The Resurrection of Our Lord

The Resurrection of Our Lord (B)

March 31, 2024

Text: Mark 16:1-8

Alleluia!  Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!

            “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance of the tomb?” (Mark 16:3; ESV).  Who, indeed?  Death is the last great enemy to be defeated (1 Cor. 15:26).  Our graveyards are marked by stones.  And it is the stone that seals the tomb.  Like the great stone sealing Daniel in the lions’ den, like the stone vaults enclosing our remains, the stone of death shuts us in.

            We know that stone.  We know the darkness its shadow brings.  We know the crushing weight of it.  Mourning.  Grief.  Loved ones taken from us all too soon.  Disease.  Tragedy.  War.  Terror.  “(I)n the day you eat of it you shall surely die” (Gen. 2:17).  So our first parents were told in the Garden.  But take, they did, and ate the fruit.  Eve first, at the serpent’s prompting.  And then she told Adam, and Adam believed her sermon, rather than God’s.  And so, here we are, in our own mortality.  Sons and daughters of Adam and Eve.  Naked and ashamed and fleeing God.  But knowing justice will get us in the end.  The stone is very large, and we cannot move it.  Who will roll the stone away?

            But look up, now, with the spice-laden women, Mary, and Mary, and Salome, these three.  Peel your eyes away from your own navel.  Look up!  Look up, and what do you see?  The stone has already been rolled back!  And then, what appears as you look inside?  Not a corpse, as you, and they, supposed.  But a young man, sitting on the right side, robed in white, and I’m certain he is smirking.  And now, listen up!  What do you hear?  A sermon!  Proclamation!  This man is a preacher.  An angel from heaven, sent from on high. 

            What does he preach?  The death and resurrection of Jesus for you, and the end of all your fear.  “Do not be alarmed.  You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified.  He has risen; he is not here.  See the place where they laid him” (Mark 16:6).  If Christ has died, your sins are forgiven.  If Christ is risen, then you, too, shall live.  Now, “go, tell his disciples and Peter” (v. 7).  The women are the first to see and tell.  They are the Church.  They are undoing old Eve’s telling to old Adam.  They bring a better Word to the men huddled in fear.  Jesus lives.  The stone has been rolled away.  He goes before you into Galilee.  There you will see Him, just as He told you.  And you will be sent to the whole world.  The Apostles are the pastors.  They are to preach this to all who will hear.  Church and Ministry; confessing and preaching.  And in the day you hear of it, and believe the good news, you shall surely live.

            Now, the first thing the women do is flee the tomb in trembling and astonishment.  Their first instinct is to tell no one anything (v. 8).  And, no wonder.  We know from the other Gospels, the disciples dismiss them as telling idle tales.  And anyway, can this possibly be true?  Dead men don’t rise… do they?  And Mark, in this text, leaves us without a resurrection appearance.  I think he does that, by the way, as a nod to us.  We know the Apostles, and before them, Mary Magdalene, are given to see the risen Lord.  But we are not.  Not with our eyes.  At least, not yet, not this side of the gravestone.  We can only see the absence of a corpse.  But we are given to hear the angel’s sermon.  Yes, Jesus of Nazareth was crucified for your sins, the perfect Sacrifice of Atonement, the very Lamb of God.  But if you are looking for Him in a crypt, your search will be in vain.  That is not where He is!  He is risen, as He said.  And that is your righteousness and life.  So, trust not what your eyes may, or may not see.  Trust your ears as the Spirit gives you to hear the Gospel of life, that casts out fear. 

            And now, you don’t need to flee in trembling and astonishment.  When your ears are filled with resurrection preaching, you, dear Church of God, may go and tell it to everyone… in all the situations where the stone looms large.  What should the Christian cry out in time of grief?  Nevertheless, Christ is risen!  Jesus, the Crucified, lives!  What should you say when lowering the body of a loved one into the ground?  Jesus Christ is risen from the dead, therefore, this body shall rise!  What about when you are sick, smothered in the inevitability of your own mortality?  I know that my Redeemer lives!  And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh, I shall see God!  My eyes shall behold Him, and not another (Job 19:25-27).  In the face of tragedy, of war and terror, confess… do not deny, but confess… Alleluia!  Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!

            Look up!  Look up, now, and what do you see?  The stone has been rolled back forever.  A new Stone reigns, the Stone the builders rejected.  This is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes and ears.  Jesus Christ is the resurrection and the life!  The tomb is empty.  Jesus lives!  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.                 

Vigil of Easter

The Vigil of Easter

March 30, 2024

Text: Mark 16:1-8

Alleluia!  Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!

            We’ve been keeping vigil here tonight, in anticipation of this very news.  Keeping vigil.  Keeping watch.  “Watch and pray,” says the Lord, “that you may not enter into temptation” (Matt. 26:41; ESV).  Such should be the disposition of all Christian disciples until we see the risen Lord.  Waiting in faith.  Waiting in hope.  On the lookout.  But not idle.  Doing what, then?  Listening for His voice.  Hearing the Scriptures.  As we have tonight, a vast swath of salvation history, from Creation to Exile, to redemption and fulfillment in Christ.  Praying.  Meditating.  Immersed in the concrete reality of our Baptism into Christ.

