Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost

Video of Service

Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost

November 9, 2025

Text: Luke 20:27-40

            Every pastor knows that, when someone asks him a question, there is often another question behind the surface question.  Not always, but often.  Sometimes the person doesn’t quite know what his question is, so he starts with what he knows.  That is fine and good.  Sometimes he’s afraid to ask the pastor the question on his heart and mind, so he starts with something easier, trying to work up to it.  To be honest, it would be a whole lot easier, if you’d just tell me you have a question you’re afraid to ask, and then… well, I promise, I’ve been in your shoes, so I’ll do my best to patiently and lovingly help you get to that question. 

            But then there are the Sadducees in our text.  For them, the surface question is entirely disingenuous.  They're not really asking about marriage in the Resurrection.  They are trying to trap Jesus.  They think they can outsmart Him by quoting the Bible (reminds me of the tactic somebody else tried to use with Jesus, in the wilderness, a couple years before).  They think they can show Him for a fool, and thus dismiss the rest of whatever they don’t like in His teaching.  Every pastor knows about this kind of question, too.  It happens.  But the Sadducees are not to be emulated in this.  Don’t ask questions with malevolent agendas, beloved.  Don’t do it.  If the thought even enters your mind, or your subconscious (and you become aware of it), repent of it, and confront your issues openly, honestly, and humbly.

            The Sadducees were those who deny the Resurrection, and, by their question, they were trying to prove the absurdity of that doctrine (held by Jesus, AND by their religious and political rivals, the Pharisees).  Incidentally, the Sadducees also denied the existence of angels, and most of the Hebrew Bible.  They only accepted the five books of Moses (Genesis through Deuteronomy).  And, of course, they interpreted those books in such a way as to deny the clear teaching in them on angels and the Resurrection.  This is to say, the Sadducees were the theological liberals of their day.  Much like American mainline Protestants.  Take what you want from the Scriptures, reject what you don’t like.  Big on liturgy, the Temple rituals.  The Chief Priests were Sadducees.  Affluent.  Elite.  Happy to look down their noses at the rest of us.  Matthew gives us Jesus’ own evaluation of the Sadducees in his telling of this encounter: “You are wrong, because you know neither the Scriptures nor the power of God” (Matt. 22:29; ESV).  That is the summary of Sadducee-ism and liberal mainline Christianity in one fell swoop.

            Jesus does answer their surface question, though, and in this, we learn precious truth about marriage from the lips of its Inventor.  And He also answers the question behind the question, and in that, we learn about the nature of eternal life and the New Creation.  The Sadducees come up with this outlandish scenario where a woman marries seven brothers in succession, each one dying without conceiving a child.  “In the resurrection, therefore, whose wife will the woman be?” (Luke 20:33).  They are referring to the practice of levirate marriage.  You can read about this in Deuteronomy 25.  This is the one scenario where God commands a man to marry more than one wife.  In every other case of bigamy, or polygamy, in the Scriptures, God tolerated it, but never commanded it.  That is an important distinction, because God’s design for marriage is one man and one woman, as we know from His institution of marriage in the Garden of Eden.  But in levirate marriage, the concern is twofold: First, to provide for the widow, who otherwise would be reduced to begging.  And second, to propagate the line of the man who has died, thus preserving his name and his inheritance in Israel.  Remember, the Promised Land is not just a vast area for the Israelites to occupy as a nation.  Every man gets his portion, his plot, his property.  And that property is passed down from generation to generation.  You keep it in the family, because it is bound up with the man’s name.  So, as a good and God-fearing Israelite, if your brother dies and leaves no son, you marry his wife and give her a son in your brother’s name.  And that first son is considered his, not yours.  That son carries on your brother’s name and line.  And this is serious business.  If you don’t want to do this for your brother’s widow, she takes you before the elders of the people, pulls off your sandal, spits in your face, and says, “So shall it be done to the man who does not build up his brother’s house” (Deut. 25:9).  And, henceforth, the name of your house shall be, “The house of him who had his sandal pulled off” (v. 10).  Now, it’s funny to us.  I know I’ve been called a lot worse.  Except, in this context, this title seals your reputation as both heartless toward the widow of your brother, and worse yet, one who denies to her, and to your brother, the very Promise of God.  The one who has his sandal pulled off is a denier of God’s Promise! 

            By the way, notice what God holds up as precious and holy in this system: The Land (property), Inheritance, Marriage, and Procreation.  So, while you are not an ancient Israelite, living under the Mosaic civil law, you, nonetheless, should regard these things as precious and holy.  You should promote them, and defend them.  But also understand, they all point toward something even greater, and this is what the Sadducees in our Holy Gospel miss. 

            All four of those precious and holy gifts (Property, Inheritance, Marriage, and Procreation) are gifts for this earthly life.  That doesn’t detract from their value in any way.  Actually, it confirms for us Christians that we are not to live with our head in the clouds, but fully and faithfully, here and now, in this earthly life, receiving and stewarding the earthly gifts God gives us.  But always looking forward, toward the Resurrection to come.  So, maybe you own some property now.  Great.  Enjoy it.  Give thanks for it.  Care for it.  You are a steward of it.  It really belongs to God.  Let it lift your eyes, though, to the New Creation to come, where there is a place for you… a portion, a plot… in the new heavens and earth, in the Resurrection.  Maybe you’re anticipating, or have received, an inheritance.  (You have inherited much from your parents and ancestors, regardless of money or property.  God open your eyes to that, and give you to be grateful for it.)  Wonderful!  Again, enjoy it, give thanks for it, and steward it as something God has entrusted to you.  But let it lift your eyes to the extraordinary inheritance you receive as a son or daughter of God in Christ (that is what God makes you in Holy Baptism).  Of which Paul says that inheritance is all things… “all things are yours… and you are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s” (1 Cor. 3:21-22).  That’s pretty good.  Maybe you are married.  Maybe God has given you a spouse.  Praise God.  You are enjoying the first thing God instituted for man in this creation, and He instituted it even before the fall into sin.  Realize just how precious this is.  Not everyone in this building has been given this gift.  If you have, you are blessed.  But whether you, personally, have received it or not, let it lift your eyes to something unimaginably greater: The marriage of the Lamb, Christ Jesus, to His Bride, the Holy Church.  We get a foretaste of the nuptial Feast right here in the Supper.  Same with children.  Maybe God has given you children.  What a joy.  What a responsibility.  Raise them in the Kingdom.  Bring them to Church.  Bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.  They are God’s children, with you, and He’s entrusted them to your care.  But whether you, personally, have received the gift of children or not, let the little ones lift your eyes to the unimaginably greater reality that God is your Father, who loves you, because, in Christ, you are His dear, blood-bought child. 

