Second Sunday of Easter

 Video of Service

Second Sunday of Easter (A)

April 12, 2026

Text: John 20:19-31

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

            The wounds.  He still has them.  Why?  That we may know.  This is the Lord Jesus who was crucified for us.  Dead and buried.  Our punishment, for our sins.  Our cross.  Our hell.  Our tomb.  See the scars.  He was mortally wounded.  Yet, behold, He lives.  The Lamb of God, slain, but standing.  Victorious.

            The wounds.  They are, for us, the wells of salvation.  Pierced for our transgressions.  Crushed for our iniquities.  Upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace (Is. 53:5).  Peter preaches, as did Isaiah before him: "By his wounds you have been healed" (1 Peter 2:24; ESV).  The Rock of Ages, cleft for me.  Let me hide myself in thee.

            The hands. The feet.  The riven side, whence flowed the water and the blood.  Be of sin the double cure.  Cleanse me from its guilt (justification) and power (sanctification).  It all flows from His wounds.  Into font and chalice.  And so, into you.  And so, into me.

            So, when I am tempted, I flee to the wounds.  They are the stronghold, my protection from Satan’s flaming darts. 

            When the guilt of my sins overwhelms me, I run to the wounds.  There is forgiveness in the blood.  The blood is the propitiation, the atonement, and the purifying agent.

            When I have been sinned against, behold, the wounds.  Suffered also for my neighbor.  For the forgiveness of my neighbor.  The same mercy.  The same blood.  It covers me.  It covers my neighbor.  If God forgives my neighbor, how can I not forgive him?  If God forgives me... at the cost of these precious wounds... Forgiveness flows from these wounds, to me, and through me, to my neighbor.

            So, when I am given to judging my neighbor in his sins... as though his sins are not as qualified, as are mine, for the mercy of the Lord... look at the wounds.  And bury that nonsense deep within them.

            When I am weak, or sick... When I know the brokenness of everything... When I am grieving, or sad... When I am lonely...  When I am dying...  There is healing in the wounds.  Only in the wounds.  The Strong One, weak, with my own weakness, in order to make me strong with His strength.  His body broken, that I be made whole.  His sorrow, His tears, turning mine into joy.  Forsaken by all, that I never be alone.  Not even in death.  In which, even then, I will live.  Because He died.  But He lives.  And I live in Him.

            See how His wounds give meaning to my own.  Mine are joined to His.  His redeem and consecrate Mine.  St. Peter tells us how.  Though now, for a little while, if necessary, you are grieved, these various trials are gifts of God, given, why?  That “the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 3:7).  What does it mean?  What kind of test could this be?  It is not an academic test, or a fitness qualifier.  This is metallurgy!  The purifying of gold.  It is melted into liquid.  Surely, being melted is not a pleasant experience!  But what happens?  As the precious metal is melted down, all that is not gold is brought to the surface, and skimmed away.  So it is with faith.  That is the testing.  The melting down.  So that all that is not faith... all that is not Christ... be exposed and removed.  Your wounds.  They have purpose, now.  United with those of Christ. 

            And what happens to the wounds over time, as they heal?  They become scars.  Scars are important.  They are reminders.  Signs.  Signs that the wounds are real.  That the hurt really happened.  But also, signs of healing and life.  Signs that God does not forsake you in your woundedness.  In that case, there would be no healed scars.  So... signs of God’s absolute faithfulness to you.  And a Promise, as you behold them through the lens of Jesus’ sacred scars: God will raise you from the dead, too.  And what is the proof?  The crucifixion wounds.

            It is Easter evening, and the disciples are locked away for fear.  Having sinned, and been sinned against.  Weak and broken.  In lonely prisons of their own making.  Sorrowful.  Grieving.  When all at once, He appears.  He is in their very midst.  No, He didn’t use the back door, or climb in through the bathroom window.  Here is a great Easter revelation: He’s been with them the whole time.  As He always is with His disciples, now, in His risen and glorified body.  And that, means us, beloved.  He is with us.  There He is, and you can imagine their surprise.  Startled.  Confused.  Doubting their own eyes.  Now, even more afraid.  What if He’s come in judgment?  What if He’s come in wrath? 

            But He speaks forth His peace.  Shalom.  And then, what does He do for His doubting disciples?  What gift does He give them, that makes everything right?  Then He showed them His hands and His side.  The wounds!  He still has them.  That the disciples may know.

            Now, Thomas was not with them.  Doubting Thomas, we say.  And it is true, he should have believed his brothers’ resurrection preaching.  But his instincts are right.  What does he demand to see?  The wounds.  That will do it.  They are the only cure for doubt.  Contact with the wounds of our Lord Jesus Christ.  “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe” (John 20:25).

