Sermon - Easter 3 - Acts 3:11–21

 

Acts 3:11–21

You might have noticed that instead of an Old Testament reading, in the season of Easter we are reading instead from the book of the Acts of the Apostles.  Sometimes called, “the Gospel of the Holy Spirit”, this book of the bible tells the epilogue to the Gospel of Jesus Christ, or in other words, it shows how the good news of Christ crucified and risen is spread – from Jerusalem, to Judea, to Samaria, and even to the ends of the earth. 

Today, we’re in chapter 3.  It’s still fairly early.  Pentecost has just happened (chapter 2) and the apostles are increasingly bold in their preaching of Jesus. Today’s reading picks up right after Peter heals a man – a man who was born lame.  He heals him in the name of Jesus.  That man used to sit at the entrance to the temple and beg for money every day, so he was well known.  And now to see him completely cured, healed, and hanging on Peter and John.  It was quite an attention-getter for those temple-goers.  It caught their eye, and now Peter had their ear.  And so he preaches to them.

“Men of Israel…” he addresses them.  The preaching of the Gospel followed the pattern of:  first to the Jew, then to the Gentile.  That’s how Acts unfolds.  That’s how Paul would preach as well.  And it’s even how Jesus preached.  Peter begins addressing these observant Jews, and he preaches to them in the very temple where they’ve come to pray and worship and make their sacrifices.  These are not hardened pagans.  They aren’t atheists.  They are religious people.  They are the good church-going types.

He answers their unspoken amazement, “Why do you keep staring at us, as if we are the ones who healed this man on our own?  No, it wasn’t us, but it was in the name of Jesus that he was healed.”  And so Peter rightly takes no credit for the miracle, but like all miracles, it is simply a sign pointing to Christ.  In fact, he rightly takes this opportunity to preach Jesus to them.  And we do well to hear Peter’s sermon today.

First, he really zings them.  “You killed the Author of Life!”  (that’s Jesus, of course, the source and font of life – by whom all things were made – including all life.  In Him is life, and that life is the light of men.  What an irony.  They killed the one – the very author of life. 

Now someone might say, “wait a minute, Peter,” that was 2 months ago, and it’s not likely that many of these people were even there at the time.  How many of them, really, were in that crowd that cried, “crucify!” and asked for Barabbas to be released instead.  Surely some of them – especially the Jewish leaders.  But not all of them. 

But Peter’s accusation is more than fair.  It’s an accusation that could be levied at all of us just the same, even here today.  You killed the author of life.  By your sins.  If you are a sinner, and all of us are, then you also bear a part in sending Jesus to that cross.  It was your sins, too, that he bore.  Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.  So Peter’s pointing finger is aimed at you and me, just as well as the “men of Israel”.

And look at this.  He even accuses them of denying Christ.  Denied in the presence of Pilate.  Denied the Holy and Righteous one.  Peter knows a thing or two about denying Christ.  But his own failure on this point doesn’t negate the accusation.  We can’t throw it back in Peter’s face and say, “Well you’re no better.”  Because the truth is, we do deny Christ in sinful deeds and words and thoughts.  But do we go out and weep bitterly because of it, like Peter did?

Though we, and they, are culpable – yet this was also God’s plan that the Christ must suffer and die and rise.  Though sinful men sold out Jesus unto death, God uses this ultimate evil for the ultimate good of all.  Just as the lame man at the gate was lifted up and restored – so is Christ raised up from death and restored to glorious life – and so are we raised from the death of sin to the fullness of life that is in Christ Jesus.

God raised Jesus from the dead – and to this, we (that is, Peter and John) are witnesses.  They saw his nail-scarred hands and pierced side.  They watched him eat the broiled fish.  They felt his breath upon them when be bestowed his Spirit and charged them to forgive sins.  They are witnesses of the resurrected Christ!   And they are sent to give their testimony to all.

