Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost

 Video of Service

Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 23A)

October 11, 2026

Text: Matt. 22:1-14

            Who are these, so bold, so audacious, as to tell the King they have better things to do than attend the Wedding Feast of His Son?  The immediate audience for our Lord’s parable is once again made up of the Chief Priests and Pharisees.  This is the continuation of the sermon we heard Him preaching last week.  Only now, he is riffing on this morning’s Old Testament reading (Is. 25:6-9).  “Remember, dear shepherds of Israel, the Mountain of the LORD of hosts from the Prophet Isaiah?  The feast of rich food and well-aged wine?  We all know the Prophet is speaking of the Messianic age.  That is what will happen when the Kingdom arrives, when God’s Messiah comes.  Well, dear friends, guess what?  Here I AM!  And I have sent servant after servant, prophet after prophet, to tell you the Feast is prepared.  But now that it is here, you refuse to come in.  You have no desire.  And, in fact, you seize my servants, treat them shamefully, and kill them.  That’s what you do.  So, fine.  I won’t make you come in.  I won’t force you to rejoice and feast with Me in My Kingdom.  But be warned.  The troops are on their way to destroy you murderers and burn your city,” again, a reference to the coming destruction of Jerusalem in AD 70.  “But that won’t stop Me from giving My Feast.  I will invite others to take your place.  And they will rejoice and be satisfied with the good things from My Table, while you find yourself in the outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

            So, the original audience was the Jewish clergy.  But the Holy Spirit has preserved this parable also for our learning.  What is the application, what is the warning for us who hear it anew here this afternoon?  Of course, don’t seize your pastor, treat him shamefully, or kill him.  And don’t do that to any of the Lord’s servants, be they preachers of the Gospel, or other Christians who speak the Lord’s Word to you.  There are places in the world at this very moment where that is a very real danger.  And it may be here, too, in time to come.  But perhaps more to the point for us here and now, when you receive an invitation from the King, which is to say, from God, to the Wedding Feast of His Son (and you have, that’s why you’re here!)… don’t make excuses why you can’t come.  “Oh, sorry, business, you know,” or “family time,” or “I’m too tired.  Maybe next week.  I’ll get around to it one of these days.”  Or just, “I don’t want to!”  Whatever it is.  Guys, God invites you to His House to feast with His Son at His own Table.  That is what you believe, isn’t it?  I realize it’s all hidden under the ordinary, and unremarkable, and often downright scandalous, forms of words and water, bread and wine, a sad sack of flesh up in the pulpit, and a bunch of sad sacks sitting next to you in the pews.  But you know that things are not as they appear.  Not in Christ.  So, don’t excuse yourself.  Don’t miss this.  Because you don’t have to come.  God will not force you.  And you know what happens to those who refuse.  So, that is the warning.  Come to Church.  Come into the presence of Jesus.  Come into His Wedding Feast.  This is the foretaste.  This is the appetizer.  This is the vestibule to the Royal Estate.  Soon enough you will see the splendor in all its fulness.  It is just the other side of the veil. 

            And think about this… Who are these others, these tramps on the road, invited, now, to take the place of the original guests at the Son’s Wedding Feast?  These are, of course, the Gentiles, to whom the Gospel is preached, now brought in and included in God’s people, Israel.  Well, that’s you.  See, both Jews and Gentiles, all who do not refuse Him… even, Jesus says, “both bad and good” (Matt. 22:10; ESV), that is, notorious sinners and respectable citizens, these are invited into the Kingdom, into the Feast, by the preaching of the Gospel, that the hall may be filled with guests.  That is, by the way, the program of the Kingdom.  Preach the Gospel to all, without distinction.  Bring in more guests.  All who will come.  Now, whether they come, or not, that’s up to the Spirit, not us.  But we’d love to fill this place to capacity, and then some.  Baptize them.  Catechize them.  Bring them into the fulness of the Feast.  That’s what we’re given to do as Christ’s Body on earth.  That’s why He hasn’t already come years ago and put an end to all of this.  For the sake of those who have yet to hear, and believe, and come into the Feast. 

            The “bad,” though… they are not left bad.  And the “good” must not be left in their own goodness.  One and all must come to see that their own clothes… be they soiled, torn, and tattered (the bad), or brand new, dry-clean-only, designer brand (the good)… their own clothes are insufficient, unsatisfactory, inappropriate for this Feast.  But, not to fear.  In the world of the Gospels, when one was invited to a prestigious wedding feast, the host would provide the appropriate garment for his guest.  The host would cover the guest in fitting apparel.  That is what God does for you in Holy Baptism.  That is what you receive by faith.  The analogy is this: You come to God’s Kingdom with your own garments, soiled with obvious sin, or as clean as human works can get them, it doesn’t matter.  You fall somewhere on the righteousness spectrum.  But it isn’t good enough.  You are a sinner.  You have sin.  You are not perfectly righteous, which is what God demands.  Your clothes aren’t good enough.  So God strips you of your shameful garments, your pitiful unrighteousness, and covers you instead with the spotless robe, the perfect righteousness of His Son, Jesus.  St. Paul puts it this way: “For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ” (Gal. 3:27).  And again, “But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires” (Rom. 13:14), that is, don’t pick up again your old, ratty clothes.  Even the designer ones are nothing but filthy rags before the Lord.  And the Lord Jesus has taken them away, to be put to death in His flesh on the cross.  Those are clothes of death.  But here are resurrection clothes, robes of righteousness, washed white in the blood of the Lamb, which the Lord Himself freely gives you.  Be covered.  Be cleansed. 

