Sermon - Lent Midweek - John 18:12-14; 19-24

 

Annas and Caiaphas – John 18:12-14; 19-24

12 So the band of soldiers and their captain and the officers of the Jews arrested Jesus and bound him. 13 First they led him to Annas, for he was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, who was high priest that year. 14 It was Caiaphas who had advised the Jews that it would be expedient that one man should die for the people.

19 The high priest then questioned Jesus about his disciples and his teaching. 20 Jesus answered him, “I have spoken openly to the world. I have always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where all Jews come together. I have said nothing in secret. 21 Why do you ask me? Ask those who have heard me what I said to them; they know what I said.” 22 When he had said these things, one of the officers standing by struck Jesus with his hand, saying, “Is that how you answer the high priest?” 23 Jesus answered him, “If what I said is wrong, bear witness about the wrong; but if what I said is right, why do you strike me?” 24 Annas then sent him bound to Caiaphas the high priest.

We continue our focus on some of the minor characters, or “supporting cast” of the Passion account, this evening with two of the high priests at the time of Jesus:  Annas and his son-in-law, Caiaphas. 

Both of these men are called “high priest”, much the way we refer to former presidents or senators by that same title.  Annas had previously served some 9 years, and later, his son-in-law Caiaphas would serve 18 years as High Priest.  But Annas as the patriarch of the family either held the position or had family members hold it for decades.  Annas had 5 sons who held the title as well at various times.  A real political dynasty.  Their appointment was always made by the Roman governor, and so it suggests this family had close ties to the Roman rulers.

Much of what we know of Caiaphas and Annas comes from the early Jewish historian Josephus, and it corroborates the Scriptures.  We also have indication that these men were of the party of the Sauduees, who denied the teaching of the resurrection.

It was after Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead that Caiaphas called together his counsel and the plot to kill Jesus really began.  All this has led some to postulate that when Jesus told the parable of the unnamed Rich Man and Lazarus – that the “rich man” was meant to be Caiaphas – who also had, famously, “five brothers”.

It was also then, when the plot to kill Jesus began, that Caiaphas made his famous unintended prophecy.  John tells us:

47 So the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered the council and said, “What are we to do? For this man performs many signs. 48 If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation.” 49 But one of them, Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, said to them, “You know nothing at all. 50 Nor do you understand that it is better for you that one man should die for the people, not that the whole nation should perish.” 51 He did not say this of his own accord, but being high priest that year he prophesied that Jesus would die for the nation, 52 and not for the nation only, but also to gather into one the children of God who are scattered abroad. 53 So from that day on they made plans to put him to death. (John 11:47-53)

There’s so much divine irony running through the passion account, and not just in the prophecy of Caiaphas, whose words were truer than he could imagine.

Consider the irony of Jesus standing on trial before the high priest!  Here is Jesus, the great high priest, a priest in the order of Melchizedek, the one representative of all people before the throne of God.  Jesus, the high priest who offers himself as the perfect sacrifice for all sin, who intercedes, even now with the Father for us – the one mediator between God and man.

And yet, here he stands, accused, before the earthly High Priest.  Here he stands, answering charges as a common criminal.  When it should be the other way around!  Murderous Annas and Caiaphas should have to answer to the one who will come to judge the living and the dead.  Haughty and powerful men who think so much of themselves have no right to judge the judge of all.  For they truly have no power, and truly deserve all this punishment and more.

Annas holds the first trial – an illegal trial, really, since it was at night and he wasn’t the actual high priest that year.  But he’s not concerned with proper conduct, nor is Caiaphas.  Their true concern is expediency.  And what a playground for sin that is.

What is expedient?  It’s what is convenient and practical even if somewhat improper or immoral.  What makes sense?  What gets the job done, even if we have to bend the rules a bit?  Oh, there’s a commandment about not murdering?  Ah, but isn’t it better for one man to die than a whole slew of people?  Oh, the witnesses’ testimony doesn’t agree?  That’s ok, where there’s smoke there’s fire.  Oh, he’s done miracles, healed the sick, raised the dead, and preaches the truth of God – he’s got all the marks of the Messiah?  No matter, we’re the ones in charge here and we don’t need anyone rocking the boat. 

There’s a little Caiaphas in all of us, isn’t there?  A temptation to expediency and rationalizing our sinful actions.  It’s really better this way.  It’s for the common good.  Or, at least it’s not as bad as it could be.  We rather take the place of God and bend or break the rules as needed, for our own devices, our own plans, our own agendas.  The arrogance, to think or act as if we ourselves are the final judge and arbiter.  We take the place of God, and presume to sit in the judgment seat, Lord have mercy upon us!