            See, these gifts all give way to something greater in the Resurrection.  In the Resurrection, Jesus says, they neither marry, nor are given in marriage… If this idea bothers you, that you won’t be married to your spouse, at least in terms of relating in the same way… well, you’re not alone.  It bothers me, too.  But that is because our fallen minds are so bound to this world.  It is true, your marriage, as precious as it is, is for this life.  This is why, when a spouse dies, the widow or widower is free to marry another spouse.  But there is something you need to understand about heaven and the Resurrection: In eternal life, you are never robbed of any good you’ve enjoyed in this life.  Whatever is good this side of the veil, is still present in some way on the other, but it’s unimaginably greater.  So, will you know your spouse in heaven, and in the Resurrection?  Of course you will!  Why wouldn’t you?  (Speaking of the Resurrection, I plan to have some words on that day, with some pastors who have taught some unhelpful things, like we won’t know each other in heaven.  Come on!)  And, will you remember your life together here, and all the wonderful things you shared?  Of course.  Of course.  But see, your relationship with every single person you know and love here, including and especially your spouse, will be even deeper and more profoundly good than anything you’ve ever experienced in your earthly life. 

            And then, here is the real gift: Those considered worthy to attain to that age, and to the Resurrection of the dead, are considered worthy on account of Christ Jesus, because all their sins are forgiven… all your sins are forgiven… on account of His death for you on the cross.  And all His righteousness is given to you as a gift, received by faith, apart from any works of your own.  And so, you live with Him, in His life.  Now, by faith, doing works of love for your neighbor.  Then, as one bodily risen from the dead… just as Christ is risen.  And then, you will be equal to the angels (take that, Sadducees… there are angels, and they are glorious beings, reflecting the very glory of God, who serve God and man, and join us in our worship).  We should note, here, you don’t become an angel when you die… All the angels were created in the beginning.  But you are made like the angels.  And what does that mean?  Given access to God’s heavenly throne.  Made into exalted and glorious beings, like them.  In fact, you’ll be raised above them.  Because Jesus says you are sons of God, sons of the Resurrection.  Sons.  Even if you are daughters.  Because you get the inheritance.  With Jesus, God’s only-begotten Son.  The Kingdom.  Heaven.  New Creation.  And, Resurrection.  Life.  How could it be otherwise?  For God is not the God of the dead.  That would be absurd.  He is the God of the living.

            The Sadducees asked a good question in spite of themselves.  Sometimes the Lutherans do, too!  I am always glad for your questions.  Don’t be afraid to ask them.  God grant me always to give you Jesus and His Word as the answer.  In any case, let us always trust God’s Promise, and never deny it.  Keep your sandals on, beloved.  Christ is coming.  He will raise you from the dead, bodily.  And with Abrham, Isaac, Jacob, and all the blessed (who live, even now!), you have a place and a portion.  God is your God.  You are His child.  His Kingdom is your inheritance, your home.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.   

All Saints' Day (Observed)

Video of Service

All Saints’ Day (Observed)

November 2, 2025

Text: Rev. 7:9-17; 1 John 3:1-3

            I have always been captivated by this line in the hymn, “For All the Saints” (LSB 677:5): “Steals on the ear the distant triumph song.”  Stop and think about that a minute.  First of all, that means there is real singing, by real people, in a real place called heaven, that can really be heard.  It is a vivid assertion of concrete reality in the face of our all-too-often dreamlike, fairytale-ish conception of what happens to believers when they die. 

            And who are the real people who are singing?  Not just nameless, faceless masses of Christians.  But those very people we just commemorated.  Ellie.  Lib.  Don.  Even little Chazaya, who was not even born when she joined the heavenly choir.  They are singing.  Full throated.  Full of joy and peace and consolation for all their tears.  And they are hearing.  Sublime music beyond our imagination.  With St. Peter.  St. Paul.  Martin Luther.  His beloved Katie.  Mary and Joseph.  King David.  Adam and Eve.  And all our fathers and mothers in the faith.  And then, yes, a great multitude from every nation, tribe, people, and language, standing before the throne of God, and of the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands.

            And what are they singing?  The triumph song of the Lamb, the very Son of God, slain on the cross for the sins of the world, but standing, risen, living, victorious over sin, death, and the devil, in whom, and by whom we live.  It is the New Song the Psalms so often bid us sing (Ps. 96, 98, 149).  They are singing some version of “This is the Feast!”  Read about that, not only in our First Reading (Rev. 7:9-17), but also in Revelation 5 and 19.  “This is the feast of victory for our God.  Alleluia” (LSB 155).    

            But then, I think this is what really captures my imagination.  We can almost hear it.  We can’t, yet.  It’s so distant.  But we can.  We even join in, in some sense, albeit hidden under great weakness, haltingly, not always on time, often out of tune.  We don’t hear it by the bodily eardrum.  (Not yet, anyway.  That is still awaiting resurrection.)  But we hear it by faith.  And if you listen really hard, and imagine… not something imaginary, but something you know to be quite real and true, because God has revealed it in His Word… there are times when the people of God here on earth are really letting it rip on some glorious hymn, and you think, "Just maybe... almost... is it?...  Could it be?... Is that the angels, and the archangels, and the whole heavenly host, lauding and magnifying the Lord with us?"