            Well, this explains the man found without a wedding garment, doesn’t it?  It’s not that he wasn’t legitimately invited in, and the Lord even calls him, “Friend” (Matt. 22:12… Reminds us of someone else the Lord called “Friend,” doesn’t it, who had thrown away the Savior’s invitation, to conduct his own business [thirty pieces of silver worth], to go to his own place?  Matt. 26:50).  It is also not that he was expected to have a wedding garment of his own.  The King had provided the garment for him.  So it must be that he cast it off.  Or refused even to put it on.  He insisted on wearing his own clothes.  Like the Chief Priests and Pharisees, like the self-righteous among us, he insisted he attend the Feast on his own merit.  But it doesn’t work that way.  Everyone here is here at the King’s mercy.  Everyone here is here by grace, that is, by the King’s unmerited favor.  Your own righteousness will get you thrown out into the outer darkness.  But Christ’s righteousness, freely given, distributed to one and all alike in His preaching and gifts, will get you a place at His Table at the Wedding Feast of the Lamb in His Kingdom which has no end. 

            Rich food and well-aged wine.  Flesh full of marrow, and aged-wine well-refined.  Nothing but the best.  And the Bride in all her blood-bought splendor, which is to say, Lady Church.  And then, the Bridegroom.  He has swallowed up death forever, and all that goes along with it.  All violence.  All sickness.  All sadness.  All pain.  Here He is, our Bridegroom, the Royal Son, present with us at the Feast.  And we join the festal shout: “Behold, this is our God; we have waited for him, that he might save us. This is the Lord; we have waited for him; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation” (Is. 25:9).

            Beloved, to be a Christian is not to balk at the invitation to this Feast, or to list off the reasons why you can’t (or more accurately, don’t want to) attend.  No.  It is to “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice” (Phil. 4:4).  “The Lord is at hand” (v. 5), and so, in spite of all that our eyes may see, we are well, and all is good.  Do you know what is true, what is honorable, what is just and pure?  Do you know what is lovely and commendable, what is excellent and worthy of praise?  It is all from the Lord, and it flows from the altar.  Think about these things.  Set your mind on them.  And then, clothed with Jesus, receive them from His hand.  This whole Royal Feast is for you.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son +, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.         

 

Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost

 Video of Service

Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 22A)

October 4, 2026

Text: Is. 5:1-7; Matt. 21:33-46

            “What more was there to do for my vineyard, that I have not done for it?” (Is. 5:4; ESV).

            The Master of the House is God.  The Vineyard is Israel.  And the tenants who lease the Vineyard are the leaders of the Jews: The scribes, the Pharisees, the priests… as well as the kings, in days of old… those from whom God should rightly expect fruit.  Faith.  Total dependence on Him.  To the exclusion of all other gods.  To the exclusion of self-reliance and self-justification.  And love.  Love for God.  Love for the neighbor.  Love that therefore lives, and orders the whole life, according to God’s will as revealed in His Commandments.  Love that orders the whole life toward self-giving service to those around you.  Do you see what the fruit, finally, is?  The whole self, rendered to God, not as slave, but as son.  

But the tenants rendered God no fruit.  So, He sent His servants… the prophets.  Prophet after prophet.  To call the people back to Himself.  Back to faith.  Back to love.  Some they beat.  Some they killed.  Some they stoned.  They were rejecting… not just the men God sent… but God Himself.  Rejecting His Word.  Rejecting His right to the Vineyard and its fruit.  And, it’s befuddling, isn’t it?  What should God have done after even one servant was abused, never mind killed? Obliterate those wretches! Fire and brimstone.  Righteous wrath.  But He doesn’t.  He just keeps sending.  Prophet after prophet.  Preacher after preacher.  Calling to repentance.  Calling to faith.  

And, so longsuffering is our God, that finally, what does He do?  He sends His Son.  He says to Himself, “They will respect my son” (Matt. 21:37).  Now, we know how this is going to end.  But the great mystery is, so does He!  But He does it, anyway!  Jesus comes.  The Son of God.  He comes to the tenants, pleading for fruit.  How many interactions does Jesus have with the Pharisees and the Sadducees?  Why all the confrontations?  Because He loves them!  He is calling them back.  He wants them for His own.  

But what do they do?  They say, “This is the heir.  Come, let us kill him and have his inheritance” (v. 38).  “If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation” (John 11:48).  They’ll take away the inheritance.  Ah, but if we kill Him, the place and nation will be ours.  So… “Crucify, crucify him!” (Luke 23:21).  And that’s what they do.  They lead Him out of the city… they cast Him out of the Vineyard… and kill Him!  Therefore, what will the Owner of the Vineyard… God… do to them?  The Jews themselves testify: “He will put those wretches to a miserable death and let out the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the fruits in their seasons” (Matt. 21:41).  And so it is.  In AD 70, the Romans come and take away their place and their nation.  Jerusalem is sacked.  The Temple is once and for all destroyed.  

Bad news for the Jews.  But good news for us.  Christ, who was crucified, is risen.  And now the Gospel goes out to the whole world… to the nations.  And all who believe in Him, Jew and Gentile… those who will give Him the fruits in their season: Faith toward God, and fervent love toward one another, which is to say, Christians, who surrender their very selves to God… they get the inheritance!  We get the inheritance.  Because the Son was killed.  Yet, behold, the Son lives.  God will let out the Vineyard to others, the Jewish leaders prophesy.  We are the others.  

Now, a warning here: Don’t let this text (or any text in the Bible) become an occasion for arrogance over against the Jews.  First of all, God loves the Jews.  God chose them to be His holy people in the Old Testament.  As Paul reminds us, what advantage has the Jew?  Much in every way: To them belong the oracles of God (Rom. 3:1-2)... the adoption, the glory, the covenants, the giving of the Law, the worship, and the promises (9:4)… “To them belong the patriarchs, and from their race, according to the flesh, is the Christ, who is God over all, blessed forever.  Amen” (v. 5).  And “the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable” (11:29).  Second, many Jews came to believe in Christ, including the Twelve and St. Paul and the whole Church immediately post-resurrection, while many Gentiles were included in the killing of the Son: Pontius Pilate, the Roman soldiers… us!  (There is the excruciatingly beautiful scene in Mel Gibson’s, The Passion of the Christ, where the hand that drives in the nails is his own!  That is profound.  We crucified Him by our sins).  Third, we Gentiles must always remember (as St. Paul says, using another illustration from husbandry) that, though some branches of the olive tree of Israel were broken off, that we may be grafted in, nevertheless, the roots are the children of Israel.  And we were grafted in by grace.  By no merit or worthiness of our own.  And if the natural branches were broken off for failing to bear fruit, the same will assuredly happen to the wild olive branches (us!) grafted in if we forsake our God-given faith.  And we pray that those natural branches will be grafted back in.  The Church used to regularly pray for the conversion of the Jews.  Maybe we should start doing that again!  