            Eight days later, there He is again (He has this way of appearing in the flesh on Sundays, wherever His people are gathered).  And what does He say?  Thomas, here are My wounds.  Go ahead, poke around.  Here is the cure for all that ails you.  “Do not disbelieve, but believe” (v. 27).  And it works, doesn’t it?  In place of doubt, faith!  And creedal confession.  Thomas says to Him, “My Lord and my God!” (v. 28).  And then, as though turning and looking at us, the Lord says to Thomas, “Have you believed because you have seen me?  Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed” (v. 29).

            It is true, we haven’t seen, and yet we believe.  But we have come into contact with those blessed wounds.  The Rock is cleft for us in altar and font.  We hide ourselves in those wounds in the blest baptismal waters, and every time the Absolution is spoken, as Jesus here gives it (“If you forgive the sins of anyone, they are forgiven” [v. 23]).  The blood covers us in the body given and the cup poured out, cleansing us, purifying us, forgiving our sins.  And we believe.  And we confess.  “My Lord and my God!”

            That is the power of Jesus’ wounds.  He doesn’t bear them such that they still hurt Him.  Now they are trophies, witnesses, signs.  These things were written, first, in the flesh of God’s Son.  “Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands” (Is. 49:16).  And then they are written in the Gospel, the Scriptures: “that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name” (John 20:30).  And so it is.  Behold, the wounds.  The Lord Jesus bears these wounds for you.

            Alleluia!  Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.                 

 

 

The Resurrection of Our Lord: Easter Day

 Video of Service

The Resurrection of Our Lord: Easter Day (A)

April 5, 2026

Text: Matt. 28:1-10

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

            “And behold, there was a great earthquake...” (Matt. 28:2; ESV).  Well, that is actually an understatement!  Yes, the shaking of the ground, but what else is shaken in the dawning rays of the Son’s resurrection?  Let’s closely examine our text.

            First of all, how about the very days of the week?  The priority of the Seventh Day, the Sabbath, giving way to the First Day of the Week, Sunday.  Because now, all time is taken up in something utterly new.  Sabbath rest, no longer temporal, but eternal.  No longer a day, but a Man.  A Man who has fulfilled the Sabbath as Law by His rest in the tomb, and given it again as Gospel.  And so, this Day, Sunday, the First Day... but also, the eternal Eighth Day... will be the Lord’s Day, from here on out... for on this Day, He defeated death forever by His own bodily resurrection from the dead.

            What else?  The angel, visibly descending from heaven, rolling back the stone, leaving a gaping hole in the tomb.  Look at him, just sitting there... I’m convinced, with his arms folded and a smirk of satisfaction, as well as playful humor, on his face.  (Okay, that’s just my conjecture.)  But we do know, sitting triumphantly on our former prison, his appearance like lightening (can you imagine it?), and his clothing as white as snow.  He is there to preach. 

            First, Law to the guards.  Have you ever thought about that?  Those set to keep dead men dead and sealed in the tomb... the angel doesn’t even have to say a word.  His mere appearance on the scene preaches to them.  And (as the Law always does) it kills them.  In a manner of speaking, anyway.  They tremble (like the earth beneath them) and fall to the ground... like dead men.  And they are a picture of our own captors: The devil, the world, and our sinful flesh.  The grave itself (death!).  Hell.  Those enemies are conquered, now, because the Lord Jesus has rattled the world... in fact, the universe... by His victorious arising from death.  The enemies thought they had killed Him on the cross.  And they did!  But they couldn’t keep Him dead, this Jesus, our Lord.  And the joke’s on them.  His death was actually their undoing, so that they lost all power, over Him, and us.  And now, by His resurrection, He brings life and immortality to light (2 Tim. 1:10).

