Sermon - Reformation Day (Observed) - John 8:31-36

We come to another annual observance of Reformation Day.  We walk a bit of a tightrope on this day, as Lutherans.  We must maintain the balance.  We want to avoid chest-thumping triumphalism and pride that Luther got it right, and we have it right, rah rah Lutherans.  We also want to celebrate what is good about the Reformation, and the great blessing that it was, and is to the Christian church.  One of the best ways to strike this balance is to focus especially on the words of Jesus in our Gospel reading today from John 8.

There he encourages us to abide in his word.  There he explains how he frees us from slavery to sin.  There he calls us not to a shallow faith, but to an abiding faith in him and his word, and to a truth that brings freedom.  Let us consider these truths on this Reformation Day.

Here, John tells us, Jesus was speaking to “Jews who had believed in him”.  But it’s clear enough that their belief in him is rather shallow and fragile.  It doesn’t last long or go far, and Jesus seems to know it. The conversation sort of devolves from here.  By the end of the chapter the conversation wasn’t going so well at all.  He challenged them, pressed them, called them children of the devil, and finally they picked up stones to throw at him. 

What is their problem?  Pride, it seems.  Jesus talked about setting them free and they began to balk.  “We are children of Abraham and have never been slaves of anyone!”  But their pride blinded them.

It blinded them first to their own history.  The children of Abraham had indeed been slaves, subjugated by many different nations, and most famously in Egypt for some 400 years. And at that moment, the Jews were subjugated by the Roman Empire, much to their chagrin and discomfort.  So it’s sort of strange to make the claim they’ve never been slaves – it’s not even true in an earthly sense.

But of course Jesus has something much deeper in mind.  The slavery to sin.  A slavery that holds all men in bondage because all sin.  And anyone who makes a practice of sin is a slave to sin.  According to our old nature, we are all slaves to sin, bound in will and spirit and our flesh is corrupted and bound to death. 

We, too, ought to be wary of the sin of pride.  Even on a day like today, in which we celebrate our beloved Lutheran heritage.  Here I stand!  A Mighty Fortress!  Grace Alone!  Faith Alone!  Scripture Alone!  These are all good watchwords and themes.  It is good to embrace Lutheran doctrine and give thanks that God reformed the church through a little German monk 500 years ago.  But if any or all of this leads us to pride, we miss the point of it.  Just as the Jews bragged that they were “Abraham’s Children” we might fall into the trap of boasting as “Luther’s Children”.  And it would be the same.

We might even see a more explicit version of this, and cross the line between love for our congregation – Messiah Lutheran Church in Keller – and pride that we are so much better than others.  We do liturgy right.  We have great music.  We avoid the fads and funny business and do church the way it should be done.  Aren’t we so great?

Let’s not be blind to our own history.  The Lutheran church has always had its problems.  In the generation after Luther’s death, we had two parties fighting over whether to compromise doctrine with the other protestants.  After that, we saw the rise of Pietism, the false idea that doctrine doesn’t matter, but only what’s in your heart.  Then, we fought Rationalism, the reaction that said, no, it’s not the heart it’s the head knowledge that counts most.

Our own Missouri Synod has had its problems from its founding, with a pastor that was run out as a philanderer, to a controversy about predestination.  We struggled to find our place in American Christianity.  We wrestled with liberal theology and saw a seminary blow up in the walkout known as Seminex.  And we’ve fought the worship wars, and wrangled over unionism and syncretism.  And on and on it goes.  Even at Messiah we’ve seen our share of conflict, and maybe more.  There’s nothing new under the sun. 

But the sin of pride runs deep and wide in human hearts.  And if we learned anything from the Reformation we ought to constantly be reminding ourselves that anyone who commits sin is a slave to sin.  Therefore our boasting is excluded.  The truth of God that sets us free must first show us our sin.  We must be disabused of our pride and the illusion of our freedom, and confess the bondage of the will.  The flesh can do no good.  Our Old Adam is still pining to be like God, his own master, never a slave of anyone.  But such is the slavery of sin.