            Because they are, you know.  We say that in every Divine Service, just before the Sanctus (“Holy, Holy, Holy”), the song of the Seraphim (Is. 6).  When we gather around the altar of Jesus Christ, where He is bodily present, giving Himself to us, for our forgiveness, life, and salvation, we are in the throne room with them.  Heaven has come down.  We are with the angels.  And all the saints.  That includes our loved ones who have died in Christ, but live.  That is why we sing the song of heaven.  We’re in it!  In some hidden way, we’ve stepped out of the confines of time and space.  Eternity has overtaken us.  Listen closely, beloved.  You can almost hear it.  You can almost see it.  You can almost taste it.

            Almost.  Not quite.  This is the “now/not yet,” the “already, but still waiting” paradox of our life in Christ.  “Beloved, we are God’s children now,” John writes, “and what we will be has not yet appeared” (1 John 3:2; ESV; emphasis added).  We are God’s children now, and we have eternal life now, because we are baptized into Christ.  That is a present reality.  But that life, and that status as God’s children, is hidden this side of the veil.  Paul says, “your life is hidden with Christ in God” (Col. 3:3).  That is why you look around you, and you see the mess we’ve made of this world, and you look within you, and it’s worse still.  You see your sin.  You know your guilt.  You feel your death.  And you think, “How can I possibly be God’s beloved child?  How can I possibly believe I already have eternal life?” 

            The key words… the words to which faith must cling… are “hidden with Christ in God.”  Hidden.  So of course you can see or feel this eternal life of yours.  But hidden does, necessarily, mean present.  And then, with Christ.  Think about all that was hidden from our eyes as Christ was dying on the cross, and buried in a tomb.  No mere mortal could simply see that as His glorious victory over sin, death, and hell.  No mere mortal, in that moment, anticipated the resurrection!  That Christ Jesus would emerge from the grave, alive forevermore!  And bestowing life on all of us.  So, your eternal life is that kind of life: hidden under the cross and death, but soon to emerge in your own bodily resurrection from the dead.  And finally, in God.  Safe.  Certain.  Eternally decreed.  The Day of life’s unveiling is known only to God, but it is coming.  Soon.  Then, it won’t be hidden anymore.  Death will go to hell.  God will wipe away your tears.  And you will stand face to face with all those people already on the other side.  And your eardrums will hear the song.  And you’ll join in once again, only now with rhythm and pitch, because it won’t be distant anymore.  Because, not only will you see your loved ones who have died in Christ, face to face.  You’ll see Jesus, as He is, John says in our Epistle (1 John 3:2).  And seeing Him as He is, you’ll be like Him.  Or, as Paul puts it another place, “transformed into the same image…” the Image of God, fully restored in you!... “from one degree of glory to another” (2 Cor. 3:18).  In fact, Paul says that transformation is going on in you already now.  You just can’t see it yet.

            So, in the meantime, the song.  In some way, you sense it.  Like Radar O’Reilly, who senses the choppers are coming before his ears can hear them.  Like beleaguered troops under fire who feel the rumble of reinforcements before they arrive.  Listen.  Listen.  He is coming.  And all His hosts attend Him.  Now, it appears you are cornered by death.  The fight is fierce, the warfare long.  But strain your ears.  What is that din afar off, but coming closer all the time, just over the horizon?  You know it.  It is not yet distinct.  But already, you recognize it as music emblazoned on your own unconscious memory.  The Spirit has placed it there.  It steals on the ear.  It steals on the heart.

            And what is the result?  “(H)earts are brave again, and arms are strong.”  You turn back to the battle, knowing your salvation is near.  So near, that in reality, it is already here.  Accomplished fact.  Soon you’ll see it.  And everyone will know it.  So, as the writer to the Hebrews exhorts us: “since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses”… all the saints who have gone before us… “let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God” (Heb. 12:1-2).

            Heaven is here, now, because Jesus is here, now.  Who else is in heaven, for whom you long, to see them again, and be with them again?  They are here, too.  They are with you, now.  And you are with them.  In Jesus, the Lamb, enthroned on the altar, hidden under bread and wine.  I don’t know why we take this for granted.  It’s because we aren’t listening, I suppose.  And then we lose heart.  But here He comes, anyway.  And here they come.  And we are swallowed up in the great host of heaven.  We’re carried along by those who have gone before.  They worship.  They sing.  They point us to the Lamb.  And there is nothing left for us, but to fall on our knees before Him, and join our voices to the song.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.         

 

Reformation Day (Observed)

Video of Service

Reformation Day (Observed)

October 26, 2025

500^th Anniversary of The Bondage of the Will &

Luther’s Marriage to Katharina von Bora

Text: Rev. 14:6-7; Rom. 3:19-28; John 8:31-36

            “(T)here is nothing new under the sun,” writes the Preacher in Ecclesiastes (1:9; ESV).  In our day, it is nothing short of a revolutionary act to get married, and have children, and establish a Christian home for the upbringing of those children in the fear and admonition of the LORD (cf. Eph. 6:4).  In case you’ve been living under a rock, that option has fallen out of favor among our contemporaries.  But what may surprise us, is that it was just as revolutionary in Luther’s day, especially for a clergyman to do so… in fact, a monk and a runaway nun.  Yet five hundred years ago, on the evening of June 13, 1525, Martin Luther and Katharina von Bora were married.  Actually, they were just engaged that very morning!  A little fast, perhaps, if any of you decide to follow their example.  Although, why prolong the waiting period?  Too many in our day wait years, looking for the time and the conditions to be just right before they tie the knot.  I’m telling you right now, as with so many things in life, if you’re waiting for everything to be perfect, it’ll never happen. 