But also to preach.  To preach and teach and baptize.  To make disciples of all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.  And so on the Day of Pentecost, Peter preaches his first sermon – with similar themes to this one.  Preaching Christ crucified and risen.  Preaching repentance and forgiveness of sins in his name.

And so Peter calls them to repent, and Peter calls you to repent.  Repent of your denials of Christ and your selling out of Christ and your crucifying Christ anew by your selfish indulgence of sin.  Turn away from your sins, hate your sins, weep bitterly over them.  But when you turn, turn to Christ, and you will find no frowning face, but a warm welcome.  Open arms of mercy that will embrace you anew every time.

Repent, because in Christ your sins are blotted out.  Erased.  Wiped off the ledger, never to be seen again.  Now, when you get a stain on your new white shirt and you go to blot it out with a wet paper towel, it never seems to work quite perfectly and fully.  But the sins that are blotted out in Christ are gone, gone, gone.  There is no trace left.  They are washed clean in the flood of baptismal grace that washes over you from the font to the grave.

Peter also encourages such repentance, “That times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord.”  When you think of a time of refreshing – you might think of a vacation, or enjoying a cold beverage after working outside on a hot day.  Or maybe you think of the spiritual refreshment that comes in the presence of the Lord here at the altar- in the body and blood of Christ.  Here God refreshes us with a holy meal, and another means of delivering his forgiveness won by Christ.  Here, where forgiveness is, there come all other spiritual blessings:  life, salvation, strength for the daily struggle against sin.  Here, at his table, are times of refreshing in Christ!

Ah. But Peter also has his eye on the future – on the full appearance and final fulfillment of God’s plan for us in Christ.  Heaven must receive Jesus until the time has come for the restoring of all things.

See it’s not just your sins that are blotted out.  It’s not just your soul that is refreshed.  But this whole creation which has fallen into sin must be restored.  And Jesus will do just that when he comes again in glory.  Then we will see the final completion of his plan.  Then we will enjoy the final blessings he has prepared for us.  Then we will behold, as he makes all things new.

Until then, heaven must receive him.  That is to say, he must continue to reign from his heavenly throne over all things, for the benefit of his church.  We can rest in the forgiveness of sins and the refreshment of his presence until that day of final restoration comes – because we know that he reigns.  He’s exactly where he belongs – ruling over all creation (and your life) from the pinnacle of heaven.  From there he sends his gifts for the benefit of his people.  From there he sends forth the Spirit, to comfort, guide, encourage, enlighten and sanctify.  From there he sends his angels to guard and protect us.  And from heaven’s high throne he works in all things for the good of those who love him.  Even the crosses that we must bear ultimately bring good when you are in Christ.

So men of Israel, people of Messiah, Keller, and all who hear the Word of God this day – you who hear the good news of Jesus Christ and have life in his name – live in the repentance of sins and the certainty of faith.  For he lives and reigns with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

Sermon - Easter 2 - John 20:19-31

John 20:19-31

These things are written so that you may believe…

John’s Gospel account includes this statement of purpose.  It is the purpose, the intention of this writing – that you may believe, and believing, have life in Jesus’ name.  This writing – which we could understand to mean the entire Gospel of John, but really it applies aptly to all of Scripture and to all the preaching of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  The whole point of it all is not to make you smart, to make you sin less or do more good works.  It’s a faith issue – believing – and that faith is what brings life.  John wants you to believe in Jesus and have life.  It’s that simple.

And Jesus would agree, of course.  He wants you to “stop doubting and believe”.  You’re just like Thomas.  We all are.  It’s hard to believe anything these days.  Doubting skepticism is the default position of the wise. There’s so much misinformation and disinformation.  We have fact-checkers and counter fact-checkers checking on the fact-checkers.  Truth seems hard to come by. 