And the point is this: There is no room in the Christian Church for antisemitism.  Take that deeply into your heart, because antisemitism is a trend these days among people both left and right, and we are so deceived by our political allegiances.  We can argue about policy toward Israel versus the Palestinians, but you are not to hate the Jews, whom God loves.  Jesus Christ is a Jew.  Enough said.

When we hear this parable, we are to marvel at God’s great grace, not only toward the Jews, but toward us!  The Vineyard has been given to us… all Christians, Jew and Gentile.  And now, His longsuffering is directed toward us.  He sends His servants: Preacher after preacher.  The Gospel is proclaimed.  Sinners’ sins are washed away as one-time rebels are baptized into Christ.  The Absolution is declared.  The body and blood of Christ… the fruit of the Vine… the cup of blessing, the wine of joy… these are distributed right here at this Table, and on Altars throughout all Christendom.  We keep sinning, but our Lord Jesus Christ keeps calling us back, in repentance and faith, by His Word and Spirit.  He keeps forgiving.  Keeps grafting us in.  Keeps restoring us to the Father.  

Those who receive His Word, receive Him.  They fall upon the Stone the builders rejected.  Yes, they are crushed to pieces.  But that is to say, they die to themselves in repentance, to be raised up to new life in Christ.  But woe to those who reject this Word.  They join the builders in rejecting the Lord Jesus.  And on them the Stone falls, and crushes them in eternal damnation.

Oh, beloved… let us sing for our Beloved our love song concerning His Vineyard (Is. 5:1).  What more could He have done for her… for us?  “For us… For us… For us…”  “For us baptized, for us He bore His holy fast and hungered sore; For us temptation sharp He knew; For us the tempter overthrew.  For us He prayed; for us He taught; For us His daily works He wrought, By words and signs and actions thus Still seeking not Himself but us.  For us by wickedness betrayed, For us, in crown of thorns arrayed, He bore the shameful cross and death; For us He gave His dying breath.  For us He rose from death again; For us He went on high to reign; For us He sent His Spirit here To guide, to strengthen, and to cheer” (LSB 544:3-6).  What more could He have done?  He does it all.  

And so, here you are in the Vineyard.  How the Lord loves you!  He brought you here.  Never take that for granted.  And, for God’s sake, don’t reject it.  Here, God has planted you.  Here, He tends and nourishes you.  Roots grown deep.  Branches of the Vine.  Life-giving sap flowing to you, and through you, in the means of grace.  And fruit.  Faith.  Fervent love.  Your very self… a son in the Son of God, Jesus Christ.  So it is in the Kingdom of God.  This is the Lord’s doing.  It is marvelous in our eyes.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son +, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.          

 

Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost

 Video of Service

Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 20A)

September 20, 2026

Text: Matt. 20:1-16

            They were picked first, early in the morning, 6 am.  They went into the Vineyard, and they got to work.  As a matter of fact, they worked twelve hours straight.  They bore the burden of the day, and the scorching heat.  If you’ve ever worked sunrise to sunset on a farm (I haven’t, but I have it on good authority), you have some idea of what that is like.  The dust.  The heat.  The aching muscles.  This was no walk in the park.  

And at first, perhaps, they were relieved when, at 9 am (the third hour), more workers came into the Vineyard.  And again at noon, and 3 pm, and even some more an hour before quitting time.  Because there is this pressure to get as much work done as possible during the daylight hours.  More workers, more to share in the burden.  Although the first workers, naturally, felt they had some seniority.  And humanly speaking, they were right.  

What they forgot, though, is that apart from the grace of the Master who called them, they’d still be standing in the marketplace, idle, unemployed, and probably starving.  Destitute.  These were day laborers.  That meant they had no permanent employment situation.  They came to the marketplace each day, hoping someone would pick them.  This Master came along and hired them all.  He agreed with them for a denarius a day.  And that is just.  A denarius is the typical day’s pay for a laborer.

Now, those who came late to the marketplace received even more grace, it is true.  They’d really missed the boat.  With each succeeding hour it is less and less likely there will be any employment that day.  Maybe that’s the point.  Maybe their heart just wasn’t in it.  Maybe they didn’t really want to work. Still, here comes the Master, and He hires them all.  He calls them into the Vineyard.  Gift.  Grace.

But it’s when the time comes to distribute the wages that things really take an unexpected turn.  Those who worked only one hour?  They are given a full denarius!  They haven’t earned it, and everybody knows it.  Even they, surely, expected far less than a full day’s pay.  Now, this tells us something extraordinary about the Master.  He’s crazy!  He is recklessly generous.  Gracious.  Gratuitously distributing His gifts to those who don’t deserve it.  

Those who worked three hours, six hours, nine hours… same thing!  A full denarius.  A full day’s pay.  Amazing!  And then… those who worked the full twelve hours, backbreaking labor under a hot sun.  Surely the Master  will give us even more.  But what do they get?  A denarius.  A day’s pay.  The wage they agreed to in the beginning.