            What was so revolutionary about the Luther marriage?  As you know, by Luther’s time, priestly celibacy was a requirement, as was celibacy among the so-called “religious,” which is to say, monks and nuns.  It was thought that celibacy is a higher estate than matrimony.  Some even thought (and taught!) that celibacy is meritorious before God.  Now, it is true (listen up, you Lutherans, because here goes one of your sacred cows) that celibacy among those who have the gift is praised in the Scriptures.  Jesus tells us of some who have made themselves eunuchs for the Kingdom (Matt. 19:12), which is to say, they have remained celibate.  And St. Paul grants that it is good for a Christian to remain celibate, that they may be concerned with the things of the Lord, and free from care concerning the things of their spouse (1 Cor. 7:32-35).  But both Jesus and Paul maintain that such celibacy requires a divinely given gift.  “Let the one who is able to receive this receive it,” Jesus says (Matt. 19:12).  And Paul says that, for most of us, we should take a spouse, lest Satan tempt us with a lack of self-control (1 Cor. 7:1-5).  That is one of the purposes for which God has given us holy marriage (the other two purposes being companionship and the procreation of children).  And so, marriage is good.  God designed us for it.  We should foster it.  Those who desire it should pray for it.  Those who are not given a spouse should remain chaste, and rest in this praise for celibacy from the mouth of Jesus and the pen of St. Paul, even as they pray and patiently wait upon the Lord (and let’s, all of us, pray along with them… they have a good and godly desire).  And we should all rejoice in the matrimonial example of Dr. and Mrs. Luther (500 years married!  Now, that’s a milestone!).

            Theirs is not your typical love story.  For his part, Luther said he’d never get married.  After all, there was a bounty on his head.  But this group of nuns in Nimbschen got ahold of his writings about monasticism, and with some assistance, several escaped the convent in herring barrels.  Among them was Katharina.  When they arrived in Wittenberg, despite their intoxicating scent, Luther successfully married most of them off.  But there was one holdout.  She had been engaged to one young man, but the family objected, and the engagement was called off.  Luther tried to marry off to another friend, an old duffer to whom she was not at all attracted, so that didn’t work.  After two years, she insisted, “It’s you, Herr Doktor Luther, or nobody!”  Luther, for his part, once said, reflecting on his marriage: “Had I desired to marry fourteen years ago, I would have chosen Eva von Schoenfeld, now Basilius’ wife.  At that time I did not love my Catherine at all.  I always suspected her of pride.”[1]  Okay, men, don’t say things like that.  Luther is not infallible, obviously.  But after the happy day, he came around.  Well, mostly.  He once said in a Table Talk, “I would not trade my Kate for France and Venice for three reasons: (1) Because God has given her to me and me to her.  (2) I have seen, time and again, that other women have more faults than my Kate.  (3) She is a faithful marriage partner; she is loyal and has integrity.”[2]  And, again, he said, “To have grace and peace in marriage is a gift second only to the knowledge of the Gospel. . . . Kate, you have a god-fearing man who loves you.  You are an empress; realize it and thank God for it.”[3]  That last one isn’t bad. 

            There are at least three revolutionary consequences of the Luther marriage we should highlight here.  Although, perhaps “revolutionary” is the wrong word, because these things are really a return to the biblical teaching, which is what the whole Reformation is about.  First, Luther and Katie set the pattern for the Christian parsonage: The pastor’s home.  They establish it, appropriately, in an old monastery, the Black Cloister.  There, they raise a family.  Six children.  Katie, ever the Proverbs 31 woman, runs both household and a farm, makes the very best beer (according to Luther and everybody), and opens her home to a revolving door of students and other guests who show up unexpectedly (at Dr. Luther’s invitation… she had some words for him from time to time), some of whom simply moved in (don’t get any ideas!). 

            Which leads us to the second point: The Luther home upholds the model of the Christian home as place of refuge, and center of worship.  Ever a place of hospitality.  Shelter and provision for those in need.  And always, the sound of Scripture and sacred song.  Most of us can’t, and shouldn’t, open up the doors quite so wide… or with invitations so enduring… as Dr. Luther.  But our homes, too, should be marked by hospitality, generosity, and above all, God’s holy Word.

            But even above these two points, in a world and Church that had come to devalue, and even reject, marriage as God’s good gift, Dr. and Mrs. Luther reassert Holy Matrimony as a high estate, a praiseworthy and sacred vocation, as chaste as religious celibacy, and, in point of fact, more chaste than the impure celibacy practiced by so many in the priesthood and monasteries.  Allowing clergy to be married is the cure for so much scandal and harm.  Which, of course, is not to say scandalous things don’t happen among married clergy, but it is to say, marriage is the godly remedy for fleshly desire.  And… again, in a culture where marriage was viewed as a lesser good, or even a necessary evil, look how important it is that the Luthers simply serve as a model of how good, right, and holy (not to mention, joyful and fulfilling) marriage can be.  Christian husbands and wives, you have a mission here! 

            Even more, when you who are unmarried pray that God would grant you a believing spouse and children… or, when you take a spouse, and receive children, if God so grants them, and raise them in the holy faith of Jesus… and when you pray for those who are married, and promote biblical marriage between one man and one woman, united in love and faithfulness as long as they both shall live… or, when you look back on your life with a spouse who has now died, and is with the Lord, and you rejoice and give thanks for it, and pray that others may have what you were given… or, when you pray for those who desire marriage, but, for whatever reason, God has not given them a spouse… when you have a spouse, and you bear with them patiently in all their faults and weaknesses, and cover over their sins with the blood of Jesus, and forgive them;… or, when you sit at the kitchen table and struggle with your finances, or worry about the kids, even as you pray for them… when you change diapers, and do the laundry, and wash the dishes, and fill the car with gas… when you gather around the table and rejoice in the good things God has given you, hopefully even saying something like, “Come, Lord Jesus, be our Guest”…  etc., etc. … you are doing a high and holy work for God.  Higher and holier than all the works of monks or nuns in all the monasteries.  Because that is faith in action.  That is faith bearing fruit in vocation… in the estate God Himself has established, and given for your good, and for the good of society. 