For most people, the most reliable source of truth is their own senses.  Seeing is believing.  I saw it with my own eyes.  Or at least relying on the word of someone you trust.  Thomas had neither of these, when the disciples told him Jesus showed up.  He didn’t see him, because he wasn’t there.  And he didn’t believe them, for whatever reason.  Maybe he thought it was a sick joke.  Maybe he thought they were out of their minds.  Whatever the reasons, Thomas went with his normal experience – his rational default understanding.  That dead men don’t rise.  That Jesus couldn’t have been standing in that upper room, because his body was tucked away behind the stone, in the grave, dead as dead.

Jesus had other things in mind for Thomas.  So he appears a week later, throws Thomas’ exact words in his face.  “Come here Thomas.  Touch my wounds.  See that it’s me.  Stop doubting and believe!”

And Thomas believes. 

Perhaps because we share a name, but you might know that I’m on a bit of a lifetime quest to rehabilitate Thomas’ reputation.  He’s doubting Thomas, to be sure, he did doubt.  But he’s also believing Thomas.  And furthermore, confessing Thomas, as he declares, “My Lord and my God!”.  We don’t call Peter “denying Peter”.  We don’t call James and John, “The power-hungry brothers Zebedee”.  We don’t even say, “Betraying Judas”.  So why remember Thomas for his worst moment, and not for his best? 

So Believing and Confessing Thomas – he sees and hears and touches and believes and confesses.  And he, like all believers, has life.

Jesus comments further – “Blessed are they who have not seen, and yet believe”.  And friends, that’s you and me.  We haven’t seen Jesus like Thomas did – or the other apostles – bodily, in the flesh.  We haven’t heard his voice or touched his wounds.  We rely on their word of witness.  We believe in the testimony of Scripture.  And that we believe based on this is a great blessing indeed, as Jesus says.

But just how does believing in Jesus bring life?  How do we receive this great blessing for those who do not see, and yet believe?

This has to do with what Jesus said in the first part of this account.  “Peace be with you.” His greeting, which he repeats.  Now think about the effect of this.  Here are his disciples, hiding in fear from the Jews, and all of a sudden Jesus shows up in their midst, miraculously.  And if they had reason to fear the Jews, they would have all the more reason to fear him.

These were the disciples who one after another pledged their undying loyalty.  They said, one after another, “I won’t leave you Jesus, even if I have to die with you!”  And while no, they didn’t deny him in such a dramatic way as Peter did – they all did desert him in his darkest hour.  Strike the shepherd and the sheep will scatter, and boy did they.  All except John would forsake him that Thursday night.

And now to have him stand in their midst – it must have been not only startling, but also dreadful.  Is he here to condemn us for our failure to be faithful?  Is he here to holler at us?  “How could you leave me?”  “How could you let them arrest me and crucify me?”  Is he here to dish out a punishment for our cowardice and give us our just desserts?

Ah, but no.  Jesus comes with no such thing.  He comes with peace.  Peace be with you.  Peace, because he’s already forgiven you.  Peace, because the strife is o’er, the battle won.  Peace with God and peace with Jesus. 

So too does Christ come into our midst and bring his peace, first things first.  We confess our sins – how we have failed him and deserted him and feared when we ought not fear – and every other sin, just like the disciples had – so do we.  But Jesus brings absolution to us, first things first.  The word of peace spoken by his servant brings that same forgiveness he charged the disciples to bring.  Jesus for them, Jesus for us.  Peace and forgiveness for them, and so also, for us.

He breathes on them.  He breathes his Holy Spirit on them (the word Spirit and Breath are the same word in the Greek).  It is the Holy Spirit that brings the peace and forgiveness of Christ, that applies the word of Christ to us sinners.  It is the Holy Spirit that creates faith in us and gives us new life.  So of course he gives them of His Spirit.

And then to those apostles, those first ministers of his word, he gives a charge, a solemn duty and task, an authority.  He says, “If you forgive anyone his sins they are forgiven.  If you do not forgive them, they are no forgiven”. 

This is the basis for our absolution even today.  When a pastor stands before a congregation and, in the stead of Christ, and by the command of Christ, forgives your sins – it is because of these very words of Jesus.