            The readings we heard from the Old Testament this evening, are the four always included in the Easter Vigil service: Creation, Flood, the Red Sea, and the Fiery Furnace.  If we really wanted to get serious about our vigiling, there are eight more suggested selections, plus the apocryphal song of the three young men in the furnace following our last reading.  There are two versions of it in our hymnal, hymns 930 and 931, if you want to check them out. 

            What do all the readings have in common (at least those we’ve heard tonight)?  Water.  Well, all except one, the Fiery Furnace.  But this is, after all, a baptismal service, the Vigil.  For the Baptism of infants, yes (we had the Baptism of James Ford only a couple of years ago), but especially of adult converts, and even when there is no Baptism, for all of us to recall and live in our own Baptism into Christ.  In the Early Church, and through much of the Church’s history, the Season of Lent was observed as a time of intense catechesis for baptismal candidates and catechumens.  It all culminated on this night, as, for the first time, the catechumens (the adults, at least) recited the Apostles’ Creed, received Holy Baptism, were clothed in a white robe, anointed with holy oil (Confirmation), prayed the Lord’s Prayer, and joined the congregation for the Lord’s Supper.  This service is all about that.  It’s possible you and I became bored, and shifted nervously during the Service of Readings tonight, but think how those newborn Christians would have hung on every word of the Holy Scriptures, as they were hearing them… maybe for only the second or third time in their life, assuming they heard them during catechesis, or perhaps for the first time, if the catechist only summarized the teaching… hearing them, now, applied to their own life and salvation.  God grant us to hear the Scriptures afresh in this way!

            So, water.  The Spirit, hovering over the waters of Creation, even as He hovers over the waters of New Creation at the font.  The Flood, washing away all sin and evil, but delivering Noah and his family, eight persons in all (1 Peter 3:20) in the floating ark, even as Baptism now saves us and washes us clean, delivering us through the Flood of God’s wrath in the Ark of Holy Church.  The Red Sea, Pharaoh and his host swept away and drowned, while Israel walks across on dry ground, even as we are delivered from our enemies… the devil, the world, and our own sinful nature… in the blood-red Sea of Holy Baptism. 

            And, what about the three young men in the fiery furnace, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego?  This, too, has to do with Baptism.  “I baptize you with water for repentance,” St. John confessed in the wilderness, “but he who is coming after me is mightier than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire” (Matt. 3:11).  Though the world throws us into the pit of death, the fire will not harm us.  The Lord Himself will deliver us (who is that fourth Man walking, like a son of the gods, in the midst of the flames?  You know it.  This is no mere angel.  It is the Son of God, Himself, the pre-incarnate Christ!).  The fire, we might say, is that of the Refiner (“he is like a refiner’s fire,” sings Handel, in the words of the Prophet Micah [3:2]).  The fire cleanses, purifies, how?  By burning away the dross, our idols, our unfaith… all that is not Christ.  That necessarily comes with Baptism.  And it is a gift.  Though, it can hurt beyond anything.  Still, our Lord is with us in it, doing His saving work. 

            But what else do all the readings have in common?  God bringing life out of death.  Salvation out of suffering.  Well, the first reading, Creation, is not so much life out of death, but really, same miracle.  Because, in that reading, He brings life out of no life, creatio ex nihilo, creation out of nothing.  No one but God can do that.  We can make things out of other things, and in this way, we reflect God’s image, but only God can make something out of nothing, by mere utterance of His creative Word.  And that same Word delivers Noah, and Israel, and Daniel’s faithful companions out of mortal danger.  That same Word becomes flesh and dwells among us (John 1:14).  It is the Word crying out on the cross, and silenced for our sins.  It is the Word that bursts forth alive from the tomb, and will call us back to life at the time appointed.  In fact, already has called us to life in our Holy Baptism into Him.

            He is the fulfillment of it all, isn’t He?  Cross and Resurrection are writ large over all the Hebrew Scriptures.  But we miss it, apart from the light of Easter Dawn.  We miss it, apart from the Spirit’s enlightening, when we are washed in water and the Word.  That is why the women come to the tomb, expecting to find a corpse.  But an angel has rolled away the stone.  And upon his preaching, the women run away, seized by trembling and astonishment.  Can we believe our eyes and our ears?  Can the angel’s words possibly be true?  If so, the whole world has been turned upside down, not to mention our own lives. 