            Then... the women.  Note how they approach the tomb, somewhat timidly, and yet, with greater courage than any of the men, who ought to have been there, but instead have locked themselves away for fear.  What are they expecting to find?  A sealed tomb with a corpse inside.  Instead, they find the stone rolled away, with that smirking angelic preacher there to greet them.  That’ll shake ‘em up, needless to say.  But to these women (as opposed to the guards), the angel preaches pure Gospel.  “Do not be afraid...” (Matt. 28:5).  Oh, you know that preachment was necessary, lest the women fall down like the guards.  And then, the earthshaking substance of the sermon.  The angel preaches the death and resurrection of Christ: “I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified.  He is not here, for he has risen, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay” (vv. 5-6).  See, the tomb is empty.  And, by the way, the angel didn’t roll back the stone so Jesus could come out.  Stones and walls and other physical barriers are irrelevant to the risen Jesus in His glorified body.  Even the space/time continuum can’t keep Him from going where He wants to go, and being where He wants to be.  No, the angel rolls the stone away for our sake, and for these women, and the disciples who will come later.  So we can look in, and see!  There is no dead body there.  Just more angels and folded up grave clothes (but, that’s the Gospel of John, so we’ll save it for another sermon).  Okay, so the tomb is empty.  And now, the angel points the women back to the Lord’s Word.  Preachers... even angelic ones... must ever and only preach the Lord’s Word, the things He said.  Remember, dear women, what He said.  Well, what did He say?  “The Son of Man is about to be delivered into the hands of men, and they will kill him, and he will be raised on the third day” (Matt. 17:22-23).  He didn’t hide any of that.  He taught it multiple times, clearly and explicitly, throughout His ministry.  So, now, remember that.  And believe it.  Because it has happened.  He died.  For the sins of the world.  And now, He is risen from the dead, as He said.

            Well, that turns the whole world upside down.  Death has been reversed?!  The women run from the tomb... in fear, still (I mean, if you heard from an undeniably credible source that someone you loved, and knew to have died... you saw the body... you were at the burial... was now walking around, alive and well and better than ever... you’d fear, too)... but now, fear mingled with joy.  Giving way to joy.  So much joy, that they do what the angel told them to do.  They run to the disciples, and tell them they should unlock the doors, because the Lord is risen, as He said!  I personally love that fact, by the way.  That the women, the Church, who should be the hearers, have to run and tell the preachers to get over their grief and fear, because they have a risen Lord Jesus on their hands.  Sometimes you have to remind your pastor that the tomb is still empty, and Jesus is, in fact, risen from the dead.  In any case, it is a marvelous picture of what the Church... all of you... are given to do with this Easter Gospel.  Run and tell it!

            And, on their way, who should they run into, but Jesus!  Alive.  Risen.  Greeting them, with love and joy and consolation. The Crucified One lives!  Earthshaking.  And He’s here for them.  He’s here for us!  Tremendous!  You know, that is how it will happen for us, too.  (It already happens to us, every time we gather here for the Supper, where the risen Jesus greets us with His body given, His blood shed, for us, for the forgiveness of all our sins.)  But, even as it happened, visibly and tangibly, for the women, so it will happen for us.  We’ll be running on our way, going about our business, doing what we’re given to do, when suddenly... on a day known only to Him... there He’ll be.  (Remember Ellie?  Laying there, reading her Bible, one minute, and the next, there He is?!)  In other words, one day you’ll die.  But you won’t really die.  Because you’ll be with Him, who (as it turns out), was telling the truth when He said: “I am the resurrection and the life.  Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die” (John 11:25-26).

            “And behold, there was a great earthquake...”  In your life, too.  There are many things in your life that are painful and scary and sad.  There is no denying that.  And your sins.  And all the places death touches you and the people you love.  Jesus died for all of that.  That is the old and fallen creation, which is passing away.  But there is another reality at play... a greater reality than all of those things.  What is it?  Jesus Christ is risen from the dead.  And He is the firstfuits.  More fruit to follow.  Which is to say, you.  The risen Jesus will raise you.  Bodily, as He is risen.  He will present you before His Father.  And the Father Himself will wipe away every tear from your eyes (Rev. 7:17; 21:4).  And give you eternal life in His Kingdom.  And see, that New Creation is already breaking through, here and now, in the things of the risen Jesus.  Such that (to borrow a phrase from Tolkien), He is making every sad thing, untrue.  Or, in the Words of Jesus Himself: “Behold, I am making all things new” (Rev. 21:5).

            You can live in that confidence, right now.  You can live in that joy, right now.  Because the Lord’s tomb is already empty.  Soon, yours will be, too.  It’s earthshaking.  And it’s true.  Alleluia!  Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.                

Vigil of Easter

 Video of Service

The Resurrection of Our Lord: Vigil of Easter

April 4, 2026

Text: Mark 16:1-8

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

            This is the night...  Of death succumbing to resurrection and life.  The great passing through the valley of the shadow, then, coming up and out.  The drowning and death of Old Adam.  The emerging and arising of the new man, the New Creation in Christ.  Darkness to light.  Repentance and faith.  Mortification of the flesh.  Growth in the Spirit’s fruits.  Out with the old and dying and dead.  In the with the new and living and eternal.  In foreshadowing, and accomplished fact.  In delivery of the gifts, and following in His train.  This is the night.