Jesus comes to set us free.  Jesus comes to bring us his word of truth which alone can do it.  Yes, that truth is first a diagnosis of our sin.  And let that word be as harsh as it is – let it hold nothing back – let the letter kill and the commandments condemn us rightly.  But like a field plowed and ready to be planted, only then are we prepared to hear that other word, the good seed of the Gospel.  If we say we have no sin we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.  But if we confess our sins, God, who is faithful and just, will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

The truth will set you free.  But Jesus isn’t just talking about any truth here.  Not the truth that the Rangers are in the world series or that pineapple on pizza is gross.  It’s the truth of the Gospel!  It’s the truth of him, Jesus!  It’s the truth of his righteousness that comes by faith, apart from the law.  Revealed to us and not earned by us, but won by him and only him at the cross.  It’s the eternal Gospel that John saw the angel preaching in his vision.  It’s the heart of the Reformation and the truth on which Luther could stand firm.  It’s the free gift that keeps on giving, the baptism that is always overflowing with blessings, the table that is always prepared with the richest fare of Christ’s body and blood for the forgiveness of you sins.  That’s the truth that sets you free.  The law of God and the Gospel of Jesus Christ, crucified for sinners.

Those Jews who had believed in Jesus were not going to stick with him very long.  As I mentioned, by the end of the chapter they were trying to stone him.  The problem was they didn’t abide in his word.

Oh sure, they heard it – some of it – at first.  They followed him for a while.  Maybe they liked what they heard, or thought they heard.  But like the seed sown in shallow soil in the parable of Jesus, they had no root.  And so their nascent faith quickly withered and died.  They went from followers of Christ to enemies of Christ in short order.

And so is the danger for all who hear the word.  When Jesus says abide in his word, he is calling us to do more than give a listen once in a while.  He wants us to remain in the word.  To drench ourselves in it.  To live in it and move in it and have our being in it.  To read, mark, learn and inwardly digest it.  To let it shape our hearts and minds and words and be transformed by it. 

But pride can rear its head again here, too.  “But pastor!  I go to church!  I abide in the word!  I even come to Sunday School!  I have my kids in a classical Lutheran school!  I pray every day!  I do this, I do that, I… I… I….”

“We are children of Abraham!  We have never been slaves of anyone! We follow the law!  We go to synagogue!  We celebrate the Passover!  We circumcise our children!  We don’t eat pork!  We… we…. We..”

No.  He, he, he.  Abiding in Christ’s word means always repenting of self and turning to him in faith.  It means stopping the mouth and opening the ears, to hear and receive and learn.  As the first of the 95 Theses says, “our whole life should be one of repentance”.  Luther nailed it there.

And if the Son sets us free, and he has, then we remain in the house forever.  Not as slaves, but as free men, sons, even.  Children of God through Christ.  Saved by grace, though faith, by the blood of Jesus Christ. 

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever”

A blessed Reformation Day.

Sermon - Pentecost 21 - Matthew 22:1-14

It’s still Holy Week in the Gospel of Matthew, and Jesus’ passion and death are quickly upon him.  He continues his teaching in the temple, preparing his disciples for what was soon to come.

Today we turn to what is sometimes called the “Parable of the Wedding Feast”.  Here we really have 2 parables, or a parable and an epilogue.  

As usual, the stories Jesus tells capture our imagination. The king throws a feast for his son's wedding. He invites the guests, but strangely, they don't come. You'd think they would be honored. You'd think they would come quickly and joyfully to the feast – not just any wedding, but a royal wedding – an invitation from the king himself! But some ignore the invitation – we aren't told why. They find better things to do – tending the farm, minding the shop. Even more bizarrely, some mistreat the servants bearing the invitation and even kill them. Talk about “don't kill the messenger!”

The heavenly meaning is clear. God the Father, the king, sends invitations of grace and mercy, not to a literal wedding feast, but to faith in his Son. That he invites anyone at all is an act of grace.  He’s not selling tickets to an event, but he’s preparing a banquet – a rich and full meal, generously offering it to his guests.