            That’s right.  All of history hinges on this moment.  And your life, too.  All that came before is fulfilled in this.  All that comes after either rebels against it, or is redeemed by it.  You either rebel against it, or are redeemed by it.  The fact is, it has flooded your life and being in the bloody baptismal water.  It is poured down your throat in the wine of the chalice.  Grace.  Pure grace.  “This is the night when all who believe in Christ are delivered from bondage to sin and are restored to life and immortality.”  For “This is the night when Christ, the Life, arose from the dead.  The seal of the grave is broken and the morning of the new creation breaks forth out of night.  Oh, how wonderful and beyond all telling.”  And yet, we tell it.  Our vigil has been rewarded, and we tell it, in joy; we tell it in faith, and in hope, and in love: Alleluia!  Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!  Life has come forth out of death.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.              

 

 

 

Good Friday Tenebrae

Maundy Thursday

Maundy Thursday (B)

March 28, 2024

Text: 1 Cor. 10:16-17 (my translation): “The cup of blessing, which we bless… is it not a koinonia of the blood of Christ?  The bread, which we break… is it not a koinonia of the body of Christ?  Because there is one bread, the many are one body, for we all partake from the one bread.”  

            Koinonia.  I’ve left the word untranslated for a reason.  “Participation,” as our ESV has it, is an excellent translation.  But it is only one facet of this many splendored jewel of a word.  Is it not a koinonia… Is it not a sharing, a being united together with, a fellowship in, a communion by means of… the blood, the body, of Christ?

            That is, a koinonia with Christ Himself.  Union with Him.  Reception of His blood, and of His crucified and risen body.  The Lord Jesus, invading you bodily, taking possession of you, becoming one with you.  His blood, coursing through your veins.  His body, nourishing and enlivening your body.  And, of course, your soul.  You in Him, and He in you.  One body.  One Lord.

            And what is the result, then, between you and those with whom you kneel at the altar?  Koinonia… a sharing together in Christ, united together as one, in fellowship, in Communion (thus the name of this Sacrament)… “Now you are the body of Christ,” Paul will say a little later in this Epistle, “and individually members of it” (1 Cor. 12:27; ESV).  It is not that you lose your individuality.  But you are now, individually, members of the body, united as one.

            And see… The sacramental presence of Christ’s body and blood under bread and wine creates the mystical body of Christ that is the Church.  Mere bread and wine cannot do this.  Nor can our faith (this is not a miracle we can do for ourselves).  It is the Lord who does it, and He does it here and now, in the flesh.

            The cup of blessing, which we bless… That is, the consecrated cup, that over which the Lord has spoken in His Words of Institution: “This is my blood of the covenant” (Mark 14:24)… It is a koinonia, a participation in, a reception of the very blood of Christ, shed on the cross, for the forgiveness of your sins.  The bread, which we break… That is, the consecrated bread, that over which the Lord has spoken His performative and creating Word: “this is my body” (v. 22)… It is a koinonia, a participation in, a reception of the very body of Christ, given into death on the cross, that you may have eternal life.

            And we all receive from the one loaf, the one cup.  There is one bread.  It is the body of the Lord Jesus.  When we partake in the one bread of Jesus’ body, we ourselves are united as one.  And there is one chalice.  When we drink of the one cup, it is a covenant of blood with our Lord, and with one another.  And so, the very life of our congregation… the very life of the holy Christian Church (the Church catholic… all believers, of all times and places)…  that life flows from the altar.  It flows from Christ.

            This sheds light, by the way, on another passage where Paul speaks of the body of Christ in the Sacrament, namely, 1 Corinthians 11:29: “For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment on himself.”  What is the meaning of the word “body,” in this case?  Is it the body of Christ sacramentally present under the bread?  Or is it the mystical body of Christ, which is to say the Church?

            Yes.  It is first the sacramental presence of Christ’s body under the bread.  That is demanded by the context of this verse, following, as it does, upon the heels of Paul’s own recitation of the Words of Institution, wherein Christ has just said of the bread, “This is my body” (v. 24).  And, as we are reminded in our text this evening, such eating is a koinonia in the body of Christ, and that must be the sacramental presence of His body, because he also says, in the same place, that drinking of the cup is a koinonia in Jesus’ blood, and the Church is never spoken of as “the mystical blood of Christ.”  Therefore, He is not using the word “body” in this passage to speak of the mystical body of Christ.

            But this sacramental presence of Christ is what gives birth to the mystical body of Christ, what brings it about.  So, when one eats and drinks without discerning (believing, confessing) the sacramental body of Christ under bread and wine, he also fails to discern the mystical body of Christ, the Church, in communion around the sacramental body of her Lord.     

            In any case, think what this means.  Imagine, if you will, that this very night, quite suddenly, and apart from any open door, or window ajar, our Lord Jesus Christ, turns up right here, in the very center of things.  Visible.  Audible.  Tangible.  Very much alive, but showing us the mortal, crucifixion wounds.  Speaking with us.  Announcing His peace.  Breathing on us (“Receive the Holy Spirit” [John 20:22]).  …. Eating with us! …

            And we can tell Him anything, all that is on our minds and hearts.  Our sorrows, our fears… our sins.  The sad divisions within Christendom that prevent us from communing together.  The sad divisions that may afflict us in our own congregation, or in our families, or even in our own hearts.  Our guilt.  Our shame.  Our failures.  Our griefs.  Our broken bodies.  Our broken souls.  Others for whom we are concerned, those we love, those who bear their own afflictions, or who walk in danger, and especially those who, perhaps, are not in Christ.