            This is the night... Creation out of nothing.  God’s almighty Let there be!  And so, there is.  Formed and filled.  And it is good.  In fact, very good.  And man and woman.  Male and female.  Fashioned in God’s own image and likeness.  Tending the Garden.  Stewarding creation.  Having dominion over fish and birds and livestock and every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.  Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it.  This is the night.

            But we know what happened.  The beguiling serpent.  The woman deceived.  The man, silent, when he should have spoken.  Taking and eating what God had forbidden.  Not good.  Not good.  A Promise, yes.  The woman’s Seed, crushed, but crushing the serpent’s head.  Yet, before you know it, a brother’s blood crying from the ground.  Adam’s seed, corrupt... all.  And so, a Flood.  Of worldwide proportions.  The death of all the living.  Except one man and his family.  Our father, Noah.  His sons.  Their wives.  Saved in an ark.  Eight souls in all.  And pairs of animals in which is the breath of life.  A starting over.  A reset for the God who is grieved, and death for humanity, hellbent on self-destruction.  But delivery through water, to life, for the one who is righteous by faith in the LORD, his God.  And another Promise.  The bow in the clouds.  God points His weapon away from earth.  Never again shall there be a Flood to destroy the world.  God’s solemn oath.  This is the night.

            Israel, trapped, with their backs against the sea.  Before them, slavery and certain death.  Behind them, a watery grave.  But there is the pillar of fire, God’s Glory.  And there is the rod, and the Word of God.  Lift up your staff.  Stretch out your hand over the sea and divide it.  A strong east wind.  The Read Sea parts.  Israel crosses through the water on dry ground.  But Egypt pursues.  The hoards of Pharaoh, with chariot and horse.  Moses, stretch out your hand again.  And the waters of the sea come crashing down.  Water destroys the enemies of God.  Water saves the children of God.  “I will sing to the LORD, for he has triumphed gloriously; the horse and his rider he has thrown into the sea” (Ex. 15:1; ESV).  The passing through.  The coming up, and out.  To freedom.  To life.  And communion with God.  This is the night. 

            Baptism by water.  And Baptism by fire.  Three faithful men who will not bow the knee.  Who will not prostrate themselves before a pagan idol.  They will pay the price.  And they are willing.  Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.  Nebuchadnezzar’s fury.  A fiery furnace seven times hotter.  God will deliver us, O king, from your hand.  But even if not, we will not bow down.  And so, bound.  Cast down.  In smoke and flame.  Even the executioners are killed.  But now, the men are unbound, and unhurt, walking around in the midst of the fire.  And who is that with them?  We only cast three.  That fourth One appears like a son of the gods!  He is, as it happens, the Angel of the LORD.  Which is to say, not a son of the gods, but the Son of God!  God will deliver us, O king, from your hand.  And He does.  That is precisely what this God does for those who belong to Him.  And so, passing through.  And coming up, and out.  To freedom and life.  This is the night. 

            The Vigil of Easter, from ancient times, was a night of Baptisms and Confirmations (we don’t have any ready to go this year, but it’s always fun when we do).  The passing through water.  The death and defeat of God’s enemies (and yours!).  The devil.  Old Adam in you.  Your sin.  Your guilt.  The coming up, and out of the blest baptismal water.  Forgiven.  Born anew.  Washed clean.  Clothed with Christ, and His righteousness.  A New Creation.  To live by faith.  Image restored.  Likeness reclaimed.  And then, the blessing of the Spirit, as the faith is confessed.  On pain of death (we ask even our children... are you willing to die, rather than fall away from this faith?).  A Baptism of fire.  Because, do what they might, the world and its prince cannot kill us.  Our God will deliver us from their wicked hands.  And He does.  Always.  Even if it be through suffering and martyrdom. 

            Because, this is the night.  Dissipating into Day.  What do the women find, as that Day dawns?  The stone rolled back.  No Jesus in the tomb, but a young man, dressed all in white, seated on the right side, like he is waiting for them.  “Do not be alarmed,” the angel says.  “You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified.  He has risen; he is not here.  See the place where they laid him” (Mark 16:6).  It is the first Easter sermon.  And the women are the first to hear it.  They are not to keep it bottled up, this news, as though it is a secret to themselves.  Go, tell His disciples.  And especially Peter.  He’ll meet you in Galilee.  You’ll see Him for yourselves!

            And they flee in fear.  Trembling and astonishment.  Because the night is over.  Everything has changed.  Jesus took hold of the night by its ears and leapt with it into the abyss.  It is the death of the darkness forever.  But, for Jesus... He was just passing through.  Through the night.  Through death.  And now, He has come up, and out! 

