Jesus says he is (Matt. 11:14), but in his great humility, John is guarding against the misunderstanding on the part of the Jews who thought Elijah was going to return from the heavens on the chariots of fire as a clear, visible indication that Messiah had arrived.  It didn’t quite happen that way.  Nonetheless, John is the guy.  He looks like Elijah.  He does what Elijah does.  He preaches.  He calls to repentance.  He calls to faith.  But he claims nothing for himself.  “I am not worthy to stoop down and untie His sandal.”  That’s saying something.  With all the “stuff” people walked through on the streets in those days, only a slave was ever made to touch the sandal straps.  It was an indignity, and it was gross.  John says he’s not even worthy to be Jesus’ slave.  That’s the attitude a preacher ought to have and what he ought to say.  I am nothing.  Jesus is everything.  He takes away your sins. 

            It’s a great temptation, though, for pastors to think a lot of themselves.  It’s pretty heady stuff to speak for Almighty God and forgive people’s sins, give them Jesus to eat and drink, bring Jesus to their bedside when they’re sick or when they’re in distress, be with them in their greatest triumphs and their greatest sorrows, be the first one they call when they’re in the hospital or when there’s been a death.  I’ve told you some of the downsides about being a pastor, but it’s also true it can make a man feel pretty big for his britches.  All the nice comments people make and their expressions of love and gratitude.  It’s so important for a preacher to keep in mind that, while certainly your love for the preacher is genuine and I thank God for that, it’s really Jesus you’re clinging to.  And that’s absolutely right.  You really don’t need me, you need Jesus.  And you get Him through the Office I happen to fill in this place at the moment, the Office established by Jesus to bring you Jesus.  It’s Jesus you want at your bedside, with His Word and body and blood.  When you call in the middle of the night, it’s really Jesus’ Word you want to hear.  You want Jesus there for your greatest triumphs and your greatest sorrows, when you’re sick or despairing, and especially in the hour of death.

            This is a good test for your parish pastor, and really for anyone who comes to you in the Name of Jesus, claiming to speak for Him.  I’m thinking here particularly about the preachers you watch on television or whose books you insist on buying from the Christian bookstore.  Is the preacher magnifying himself?  Or is he magnifying Jesus?  Who do you hear in the preaching?  The preacher?  Or Jesus… the Word of Jesus?  Who is increasing, and who is decreasing?  Jesus must increase before the ears of the hearers.  The preacher should fade into the background and disappear under the vestments.  John does that.  He disappears under the camels’ hair and fades into the background behind death’s dark veil.  He decreases, but he rejoices in it, because in this way, Christ is magnified.  And now we can’t see John.  We can see somebody’s best guess at what he looked like on our bulletin cover, but we can’t see the man.  He’s in heaven with Jesus, awaiting the resurrection of his body, complete with fully attached head.  But we do hear his preaching still.  His flesh has faded like grass, but the Word of our God endures forever.  We hear John’s Advent cry: “Make straight the way of the Lord” (John 1:23).  “Prepare!  Repent.  Believe.  Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” 

            And now we learn from St. John the posture of the Church and the posture of the Christian, you.  The picture on the front of the bulletin is of you, beloved.  St. John is every Christian.  There you are under whatever crosses your Father has designed just for you to bear, for your good, to be sure, but they hurt.  There you are in the wilderness, in the dungeon, in the execution chamber.  And while there is great joy in being a Christian, and you do often smile and should rejoice always, it’s not all a bed of roses.  You also weep.  Your shoulders are often heavy.  You are often bowed down under the weight of your suffering and, frankly, the weight of your sin.  But your eyes are firmly fixed on Jesus Christ, your Savior, whose pierced hand is raised in blessing over you.  Your name is written in the Book of Life, because His Name is written on you in Holy Baptism.  There is a halo over your head, not because you’re so great, but because Jesus is.  Your halo is a reflection of His.  His righteousness is your righteousness.  His holiness is your holiness.  You are a saint because Jesus is holy and perfect, and that counts for you.  His death on the cross is your death.  His resurrection is your resurrection, spiritually now, and bodily on the Last Day.  His life is your life.  And you, like St. John, in this time in between, the Already/Not Yet of resurrection victory in Christ, are a witness to the Light.  Your hand is always pointing to Jesus, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.  You are given to do this for your family and friends and neighbors.  You are given to always be pointing them to the Crucified, to the Lord who loves them and gave His life for them and lives for them.  You are always decreasing that He might increase.  You are always bearing His Name, “Christian,” perhaps even wearing Him around your neck, speaking of Him, calling upon Him in every need, praising and thanking Him, and loving your neighbor out of love for Him.  That is the Christian life, pictured right here in the face of St. John. 