            And here He is, Christ our Lord, front and center, and we come to Him, and kneel before Him, and lay all of this out for Him, together as His Church, and one by one as members of His body.  And He reaches out to each one of us and touches the brokenness, wherever death infects us, wherever sin has held sway.  He touches us with the same body that healed the sick and cast out demons, cleansed lepers and raised the dead.  The same body that gave sight to the blind and hearing to the deaf, that set the lame on their own two feet.  With a touch that goes right to the heart of us, to the very core of our being.  Cleansing.  Enlivening.  Healing.  Making whole.  Uniting us with Himself, and so, with the Father, and the Spirit.  Uniting us with one another, as one body… His body… to be His hands and feet in the world.  Imagine it.  Imagine it.

            But, of course, you know… you don’t have to imagine it.  Because it is, as a matter of fact, the case tonight.  And every time we gather.  “This is my body… This is my blood.”  Eat it.  Drink it.  It is a koinonia in God’s own flesh.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Palm Sunday/ Sunday of the Passion

Palm Sunday/Sunday of the Passion

March 24, 2024

Text: John 12:12-19; Mark 14 & 15

            The Passion of our Lord essentially preaches itself.  But as we meditate upon this heaping helping of Gospel, perhaps it would be edifying to ask: Where do you see yourself in each of these Passion scenes?  With which person, or persons, do you identify? 

            Beginning already with the scene on Palm Sunday.  Where are you in that pilgrim throng?  Are you strewing your palm branches and spreading your cloak, a royal carpet to welcome your victorious King?  Are you singing Hosannas (“Save us now, O Lord”) with the frolicsome children?  Or befuddled with the disciples, who do not understand?  Or, perhaps, you are filled with righteous consternation over the crowd’s raucous praise for this self-styled Rabbi from Galilee. 

            Or, maybe, you are Lazarus, just happy to be alive.

            As Chief Priests plot with stealthy scribes to arrest Him and kill Him, are you Simon the Leper, who sups with Him in your house, undoubtedly cleansed by His touch and His Word?  Or are you the woman with the alabaster flask, anointing His sacred and soon-to-be wounded head, in love, doing what you can to prepare Him for burial?  Indeed, to this very day, and in this very place, “wherever the gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done” is “told in memory of her” (Mark 14:9; ESV).

            Or, maybe, you are among those grumbling at the expense.  Why spend so lavishly, when you can worship the Lord for free?  After all, there are poor people who require our care!  Maybe, your Judas-ized heart thinks you can serve both God and Mammon.  But, look where that will lead you, unless you repent.

            Then, you find yourself in the Upper Room.  It is the first day of Unleavened Bread, when they sacrifice the Passover Lamb.  Are you, perhaps, the servant carrying the water jar, humbly undertaking the tasks no one else will do?  Or the Master who subsidizes the venue for the Feast?  Do you sit with the disciples in disbelief, that by your sins you could ever betray the Lord with whom you dip your bread in sop?  “Is it I, Lord?  Could it be?” 

            Or, maybe, you protest with Peter: “Even though they all fall away, I will not” (v. 29).  We shall see.  We shall see.  In any case, the Lord feeds you, graciously, by His own hand.  “My body.  My blood.  Given and shed for you, for the forgiveness of sins.”

            What happens in the Garden when your Jesus bids you, “Watch!”?  Can you will yourself to pray with your distressed and troubled Savior?  Or are your eyelids too heavy?  Have you lulled yourself to sleep?  Ah, the spirit is so willing, but the flesh is oh, so weak.  Or perhaps you suffer with Jesus, crying out to your Father in heaven, “Remove from me this cup!  Yet Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

            Then, here comes the mob, with swords and clubs, led by the betrayer, who has given them a sign: “The one I will kiss is the man. Seize him and lead him away under guard” (v. 44).  Not only is Christ’s body pierced for our salvation… His heart is broken by the betrayal of a friend.  Perhaps you’ve been there, yourself betrayed.  He takes your sorrow into Himself. 

            Or, maybe, you, yourself, have kissed the Son while plotting treachery in your own heart.  How often my own lips have pressed His sacred flesh, only to turn and give myself over to evil.  “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” 

            How often have you fled when the going gets tough?  Abandoned Jesus for fear of reprisal?  Like the young man, like old Adam himself, naked in a garden, running from God. 