            In this moment, all the women have is the preaching of it, still reverberating in their ears, and in their hearts.  But the angel promised that soon, they would see Him.

            And that is us, tonight.  This is the night when we hear the preaching.  The Good News that Christ Jesus is risen from the dead.  Not the sense or sight of it.  Just a sermon.  Reverberating in our ears, and in our hearts.  But also, a Promise.  We will see Him soon.  And, indeed, we will.  The Risen One is coming.  This is the night, but soon, the Day.  It is, with us, as with all the saints of old.  We’re passing through.  Then up, and out.  With Jesus.  With our Lord.  It is the grand old story.  It is our story.  And here is the climax, the earthshaking culmination of all that came before... the sum and substance of our eternal future: Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!  Up and out, and into resurrection life.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.           

  

Good Friday

 Video of Service

Good Friday Tenebrae

April 3, 2026

Text: John 19:28-30 (ESV): “After this, Jesus, knowing that all was now finished, said (to fulfill the Scripture), ‘I thirst.’  A jar full of sour wine stood there, so they put a sponge full of the sour wine on a hyssop branch and held it to his mouth.  When Jesus had received the sour wine, he said, ‘It is finished,’ and he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.”

            In the Name of Jesus X.  Amen.

            “I thirst.”  Suffering, dying, making atonement for the sins of the world, for your sins and mine... It’s hard work.  Our Savior is human.  Like us.  The Son of God does His saving work in a body.  Flesh of our flesh.  Bone of our bone.  And so, He is physically parched.  And wine-vinegar won’t slake Him.

            He has emptied Himself.  Poured Himself out for us.  His blood.  His strength.  His very life.  And now, knowing that the work of our redemption has been accomplished, He speaks forth His emptiness, His longing to be filled.  By water?  Certainly.  But more than that.  For what is He thirsting? 

            For you.  To be His own.  For you.  To live with Him, in His Kingdom, forever.  For you.  To desire Him, as He desires you.  To live for Him, as He has lived for you.  To die in Him, as He has died for you.  And so, to rise with Him, as He is risen and lives for you.  The Blessed One hungers and thirsts for your righteousness (Matt. 5:6), your justification.  And that is what He accomplishes by His death on the cross.  What is it that can satisfy His thirst?  You.  Only you.  Beloved, look again at the crucifix.  See Him bleeding, dying on the tree.  He does all this for you.

            The sour wine.  The gall.  That won’t do it.  This, rather, is to fulfill the Scripture, which said: “They gave me poison for food, and for my thirst they gave me sour wine to drink” (Psalm 69:21).  As it happens, that is a fine description of the best we can do to quench the Savior’s thirst by our own efforts.  To be righteous before Him by our own strength.  To justify ourselves.  Swill.  Spoiled.  Polluted.  Rotten.  That is what we give Him.  It will never do.  It is with us as the Prophet Isaiah says: “all our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment” (Is. 64:6).  Filthy rags.

            “I thirst,” Jesus says.  But only He can provide that for which He thirsts.  And He does.  So, “When Jesus had received the sour wine”... as though swallowing the last sin left on earth... the final transgression to be atoned... the big one, our self-justification... He said, “It is finished.”  That is, it is complete.  This that I am now doing has come to its conclusion, and reached its goal.  And so, He lays His labor down.  He rests, as He did on the Seventh Day of Creation.  He dies.  For you. 

            What, exactly, is included in that declaration, “It is finished”?  His suffering?  Yes.  But more.  The Sacrifice of Atonement for our sins.  The Propitiation.  And so, our guilt.  Our condemnation.  Our enmity with God.  What is left to do?  Just this: A Sabbath rest in the tomb, thus sanctifying our sepulchers as soft beds from which we will one day awaken.  And then, getting on with the business of resurrection and life. 

            So, “It is finished.”  And He “bowed his head and gave up his spirit.”  Not just a poetic way of saying He took His final breath this side of death, although it is that.  He is breathing forth the Holy Spirit into the world, and upon all who will believe in Him.  His death unleashes something.  He’ll do it again on Easter evening, when He breathes on His disciples and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit” (John 20:22).  He will manifest it fully when the Spirit blows through on Pentecost, fifty days later.  And on us in every Baptism.  And on the wind of His Word.  Where His death... and life... touches us in the body given, the blood poured out, set before us as a banquet, the Holy Supper. 

            That is the satisfaction of His thirst.  That you receive Him, and all His saving gifts.  The Spirit He pours out.  The Father who loves you.  The life He gives you.  The Kingdom He bestows. 