“It’s not fair!”  What’s not fair?  That you were called into the Vineyard, when otherwise, you would have been left standing in the marketplace, idle all day, hungry and penniless?  That the Master gave you a place and a purpose and a wage you otherwise would not have had?  Yes, you worked harder and longer than the others.  Don’t think that goes unseen.  There will be more work tomorrow, and if you want it, you will have a place here again, and more wages.  You will be well provided.  Perhaps those who came late will show up early, now, too.  They were given more grace, because they needed more grace.  The Master has been exceedingly gracious to one and all.  He didn’t have to hire anyone.  But He did.  He hired you.  Now, if you begrudge Him His generosity… literally, if your eye is evil because He is good… that is, when you see His goodness toward others, you begin to think evil of Him… then fine.  Take what belongs to you, and go.  But you know what belongs to you?  Apart from the Master?  Idleness.  Unemployment.  Destitution.  The denarius will be spent, and then what?  You’ll be left with nothing.  

Well, that’s all great, but how does this apply to us as we hear it today?  The Vineyard is the Kingdom.  The Master is God.  We are the workers, called into the Vineyard by the Holy Spirit in the Gospel.  Some of us were called when we were baptized as babies.  And we never left.  We’ve been here from the first hour, and we’ve served here in the Kingdom all along.  Giving our offering.  Boards and committees.  Ushers.  Sunday School teachers.  You name it.  We’ve done it.  Some of us came later, as youth, or adults.  Maybe we didn’t serve in all those capacities.  Maybe we left and, by God’s grace alone, were called back again in repentance.  Some even came in the eleventh hour.  That is, at life’s end.  Like the thief on the cross.  We shouldn’t count on that, by the way, but we should rejoice when it happens.  One hears the Gospel, and heeds the call, so very late.  And they enter the Vineyard, and do what they can.  But perhaps that isn’t much at this point in their life.  Still, they’re in it.

And to be in it, that’s the point.  Beloved, you don’t want the Master to be fair.  You don’t want God to treat you as you deserve.  The most chilling words in our Holy Gospel are these: “Take what belongs to you and go” (Matt. 20:14; ESV).  What belongs to you?  Apart from the Master?  Sin.  Death.  Eternal condemnation.  “For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 6:23).  The free gift of God is to be given a place, and a purpose, and a life in His Kingdom.  You don’t want what belongs to you.  You want what belongs to Christ.  You don’t want to be told to take your things and go.  You want to be told to take Jesus’ things and stay.

And the work?  You’re not earning anything by it.  The work, too, is actually a gift of the Master’s grace.  You are given to tend the Vineyard, to steward the Kingdom, like Adam and Eve in Paradise.  You are given to do this in your daily life and vocation, as you live, love, and serve those around you in your areas of responsibility.  And here at Church. Beloved… look what you’ve been given!  In addition to the treasure that is Augustana Lutheran Church, and the Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod, and the holy Christian Church of all times and places… you’ve been given to be a steward of it.  A caretaker.  As though it’s your very own.  Because, in Jesus, it is.

That looks different for every one of us.  A couple of us in the room are pastors.  But there are also elders and council members and Sunday School teachers in our midst.  There are those whose work is to pray for their pastors, and for the Church, for their brothers and sisters in Christ, and for the world (and oh, how we need that!  What a precious and holy work!).  There are those who toil, and those who sing, and those who bring an offering, and those who show mercy and compassion to dear people in need.  And so much more.  Every last one of us has a place.  Every last one of us is given a position from which to steward.  And it is all gift.  It is all grace.  Don’t look with a jealous eye toward somebody else and the grace God has given them.  Never resent a brother or sister in Christ.  Rejoice in them.  Rejoice your common salvation.  Rejoice in the death of Christ that takes away all your sins.  Rejoice in His resurrection from the dead that brings you into His life and Kingdom.  

He built this, right?  He bore the burden of our sin and the heat of God’s wrath.  Behold Him on a Friday afternoon, beaten, bloodied, languishing.  Pierced for our transgressions.  Crushed for our iniquities.  He takes what belongs to us and goes… to the cross.  Water and blood seeping from His sacred body into the accursed ground.  Penetrating the clay.  Hydrating the dust.  Softening the hard heart.  Driving out thorn and thistle.  Enlivening dead seeds so that they sprout.  Roots grown deep.  Life shooting up from the belly of the earth.  The Lord is risen.  Branches now growing from the Vine.  Nourishing sap flowing to the extremities.  Pruning, yes.  The cross touches every branch.  That is, there is suffering to be borne.  But now look.  Blossoms.  Fruit.  Luscious fruit.  Clusters of ripe, juicy grapes.  Overflowing wine.  Christian love.  Faith and hope.  Joy.  Life!

Well… what a gift it is, simply to be here.  You know, the Vineyard, as it is manifested here, in this place… it’s a beautiful thing.  The Gospel preached and heard and believed.  Nourishment from the Altar.  Zeal in witness.  A loving Church Family.  A House (even if it is just a rental at this point).  A Home.  No room for grumbling about what God gives others.  No room to resent those likewise called.  Beloved, whenever you enter this Sanctuary, say this prayer (or one like it): Lord, I’m just thankful to be here.  With everyone else, who is thankful to be here.  Thank You for calling me.  I don’t deserve it.  But Jesus does.  Let me take what belongs to Jesus and stay, for His sake.  And God says to you, “Friend… Yes!  Enter into the joy of your Master.  Welcome Home.”  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son +, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.          

 

Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost

 Video of Service

Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 19A)

September 13, 2026

Text: Gen. 50:15-21; Matt. 18:21-35

            They see him coming a long way off.  That dreamer.  Their little brother.  Daddy’s favorite, with his coat of many colors.  Bow down to him?!  Us?!  That’ll be the day!  Resentment.  Jealousy.  Bitterness.  Seething below the surface.  The pressure builds.  Now’s our chance to teach him a lesson.  Let’s kill him!  Or, for now, just cast him down in this pit while we eat our lunch and decide what to do with him.  Oh, here come some Midianite traders.  Let’s sell him to them.  Better than killing him.  Money for us (he owes us, after all).  Chains, servitude for him.  Let’s just see what becomes of this dreamer.