            Well, we know what happens next.  Bound as the sacrificial Lamb, He is led (appropriately) before the High Priest, the one responsible for the sacrifice.  Peter follows, but at a distance, not wanting to get too close.  Timid, lest he actually have to suffer with his Lord.  And, boasting aside, Jesus’ prophecy rings true.  In the moment of decision, when everything is on the line, does Peter boldly confess His faith?  Invoking curses, he swears to God: “I do not know this man” (v. 71).  Now, is that you?  Has it ever been?  When false witnesses arise to testify against you?  When they accuse you of all manner of evil, falsely (“You hater!  You bigot!”)?  When rejection, or persecution, or pain are the wages of your devotion?  Therefore, send not to know for whom the rooster crows.  It crows for thee (with apologies to John Donne).  It’s enough to make you break down and weep.

            Listen to the Lord, though, as He speaks the truth, and seals His fate.  “Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed?” (v. 61).  “I am, and you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power, and coming with the clouds of heaven” (v. 62).  So, the High Priest tears his robes.  And they all condemn Him as deserving of death.  Then, the spitting and the striking, the mockery and the blows. 

            From this point on, it all happens so fast… for us, though, not for Jesus, the forces of hell on His back.  There is the trial before Pilate.  The bloodthirsty crowds.  The purple cloak and thorny crown as the battalion beats and berates Him.  And then, the dragging of the beams along the Golgotha Road.  Are you with Simon, carrying His cross?  Or are you with the soldiers who pierce His flesh, who lift Him up, and gamble for His clothes?  Are you among the thieves, crucified with Him?  Or with the wagging heads, crying “Aha!  Aha!” 

            Or, maybe, you are Barabbas, surprised to be alive and free.  Barabbas means, “son of the father.”  The Father’s Son dies, that you may live as sons of God.

            What about when you confess the Creed?  Suffered under Pontius Pilate.  Crucified, dead and buried.  Are you the centurion, upon seeing these things?  “Truly this man was the Son of God!” (15:39).  Are you among the women looking on from a distance?  Those who loved Him and cared for Him in His every bodily need?

            Or, maybe, you are Joseph, looking for the Kingdom of God… (Is there ever an unfaithful Joseph in the Bible?)… who, whatever else you may, or may not, know, you know the Kingdom is found in this precious body.  Therefore, you take courage, and, in the sight of all, embrace the Crucified.  You care for His body, the Supper, the Church, the Communion in His body and blood.  Perhaps you’ve buried a loved one recently, hoping in, believing, trusting that that Communion means you will see the beloved again… that the beloved joins you here, in the Kingdom of God, with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven. 

            Beloved, think on these things as you hear, and read, and meditate upon our Lord’s Passion throughout this week.  Where do you see yourself in the story?  With whom do you identify?  Who are you in the Passion?  At some point, we should, each of us, undoubtedly see ourselves in every one of those who play a part.

            But do not fail to recognize this, and hold it forever in your heart and soul.  Do you know where God sees you in the Passion of our Lord?  He sees you in Jesus Christ, His Son.  Your sin atoned.  Your debt paid in full.  Forgiven.  Cleansed.  Righteous.  Free.  God’s own redeemed and beloved child.  Therefore, see yourself in Him on the cross, clothed with Christ, tucked into His wounds.  After all, you are baptized into Christ.  And “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?” (Rom. 6:3).  And, think what that means for us, very soon.  If we have been united with Him in a death like His, well…  The Third Day is coming.  To be in Christ, then, immersed in His death and resurrection, makes a better-than-Barabbas, better-than-Lazarus, of us all.  Not only do we not die eternally in hell.  We live eternally, risen with the risen Jesus.  So, whatever else we may do this day, let us wave our palms, sing with the children, and rejoice with the holy angels: Hosanna to the Son of David!  Hosanna to our coming King!  Blessed is He who comes in the Name of the LORD!  Hosanna in the Highest.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.           

Lenten Midweek V

Letters from Our Lord: To the Churches in Philadelphia and Laodicea

Lenten Midweek V

March 20, 2024

Text: Rev. 3:7-22

            This evening, an admonition to see the open door, and seize the opportunity; and a call to repent of the sin of apathy, to hear Jesus as He knocks upon the doors of our hearts, and get up, and open to Him, that He may flood our hearts and homes, and our very lives, with His gifts. 

            He levels no criticism toward the Christians in Philadelphia.  He knows their works, and that, despite their little power, they have faithfully kept His Word and refused to deny His Name.  They have patiently endured hostility, particularly on the part of unbelieving Jews (again the “Synagogue of Satan”).  And now, the door is opened wide.  Jesus has opened it, He who is holy and true, the One who holds the key of David.  He opens, and no one can shut.  He shuts, and no one can open.  It reminds us of the Office of the Keys.  “I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, Jesus says to the Apostles, “and whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven,” that is, forgiveness is withheld from the unrepentant as long as they do not repent, “and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven,” that is, the sins of the repentant are forgiven (Matt. 16:19; ESV).  And the called and ordained ministers of Christ… the angels of the Churches… are sent out for this very purpose, to deal thusly with sinners by His divine command, which dealing is just as valid and certain, even in heaven, as if Christ, our dear Lord, dealt with us Himself.