Likewise, Jesus here summarizes the history of God's chosen people – who repeatedly ignored his invitation, his call to repentance, his gifts of grace and mercy. 

It’s similar to the Parable of the Wicked Tenants in the vineyard, who mistreated and murdered the master’s servants, and eventually even his son.  And much like in that parable, Jesus is primarily targeting the Jewish leaders, and more broadly, the Jewish people who, on the whole, would reject his salvation.  

They rejected and killed God’s messengers and prophets.  Soon their mistreatment of God's messengers would reach its apex as they put the very Son of God to death. And the mistreatment of the messengers and rejection of the Gospel invitation would continue even after – with the stoning of Stephen, the violent death of most of the apostles, and the many and various Christian martyrs.

In the parable it seems quite insane to not only ignore or reject an invitation from the king, but to go so far as to kill the messengers that brought the invitation!  But Jesus isn’t using hyperbole here.  If anything, it’s even more astounding that anyone would reject God’s gracious call to faith, his wonderful salvation.  Who would spurn the gift of eternal life and the forgiveness of sins?

But unbelief doesn’t make sense.   Take the Pharisees.  They had seen numerous miracles of Jesus, his messianic calling cards.  They would have, should have recognized the one who heals the sick, casts out demons, gives sight to the blind and opens deaf ears, the one who even raises the dead (like Lazarus)…. They should have known.  They should have believed.

And so, Jesus predicts the destruction of ancient Jerusalem, which came to pass nearly 40 years later. In 70 A.D. The Roman general Titus besieged and burned the city, and dispersed the Jews from their homeland. The very temple of God was destroyed. Jesus knew it would happen. It was the punishment of God upon a people who, as a whole, rejected his repeated calls to faith, and finally refused to hear the good news of his Son. But it is a mere shadow of the final destruction in store for all who reject the Christ in this life – a foretaste of the condemnation and wrath to be revealed on the day of judgment.

In the second parable, or the epilogue,  the king then turns to others, inviting anyone and everyone to come to the feast. Here we have the extension of the invitation to the Gentiles. The Gospel is free and freely preached to all people – rich and poor, men and women, young and old, from all tribes and languages. 

And so we have seen the good news of Jesus Christ touch every corner of the world. Most of us have come to the kingdom only through this world-wide invitation, and thank God for that. For now we enjoy the blessings of his banquet, the lavish food of his feast.

What about the garment? In ancient wedding custom, appropriate dress for such a high occasion included a special garment which was provided by the host. To reject it was to reject the host's generosity and favor, and would have been a social insult. The man in this part of the parable seemed to accept the invitation, but in reality he didn't. He was just as bad as those who ignored the first invitation and killed its messengers.

So the king treats the man harshly who was found without proper attire. He had no excuse for his lack of wedding garment. “Speechless”, we are told.  He has nothing to say to defend himself, nothing that can explain and justify his actions.

This stands as a reminder to us that the visible church will also include hypocrites. But the master will sort it all out eventually.  And the man who was a pretender, but rejected the very thing that made him worthy – he receives a similar fate as those who first rejected the invitation.  

The garment reminds us of the robe of Christ's righteousness each of us has received in Holy Baptism. There he covers our sin with his grace and mercy, which keeps us our whole life through. When, at Christian funerals, the body of our loved one is brought here to God's house, a white pall – a garment – drapes the casket, to signify that robe of righteousness.

And we do well to receive this garment. For too often we are tempted to think our own clothes will do. But the filthy rags of our own good works do not make us presentable. Only what he provides will do. Only through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ are we made righteous and holy. Our own works are simply a response to his goodness, but they don't earn us a thing. Salvation is a free gift. The invitation of the king is without cost.

For his part, Jesus had even his garments taken from him at the cross, so that he can give to you and me the robe of righteousness, the attire for the celebration of the marriage feast of the lamb in his kingdom which as no end.