We’ve just been through Holy Week and Easter. And we’ve considered some of the most important words of Christ – the Words of Institution in the Sacrament, the words he spoke from the cross.  But if you were making a list of the top ten most important words or sayings of Jesus, this would have to be pretty high on the list:  Charging the apostles to forgive sins in his name!

It’s as good as if he did it himself, in the flesh!  It’s as sure and certain as if it was his very voice, from his own lips. 

Some might have a hard time with that idea.  After all, who can forgive sins but God alone?  But Jesus, who is God, gives this charge to his ministers.  And so it is his word about it that counts.  If it’s too hard to believe that your sins are forgiven, then he would say to you like he said to Thomas, “Stop doubting and believe!”

And back to life.  These things are written that you may have life.  Forgiveness brings peace, and forgiveness brings life.  When your sins are forgiven, and you stand before God in the holiness and righteousness of Christ – you get the same life Christ has.  Death cannot win the victory over you, either.  Death only has the last say when your sins still matter – but they don’t.  They’re forgiven in Christ.  They are taken away, nailed to the cross, less than a distant memory.  And with no sins, that means death has no power over you, any more than it did over Christ.  Forgiveness and life go together, you see.  And all of this and more is ours in Jesus Christ.

Blessed are you who have heard and believed all the words of God concerning this forgiveness and life.  Blessed are you who hear the absolution spoken – that blessed answer to your confession – I forgive you your sins, in the stead and by the command of my Lord Jesus Christ.  Blessed are you, who receive the Holy Spirit, who casts out doubting and calls you again to believe.  Blessed are you, like Thomas, and empowered to confess.  My Lord, and my God!  Even Jesus Christ, who is risen, risen indeed, Alleluia, Amen.

Sermon - Easter Sunday - Isaiah 25:6-9

 

Christ is Risen!  He is risen indeed!  Alleluia!  Amen.

In Jesus Christ, death itself is done for.  By his death he has destroyed death, and by his rising to life, he has brought life and immortality to light.

In Jesus Christ, death is swallowed up in victory.

First, for himself.  Death could not hold him.  It could not even hope to contain him.  Death is no match for the Lord of life, by whom all things were made.  Death cannot hold a candle to the Lamb who once was slain, but lives, now, forevermore.  Though, he submitted to death for a time.  He laid down his life of his own accord, only to take it back up again.  Three days in the tomb was all it took, and Jesus rose.  Christ is Risen!  He is risen indeed!  Alleluia!

But what is death?  Isaiah says it is the veil that covers the nations, the covering cast over all peoples.  Like a great and foreboding cloud of doom that overshadows every moment of our lives. 

Death is always breathing down our neck, whether we feel its hot breath or not – you are never more than a heartbeat away.  When sudden violence or disease or accident takes one of our loved ones away we are reminded that life is fleeting.  Any day could be our last.  We know the bitterness of loss and grief when a loved one dies.  And some day, those we leave behind will feel the same. 

Death is not welcome.  It is the enemy.  It is an invader, something never meant to be in God’s good creation.  Death is only here because of sin.  Death and sin go together:  the wages and the work.  And since all people sin, all die.  Death is the problem, the ultimate problem, that all men must face.  It is unavoidable.  Insurmountable.  It’s threats are real, terrible, and universal.

But our God has an answer to death.  He has, in fact, the only answer.

We celebrate this day the resurrection of Christ from the dead.  This is no small thing.  It is the high holiday of the church.  It is the feast of feasts.  For Christ who once was slain has been raised from death victorious.  Only Jesus is strong enough to conquer in this fight.  Only Jesus is qualified, true God and true man, the anointed one – prophet, priest and king – to accomplish our salvation.  His death on the cross destroyed death.  And his resurrection is the sign and seal and proof of it.