And that’s when Joseph’s hellish nightmare really begins.  The slave market in Egypt.  Potiphar’s wife and her lewd behavior.  Then, allegations, character assassination, and no chance to plead his case.  Once again, cast down into a pit.  Down and down goes Joseph.  Hard time in prison.  A little hope when he interprets some dreams, but his cellmate is ungrateful.  Pharaoh’s cupbearer, restored, but forgetful.  In captivity, a man has a lot of time to think.  And one could hardly blame Joseph if he dwelt long and hard on all the wrong done to him at the hands of his brothers who were supposed to love him.

But now, their fortunes have entirely changed.  Joseph is exalted.  Second in command of all of Egypt.  Administrator of grain in a time of famine.  The cupbearer eventually had remembered Joseph, when Pharaoh was in need of a little dream interpretation.  And when Joseph delivered, Pharaoh raised him up from the pit.  Up and up goes Joseph.  A veritable resurrection from the dead.  Now, who should come along to buy Egyptian grain, but these very brothers?  The ones who, for all practical purposes, had murdered Joseph!  They don’t recognize him.  But he recognizes them!  And now, they need him.  And they bow down to him (Gen. 42:6).  And… you know the story.  You’re all spies!  Bring your youngest brother!  Then, I’ll believe you!  The trips back and forth.  Simeon held captive.  The “stolen cup.”  Joseph puts the brothers through their paces.  He has a little fun at their expense.  That is descriptive, by the way.  Not prescriptive.  That is to say, you shouldn’t do that.  But then, he can stand it no more.  The big revelation.  I am Joseph!  I am your brother!  Weeping.  Embracing.  Come down to Egypt!  Bring my father, Jacob.  I will provide for you and your little ones.

By the time we get to our Old Testament reading for this day (Gen. 50:15-21), Joseph has changed.  He’s grown.  He’s matured.  He’s had time to reflect.  On his life.  On the things that have happened, good and bad, over the course of a lifetime.  Look what God has done… for me, and for all… by means of the wrongs and the suffering I’ve endured.  Egypt and the nations kept alive through famine.  Israel preserved.  And that means the Promise!  The Seed of the Woman.  The Seed of Abraham.  God’s chosen people from whom would come Messiah!  And He certainly has worked all things well for me, thinks the man who rules all Egypt, second only to Pharaoh himself.  Beloved, that kind of perspective comes only… with age, to be sure… but really, with faith.  Looking back from the perspective of faith, and realizing that God really does work all things for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose (Rom. 8:28).  Even evil things.  That He really is merciful.  That He does not deal with us according to our sins, but pours out His grace and gifts upon us.  Not because we are good, or deserve it.  But because He is good.  And He loves us.  

So, when Joseph’s father died, and the brothers… at first, they didn’t even appear themselves, but sent messengers, asking in their father’s name that Joseph really and truly forgive, and not do evil to them… and then, they themselves, bowing to the ground, begging that Joseph not exact vengeance… Joseph weeps.  Why?  Because Joseph has come to understand the Gospel.  For him, and so, for them.  Oh, my dear brothers… Am I in the place of God?  Who am I to withhold forgiveness and demand retribution from you, when my God has been so unimaginably merciful and good to me?  You meant it for evil, that is true.  There is no denying it.  You put me through hell!  But God meant it for good, to bring it about that all these people have been saved!  And, little does Joseph know… saved, not just from famine, but the whole world, saved from sin and death and hell, because, from the nation of Israel… from Joseph’s iniquitous brother, Judah… would be born our dear Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  

“Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him?” (Matt. 18:21; ESV).

            How often should God forgive you?

            He doesn’t forgive you only seven times, though that would be generous.  He doesn’t forgive you only seventy times seven, though that is particularly magnanimous.  He just keeps forgiving you.  Even when you’re not all that sorry.  Even when you take His love and forgiveness for granted.  Even when you keep doing the same thing, over and over.  He keeps applying the all-sufficient blood and death of Jesus Christ to you, for your forgiveness.  He just keeps covering you over with His mercy.  You live continually in His mercy.  You live continually in light of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ for you, and for all.

            And that, then, is the answer to Peter’s question.  How often shall I forgive?  The answer is always, “one more time.”  Because God just keeps forgiving you.  And who are you, then, not to forgive your neighbor?

            Now, we’re not talking about whether there should be civil penalties for crimes committed.  We’re not talking about whether you will continue to struggle with your feelings toward your neighbor in the aftermath of sin committed against you.  And sometimes, in extreme cases (but only in extreme cases), the boundaries in a relationship have to change. I get that.  You know, forgiveness is messy.  You, essentially, have to die to yourself for the sake of your neighbor in order to do it.  That hurts.  It’s an image of the cross.  Jesus, dying for your sin, and the sins of the whole world.

And it takes practice.  We practice forgiveness as Christians.  Sometimes you think you’ve forgiven a person, and next thing you know, you’re obsessing over the thing you thought you’d forgiven, and you have to forgive that person all over again.  You know what you do when that happens?  Take to yourself the petition: “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”  We’ll do that again in just a few minutes.  That prayer is forgiveness in action.  Every time you pray it, you’re declaring your neighbor forgiven once again.

            That is what forgiveness is.  The declaration that, even as the blood of Jesus covers all your own sins, so it covers your neighbor’s sins.  Yes, even that neighbor, who committed that sin.  It is the Holy Absolution, flowing from God to you, and from you to your neighbor.  AND (don’t forget), that works the other way, too.  Isn’t it just possible that you’ve also sinned against your neighbor? God’s Absolution also flows from your neighbor to you.

            Who, in this assembly, has sinned against you?  Who in your family?  Who out there?  Today, bring that sin with you to the altar, and plop it down in front of Jesus.  It belongs to Him, anyway.  He bought it, with His own blood, to forgive it.  Plop it down, and leave it there.  Don’t pick it up again.  Instead, receive Him.  His body given, His blood shed, for you and for them.  And then, immediately, go and love that person who sinned against you.  You’re free to do just that.  In Christ.  You can!  