And what Lutheran could read a story of a great feast given by the king and not think of the Lord's Supper. For in this royal feast, he gives us all the same blessings – forgiveness of sins, life and salvation. We are worthy to receive such things only by faith, and especially faith in the promises of Christ, “this is my body- this is my blood.... given and shed for you for the forgiveness of your sins”.  He is truly worthy and well prepared who has faith in these words.

The feast of the Lord's Supper is also a foretaste of the feast to come. It's not an accident that Revelation pictures the kingdom to come as a wedding celebration – the great consummation of the Lamb, Jesus Christ, and his bride, the church. When we gather at his table here, we gather with all the people of God from all times and places, and even those already gathered to him.... we join at table in a grand feast of celebration and receive his bountiful provision. What could be better?

Jesus warns of destruction and dishonor for all who reject the invitation and the king's provision. But for those who receive the gifts he gives, the King and his Son provide a royal banquet without end. Thank God that through his Son Jesus Christ we are invited to the feast. May we wear his robe of righteousness with thankfulness and celebrate with him eternally. And today, receive our foretaste of the feast to come with joy, as we gather at his invitation.

In Jesus' Name, Amen.

Sermon - Pentecost 21 - Isaiah 45:1-7

 

Our readings today have some interesting content related to civil or government rulers.  In the Gospel reading, we have the famous principle of Jesus, “render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s.”  Of course, here Jesus is not only teaching his people that it is right to pay taxes, but also implies that Caesar is to respected by Christians as God’s appointed ruler.  A broader treatment of the topic might bring in the idea of the two kingdoms by which God rules the world – the left-hand kingdom of civil government, and the right-hand kingdom of Gospel and church.  We could note how, as Romans 13 teaches, all governments and rulers are appointed by God and are his agents.  And the same would be true for our Old Testament reading from Isaiah 45.

Let’s look a bit closer at Cyrus today, and see there not only God’s hand moving behind the rise and fall of empires, but also a foreshadowing of the true king of kings who stands at the center of Scripture and our faith, our Lord Jesus Christ.  We’ll do some history, and then we’ll talk typology.

Isaiah, who wrote these words of prophecy, lived about 100 years before Cyrus.  And yet, by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, Isaiah even calls this Persian king by name!  It’s one of the more specific and astounding prophecies of the Old Testament.  It’s so amazing, that, of course, the Biblical critics and skeptical scholars have sought to explain it away – saying that these prophecies must have been written later, you know, by Isaiah’s disciples who then claimed them as a prediction.  But the Scriptures do not lie, and of course God can and does tell us future events which are sure to come true – the virgin birth, that Christ was born in Bethlehem, that a voice crying in the wilderness would go before him, and on and on.

We know from history that Cyrus II, called “Cyrus the Great” came to power as a Persian king, and then conquered the Median empire, the Lydian empire, and most of Asia Minor (which is modern day Turkey).  This, of course, included the promised land – and also Babylon, where the people of Israel had been in exile some 80 years.

Cyrus was a different kind of emperor than the Babylonians before him, and changed their policy when it came to conquered peoples.  We read the famous “Decree of Cyrus” in Ezra 1:

Thus says Cyrus king of Persia: The Lord, the God of heaven, has given me all the kingdoms of the earth, and he has charged me to build him a house at Jerusalem, which is in Judah. 3 Whoever is among you of all his people, may his God be with him, and let him go up to Jerusalem, which is in Judah, and rebuild the house of the Lord, the God of Israel—he is the God who is in Jerusalem.

And so, through Cyrus, the Lord God provided rescue for his people.  Even though Cyrus was a pagan, and “does not know the Lord”, he still is God’s appointed servant to do this, for the benefit of God’s people.  Cyrus was, like all rulers, appointed by God.  But in this case God had a special purpose for him as part of the plan of salvation.

Of course, the people of Israel would return, rebuild Jerusalem, rebuild its temple, and this set the stage for the coming of the Christ some 500 years down the road. 