            But in this case, what is the open door?  It is another function of the Office of the Keys, and it belongs to the whole Church, and every member has his or her part, and that is the mission of the Church, the proclamation of Christ crucified and risen for sinners, and the full and free forgiveness of sins and eternal life to all who believe in His Name.  The pastor preaches, absolves, and administers the holy Sacraments; and the believers receive the gifts, and confess Christ, and live lives of love and faithfulness and service toward their neighbors, believing and unbelieving alike.  Even when it brings upon them hostility and rejection and suffering. 

            The door is open now, Jesus says.  Don’t miss it!  The Lord is coming soon, and in the meantime, there is persecution ahead, so take advantage of the open door before it closes.  “I know you are of little power,” says the Lord.  “I know you are insignificant in the eyes of the world, mostly ignored and despised by those who seem to be something.  And, you don’t have much in terms of worldly wealth.”  He could almost be speaking to us, couldn’t He?  Indeed, He is.  “I know you are a little flock.  I know you have no home to call your own.  I know that you are the best kept secret in town, that the big churches (perhaps, even, of your own fellowship) hardly acknowledge you as a contributor to the Kingdom, and most of them are unaware you even exist.   But none of that matters.  None of it is power in the Kingdom of God.  The Word is power, because the Spirit is power, and you have My Word and Spirit in abundance.  So get busy.  Don’t let your perceived ‘little power’ hinder the mission.  Proclaim!  Love.  Serve.  Suffer.  Faithfully.  In My Name.  I will not forsake you.  Keep your eyes ahead.  Focus them on Me.  Yours is not to know what I will do with your witness, nor to determine the direction you will go.  You, just follow Me.”

            And, what is the Promise?  Jesus will make you… even you, this little congregation… a pillar in the Temple of God.  A pillar… Unshakeable (that is a pretty important Promise to the Christians in Philadelphia, who’s city was prone to violent earthquakes).  You will have the Name of God, and the Name of the City of God (the New Jerusalem… the Church!), and Jesus’ own new Name written on you.  And you do, in Holy Baptism.  Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Christian.  You belong to God, and to the very Bride of Christ, the Church.

            It is good to be “of little power,” in this way, the way of the Philadelphians.  Because many Churches, and the Christians who inhabit them, who are rich and prosperous in the goods of this world, suffer from another phenomenon: Apathy.  They just don’t care that the door is open.  They simply aren’t interested whether others hear and believe the Gospel, and so live.  In fact, they themselves, have come to take the Gospel gifts for granted.  They even despise them, consider it a hum-drum duty to receive them, look for any old excuse to avoid them.  Because they are comfortable.  And the reason for their comfort is all the luxury money can buy.  So, they are neither cold, nor hot. 

            A cool glass of water, or an ice-cold beer… There is nothing better on a hot summer day.  And a hot cup of coffee in the early hours of the morning, that’s just what I need to start the day off right.  But a brimming mug of lukewarm and stale swill refreshes nobody.  What would Jesus do?  He’d spit it out of His mouth. 

            The Laodiceans were just such lukewarm Christians.  There is no commendation for them.  Only a call to repentance.  They’ve become complacent.  The gangrene of apathy has set in.  They are swimming in gold.  The wealthiest city in Phrygia.  Known for sheep and fine black wool and woven garments, and also a famous medical school, situated at the juncture of two important trade routes.  Life was good.  The Laodicean Christians were rather like the man in our Holy Gospel (Luke 12:13-21).  Store up the wealth and take life easy.  Why worry about others?  Let them worry for themselves.  Go to Church, sure.  That is the Sunday obligation.  But otherwise, relax.  Eat, drink, be merry.  It’s the good life.

            You fool.  These riches are fleeting.  They only last for this life, and maybe not even that long.  When you die, then whose riches shall these be?  What happens if Jesus spits you out of His mouth (not only death, but eternal death)?  See, despite your monetary wealth, you are actually wretched, pitiable, poor, blind.  And, like Adam in the Garden you are naked, and should be ashamed.  We must admit, this apathy is our danger, too.  For we are wealthy and comfortable.  Our Church may be small, but our lives are not.  We have it pretty good.  It is easy to trust in wealth, kick back and relax, with nary a care for those who are poor, and especially for those who don’t know Jesus. 

            Out of His great love for us, the Lord calls us to repent.  What ought the Laodicean Christians do?  What should we do?  Jesus says, “buy from me gold refined by fire, so that you may be rich, and white garments so that you may clothe yourself and the shame of your nakedness may not be seen, and salve to anoint your eyes, so that you may see” (Rev. 3:18).  “Your gold will never be enough.  You need My gold if you are to possess the true riches.  And in My economy, the true riches are always free.  They are the very Gospel gifts you have come to despise.  And your black wool garments?  They are the garments of sin and death.  Cast them off.  Repent.  Be baptized.  And be clothed with the splendid white garments of My righteousness.  This alone will cover your nakedness and shame.  And for your blind eyes… the ointments of your medical doctors will never do.  Come to Me and be anointed with My salve, again, My Gospel, My death and resurrection for your sins, My Holy Spirit.  He will open your eyes.  He will enlighten you.  And you will have life.” 