The Prophet Isaiah saw it coming.  First, he preached his doom and gloom as prophets do.  Isaiah 24 is one of the most fire-and brimstone-passages we see – “The Lord will empty the earth and make it desolate, and he will twist its surface and scatter its inhabitants”, “all joy has grown dark, the gladness of the earth is banished.  Desolation is left in the city; the gates are battered into ruins.” And “Terror and the pit and the snare are upon you, O inhabitant of the earth!”  and on and on the terrifying oracle goes.

But here in Chapter 25 it all turns.  God’s entire disposition changes.  Now instead of doom and gloom we see a promise of peace.  The law gives way to Gospel.  It’s the difference between hell and heaven.

God’s grace is pictured in poetic terms – and our enjoyment of his grace is pictured as a feast.  A feast on the mountain (mount Zion, of course, the place of the temple – the place of his gracious presence in the midst of his people Israel).  Of course the feast is there, since he’s the host of the meal.  And what a great banquet it is…

It is a feast for all peoples!  Not just the Jews!  Not just those who claim special place or particular rights.  God is no respecter of persons, but desires all to be saved.  And so he invites all to the feast.

And look at the food!  “A feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wine, of rich food full of marrow, of aged wine well refined.”  Perhaps you have a special Easter meal planned for some time today – maybe pulling out all the stops on a family favorite.  The feast God is throwing outdoes them all.  This is the best food money can buy, the finest food available.  God does nothing part-way.

But why the celebration?  What’s the occasion for such a great feast to be observed?  Simply this – death is no more.  It has been swallowed up.  It’s covering has been removed.

This is our Easter joy, friends, not just that Jesus has overcome death for himself, but that he has removed death from hanging over our heads, too.  Yes, we still face death – just as he did.  But as he has risen from death, so too will we rise.  Death has no victory.  Death has no sting.  For those who are in Christ share in his victory over death.  The biggest, baddest, final enemy now stands defeated.  Christ has swallowed death whole, and spit out the bones.  He makes short work of death, and leaves death in the dust where it belongs.

Isaiah’s prophetic vision of that day of joy comes to fulfillment, in large part, at the resurrection of Christ.  And yet, we still live in a world of sin and death.  We still see death all around us, sometimes, up close and personal.

It is a strange thing, if you recall, that Jesus wept at the grave of his friend Lazarus.  Particularly strange, that he would weep, even though he knew he was about to raise Lazarus from the dead.  For Jesus, your resurrection is just as certain.  His promise to you – that he who lives and believes in me will live, even though he dies – that promise is just as sure.  And yet, here he is, crying.

Perhaps it meant that Jesus wept for more than just Lazarus, but that death ever had to be.  Perhaps he wept for all his dearly beloved children who had to feel the smart of grief.  And surely, he wept, also to show us that weeping in the face of death is not sinful for his people, as an example to us who would still face death.

But the weeping doesn’t last.  Lazarus is raised.  Jesus himself is raised.  And your loved ones in Christ will be raised.  And you and I who are in Christ will be raised.  St. Paul says we are to grieve, but not like the world that has no hope.  We grieve death because we still face it.  But we grieve with hope because we know death isn’t the end for those who are in Christ.

Death has been swallowed up, but death is still with us.  Life and immortality have come to light, and yet we still go to the grave.  There is a tension here, a paradox, a now-and-not-yet reality to our Easter joy.

Isaiah sees the end – and it is the final victory.  Then, and there, the waiting is over.  There and then the tension is resolved.  There and then those who have waited for the Lord will see him and be glad in his salvation.  Because death is finally destroyed forever, the final enemy to be defeated.  No more Good Friday darkness, only a bright-shining, eternal Easter. 

Then and there, God wipes away the tears from all face.  A promise that is echoed in Revelation 7, “he will wipe away every tear from their eyes”.  Our eternal destiny is not death and grief, but life and comfort and peace.

The reproach of all the people is taken away.  There is no more shaming and scolding and disapproval or disappointment.  No more frowning countenance from the Father.  Because the sin of his people is taken away in Christ.