            Now, one easy way to do this for your neighbor, to bear witness about the Light, may be to pull out your phone and Google this image and show it to your neighbor.  And explain what it is and what it means.  In any case, go look at it yourself, and believe the preaching.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son (+), and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.      

Advent Midweek III

Prophetic Preaching of Preparation: Comfort for God’s People from the Prophet Isaiah

“The Poor Have the Good News Preached to Them”

December 20, 2017

Text: Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11

            Luther called it “The Happy Exchange,” that which takes place between you and your Lord Jesus.  He takes all of your sin and death and condemnation into Himself.  In exchange, He gives you all of His righteousness and life and eternal blessedness.  St. Paul put it this way: “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:21; ESV).  All that we are and have as fallen, sinful, dying and dead human beings, Jesus takes upon Himself.  And all that He is and has as the one and only sinless and perfect human being, born of the Virgin Mary, who is also true God, eternally begotten of the Father, becomes ours.  The exchange takes place in Holy Baptism: His Baptism into us in the Jordan River, our Baptism into Him at the Font.  And we receive all the benefits of this exchange by faith, which is given us by the Holy Spirit at Baptism and in the Word, and nourished by the Word and by the Supper.  A truly “happy” exchange, indeed, happy for us, for by it, we obtain all that we have not earned, but that Christ has earned for us by taking what our sins have earned upon Himself and suffering it on the cross. 

            Now, imagine, if you will, a poor beggar on the street, without a penny to his name, no place to lay his head, clothed in rags, stomach distended by hunger, hoping and praying the strangers walking by will cast a few unwanted coins into his cup.  Now imagine a rich man walking by sees the poor beggar, and he stops and lifts the beggar to his feet and looks into his eyes.  The rich man doesn’t put any coins, or any money at all, into the beggar’s cup.  Instead, he tells the beggar some good news.  He is transferring his entire bank account to the beggar, giving him his house and his pantry full of food, clothing him in his own clothes, and signing over his business.  This is to take the beggar’s life and give him a whole new life in exchange.  And as ridiculous as that sounds, it gets more ridiculous yet.  The rich man will take the beggar’s bedraggled clothing and his cup and sit on his street corner and become the beggar.  Because in this way the beggar can become the rich man. 

            This is really an unbelievable illustration, I realize.  And yet this story gives you only the faintest infinitesimal fraction of and inkling of the true story of God’s coming down into your flesh to exchange everything that is His for all that is yours.  It’s pretty good news, yes?!  Indeed, this is what the Prophet Isaiah means when he says, “The Spirit of the LORD GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me to bring good news to the poor” (Is. 61:1).  The good news is that in the coming of Jesus Christ, everything is turned on its head.  The brokenhearted are bound up, the captives set at liberty, the prisoners freed.  Those who mourn are comforted, sinners are declared righteous, the ancient ruins are raised up, and the devastations repaired.  This great reversal, all that is wrong made right, comes as a result of this happy exchange.  It is fulfilled in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

            Isaiah intensifies the image of this Good News even more.  He says that what happens when God comes down to make the happy exchange is actually a wedding.  Christ is the Bridegroom.  The Church, the soul, the Bride.  And the first thing the Bridegroom does for His Bride is to clothe her in splendor.  Now, if you’ve read Isaiah, and you’ve followed him through the first sixty chapters, you know that Israel, Judah, the Church is anything but clothed in splendor.  She is a mess.  Full of sin and idolatry and rejection of her God.  It’s the same old story over and over again.  The whoring after other gods.  The fear, love, and trust of all that is not God.  The whole Old Testament is the story of God’s chosen people rejecting Him, suffering for it, repenting and receiving rescue, and then repeating the whole process over again.  It’s your story, too.  It’s the story of all humanity, of every sinner. 