            And then you can be zealous!  Zealous for God’s Kingdom!  Zealous for the Gospel gifts!  Zealous for mission, for Gospel proclamation!  And zealous to provide for your neighbor in need!  The Lord has opened wide the door.  Be now zealous to walk through.  Have you closed it in self-centered apathy?  Jesus stands at the door and knocks.  This is not decision theology, by the way.  He is not knocking at the doors of unbelieving hearts, hoping they will make a decision to let Him in.  He is knocking at the door of your heart, whom He has already made His own by Baptism and faith.  He is preaching.  Now, He wants you to hear His voice.  And what should every Christian do when he hears the voice of Jesus?  Run to the door and fling it open with joy!  And what will happen?  The Lord will come in and eat with you.  A Holy Meal.  The presence of the Savior.  And there is more yet (there is always more with the Lord, more riches)…  Jesus will grant you to sit with Him, and with His Father, on the royal throne… to rule with Him.  And, as He said to the Philadelphians, those who once abused you will come and bow before your feet, and learn that the Lord has loved you (v. 9).  Some in fear and dread, because they persecuted God’s Christians and rejected Christ until the end.  But some in love and adoration, because you took advantage of the open door, and proclaimed the Gospel to them.  You confessed Christ to them.  You were not apathetic.  You loved them with the love of our loving Lord.  Such love is never of little power.  It is the power that conquers the world.

            And so, here endeth the letters.  It is usually in bad taste, never mind illegal, to open mail addressed to others.  But the Lord has caused these letters to be written here for our eyes in Holy Scripture, that we may have ears, and so hear what the Spirit says to the Churches.  Jesus writes them for us.  He knows us.  He knows our situation, and whatever we may suffer.  He is present with us, walking among the lampstands, and He holds the stars, the angels, the pastors of the Churches in His pierced hand.  He warns us against the things that hurt us: sexual immorality, idolatry, security in worldly wealth, apathy.  And He calls us back to Himself and the love we had at first.  Beloved, the time is short.  There is suffering to be borne.  But only for a little while.  Darkness descends over the cross on Good Friday.  But in the dawning light of Easter, we will see.  Christ is risen.  He lives and reigns.  Repent, and trust in His Promise, and He will give you the crown of life.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.                                        

             

Fifth Sunday in Lent

 

Fifth Sunday in Lent (B)

March 17, 2024

Text: Mark 10:32-45

            What is it to be great in the Kingdom of God?  James and John want it, thus their request.  The rest of the Twelve want it, thus their indignation.  And we want it.  Our fantasies give us away.  Star athlete.  Rock and roll icon.  Employee of the Year.  World’s Greatest Husband!  World’s Greatest Dad!  (I’ve seen the coffee mugs, though, for some reason I’ve never received one.)  The Twelve are forever arguing amongst themselves about who is the greatest.  I suppose we do that here in the Church, too, in various and sundry ways.  Any petty argument among members is essentially that (think about it, “You did something bad, and that makes you badder than I am, which makes me greater than you are, which is I why I, the greater, can stand in indignant judgment over you, the lesser”…  If we actually thought these things out, we’d see how ridiculous we all are).  But, what is it to be great?

            What makes Jesus great?  Sure, He’s God, and that gives Him the advantage.  But in terms of what He does, what makes Him great… in fact, the Greatest?  It isn’t what the disciples expect, and the only reason you may expect it is because you’ve been catechized.  It isn’t His glorious position, like the positions James and John are requesting.  It is His humiliation.  It is His servanthood.  It is precisely in His being delivered over to those who condemn Him, mock Him, spit on Him, and kill Him.  “For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45; ESV).

            The cross.  Jesus is great on the cross.  It is His lifting up.  It is His glorification.  It is even where an unwitting Pilate will confess, by official Roman proclamation: “The King of the Jews” (15:26).  This is His great service.  Not only do we misunderstand what it means to be great, we misunderstand what it means to be a servant.  We hear the word “servant,” and think it means doing nice things for people.  Now, that is true, and Christians especially should do nice things for other people.  But our vision is so small!  What does it mean to be a servant, as Christ is a Servant?  It means to put yourself last, and everyone else first.  It means to give yourself for the sake of the other… to empty yourself for the sake of the other… sacrifice yourself to death for the sake of the other.  And, if that’s not enough, it means to do it for those who don’t deserve it… who aren’t even thankful for it… who reject it, reject you… for the very ones who kill you.  That, THAT is servanthood… THAT is greatness.