Isaiah saw Easter coming.  He saw death being swallowed up in victory.  We see it too, with the eyes of faith, as we look back to the empty tomb of Christ and rejoice that he isn’t there, but that he is risen, just has he said.  And one day even we will be brought to resurrection, Thanks be to God for the feast of victory over death that is ours in Jesus Christ our Lord.

Sermon - Maundy Thursday - The Words of Institution

“Our Lord Jesus Christ, the same night in which He was betrayed, took bread and when He had given thanks, He broke it and gave it to His disciples saying: ‘Take, eat; this is My body, which is given for you. This do in remembrance of Me.’

“In the same way also He took the cup after supper, gave thanks, and gave it to them saying: ‘Drink of it all of you; this cup is the New Testament in My blood, which is shed for you and for many, for the remission of sins. This do as often as you drink it, in remembrance of Me.'” 

Tonight we consider one of the most important, most blessed, most sacred gifts given to us by our Lord Jesus Christ.  The sacrament of Holy Communion.  This night, Thursday of Holy Week, marks the occasion on which Jesus ate the Last Supper with his disciples, a Passover meal.  And central to that meal was his institution of this holy sacrament. 

Let us consider, as a sermon text this evening, the very Words of Institution themselves. 

We learn first of all, that these are the words of Christ.  Many bibles highlight the words of Jesus in red, to give them special place.  While all of Holy Scripture is God’s word, we recognize the words of Jesus rise to another level of importance.  We even stand when we read the Gospel for each Sunday, out of respect for Christ and his words.

And if the words of Jesus are important, then all the more so these particular words of Jesus – the words of his last will and testament, as it were.  Not the technically last words he ever speaks, of course, but important because they are his last will and testament.  They are a solemn and sincere set of instructions given with special place and purpose.

He makes this speech at the high holiday of the Jewish festival year.  He makes it to his closest confidants, his inner circle.  And he says it in the last few moments of “normal” they would enjoy, before his passion begins, before everything goes south, before the betrayal, arrest, conviction, and crucifixion.

Now, in these last moments with Jesus, it’s, “pay attention fellas.  I’m setting these words before you – and I’m doing something new”.  He takes bread – one of the common elements of the meal.  In fact, a common element of any meal – the “staff of life” as it is sometimes called.  Probably something we would think of more like a cracker – an unleavened bread, in remembrance of the hasty Exodus of the Israelites from Egypt.  There was no time to wait for the dough to rise.  They were leaving in a hurry.

Jesus, too, would soon be gone.  His exodus was also at hand, as he discussed with Moses and Elijah at Mt. Transfiguration.  He would depart from his disciples, depart from this life, depart from this world.  Of course he would rise again, but things would be quite different.  And eventually he would ascend into heaven – gone again, but still not really gone.  He is with us always, as he promises.

Nonetheless his physical body wouldn’t be seen.  It would appear that he would be gone.  And so perhaps it is in light of this that he gives the gift of his body in sacramental form.  Though he is gone from us in one way, he is now with us in another.  Though he seems afar off, in this meal, he is ever close at hand.  Truly present, for you.

He gave thanks.  Just as we give thanks for bread, and pray before our meals, Jesus recognizes the giver of all good things.  I’m sure it was his custom, too, as with the faithful of all times and places.

Thus, one of the names by which we call this meal, the Eucharist.  The meal of thanksgiving.  Our thanks hardly seems enough.  For here is far more than bread and wine.  Here Jesus gives us himself, for our forgiveness.  Here we receive the greatest gift, in a profound way.

This is my body.  Even the little word “is” has been the subject of debate.  Such a simple, profound statement of reality, and yet some doubt it, some twist it, some re-interpret it to mean “isn’t” instead of “is”.  They deny Jesus’ plain word that this bread is, in some way, shape, or form, his body.

What could be better than giving us his own body?  And if it’s anything less than that, then it’s certainly not as great a gift, is it?