            Like Joseph.  Oh, my brothers.  Oh, my dear, fellow Christians.  Am I in the place of God?  Who am I to hold your sin against you, when God does not hold my sin against me.  Let’s be reconciled.  Let’s love one another.  Let’s care for one another.  We can, because our God has freed us to do just that.  And what we often mean for evil, God works for good.  He does all things well.  He turns all things well.  And so, we all live, every one of us, by mercy.  The mercy of God for us in Jesus Christ.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son +, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

 

 

Fifteenth Sunday after Penteocst

 Video of Service

Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 18A)

September 6, 2026

Text: Matt. 18:1-20

            What about here, among us, in our congregation?  Who is the greatest in the Kingdom of heaven as it is manifested here, at Augustana?  The answer might surprise you, but it shouldn’t.  What would Jesus say?  What does He say?  It’s the babes in arms.  The ones who cry and coo and fill their diapers.  The ones who don’t really understand what is going on here, but they just receive it without question.  By grace.  By grace alone.  It’s shocking, isn’t it?  The disciples were shocked.  But Jesus even takes one such child and puts him in their midst, and says… not “this child needs to grow up and be like you guys”... but “you have to turn (and that’s the idea of repentance) and become like this child!”  “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children,” not only are you not the greatest in the Kingdom of heaven, “you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 18:3; ESV).  

            Jesus says a number of provocative things in our Gospel this day, each one of which merits a sermon of its own.  There is the idea of plucking out eyes and sawing of limbs if they lead you to sin.  Suffice it to say, for now, please don’t mutilate yourself, because the point of that whole thing is that it would be better to enter into life maimed, than go into death whole, and even if you started whacking off body parts, guess what you’d still be?  A sinner, because what you really need is a heart transplant, and that is what the Spirit gives you when He brings you to faith in Christ.  

Then, there is the shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine and goes after the one lost sheep.  That’s our Lord Jesus, isn’t it?  And we, hopefully, understand that we are that one lost sheep, and not one of the ninety-nine who supposedly need no repentance.  And when that sheep is found… when a sinner repents… when another lost one is brought to faith in Jesus… every Baptism, every conversion… the Shepherd Himself rejoices, and the angels in heaven rejoice.  

And then, there is the confrontation of the brother who sins against you.  No, not because you just want to tell him off.  That is a sin of pride, beloved.  But because you want to bring him to repentance, and so gain him back for Jesus.  You’re concerned about his salvation.  And so, there is the encounter between you and him alone (and you may do that again and again, by the way, until it’s clear that it will bear no fruit… Matthew 18 is not a checklist to go through until you can be done with your brother).  And then the bringing along of one or two others to beg and plead with your brother to repent.  And if that doesn’t work, the whole Church.  And finally, Church discipline.  Excommunication.  Not as an act of retribution, but an extraordinary act of love, designed to show the sinner just how dangerous his rebellion has become, such that his very salvation is in peril. 

And, finally, the beautiful promises, echoing those we heard a couple weeks ago: The Office of the Keys.  Whatever the Church and her ministers bind on earth is bound… by Jesus Christ… in heaven, and whatever the Church and her ministers loose on earth (which is to say, the forgiveness of sins) is loosed… by Jesus Christ… in heaven.  And when two of us agree on earth about anything we ask, the Father will act.  He will do it, Jesus says.  And, where two or three of us are gathered in Jesus’ Name, there He is.  And, indeed, He is!

A lot in this Gospel.  But I think the most radical idea in all of it is that these little ones, these children, these babies, are the greatest of us all.  Scandalous, isn’t it?  But then, if it upsets you, please remember, Jesus said it, not me.

Who is the greatest in the Kingdom of heaven?  It is not the great saints and heroes of the Bible.  It is not those who seem to be pillars, the ones we consider to be wise, great moral exemplars.  It is not those entrusted with high Church office (be they pope or Synod president).  And it is most certainly not the pastor of this congregation.

Little Hannah, God willing, will be baptized next Sunday, and that is Jesus, once again, putting a child in our midst, in answer to our question.  There are babies in utero, here, for whom we pray, and whom we hope to baptize soon, and little ones who squawk and squirm.  Jesus brought them here, and Jesus puts them in our midst, and they are precious and holy to Him, and so they must be precious and holy to us.  And not only that… we should be like them, Jesus says.  We should emulate them.  Not in squawking and squirming (though, frankly, some of you adults are pretty good at that, too), but in what?  First of all, in unpretentious humility, making no claims for ourselves before God, and under no illusions that we can do anything on our own.  And then, the simple reception of all the things of God, by grace alone.  

That is, little babies are the model of faith.  When you think about it, it makes sense.  Babies have to count on Mom and Dad, and ultimately, God, for everything good.  They just lay there and cry and make a mess until they’re delivered from it.  That’s a pretty good picture of us, isn’t it?  Whether we know it or not, totally dependent on God for all good things.  We can do the bad things ourselves.  But the good must come from Him.

Now, you may ask, how can a baby have faith in God… and, in fact, in Jesus Christ… when that baby doesn’t even know the word, “God,” or the Name, “Jesus”?  Well, do babies believe in Mom?  Of course they do.  Do they know the name, “Mom”?  Do they reason, logically, about Mom?  Of course they do not.  But that isn’t faith.  Faith is not knowledge.  It is not the ability to reason or confess.  It is simply trust.  Dependence.  Baby is happiest with Mom (Dad may be a distant second).  So, if Baby can possess faith in Mom, what does that say about a baptized child’s faith in Jesus?  Of course a baby can believe in Jesus.  