            And the Christian husband and wife, like Dr. and Mrs. Luther, become a living, fleshy preaching of the Gospel… the very icon of Christ and His Bride, the Church, as Paul describes them in Ephesians 5: The Church submitting to Christ, receiving His redemption, His love, His gifts, His Headship, His protection and providence; Christ giving Himself unto death on the cross for His Bride, His Church, you… covering over all your sins with His blood, that you appear before Him, resplendent with His own righteousness and holiness, without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; without blemish. 

            Marriage is a picture of Christ and the Church.  And it is, therefore, one of God’s highest gifts.  This Reformation Day, we rejoice with the Luthers on the occasion of their 500^th wedding anniversary.  And we thank God for the good that marriage is for the Church and for the world.

            There was one other momentous event that took place 500 years ago… I had meant to preach on the 1525 publication of one of Luther’s most important books: The Bondage of the Will.  Jesus gives us that teaching in our Holy Gospel this day, from John Chapter 8.  But we’ll have to do that another time.  For now, I’ll just paraphrase the way Luther often ended his sermons: I’ve gassed on long enough.  Amen.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.          

---

[1] What Luther says (St. Louis: Concordia, 1959) p. 887.

[2] Quoted in Treasury of Daily Prayer (St. Louis: Concordia, 2008) p. 1035.

[3] Ibid.

Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Video of Service

Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 24C)

October 19, 2025

Text: Luke 18:1-8

            “And he told them a parable to the effect that they ought always to pray and not lose heart” (Luke 18:1; ESV).

            Our Lord knows us so well, doesn’t He?  He knows exactly what we need.  He knows that we are prone to despair.  He knows that as we behold the fallenness of the world, the brokenness, the corruption of all things, including the things and people we love… and our very selves, our bodies, our hearts, our souls… even the disciple of Jesus Christ can lose heart. 

            It is worth noting that Jesus speaks this parable immediately after prophesying the distress that will come upon the earth, and particularly upon the Church, in the Last Days.  The days will be evil, He says, essentially.  That is, being a Christian, being faithful… Jesus promises it won’t be easy.  If anything, being a Christian will make life harder, because it places you in opposition to the whole world, the devil and the hordes of hell, and even your own sad sack of sinful flesh.  Fightings and fears within, without.  You know how it is.  Suffering.  It hurts.  And when you’re in it, it can seem like there is no end to it.  And when you do get a respite, you’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop.  So, yeah, it’s easy to lose heart.

            Jesus here gives us the key to bearing the precious and holy cross without losing heart.  Always pray.  Now, that advice has the potential to sound more than a little trite.  Here is what Jesus is not saying: “When the going gets tough, just say a little prayer, and everything will turn out okay!”  No.  That may be the theology of pop-American Christianity, but it isn’t the theology of Jesus.  Jesus knows things are not okay.  So this is not mindless optimism, this admonition always to pray and never to lose heart.  The theology of it is not well expressed by a t-shirt or a bumper sticker. 

            But, you know what it is?  It is an invitation to demand with the widow, “Give me justice against my adversary,” O God (v. 3).  To cry out with the psalmist, “How long, O LORD?  Will you hide yourself forever?” (Ps. 89:46).  To lament with Job, and beg for relief.  To weep with Jeremiah, wondering if God has deceived you, because it seems like everybody’s against you (Jer. 20:7).  To complain with the Prophet Habakkuk, “O LORD, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not hear?  Or cry to you, ‘Violence!’ and you will not save?” (1:2).  See, what this does, this kind of prayer… which is right here in the Bible… Sometimes we Christians think we shouldn’t say such things to God, but in these Scriptures, the Spirit places these words on our lips… what this does, is it takes the burden and responsibility for all that is wicked and wrong and broken in the world off of our shoulders, and places it on God, where it belongs.  So He can shoulder it all the way to Golgotha.

            This is pictured so well for us in our Old Testament reading (Gen. 32:22-30), isn’t it?  Jacob wrestles all night with this mysterious man.  We know it is it the LORD.  And the LORD lets Himself be vanquished by Jacob.  He gives Himself to Jacob in weakness, in humiliation.  And Jacob won’t let go.  “I will not let you go unless you bless me” (v. 26).  Well, that’s how the Christian prays.  Especially in times of distress.  When Jesus bids you always to pray and not lose heart, He is inviting you to wrestle with Him.  To cling to Him as he gives Himself in the weakness of our flesh, in suffering and cross, to be prevailed upon.  Hold Him fast, and do not let Him go until He blesses you. 

            You undoubtedly know this kind of prayer.  Who of us has not lain awake at night, wrestling with God over some problem, some person, some place where the brokenness and fallenness of things has brought us to the brink?  It’s taken me a while, but I’ve come to realize over the years that insomnia, whatever else may be its cause, is actually God’s gift to me, calling me to prayer.  To wrestle.  To cling.  Until He blesses.  And He does.  And He always will.

            Though, not without pulling the proverbial hip out of the socket, perhaps.  That is to say, in praying, as Jesus here invites you… in giving it all over to your Lord, and demanding His blessing in exchange… you will not be relieved of every pain.  That is not the Promise.  In fact, the Lord may touch you and lay additional suffering upon you.  Look, that just the reality of life this side of the veil.  He may relieve you of some particular sorrow in this life.  He often does that, and you can pray for that (in fact, you should).  Even Job was given temporal relief once his afflictions had run their course.  But then, you can bet there will be new crosses to bear right around the corner.  They will find you.  But the Lord will carry you through the suffering.  He will bless you in it.  He will turn it for your good, and for the good of others.  He will use it for your salvation.  And in the End… in the End… perhaps when you least expect it, He will deliver justice to you, and that, speedily (Luke 18:8).  Here, for you Tolkien fans, that is the eucatastrophe, which is true.  That is Jesus’ Promise in our text.

            When you are in it, of course, the deliverance doesn’t seem very speedy.  What is God doing by that?  Whatever else He is doing, He is driving you all the more into prayer… to surrender all things into His almighty and all-loving hands… to surrender yourself into His almighty and all-loving hands.  Like the persistent widow.  Don’t give Him a break.  Keep coming to Him.  Keep badgering Him.  Don’t let Him go until He blesses you.  Because that is faith.  God is exercising your faith. 