But there’s more to it than just the history for the sake of history. Here we have a reminder that the hand of God is active behind the rise and fall of nations and empires.  He makes war and makes war to cease, breaks the bow, shatters the spear, burns the chariot with fire.  He appoints rulers, and then appoints different rulers. 

And though we are not privy to the specifics of his reasoning or just how he is working in the events of the world, yes, even in the wars between unbelieving nations – yet we trust our God who is the king of kings to accomplish his good purposes.  We believe his promise that in all things he works for good for those who love him.  We can apply this understanding to the news of the day, whether it be violence in the Middle East, or war in Ukraine.  The Lord reigns.  Jesus is on the throne.

And finally, as we always consider the Old Testament in light of Christ, for these scriptures are they which testify to him:  we can see in Cyrus a type, or a foreshadowing of Christ.

The hints are fairly obvious.  Cyrus is called, in verse 1, God’s “anointed”.  And of course the Hebrew word for that is, “Messiah”.  The anointed one of God.  The one set aside by God for a special purpose.  For Cyrus it was to end the exile and send the Jews home.  But we have a greater anointed one in Jesus.  He is set apart as THE Messiah.  The one who ends our exile of sin, and sends us to the promised land of eternal salvation in the courts of heaven.

Cyrus sent the Jews to rebuild the temple.  Jesus said, “Destroy this temple and I will rebuild it in three days”.  And by this Jesus meant his body.  Destroyed on the cross, given over to death, the dwelling of God with man in Christ was snuffed out like a candle.  But to that grave he took our sin, and death itself.  And he left them behind in the tomb.  Raised to life again, the temple of his body is rebuilt, glorious and powerful, never to die again.

In a way, the exile was cathartic for the Jewish people. God has a way of bringing us through trouble and hardship in order discipline his people, and purify them as in a fiery crucible.  So he did for the Jews.  They came back from exile recommitted to Yahweh as the only God and Lord.  And while they had other struggles, never again did they join the pagan worship of the nations. 

The temple that the Jews built after their return from exile would stand for almost 600 years, but then it would be destroyed again by the Romans.  Once again, the nations rise and fall at God’s command.  And never again would a temple stand on that site. 

But from Jerusalem would go forth the Gospel, to all nations, to the ends of the earth, so that all may hear and believe and have life in his name.  And just as Jesus said, we worship now not here or there, but in Spirit and in truth.

Just as God cleared the obstacles for Cyrus on his ascent to the throne, so also God blesses the preaching of the Gospel as it takes its course around the world.  He chose other men, and set them aside as apostles and evangelists, preachers and missionaries.  If he has to depose rulers and rearrange nations to do it, that is his business.  But his word will accomplish its purpose.

But perhaps the greatest hurdle to face is not some earthly ruler, or hostile kingdom, but each sinful heart.  Not the bronze walls or iron gates of a mighty citadel, but the hard heart of man.  The bonds of sin are chains we cannot break, they are iron bars we cannot burst or lift.  We are, by nature, born into captivity.  We are, by our own fault, exiles and castaways.   

Such were you and I, until God called us by name.  Until he washed us in the baptismal waters, and led us by the hand to his holy church. 

And now, all of us are set aside, appointed and anointed, as a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his treasured possession.  He even defeats our enemies before us and all around us – sin, death, devil, no matter.  Christ the anointed one, the greater Cyrus, is our champion, King of Kings and Lord of Lords.  He is the Lord, there is no other.

Sermon - Pentecost 19 - Matthew 21:33-46

The Parable of the Wicked Tenants.

This parable of Jesus is sometimes slightly misinterpreted.  At first, it might seem like he's telling us, his people, to be good tenants and that if we are bad tenants like the ones in the parable, he will destroy us.  But a careful reading shows that's not quite right.  For starters, Matthew tells us at the end of the passage that Jesus told this parable - not against people, or Christians, or believers in general - but against the religious establishment that rejected his ministry:  "When the chief priests and the Pharisees heard his parables, they perceived that he was speaking about them."