            And what is our response?  As we sang, “What language shall I borrow To thank Thee, dearest Friend” (LSB 450:5)?  The sour wine, my own swill, will never do.  How about this?  Another request!  “O make me Thine forever!  And should I fainting be, Lord, let me never, never, Outlive my love for Thee” (emphasis added).  Live in Him, and love Him.  Be loved by Him.  That is my response.  And yours.  Every day by His mercy.  Each day in faith.  Treasuring His every Word.  Longing to see Him with my own eyes.  Rejoicing to receive Him as He comes to me... to us... in His Means of Grace.

            It is that for which He’s been thirsting all along, isn’t it?  There He won it (the cross).  And here He gives it (the Church).  Oh, beloved.  Behold your Savior, and your God.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.    

Maundy Thursday

 Video of Service

Maundy Thursday (A)

April 2, 2026

Text: Matt. 26:17-30

            What does Jesus give us in His Words, instituting this Supper?  Chiefly this: “this is my body” (Matt. 26:26; ESV); “this is my blood of the covenant” (v. 28); and why does He give it?... “for the forgiveness of sins.” 

            This is a profound saying.  Our Lutheran ears and dull hearts are probably desensitized to this, because we’ve heard it so often.  We know it, already.  We know it.  Well... I’m not so sure.  Saturated, as we are, in the ethos of American Evangelicalism... which sees in the Supper, at best, an exercise by which we stretch our faith up to heaven (where the humanity of Jesus is confined), to commune on His body spiritually, there; or, at worst, a mere symbol of His body and blood (which is, again, confined to heaven), an ordinance, an obligation, to be obeyed by us... We’re immersed in that.  It has to have an influence on us.  Do you see, by the way, how that teaching gets the direction of the Sacrament precisely backwards?  Us to God, that’s what it makes it.  It becomes something we have to do for God, not something God does for us.  It’s as bad as the Roman idea of the Sacrifice of the Mass, where we offer to God the Sacrifice of Jesus.  No, when Jesus institutes the Sacrament of the Altar, the point is, He comes down.  He comes to His disciples.  He comes to us.  And He doesn’t sacrifice Himself in the Supper (much less do we sacrifice Him).  That happens, once for all, on the cross.  Rather, in the Supper, He gives all the benefits of His sin-atoning, life-saving Sacrifice, to us.  That is the direction.  Not us to God.  Jesus to us!

            Also telling, a 2019 Pew survey found that 69% of self-identifying Roman Catholics denied the Real Presence of Jesus in the Sacrament, believing rather that the bread and wine are just symbols of His body and blood.[1]  If that is true of Catholics, one wonders what a similar survey would find among Lutherans.  Granted, the survey is not confined to those who regularly attend Church.  One hopes, and expects, those who attend Church to be better catechized.

            Still, the point is... don’t take it for granted that we know this, the bodily presence of Jesus in the Sacrament, for the forgiveness of our sins.  Or that we believe it, even if we do know it.  It ain’t necessarily so, to quote the George and Ira Gershwin anti-religion hymn.  And anyway, never underestimate the devil’s power to lead fragile consciences into doubt about this.  Especially because this is a reality unavailable to our senses.  Right?  We can’t see it.  Looks like bread and wine.  Tastes like bread and wine.  As a matter of fact, it is bread and wine.  And that’s all you’ll find if you subject it to scientific testing.  You won’t find little bits of first century middle eastern male DNA interspersed in the wafer or the drop.  But faith recognizes that it isn’t only bread and wine.  Faith believes the Word Jesus speaks of the bread and wine.  This is My body.  This is my blood.  There is a reality hidden underneath the earthly elements.  A supernatural reality, to be sure, but nonetheless real.  That bread is Christ’s body.  That wine is Christ’s blood.  Why?  How?  Because He says so.

            The only solution to ignorance about this, on the one hand (be it willful, or unwilful)... and spiritual doubt, on the other... is preaching and catechesis.  You need this preaching.  So do I.  You may think you are strong on this doctrine, but that is just the kind of self-security the devil loves.  Because then he can spring his trap out of nowhere, so that the very next moment you’re attacked by doubt, or even unbelief.  So Jesus has to breathe this Word into you, again and again.  This is My body.  This is My blood.  Given and shed for you, for the forgiveness of sins.  Because this does not make sense to fallen flesh.  It can only be divinely revealed.  Foolishness to natural man.  The power of God to those born anew of the Spirit. 

            That is what I’m looking for, by the way, from our guests when they present themselves for the Supper.  And frankly, from you, too...  Well, first that they are baptized in the Name of our Triune God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  That is number one.  Are you a baptized Christian?  Under no circumstances should an unbaptized person commune.  You have to be born before you can eat. 