            And here is the point of comparison between God and the unrighteous judge (no, Jesus is not saying that His Father is an unrighteous Judge!):  If even an unrighteous human judge, who neither fears God above, nor man below, eventually gives justice to this no-account widow who keeps bothering him, lest she beat him down… literally, give him a black eye… destroy his reputation, his prestige… if even he gives justice, then you can bet that our righteous and holy God will give justice to those who cry to Him day and night, and that speedily.  It would be absurd to think otherwise!

            The way He gives it, though… that is the astounding mystery.  He gives it by piling all the injustice, all the fallenness and brokenness and corruption of this world, and our lives, our bodies, our hearts, our souls… all our sin… upon His Son.  Who bears it for us.  Who shoulders it up the hill, to the place of a skull.  To put it all to death.  In His body.  In Himself.  That is the price of justice.  He gives Himself to be vanquished.  He gives Himself in weakness, in humiliation.  That we may be blessed.  And so we are.  The answer to all our demands for justice, our cries, “How long,” our lament, our complaint… the answer is Christ on the cross.

            And then the justice… the justification delivered to us… is Christ risen from the dead.  You know, one Day soon, before you know it, the risen Christ will raise you from the dead.  That isn’t just a fantasy.  That is real.  As real as the flesh and bone now sitting in the pew.  And when He does, you’ll realize what He means when He promises to give you justice speedily.  “How long, O LORD?”  Soon.  Very soon.  The Lord is coming.  So keep clinging to Him, knowing He will bless.  Always pray, and do not lose heart.  Things are hard right now, God knows.  But the old order of things is passing away (2 Cor. 5:17).  In the blink of an eye, you will see, the Lord is making all things new (Rev. 21:5).  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost

 Video of Service

Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 23C)

October 12, 2025

Text: Luke 17:11-19

            If you want some edge-of-your-seat, page-turning, electrifying reading, turn to Leviticus 13 and 14, and read about skin diseases in ancient Israel.  Is it leprosy, or is it not?  How should the priest make the examination?  Who has to be excluded from the community, and for how long?  Who is unclean, and how do they become clean?  Can they become clean?  Now, admittedly, this is the part of the Bible where many Christians give up on their Bible-in-a-Year reading plan.  It’s tedious.  It’s gross (well, if you think that’s gross, wait until bodily discharges in Chapter 15).  It’s more than a little daunting.  We can laugh about it, especially we beneficiaries of modern medicine.  But note at least two things about this: First, there is nothing in the Bible that God, in His infinite wisdom, didn’t put there very deliberately, for our good.  And second, these were very real afflictions, borne by very real, flesh and blood people.  Their lives were devastated.  Their bodies were devastated.  And because of their uncleanness, they had to suffer these afflictions as outcasts from their community, outcasts from their homes and their families, outcasts from the Communion of God’s Old Testament Church, the children of Israel.

            Jesus comes across ten such people in our Holy Gospel.  Lepers.  Now, their disease may or may not have been Hansen’s disease, what we, today, call leprosy.   As a term in the Bible, leprosy covers a broad spectrum of skin disorders.  But whatever it is, specifically, the living bodies of these men were already decaying, piece by piece.  They were slowly degenerating into walking, breathing corpses.  That is what made them unclean, in the Old Testament sense.  This is the key to understanding biblical uncleanness.  Life is from God, and therefore holy.  Death is from sin, and therefore anti-holy.  And so, where the things of death and life mix (and they don’t really mix… this is the problem), there you have uncleanness.  A living person touches a dead body?  Unclean.  The things in men and women that make for new life (ask you mother about those)?  Unclean.  Flesh rotting on your body?  Unclean.  So, anybody who touches you, or touches the things you touch… Unclean.  That is why you have to stand apart, and when anyone gets too close, you have to shout, “Unclean!  Unclean!”

            Being unclean wasn’t necessarily a sin, understand.  Everybody has bodily functions.  Somebody has to carry the corpse out of the room.  Procreation is a blessing.  It’s not like anyone wants to get leprosy.  But theologically, it’s helpful to understand that bodily uncleanness signifies the spiritual condition of every one of us, every single son or daughter of Adam and Eve.  It signifies the brokenness caused by our sin.  Death snuffing out life.  Unholiness.  Separation from God.  Separation from one another. 

            And that’s why Jesus came.  There they are, these lepers, standing apart, as they must do according to the Law of Moses.  But they are crying out something different, something other than “Unclean!  Unclean!”  They are praying the Kyrie (we just prayed that, moments ago, in our liturgy… “Lord, have mercy,” we sang).  “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us,” they cry (Luke 17:13; ESV).  Well, they’d heard about Him.  This Man gives sight to the blind.  This Man makes the lame to walk.  Even, this Man raises the dead!  So, of course they cry to Him.  He can help us!

            Now, it’s interesting what Jesus does.  We know He often heals people with a touch.  That would have been scandalous in this case.  But then, Jesus is not One to shy away from scandal.  We know He often heals people with a Word.  This one, though, is different.  This one calls to mind leprous Naaman from the Old Testament.  That passage really is exciting.  2 Kings 5, if you want to read about it, maybe this evening.  Remember?  Naamann comes to Elisha’s house, and the prophet doesn’t even come out of the house to say hello.  He doesn’t wave his hands over the infection, or speak some incantation, or hand over some magic elixir.  He just sends his servant out to say, “Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and you will be clean.”  Naaman scoffs!  That dirty old river?  He resolves not to do it, but his servants convince him to give it a try.  So he does.  And it works.  Why?  Because Elisha speaks God’s Word.  And that dirty old Jordan River water has God’s Word and Promise attached to it.  So it does what God’s Word says.  Had Naaman washed in a different river, he wouldn’t have been healed.  God said the Jordan.  Had Naaman washed six times, or nine times, he wouldn’t have been healed.  God said seven times.  Naaman does according to the Word of the Lord.  And Naaman is healed.  Naaman is clean. 