And so, a better approach is more specific.  Consider first, the context.  Jesus told this parable on Tuesday of Holy Week.  He had triumphally entered Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, to the adulation of the crowd.  “Hosanna to the Son of David!”

Now, he also draws a crowd as he teaches in the temple.  He had cleansed the temple, overturned the tables and driven out the money-changers.  He had clearly gotten their attention.  And just as evident, he couldn't be tolerated.  They would have taken him away right then and there, if they weren’t afraid of the crowd.

Jesus knew that by the end of the week he would be going to the cross.  He must have had this in his mind, even as he confronted his opponents and preached against their wickedness.

And so he takes a sort of Old Testament parable from Isaiah 5, and puts a new spin on it.  It’s a poem, a song, really, about the vineyard of the Lord. 

God’s vineyard is beloved to him. He lovingly plants it and prepares it and cares for it. It’s hard work. Do you know how much work goes into planting and preparing a vineyard?  The ground must be tilled. The vines are planted in carefully spaced rows. The branches are expertly pruned and manipulated so that new branches can grow and produce flowers from which grapes develop. During the growing seasons, the leaves must be thinned out so air can flow between the leaves and the developing fruit. This reduces the chance of any fungus growing on the plants and ruining the harvest. Later, the sugar and acid levels in the grapes are tested by a winemaker. When the sugar and acid levels are just right, the grapes are harvested and the winemaking begins.

There, in Isaiah’s version of the parable, the problem was the wild grapes that were brought forth when he planted choice vines.  The people themselves were wicked and were destroyed.  This, of course, happened many times in Israel's history, throughout the time of the judges and the kings.  But now, Jesus re-tools the parable to condemn the Jewish leaders, the tenants watching over the vineyard. 

If the Chief Priests and Pharisees are the tenants, the people of God are the Vineyard. The leaders and teachers are to tend to the vineyard, as a shepherd tends to a flock.  The owner of the vineyard, of course, is God himself.  And he establishes this vineyard with great care.  He leaves nothing undone, but removes the stones, plants a hedge, builds a tower, provides a winepress.  The vineyard has everything it needs.

One lesson here is that God builds his church, and gives her everything she needs.  He has called us by his Holy Spirit, gathered, enlightened and sanctified us with his gifts.  No detail is left to chance, no requirement is left unfurnished.  He knows what he’s doing.

It’s not the Master’s fault, in Isaiah 5, that the choice vines he planted bear wild grapes.  Nor is it the Master’s fault in Jesus’ parable that the tenants are wicked.  But just like the garden that God planted in the first week of creation, sin comes and destroys the blissful paradise.  Sometimes it is the sin of the people.  Sometimes it is the sin of the leaders.

Historically, the leaders of God's people didn't do so well, on the whole.  And so he would send servants, messengers, prophets to call those leaders and the people who followed them to repentance.  Beginning with Moses, and Joshua, through the times of judges and kings Isaiah, Jeremiah, even into Babylon with Daniel and Ezekiel, and yes, even after the return from exile.  God sent messenger after messenger to call for the fruit of repentance and faith.  He was patient.  For over 1500 years, our Lord and master sent servant after servant.  They were ignored and ridiculed, abused, beaten, and killed. 

In Jesus’ parable, the master may seem insane to keep sending messengers into this lion’s den of a vineyard.  But it just shows how patient God is with his people.  Slow to anger.  Abounding in mercy.

Finally, the master says, “I’ll send my son.  They’ll listen to him”.  Which seems even more insane, but of course is God’s plan all along.  The seed of the woman must come to crush the head of the serpent.  But first his heel is bruised.  In the parable they throw him out of the vineyard and kill him.  In reality the Jewish leaders handed Jesus over to the Romans, who crucified him outside the city walls.

It was hard work, what Jesus did for us. Don’t think for a moment that his work was easy. Yes, Jesus is true God, but he is also true man who came to truly suffer more than any of us can ever imagine with the weight of the world’s sin laid upon him. At the cross, God the Father looked for justice, and saw bloodshed, the blood of Jesus shed on the cross which satisfies God’s wrath for the wild grapes that our hearts have produced, our bitter, unsavory sins. He looked for righteousness, and saw it in the life of Jesus, his righteous life, his perfect obedience, the good fruits of his holy, sinless life credited to us.