            But then, what do you expect to receive in the Sacrament?  I’m looking for a clear confession that the person expects to receive the true body and blood of Jesus, in their mouth (no faith stretching up to heaven business), under the bread and wine.  (Of course, I help them come to this confession as we talk.  It’s not an academic test).  And then, why do you want to receive His body and blood?  For the forgiveness of sins.  Because that is what Jesus distributes in the Sacrament. 

            And then, yes, it is also true that I want to know our guests are in fellowship with us before they commune.  That is, that they have been catechized in the Lutheran Church and are members in good standing of a Missouri-Synod congregation.  But even then, the question remains (and we can’t take it for granted, anymore, that Missouri Synod Lutherans know and believe this): What is the Sacrament?  Why do you want it?  It is the true body and blood of Jesus, given me to eat and drink, for the forgiveness of my sins. 

            And not only should we know and believe this as a matter of doctrine.  This teaching... these Words of our Lord... should be the precious treasure we carry in our hearts and minds as we come forward to receive this Gift.  In fact, there three moments I find profoundly moving every time we celebrate the Supper.  (I want you to find them moving, too, because that means you really believe this.) 

            First, when Jesus says to us of the bread, this is My body.  Because now it is.  His Word does what it says.  And so, with the wine, this is My blood.  Now it is.  The very body nailed to the cross for my sins...  It’s right here, in this little bit of bread.  And the very blood shed as the price for my redemption... It’s right here, in this tiny sip.  I know it, because that’s what He says. 

            Second, the elevation of the body, and then the blood of Christ, after the consecration of each element.  What is that we are seeing?  Our fallen eyes don’t recognize it, and sometimes our fallen hearts rebel against the very idea of it... But faith sees it... knows it, believes it... That is Jesus!  Jesus for me!  Jesus for us!  With us!  In the flesh!  There are times I almost weep for the beauty and joy of this reality.  How do we not fall on our faces with wonder? 

            And, third... and above all... when the body... the blood... of Jesus Christ, the Son of God... hits my tongue.  It is the death and resurrection of Christ, cleansing me from the inside out, and giving me life.  It is the touch of the One who heals me, body and soul.  Strengthening me.  Uniting with me, so that we are one.  Pumping in my heart, and coursing through my veins.  Taking possession of me, body and soul.  Communion with the Lord Jesus.  And so with the Father, and the Holy Spirit.  And, with the body of Christ that is the Church.  Making of me, already, here and now, a New Creation, a possessor of eternal life. 

            All by grace.  I don’t deserve it.  I don’t do anything to make it happen (the direction is not me to God).  Jesus comes down to me... to us (this is you, too, isn’t it?  This is what He does for you!)... He comes down to us in this Gift.  To forgive our sins and be one with us.

            Really, though, dear Lutheran...  Tired of hearing it?  I already know that?  That’s a sure sign you need to hear it again, and take it to heart.  And know, once again, the wonder of it. 

            O Lord Jesus, grant us Your Spirit, so that we do, indeed, take this to heart, and believe what You here give us, receiving it often, with joy, and wonder, and thanksgiving.  Give us a hunger and thirst for this Gift... for You, O Christ!  Grant it, dear Jesus.  Our mouths are open, and our hearts are ready.  Fill us with Your true body and blood.  And so, live in us.  That our sins be forgiven, and we live in You.  In the name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.               

---

[1] “Pew Survey Shows Majority of Catholics Don’t Believe in ‘Real Presence,” https://www.ncronline.org/spirituality/pew-survey-shows-majority-catholics-dont-believe-real-presence, accessed March 30, 2026.

Palm Sunday/ Sunday of the Passion

Video of Service 

Palm Sunday/ Sunday of the Passion (A)

March 29, 2026

Text: John 12:12-19; Matt. 26-27

            Christ Jesus is on the move.  He is invading enemy territory, reclaiming what once was His.  As rightful King, He comes into the Holy City. 

            Or, is it so holy?  The Glory of God had departed from the Temple centuries ago.  You can read about it in Ezekiel 10.  That Glory (that is God the Son), veiled in the Glory cloud, mounted His chariot, with its whirling cherubic wheels, and simply lifted off and out.  Babylon destroyed that Temple.  God let them.  In fact, God sent them for the very purpose.  And though many of the exiles returned and rebuilt, the Glory did not return.  And the sins of the people continued to sully.  And the righteousness of the Pharisees, and elitism of Sadducees, could not fill the void.  Counterfeit righteousness.  Self-righteousness.  Human elitism.  It is not holy.  It is not sufficient. 