            Well, likewise Jesus in our Gospel.  He says, “Go and show yourselves to the priests” (Luke 17:14).  They aren’t healed yet, understand.  I have to imagine they hear Jesus say that, and then look at their still-rotting flesh, and think, “What gives?  Shouldn’t You wave Your hands or something?  Shouldn’t you have spoken some incantation, or given us some magic elixir?  Instead, You tell us to go show ourselves to the priests?”  But that is what you do when you think you might be healed, according to the skin disease discourse in Leviticus 13 and 14.  And, in spite of the fact that they had not yet been healed, as they go… as they do according to the Word of Jesus Christ, that to which His Word and Promise are attached… behold, they are healed!  They are cleansed! 

            By the way, you can bet they are all grateful.  They are all praising God.  Lord, have mercy on us for making this Gospel into a morality tale about how we should remember to say “Thank you,” whenever God, or somebody, does something nice for us.  We should remember to say “Thank you,” and maybe that is a tangential point we can glean from this text, but it kind of misses the main gift our Lord here gives us.  We’re getting to that. 

            The Samaritan… talk about somebody who is excluded!  Not only is he unclean because of his disease, he’s the wrong ethnicity to be presenting himself before the priests in the Jerusalem Temple.  But he catches on to something that the rest do not.  “Wait a second.  Jesus healed me.  I’m whole again.  No high priest in Jerusalem could do that, heal a man of leprosy.  If I’m supposed to go and show myself to the Priest, I should actually go to Jesus.  He is the true High Priest!”  But more!  “Here I am, thanking and praising God for my cleansing, the miraculous healing of my body, my release from suffering.  But I don’t have to stand afar off, anymore, to thank Him.  Now that He’s made me clean, I can draw near.  Restored to Communion with Him, and with His people.  And I know just where to find Him.  I don’t have to go to Jerusalem.  He’s standing right there.”  Did you catch the language regarding the Samaritan’s actions in our Gospel?  “Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell on his face at Jesus’ feet, giving him thanks” (vv. 15-16).  In praising God, he fell at Jesus’ feet.  And that is exactly right.  God is the only One who can cleanse the uncleanness of body and soul.  God is the only One who can make a broken and dying man whole.  This Man is God.  And that is what He does.

            Not only for lepers.  For you.  In fact, He is doing it for you, right now, in your hearing of these words.  The Word of God is such that it never simply tells us about something.  This is not just a nice story about how some lucky lepers were cleansed and healed, any more than it’s a lesson in manners, remembering to say “Thank you.”  The Word of God does things.  It does what He says.  Otherwise, what’s the point of coming to Church?  Learn some fun facts about history, and find out how to be a nice person?  Spare me.  That isn’t Christianity, and I have better things to do.  When Jesus Christ tells you how He cleanses lepers, He is, in that very moment, healing and cleansing you. 

            You’re not a leper, thank God, but sin renders you unclean.  Broken.  Death snuffing out life (you’re reminded of that every time you get sick, and every time you go to a funeral and stare your own mortality in the face).  Unholy.  Separated from God.  Separated from one another.  Broken relationships.  Broken Communion.  What does Jesus do?  Tell you to stand over there, far apart, where you belong?  Tell you to cry out, warning everybody to stay away from your uncleanness?  No, that’s not what He does.  Go and show yourself to the priest.  You know why you would do that?  Not only so that he could verify the healing.  So that he could offer the blood sacrifice that renders you clean.  So, again, what does Jesus do?  He bids you come to Him.  Come right up into His space, with all your uncleanness.  Let Him take it into Himself.  That as your High Priest, He may make the blood sacrifice that renders you clean.  Not a lamb, or a bird, as in Leviticus.  Himself.  His body on the cross.  His blood shed for you.  His death for your life.  His atonement for the forgiveness of your sins.  And then, the Third Day.  The reversal of all that sin has wrought.  His life snuffing out death.  What was broken, made whole.  What was unholy, now holy.  You, who were separated from God, and from one another, now restored and brought near.  So near, you don’t have to give thanks to God from afar, as though He is somewhere up there, far removed from the sinner.  He’s right here, for you, in His Word, and on the altar with His true body and blood.  You can come right into His presence, praising Him with a loud voice, and fall at His feet, and receive Him.  Because you are clean.  He is your cleanness.  He is your healing.  He is your life.      

            By the way, when the Old Testament priest made the sacrifice for cleansing, he’d mix the blood of the sacrifice with water, and sprinkle it with hyssop on the one to be cleansed.  Interesting.  The sacrificial blood in the water, attached to God’s Word and Promise, applied to the unclean person, rendering him clean.  That is Holy Baptism.  You see what Leviticus does for us?  The Priest has done His work again.  You, beloved, are baptized into Christ.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.                                

Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost

Video of Service

Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 22C)

October 5, 2025

Luke 17:1-10

            “If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him, and if he sins against you seven times in the day, and turns to you seven times, saying, ‘I repent,’ you must forgive him” (Luke 17:3-4; ESV). 

            A hard saying from our Lord this afternoon.  But let’s do a little exercise of our imagination: Think about a person who has sinned grievously against you; a person you have struggled, for some time, to forgive.  Honestly, you’ve tried.  You’ve prayed for the ability, the strength.  You’ve prayed for the person (you should always do that).  But the sin is so serious, and the pain of it haunts you so deeply.  And there is always, in the back of your mind, that nagging cry for justice.  The sinner must pay.  Because, perhaps, that would make things right. 

            But here, your Lord says to you, “you must forgive.”  It’s hard, isn’t it?  With the disciples, you pray to Jesus: “Increase our faith!” (v. 5).  Because this is going to take something more than we have, something from outside of us.  Jesus says, if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed… small, but containing within it all that is necessary for growth into a large plant… “you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you” (v. 6).  Of course, don’t try that at home.  Don’t tempt the Lord your God.  The point is not that your faith can do magic tricks.  The point is that faith of any size or strength… because it receives the Lord Jesus Himself… can, and will, receive from the Lord whatever else is necessary for God’s Kingdom to come and His will to be done.  But, mulberry trees aside, forgiving this one who has sinned against you?  The one you are imaging right now?  See, that’s even harder than moving trees.  Lord, help us.