The bread is broken.  Of course, the one loaf must be broken to provide a portion for many, in this case the 12.  But the body of Christ would also soon be broken on the cross.  Nonetheless, this is no mere symbol.  St. Paul teaches this bread we break is a participation in the body of Christ.  And Christ’s own plain words say, “this is.”

And it is given – for you.  There’s a lot in those little words, “for you”.  It’s given because you need it.  You, sinner, require saving, rescuing, redeeming, atonement.  You require a sacrifice.  And the body of Christ is given unto death, sacrificed on the altar of the cross, for this purpose.  To take your place under the awful load of sin.  To bear, in his body, the punishment we so richly deserve. 

And this bread, that is his body, is given for you – on your behalf, for your benefit.  It is not for the apostles alone, though, or only for the Jews.  It is for you – for all his people – all who call on his name and trust in his word.

And then he took the cup, and in the same way, gave it to them.  They recognized this same way – but a way that was different than all the other usual customs of the meal.  Jesus was doing something new.  He was establishing, instituting something for them.  A rite – words to say – and a ceremony – actions to perform.  But really, a sacrament, a holy thing, and more than that, a means of grace.  For with the giving of his blood he makes even clearer the purpose of this meal:  forgiveness.

Shed for you, and for many, for the remission (or forgiveness) of sins.  Shed for you, my dear 12, but for many – and really, for all.  Though not all benefit from this blood shed for sin – for not all believe – many would.  Though Jesus paid for all sins by his blood, some, through unbelief, reject such a gift.  So would go even Judas, one of the 12.  So it goes for many even today.

But for you and me and for all who trust Christ and his words, this blessed sacrament accomplishes just what it offers – the forgiveness of sins.  As Luther explained, the chief benefit of the Sacrament is the forgiveness of sins.  And where there is forgiveness of sins, there is also life and salvation.  That is to say, really, that where there is forgiveness, there we also find all other spiritual blessings in Christ.  Justification, redemption, rescue from death and the devil, holiness, strengthening of faith, and power to live the new life in Christ.

It is his blood, after all.  And blood means so much.  The life is in the blood.  When blood is shed – in violence – the effects of sin are so clear.  It all started when Cain shed Abel’s blood, and violence and bloodshed have hardly stopped since.  We, too, as sinners, have blood on our hands.  Bloodguilt.  We may not wield the sticks and stones, but the tongue and the heart are just as violent, just as guilty.

We need the cleansing blood of Christ.  And he sheds it for us, pours it out for us, not just at the cross.  He also puts it in the cup for us.  He doesn’t leave us to wonder if his death on the cross, on Calvary, long ago and far away, does it apply to me?  Was it for me? 

No.  He feeds you his body and blood, you personally, here and now. At the altar.  His forgiveness is not just somewhere out there, but it is located, “in, with, and under” as Luther would say, given with physical elements for us to touch and taste and eat and drink.

Finally, our Lord instructs us, “Do this in remembrance of me”.  Here, too, he speaks very intentionally.  Not lightly, as if to say, “remember me fondly.  I hope you think about me sometimes.  Don’t you forget about me, now.”

But the remembrance of him is deeper than that.  It draws us in to his promise, that we would ever hold on to and embrace his words.  It is a remembrance more of faith than of intellect, an ongoing exercise of clinging to his testament, and the gifts he provides in the meal, the gift of himself, and his forgiveness.

He says to us, “do this”.  And so we do.  It is a command, but also a gracious invitation.  It tells us what to do – but it is not our own doing, it is his.  He remains the host of the meal, he gives himself to us in the meal.  It is the Lord’s Supper, but it is his Supper for us.

Thanks be to God for this blessed Sacrament.  We receive it today in repentance and faith, in sober recognition of our sins, in joyful obedience to his words, and in the assurance that his promises are true, and they are for us.  For you.  Jesus - given and shed for you for the forgiveness of your sins.