            Jesus is the only One who gets this right.  He never sins.  He never rejects His Father.  He never bows the knee to another deity.  Therefore He is completely righteous.  What He does when He comes to His Bride is that He clothes her in His own spotless garment.  And He takes her tattered robes caked in filth and puts them on Himself.  That’s the exchange.  And He puts what is ours to death in His body, and when He rises from the dead, He is clothed in resplendent glory.  Look at what Isaiah says: “he has clothed me with the garments of salvation; he has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself like a priest with a beautiful headdress, as a bride adorns herself with jewels” (v. 10).  This is probably the passage St. Paul has in mind when he says that Christian husbands and wives are the picture of Christ and His Bride, the Church, and when he says that husbands are to love their wives “as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish” (Eph. 5:25-27).  This, by the way, is why every Christian bride has the right to wear white on her wedding day, despite any mistakes she may have made.  It’s blasphemy against the blood of Jesus Christ, that old tradition of shaming women who have sinned sexually by making them wear some other color.  Not to mention that it singles her out when it takes two to tango, as they say.  Now, I’m against fornication, of course.  Don’t do it.  And if you do, stop it.  Now.  But you have to understand that, when it comes to our own holiness, none of us could wear white.  Ever.  But when our Lord Christ undertakes this happy exchange, all of our impurity and filth is gone forever.  And what is left behind is His own beautiful, resplendent white gown of righteousness.  That is why we often clothe babies in white robes when they are baptized.  That is why the acolyte and the elder wear white when they serve at the altar, and why the pastor is covered by an alb, which is simply the baptismal gown that all the baptized can wear.  It represents Christ's righteousness which is given at the font.  St. Paul says that “as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ” (Gal. 3:27).  You wear Him as a garment.  He is your spotless wedding gown. 

            Luther makes a lot of hay out of this image.  In his marvelous little book, The Freedom of a Christian (which you all should read), he talks about this happy exchange.  It’s worth quoting him at length:

            “The third incomparable benefit of faith”… Obviously there more incomparable benefits of faith, but you’re going to have to read it for yourself to find out what they are… “The third incomparable benefit of faith is that it unites the soul with Christ as a bride is united with her bridegroom.  By this mystery, as the Apostle teaches, Christ and the soul become one flesh [Eph. 5:31-32].  And if they are one flesh and there is between them a true marriage—indeed the most perfect of all marriages, since human marriages are but poor examples of this one true marriage—it follows that everything they have they hold in common, the good as well as the evil.  Accordingly the believing soul can boast of and glory in whatever Christ has as though it were its own, and whatever the soul has Christ claims as his own… Christ is full of grace, life, and salvation.  The soul is full of sins, death, and damnation.  Now let faith come between them and sins, death, and damnation will be Christ’s, while grace, life, and salvation will be the soul’s; for if Christ is a bridegroom, he must take upon himself the things which are his bride’s and bestow upon her the things that are his.  If he gives her his body and very self, how shall he not give her all that is his?  And if he takes the body of the bride, how shall he not take all that is hers? 

            “Here we have a most pleasing vision not only of communion but of a blessed struggle and victory and salvation and redemption.  Christ is God and man in one person.  He has neither sinned nor died, and is not condemned, and he cannot sin, die, or be condemned; his righteousness, life, and salvation are unconquerable, eternal, omnipotent.  By the wedding ring of faith he shares in the sins, death, and pains of hell which are his bride’s.  As a matter of fact, he makes them his own and acts as if they were his own and as if he himself had sinned; he suffered, died, and descended into hell that he might overcome them all.  Now since it was such a one who did all this, and death and hell could not swallow him up, these were necessarily swallowed up by him in a mighty duel; for his righteousness is greater than the sins of all men, his life stronger than death, his salvation more invincible than hell.  Thus the believing soul by means of the pledge of its faith is free in Christ, its bridegroom, free from all sins, secure against death and hell, and is endowed with the eternal righteousness, life, and salvation of Christ its bridegroom.  So he takes to himself a glorious bride, ‘without spot or wrinkle, cleansing her by the washing of water with the word’ [Cf. Eph. 5:26-27] of life, that is, by faith in the Word of life, righteousness, and salvation.  In this way he marries her in faith, steadfast love, and in mercies, righteousness, and justice...”[1]  Thus far Luther.

            So what does this mean?  It means that when God looks at you, He sees no sin or unrighteousness, but only the perfect righteousness, innocence, and holiness of His Son, Jesus.  And it’s not as though this is just God pretending that you are righteous.  In our Lord’s undertaking this happy exchange, all that is His is really and truly yours.  And that is Good News, indeed!  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son (+), and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.         

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[1] LW 31:351-52.