            Contrast that with the world’s definition of greatness, and that is to say, our own fallen definition of greatness.  We have a contest for greatness going on right now that will culminate in… who knows what… in November.  Pray for our nation, guys.  Don’t just politic for it.  Pray for it.  You know that those who are thought to be rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them (10:42). (I love that turn of phrase, by the way… thought to be rulers, considered rulers.  It’s not that they aren’t legitimate authorities, it’s that they aren’t the Ultimate Authority, whatever they may think!)  And their great ones… the ones who seem to be somebody among the people… they exercise authority over them.  What is it to be great?  To be powerful!  Influential!  Admired, or perhaps even more, feared!  It is to lord it over everybody else.

            It shall not be so among you (v. 43).  You, as in the Twelve.  You, as in you… you, dear Christian.  No, if you want to be great, you do what Christ does.  Whoever would be great among you must be your servant.  Whoever would be first among you must be slave of all (v. 44).  Take up your cross, deny yourself, and sacrifice yourself for everyone else here.  Now, that takes different forms.  Understand, of course, that you may actually be called upon to die for your Lord and for your fellow Christians.  James and John were promised, in any case, the baptism and cup of suffering their Lord Jesus had to endure.  But, at the very least, it means get over yourself.  Don’t sit around waiting for others to sacrifice themselves for you.  You, sacrifice yourself for them.  Who needs help?  Help them.  What needs to be done here at Church?  Do it.  How about at home?  Get busy.  In your neighborhood?  There you are.  Who, here, needs your forgiveness?  Forgive them.  Who, here, needs your patience and longsuffering?  Think just a minute about Jesus’ patience and longsuffering with you, and you’ll know what to do.  Who around here deserves a little honor?  “Well, it’s about time someone recognized what a gift I am to this place!”  No, no, James and John.  No, beloved Twelve Apostles.  No, dear Christian.  Crucify that inclination.  Repent of that.  You know who Paul says we ought to treat with the greater honor?  The weaker members.  The less honorable members.  The unpresentable parts.  Read what he has to say sometime in 1 Corinthians 12 (vv. 22-23).  Who should we treat with the greater honor?  Jesus would undoubtedly direct our attention to a child. 

            Jesus is at His greatest when He is weakest.  And we are at our greatest when His weakness is our strength.  Again, the cross. 

            By the way, who was positioned at Jesus’ right hand and left when He came into His Kingdom?  You know it.  Two thieves.  And that’s just right, isn’t it?  After all, it is written, “he was numbered with the transgressors” (Luke 22:37; Cf. Is. 53:12).  Now, one of them reviled Jesus, and died the death he deserved.  But the other… just as wicked, incidentally, as the first… beheld in the crucified Jesus his Redeemer, his King!  So, he prayed: “Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom” (Luke 23:42).  And so, he died in Jesus, and in His Promise, the Lord’s weakness as his strength, and so, that very day, he found himself with Jesus in Paradise.  The thief confessed himself nothing but a justly condemned transgressor.  And now he is great.

            What is this, but a picture of the Judgment?  Left and right, sheep and goats.  There is the crucified Lord, reigning on His throne.  Some die the eternal death they deserve, mocking and reviling Him.  Others have already died with Him and in Him… Baptism, faith… and so He remembers them in His Kingdom.  They do not die the death they deserve.  They live with Him.  And in this sense, and in spite of themselves, maybe James and John weren’t that far off the mark after all.  We are all appointed to sit, some on His right, and others on His left, in His Kingdom, on that Day.  We are all the thieves and sinners for whom He dies.  And we are all to appear before His Judgment throne, either to receive His life, or to die our death. 

            But because in His greatness, King Jesus died our death, we don’t have to die.  Nobody… nobody has to die.  We heard it last week.  God so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him, should not perish, but have everlasting life (John 3:16).  The ones who will die, are those who will not have His life.  Have Him… receive His service, His life given in ransom, and He will be your life.  Today.  And on the Day of Judgment.  And for all eternity. 

            And don’t forget the resurrection!  It is a marvel how the disciples seem to miss it every time our Lord tells them of His coming Passion.  He bluntly tells them of His suffering and death, but always with the Promise that after three days He will rise.  And it’s like they don’t even hear that last bit.  But then, I suppose, that’s how we are.  When a cross is laid upon us, that’s all we tend to see.  Our ears are prone to go deaf to the Promise in those moments.  But let it not be so.  Holy Spirit, give us ears to hear!  The cross and death have a definite end.  Resurrection, though… that is forever. 

            And that is why you can lay down your life as a servant.  And that is why Jesus laid down His.  Because the Day is coming.  It has already come for Jesus.  His grave is empty.  And soon ours shall be.  What is it to be great?  Jesus is the Great One.  He became nothing, the lowest, least, and servant of all.  All the way down to death and hell.  Not for Himself, but for the other, for us.  And now, God has raised Him, and exalted Him to His own right hand, and given Him the Name that is above every Name (Phil. 2).  To be great, then, is to receive His sacrifice, and then follow His pattern.  To become nothing, and make your neighbor everything.  To lose your life in Christ, and so find it in Him.  And then, all at once, He will raise you.  Your grave will be empty.  You will live.  Any greatness short of that is dust in the wind.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.