Now, faith is never content with ignorance.  Faith, as it grows, always seeks understanding and clear confession.  And because our babies are a holy trust to us from God, we have a duty to carefully teach them the Name of God, and their Savior, Jesus, and all about Him and His love for them.  So that they grow in that.  And, we should teach them not to squawk and squirm.  And when they do, and especially when they become a distraction to others, we should take them out for teaching (discipline), and then we should bring them right back in again, where they belong, and teach them to participate in the Service.  And everyone else, we have a sacred responsibility to be patient and supportive in that (“See that you do not despise one of these little ones,” Jesus says [v. 10].  Let us all take that to heart!).  But the faith, we want to remain a simple, expectant, joyful reception of all the things of God.  Total dependence.  That’s what we should emulate.  That faith.  Because, as we get older, we have a problem with that.  We start to think we’ve earned our good things, or can acquire them ourselves.  Or, we worry that God is unreliable and leaves us to clean up our own messes, and lift ourselves up by our own boot straps.  Babies know better.  

Now, Jesus gives us a chilling warning, here.  We must not, by our own negligence or obstinance, cause one of these little ones to sin.  Literally, to stumble.  As in, place their faith in peril.  How do we do that?  The number one way is to prevent them from being here.  Parents, you have to bring them.  You have to teach them.  It’s hard, but God has entrusted them to you for this very purpose.  God picked you specifically to be the parents of your children, to raise them in the holy faith of Jesus.  That means Church.  That means Sunday School, and Catechesis, and home devotions, too.  And all of us, we have to support the parents in that.  Pray for them.  Encourage them.  Be patient with them.  Love them.

We can also cause our children to stumble by our own bad example.  Or by placing temptations in our children' s hands (careful, especially, with those devices).  Or failing to protect them from spiritual dangers.  Or leading them away from Christ, and to other gods, be they the gods of what are literally other religions, or simply our own idols (the things we treat as more important than Christ and His Word… We don’t even realize we’re doing that, oftentimes, but children catch it every time).  What does Jesus say about causing children to stumble in this way?  It would be better to have a millstone hung around your neck, and be drowned in the depths of the sea (v. 6).  Christ, have mercy.  (He does.)

But we are not alone in this, in our responsibility toward the children.  What beautiful Promise does Jesus give us, even in the midst of His warnings?  I love this.  Their angels always see the face of my Father in heaven (v. 10).  That is, we have the help of the holy angels (and we get the teaching of guardian angels from this verse… whatever that looks like.  Mighty angels guard us and our children).  And, we have the help of the heavenly Father Himself, whose face the angels see, and who loves our children… and this is unimaginable, but also exceedingly comforting… who loves our children even more than we do.  Infinitely more than we do.              

            What should we take home from this?  Beloved, bring your children always and ever into the saving presence of the One who became a Child for them… and for you.  Bring them to Church.  Bring them to the gifts of Christ.  Bring them into the hearing of the Lord’s Word, and to encounter Him in His Sacraments.  Teach them Jesus.  Give them Jesus.  And everybody else, do the same thing.  These children… they are the greatest in the Kingdom in this place.  We should be like them.  Receiving Christ like them.  With faith like theirs.  In the Image of THE Greatest in the Kingdom of heaven.  The Christ Child.  Who loves us, became one of us, suffered and died for us, is risen, and lives, and reigns for us… who, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, is one God, now and forever.  Amen.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son +, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

 

Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost

 Video of Service

Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 17A)

August 30, 2026

Text: Matt. 16:21-28

            Peter had just made the great confession, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God” (Matt. 16:16; ESV), revealed to him, not by flesh and blood, but by God the Father Almighty Himself.  But from that great height, a great fall.  As the Lord Jesus preaches to His disciples what He must do as the Christ of God… namely, go to Jerusalem and suffer many things at the hands of chief priests and scribes, be killed, and on the third day rise again (in other words, the work of our salvation… the Sacrifice of Atonement for our sins)... As the Lord Jesus preaches that, Peter takes Him aside and rebukes Him!  “Far be it from you, Lord!”  Over my dead body.  “This will never happen to you” (v. 22).  He had the best of intentions, here, didn’t he?  He loved Jesus, and he wanted to protect Jesus.  He wanted to save Jesus.  But that’s just it, isn’t it?  Peter is not authorized to save Jesus.  Jesus has come to save Peter, and save us all.  And He will do that by means of the cross.  His blood.  His death.  There is no other way.  But Peter doesn’t like it.  “There must be another way for You to be the Christ, my Lord.  Do a miracle.  Snap Your fingers.  Just say the word.  Or, lead an army.  Or a public relations campaign.  They’ll get behind you.  You don’t have to suffer.  You can sidestep the cross.  Straight to the glory.  Straight to the throne.”  Whose voice has Peter become?  Who else tempted Jesus to take such a shortcut?  You know.  “Get behind me, Satan!  You are a hindrance to me.  For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but the things of man” (v. 23).  

Peter wanted a cross-less Christ.  That is our temptation, too.  We don’t want the Christ of God’s design, of our Father’s sending.  We want a savior on our own terms.  See, if we could be the designers of our salvation, it wouldn’t be much different than Jesus’ disciples expected.  A charismatic Leader who gains a following, takes over governments one by one (probably by military force, or in our case, perhaps, by popular election), eventually becoming Lord of the world, rewarding those loyal to Him with honor and eternal life (and that means us), but crushing and eternally damning all those bad people who (unlike us) are His enemies.  According to this scheme, Jesus would never have to suffer.  And we would never have to suffer, either.  Jesus would win… we would win by the sheer and obvious righteousness of our cause.  And, because our Jesus is all-powerful.  No cross.  Oh, we want the cross around as a decoration, to dress up our triumphalism.  Just no actual blood and agony and death.  