Jesus’ stern words of warning are for these wicked tenants, the Jewish leaders, who sadly reject the Christ.  For them, as we read later in Matthew’s Gospel, a harsh judgment would soon come – as less than 40 years after this, the Romans would destroy beloved Jerusalem and raze her temple to the ground.  Jesus weeps for Jerusalem as he looks forward to that day, and what unrepentance brought upon them. But the law also warns us about wickedness and rejection of Christ.  And we should pay heed.

For them, it meant the kingdom is taken from them and given to others.  The new tenants, we might say, are the apostles, and all who follow in their teaching.  New workers for the vineyard by whose ministry the church would bear fruit for the master.  And what is the ministry of the Apostles but to point us to Christ?  So also, faithful pastors and teachers today do the same. 

And now, finally, we come in. When sinners hear the law, and repent, and believe in Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of their sins, fruit abounds.

You might say, even, that the vineyard is expanded.  No longer is it only, or even primarily the Jews who bear the fruit of faith.  But now a multitude from east and west come to the kingdom.  The Gospel is preached to the ends of the earth.  And people from every tribe, nation, and language call upon the name of Jesus.  So this parable teaches us of God’s patience, of his care for his people, and that he will provide messengers to call them to repentance and faith.  But ultimately, it shows us Christ, and the culmination of God’s redemptive plan.

The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.  Here Jesus picks up on an image from Psalm 118.  Of course, he himself is the stone that the Jewish leaders rejected.  But in so doing, he creates something new, builds something new.  A cornerstone is laid at the foundation of a structure, and we see Jesus as the foundation of his church.

He certainly established it.  He continually builds it.  With all the care of the master who built the vineyard, and included the tower, the winepress, good soil and choice vines.  So does our Lord, by his Spirit, build his church.  And we have, here, everything we need.

He calls faithful pastors to tend to the vineyard, pruning and watering, sowing and harvesting in season. 

The good seed of his word, which is planted in us continually.  The font of baptism, by which our sins are washed away and our souls refreshed daily. The feast of his table – the body and blood of Christ, rich food and choice wine indeed. 

So, dear Christians, repent and be forgiven, and bear the fruit of faith, giving thanks to your patient master.  In Jesus’ name, amen.

Sermon - Pentecost 18 - Ezekiel 18:1-4, 25-32

 Ezekiel 18:1-4, 25-32 

Everyone likes personal accountability, as long as it’s someone else being held accountable.  Everyone likes a good fire and brimstone sermon when the law rains down on some other sinner.  Everyone likes a good call to repentance, but it’s not so comfortable when the spotlight lingers a little too long on my own faults, my own corrupt heart, my own sinful thoughts, words and deeds. 

Today’s reading from Ezekiel has God calling the people of Israel to repentance once again.  They were in a bad spot.  They had suffered the indignity of being conquered by a foreign nation, seen their beloved Jerusalem and its holy temple destroyed.  And now, they were living in exile, in a foreign land, among a pagan people, cut off from all that they held dear.  And they tried to make sense of all this calamity. 

That’s not so unusual.  When bad things happen, we often ask ourselves, “why?”  We look for reasons, try to make it all make sense.   

They had come up with a slogan:  ‘The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge’  They were telling themselves a story to explain their pitiful situation.  They were blaming their fathers.  They ate the sour grapes, and we have the bad taste in our mouth.  They sinned and rebelled against God, and we are the ones who have to bear the punishment. 

Humans are good at blaming others.  It’s a tradition that goes all the way back to Eden, when Man blamed Woman and Woman blamed Serpent.  But blaming others is just a poor attempt at shifting focus from our own sin and guilt.  It’s a way to squirm out of repentance, and deny that my own sin is my real problem. 