            But now, He comes.  The Glory, veiled in human flesh.  He is met by waving palms and shouts of acclamation: “Hosanna!”  Save us, now!  (That is what the word means.)  “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel” (John 12:13; ESV; emphasis added).  He rides in.  Like the conquering kings of old, who paraded with their forces through the streets of a vanquished city.

            He comes, though, not on a mighty steed, surrounded by armored legions.  But humble.  Mounted on a donkey, as Zechariah prophesied: “Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey” (Zech. 9:9).  And He is surrounded by legions of exultant pilgrims and jubilant children, in fulfillment of the same prophecy: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!  Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem!”

            He comes.  Knowing, however, that the shouts of acclamation will turn by the end of the week.  The Pharisees are already plotting.  And the Chief Priests.  And the Council.  Soon, Judas.  By Friday, what will the crowds be shouting?  “Let him be crucified!” (Matt. 27:22-23).  “His blood be on us and on our children!” (v. 25).  When the Glory of God returns to Jerusalem, what happens?  They kill Him.  We kill Him.  He knows this.

            Nevertheless, He comes.  To cleanse the Temple He once vacated.  To fill it again with Words of Life and Light, His teaching (He teaches all week long).  To fill the congregation of His hearers, and His disciples with Himself.  And then, to fill the Passover bread and wine with His very body and blood, the body and blood that would given and shed on the cross for us, for the forgiveness of sins. 

            He comes.  To bring the iniquity of Jew and Gentile... all of us... to its fulness, with the very murder of God.  To load it on His own back, and carry it up the hill.  He comes.  To the final showdown between death and Life; a showdown in which death is, apparently, victorious.  And so, to die our death, and fill our tomb. 

            But then, the Third Day.  Death’s victory becomes death’s defeat.  And Life’s defeat, it turns out, becomes His resurrection victory over death, forever. 

            And so, this day we gather with our palm branches and shouts of acclamation: “Hosanna!”  Save us, now!  “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”  We already know how this ends.  Still, we hear it again, and anew.  And we walk with Him through all the suffering and misery and horror and triumph.  This is all for us.  Accomplished long ago, but delivered, here and now, in real time.

            Jesus comes.  To us, now.  Really.  In the flesh.  Otherwise, why the palms?  Why the “Hosannas” and the “Blessed is He”s?  If we’re just pretending, I have better things to do this week, and so do you.  But if we’re not pretending… If this is real… If Jesus Christ, the King, is here, in the flesh, coming among us, invading our Church building, and so, everything that is us, and ours... our vocations, our marriages and families and relationships, our neighborhood and community, and our very bodies and souls…  If that is true... you and I have nothing better to do, ever. 

            Do you believe that?  There is often a disconnect, isn’t there, between our deeply held convictions and how we actually behave.  Even how our fallen minds think.  In any case, Jesus has nothing better to do this week... or ever... than hand-deliver this blood-bought new reality to you.  In Person.  Here, in His Church.  With all His life and love.  Beloved, He loves you.  Not only in words.  Not only in warm and fuzzy feelings in His heart.  Jesus loves you concretely.  In real space and time.  With His bodily presence, with you, and for you.

            That is why He comes.  To reclaim what once was His.  You.  He created you... with the Father and the Holy Spirit, our gracious God... He created you.  But you know, our first parents sold us out, and we’ve been selling ourselves ever since.  And so, He redeems you.  He buys you back from your slavery to sin, death, and Satan.  From the hell your sins deserve.  Not with gold or silver.  But with His holy, precious blood, and His innocent suffering and death.  He is the Ransom.  He is the Sacrifice of Atonement that satisfies the Father’s righteous wrath.  He pays the price, to His last ounce of blood.  Why?  That you may be His own, and live under Him in His Kingdom, and serve Him in everlasting righteousness, innocence, and blessedness. 

            The war is won in cross and empty tomb.  But He delivers that victory now, here, in this place, and among this people.  He invades.  He liberates each one of us.  He looses our chains, throws open our dungeons, lightens our darkness, and sets us free. 

            And look what has happened.  His blood makes the city holy once again (the Glory returns on the cross!).  And whatever the blood touches... holy.  This place.  This people... the very people sitting next to you, and all around you.  You.  And all that is you and yours.  The blood of God’s Lamb, that takes away the sin of the world.  He comes, your rightful King.  To reclaim what is His.  And that means you.  He claims you.  You belong to Him, once again.  And He belongs to you.  And He loves you.  And He cares for you.  And He is with you.  To save you now.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.