            What is Jesus’ answer to the prayer?  It’s actually not that you need more faith.  A little faith… any faith… if it is the faith given by the Holy Spirit, receives the whole Jesus.  That is comforting.  It means your faith is never inadequate.  It can’t be, because it is God’s gift to you, by His Spirit, in His Word.  It is rather that you need to recognize, once again, what that faith receives.  The cross.  Christ crucified for sins.  Christ crucified for sinners.  The blood and death of God that washes away all sin.

            See, that takes the sin seriously.  Jesus is not asking you to simply excuse the sin perpetrated against you.  In no sense is He telling you to sweep it under the rug, or pretend it didn’t happen.  The sin is real, and it demands a real solution.  But you can’t solve it by your own power or strength.  Not by holding your neighbor responsible and pinning him to the wall, nor by your own self-generated efforts at forgiveness.  What to do, then?  Okay, back to our exercise of imagination.  Imagine that person, and imagine the sin they committed against you.  Imagine that burden that you’ve been carrying on your shoulders, maybe even for years.  Hang it, now, on the broken and bleeding body of Jesus.  His arms are open wide to take it into Himself.  Where He… and now, this part is not imaginary, understand… where He puts it to death.  Where He takes all the pain of it, all that pain you’ve suffered over it, upon Himself.  Where justice is meted out… on Him!

            Do you see what you have in the faith that receives the crucified Jesus?  How can you possibly forgive that one who has sinned against you?  Recognize that the guilt of that sin has been paid in full.  Jesus took the debt away from the sinner.  Jesus paid the debt with His own blood.  That makes things right.  That is why, when you pray, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,” you are, in fact… whether you know it or not… whether you feel it or not… forgiving your neighbor’s sin.  That sin of that sinner… the one you are imagining during this exercise.  Because those words have all the power of Jesus’ blood behind them.  So, it is done.  And it is done again and again, every time you speak those words.  Even if you have to say them seven times in a day, because your neighbor sins against you and repents seven times in a day.  Frankly, even if they don’t repent.  Even if the hurt of your neighbor’s sin against you keeps pressing on you.  Say the words.  Pray the words.  They are a Holy Absolution for your neighbor.  Not an excusing of your neighbor.  An application of the blood and death of God’s Son upon your neighbor.

            What about the hurt?  It still hurts.  Yes, it does.  No question.  But that doesn’t change the objective reality.  Now it’s just a matter of your feelings catching up with that new reality.  And how are we supposed to do that?  Seems like that’s impossible.  Lord, increase our faith!  Well, the answer once again is the cross.  Christ crucified.  Pour your pain out there, upon Him.  He knows it.  He feels it even more deeply than you do.  But what happens as His blood covers it over (this pain you feel so deeply), is that He transforms it.  He turns it to your good, and the good of your neighbor.  He redeems it.  He heals the wound, such that it becomes a scar.  That is to say, the pain may never entirely go away.  But it can, and will, get better.  There is comfort for you in Jesus, even as you hurt.  And that scar is a mark that testifies to the healing.  It is a testimony of the healing power of the living crucified Christ.  “You must forgive him,” Jesus says.  There is only one way to do that.  Christ.

            Okay, another exercise: Think about a grievous sin you have committed… against God… against a loved one… someone in your family, someone in the Church, someone who was a friend…  Maybe you’ve asked for forgiveness, and that request has been denied.  Or, perhaps, it’s been granted, but you struggle to receive that forgiveness, or believe it, trust it.  Or, perhaps it’s been granted, but the relationship has never been the same.  Honestly, you’ve tried.  But the sin is so serious, and the pain… your own, and the pain you caused to another… it haunts you so deeply.  And there is always, in the back of your mind, that nagging cry for justice.  The sinner must pay.  I must pay.  Because, perhaps, that would make things right.

            I bet you’ve been there.  I certainly have.  There are still things that creep into my mind at the most inopportune moments… guilt, sorrow, grief.  I remember one particular episode when I was seven years old, when I had so deeply disappointed my parents.  I’ll spare you the details, but it lives vividly in my mind to this day, and it still breaks me to pieces when I think about it.  You have similar memories.  

            What is Jesus’ answer?  The cross.  Christ crucified.  Back to the exercise.  Imagine that sin that still haunts you.  Imagine the burden you’ve been carrying on your shoulders, maybe even for years.  Hang it, now, on the bloody corpus of your crucified God.  Again, His arms outstretched to receive it into Himself.  Where He puts it to death.  Yes, that sin.  That one.   And all the others.  Where He takes all the pain of it, all the pain you have suffered over it… all the pain others have suffered over it… all of it… upon Himself.  Where justice is meted out… on Him!

            Do you see what you have in the faith… whatever amount, whatever strength… the faith that receives the crucified Jesus?  In no way is He excusing you, or your sin.  He is not sweeping it under the rug.  He is forgiving you, and that means taking it to His death.  He makes atonement for you on the cross.  Recognize that the guilt of that sin has been paid in full.  Jesus took the debt away from you, the sinner.  Jesus paid the debt with His own blood.  That makes things right.  The Holy Absolution stands as God’s announcement that it is finished.  The sin has been atoned.  So you can release it, too.  It need haunt you no more.  “I forgive you all your sins,” He says, by the mouth of His called and ordained servant.  “I forgive you, in My thrice-Holy Name.”  And the sin is done.  Done to death.

            And then, a mystery.  He says to you, “Dear child, come and recline at My Table, and let Me wait on you.”  And He feeds you.  Himself.  His body.  His blood.  Amazing.  Because, in Christ, our duty has been done.  Done perfectly, because He has done it, and atoned for our not doing it, or doing it poorly.  And we unworthy servants, he declares “Friends,” and invites us into His joy.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.