            But see, that is setting our mind on the things of man, rather than the things of God.  That is not the salvation God designed.  Among other things, it’s far too optimistic about ourselves (as though we’re in the special club of those those get it, as opposed to others who will never get it), and far too pessimistic about God’s mercy in Christ (as though there are sinners beyond God’s mercy in Christ because they are worse sinners than us… failing to see that we are those worse sinners).  And when we turn this into a theology… what we call the theology of glory (as opposed to the theology of the cross, where God’s Son suffers, and we suffer with Him, as He has promised)… when we turn this into a theology, we become… whose voice?  You know.  “Get behind me, Satan!”  

Contrary to every fallen human instinct and expectation, Jesus doesn’t save the world by winning wars and elections.  He doesn’t come in a blaze of glory to obliterate His adversaries and rescue us all by sheer might.  Jesus saves the world by giving Himself up to it… up to us… and for us.  In sacrifice.  That is the theology of the cross.  Jesus surrenders Himself into the hands of His enemies.  That’s how He does it.  It probably disappoints you.  It disappointed Peter, too.  And the other disciples.  And me.  Because we think the things of men.  Tread carefully, here, though, beloved.  Do not resist this (that would be resisting the Holy Spirit).  This does not call for your resistance, but repentance.  A turning.  A change of mind from the things of men, to the things of God.  The cross.  It is the only way.

The rebuke is hard to take, isn’t it (“Get behind me, Satan!”)?  Considering Peter meant only good?  Considering that now the rebuke is aimed at you and me?  But this is something we need to understand about God’s rebukes, which is to say, the raw and honest preaching of God’s Law… not just to those others (the bad people), but to us (turns out, the bad people, i.e. the sinners).  When God… when Jesus Christ, God’s Son… rebukes us, it is an extraordinary act of His love for us.  He is calling us back.  Back to Himself.  He is calling us to turn.  He is changing our mind.  It hurts.  Yes, it does.  It is death to Old Adam.  But He is bringing us to repentance.  So that we don’t cling religiously to this earthly life, and so lose our life entirely.  But that we lose our life with, and in, Him, and so save it eternally.  The cross.  

Jesus tells us plainly: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me” (v. 24).  See, it’s not even a case of, “Yes, Jesus had to suffer and die to win the Kingdom, but now that that is over with, we can live triumphant and victorious lives where we only win all the time.”  Beloved, if you think that (the things of men), what does that say about the Apostles and martyrs who suffered for the rest of their lives, and died horrendous deaths for the Name of Jesus?  What does it say about those who will be killed this very day because they go to Church?  What does it say about Peter, himself, of whom our Lord said, “when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will dress you and carry you where you do not want to go” (John 21:18)?  John tells us Jesus said this “to show by what kind of death [Peter] was to glorify God” (v. 19), and that is crucifixion.  This is to say, beloved, that the Christian life is cruciform.  The disciple is not above his Master.  The disciple follows the Master.  He goes the way of the Master.  And that means the way of the cross.  If Jesus suffered, you will suffer.  If Jesus was crucified, you will bear the holy cross.

Now, His cross is for your salvation, and the salvation of the world.  His cross alone makes atonement for sins.  Why, then, does He lay crosses and suffering on you?  Not to make satisfaction for sins.  That is, He isn’t punishing you.  But He is disciplining you… discipling you.  He is forming you.  Molding you.  Shaping you.  So that you look like Him.  He is toppling your idols.  Especially your self-righteousness, and your self-sufficiency.  He is burning away the dross.  Lutherans don’t believe in Purgatory, because it’s not in the Bible, and it contradicts the biblical doctrine that Christ alone makes satisfaction for our sins.  But we do believe in a purging, a cleansing, a purifying as through fire.  That doesn’t happen after this life, but in it, here, now.  God robs you of all the things you fear, love, and trust above Him.  So that you’re left only with Him.  And that’s the point, isn’t it?

It is eternally good for you.  And it is eternally good for your neighbor.  Jesus suffered the cross for you, and now, as you walk in His train, bearing His image, you suffer the cross for your neighbor.  That is all the stuff St. Paul is talking about in our Epistle (Rom. 12:9-21).  It is the continuation of last week’s preaching of our bodies as living sacrifices.  That is, giving yourself for the sake of the neighbor.  Genuine love. Abhorring what is evil (even, and especially, when that evil is in you).  Honoring one another.  Yes, even that person (you know).  Zelous for the things of God.  Fervent in spirit.  Serving the Lord, by serving His people (service… self-giving).  Rejoicing in hope.  Patient in tribulation.  Constant in prayer.  Contributing generously to your neighbor’s needs, and showing them hospitality.  And lest we deceive ourselves, we’re not talking about loving theoretical neighbors in general.  We’re talking about the flesh and blood people in your life, including especially those sitting around you at this very moment.  And even, and especially the ones that hardest to love.  Jesus never loved those who were easy to love.  He didn’t sacrifice Himself for those who deserved it.  Only for the hardest to love, and least deserving.  You.  And me.

But what is the goal of all of this?  Suffering to what end?  Not for its own sake.  God is not sadistic.  Jesus’ suffering has two purposes: 1. It is the fulfillment of justice.  Someone has to pay for the sins of the world.  Someone has to pay for your sins.  You should, but you don’t.  Jesus did.  Because He loves you, and wants you to live, and be His own.  And 2. Had Jesus not died, He couldn’t be raised from the dead.  There is no resurrection without death.  So He was crucified, dead and buried, that on the Third Day, He be raised from the dead.  And you are crucified with Him in your Baptism into Christ, so that you can live even now in His resurrection, and be raised by Him, bodily, on the Last Day.  The goal of the cross, beloved, is eternal resurrection life!  Who could imagine that?  Well, not you and me.  Not Peter.  Because, these are the things of God.  God has to reveal them to us.  Think those things.  Set your mind on those things.  Not your own things.  

Because that is your life and salvation.  Christ crucified.  St. Paul declares, “we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Cor. 1:23-24).  Don’t try to save Jesus from it.  Or yourself.  This is how Jesus saves you.  Surrender to it, as He did.  And what will be the result?  You’ll find your life.  It all flows from the cross.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son +, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.