God does not accept their slogan, or their blame, or their refusal to see their own sin.  The one who sins is the one who dies.  And we know that all sin, and so all must die.  You can’t blame someone else, your parents, your ancestors, even Adam and Eve.  God holds each of us accountable for our own actions, and calls each of us to repentance, individually. 

It seems their blame went even further, though.  Ultimately, it was God they were blaming for their predicament.  As if he was not just.  As if he had some sadistic delight in sending them this calamity.  “Why is he punishing us?  We aren’t the ones who sinned!” 

But he doesn’t accept this either.  He puts their focus squarely back on their own wicked actions. 

It reminds us of Jesus’ own teaching about the need for repentance.  From Luke 13: 

There were some present at that very time who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. 2 And he answered them, “Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans, because they suffered in this way? 3 No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish. 4 Or those eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fell and killed them: do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others who lived in Jerusalem? 5 No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.” 

The same God who spoke through Ezekiel is the one who takes human flesh in Christ, and helps us make sense of suffering.  Rather than try and decipher who is to blame for this disaster, or that calamity.  Rather than try to make everything in this corrupt and fallen work make sense.  Rather than try to know the mind of God when it comes to these things – Jesus calls us to repentance! 

Any suffering, any sorrow, any disaster or disease or death which brings us low – ought to make us repent of our own sins.  There’s no point in trying to micromanage God’s treatment of another sinner, when you and I have enough sins of our own to keep us in daily repentance.   

Ezekiel continues.  If a righteous person turns away and does injustice, he will die.  Here we learn that it is possible to fall from faith, and what a serious thing that is.  It ought to serve as a stern warning to all of us, never to stray from a life of repentance.  Never to rely on our own self-righteousness, or think we don’t need God.  You can fall from faith.  You can turn away from God.  Save us from this, dear Father in heaven! 

And likewise, if a wicked person repents and turns to God in faith, he will live.  God will forgive.  God wants to forgive the wicked!   

The God who sent the prophets like Ezekiel, also sent John the Baptist, with a message of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.  And then came Jesus, preaching the same – repent and be forgiven.  But Jesus doesn’t just preach about that forgiveness, he provides it. 

The God who takes no pleasure in the death of anyone, and desires not the death of the wicked, sent his own Son to die in place of the wicked. Jesus redeemed us from our debt of sin, by the price of his holy, precious blood. He brings us out of bondage, not in Egypt, or exile in Babylon, but from the dungeon of our sins, and the valley of the shadow of death.  The righteous one dies for the wicked ones.  The Son of God for all the sons of men.  For you. 

Repent, dear friends.  Turn away from your sins.  Rend your hearts and not your garments.  Forsake your wicked ways.  And God the merciful Father will always forgive you for the sake of his Son our Lord Jesus Christ.  His death on the cross guarantees it.  And his resurrection proves it. 

Turn away from your sins, and turn to Christ in faith.  Receive the righteousness that he freely gives.  And you will see its fruits bourn out in your life.  A new heart and a new spirit lead to new compassion for others, and a desire to serve.   

And the promise here in Ezekiel is the same promise for the righteous in Christ.  Repent, and live!  The Christ who overcame the grave by his death and resurrection has paved the way for your resurrection, and made your death but the gate to eternal life.  Yes, the soul that sins shall die.  But whoever lives and believes in Jesus will live, even though he dies.  And whoever lives and believes in him will never die. 

We are accountable to God.  Each person must stand on his own before the Judge of the living and the dead.  No one else’s good name or good works or vouchsafe will avail you. 

For the wicked, there is no hope.  But for the righteous, that is, for those who are in Christ, the account has already been settled.  The accountability was resolved at Calvary.  And there remains for you only life in Christ, and that, in abundance. 

With Christ, there are no more sour grapes. Instead, he gives us wine that is his blood of the new covenant, shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.  He feeds you his own body, given into death for you.  And at his table our transgressions are forgiven, our iniquity is absolved, and our ruin is averted.   

So turn away from your sins, again, and always.  Turn to Christ and live, now, and forever.  Amen.