Jesus, for his part, doesn’t answer them much, except to refer to those who have witnessed and heard his teaching.  For one, he’s not trying to get out of this anyway.  He knows he is heading to the cross.  These wicked men are just playing their parts in the larger plan of God’s mercy.  In spite of themselves, and in spite of their evil actions, God brings about good.  And that is an encouraging thought.

Furthermore, Jesus has no need to answer them because he has taught openly in the synagogues and in the temple.  He has proclaimed his message openly – though only some had ears to hear.  There is no secrecy of the night for Jesus.  There is no sneaking around in the dark.  The Gospel is proclaimed publicly and for all – a good news that is to be shared with one and all.  The light shines in the darkness, and has no need to hide.

And in Mark’s Gospel Jesus finally answers Caiaphas with the following exchange:

Again the high priest asked Him, ‘Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed?’ And Jesus said, ‘I am, and you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power, and coming with the clouds of heaven. And the high priest tore his garments and said, ‘What further witness do we need? You have heard His blasphemy. What is your decision?’ And they all condemned Him as deserving death.’”

Some years ago, around 1990, there was an archaeological discovery made – an ossuary, that is an ornate stone box used for burial in ancient Judea.  It contained the bones of an elderly man, and appeared to be quite authentic.  And on this box an inscription that indicated its contents – the remains of Caiaphas the high priest.  The first physical remains of a biblical person every discovered.

Another striking irony.  For Caiaphas wanted Jesus dead, and had his hand in the plot to kill him.  But even after all these years, it is Caiaphas who remains dead, but Jesus lives.  Christ’s tomb was found empty just three days later, and Christ remains alive even today – seated at the right hand of the Father in heaven.

And Christ, who was once judged by arrogant Caiaphas and his Father in law Annas, Christ will return in glory to judge the living and the dead – all people – and for a final judgment unto eternity.  And Caiaphas and Annas, who denied the resurrection, will on that day stand for judgment before the one they once judged.

Thanks be to God that our Lord Jesus Christ, our Great High Priest, took our place under judgment.  Thanks be to Jesus for making the perfect once-and-for-all sacrifice for sin.  Thanks be to God for raising Jesus to life again, the shepherd of his sheep, and for promising us likewise a resurrection at the last day. 

 

Sermon - Lent 2 - Romans 5:1-11

 

Romans 5:1-11

Today we are going to take a more expository, verse-by-verse approach to this Epistle reading from St. Paul in Romans chapter 5.  I encourage you to follow along as we do so.

So far in Romans he has laid a strong case for how we all stand condemned in our sins because of the law, but then moved on to explain that a righteousness apart from the law is revealed to us – a righteousness by grace through faith in Christ.  Now he continues unpacking the implications of that for the Christian. 

There are so many different ways to look at this thing that God does for us in Christ – like the facets of a diamond – and Paul certainly highlights a number of them for us today. 

1 Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.

We are justified by faith.  Made just, or righteous by God.  Notice we don’t justify ourselves, but it happens to us, God does it for us.  Our faith which trust this action is a gift in and of itself, a gift also worked by him.  To be justified by grace through faith in Christ is at the center of Paul’s teaching, and it really is the heart of the Christian religion.  But it’s just one way of describing it all.

Peace with God.  That’s another way of explaining what Christ has done for us.  He’s brought us to peace with God.

Perhaps you have, like I do, some vague memory of an old western movie in which some scoundrel of a cowboy lies dying from gunshot.  And as his life fades away, he has some last words with his friend, and tells him, “he’s made his peace with God”.  Well, maybe, maybe not.  But the Christian knows, and St. Paul teaches that it’s not we who make peace with God, it’s God who has made peace with us, through Christ.  We are justified by faith – not by works – and so we can have that peace and assurance in full.

2 Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.

Another way of describing this is we now obtained access into this grace by faith.  Access – entrance – availability.  God is open to us when before he was closed.  His love, grace and mercy, are for us!  And of that we can be sure – by faith.  This comes along with rejoicing in hope of the glory of God.  That is to say, we have a future.  We’ll say more about that shortly.

3 Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance,

Most people don’t rejoice in sufferings.  Sufferings are things to be avoided.  They are what you complain about after a long, hard day. They are the nagging problems and the sudden disasters of life that bring you only pain and suffering.  No one likes suffering, but we Christians rejoice in it.  Or we might say we rejoice in spite of it, for we know that suffering done in Christ, and especially for the sake of Christ, has a benefit.  It leads to endurance.

When we suffer, we learn that suffering isn’t the worst thing that can happen to us.  When we suffer, and are faithful, we learn that suffering need not lead us to despair and make a shipwreck of our faith.  God is with is, even in our suffering, and he works good from it just like he promises to do for all who are in Christ.  And one of the goods he brings from it is endurance.  A spiritual toughness.  We are not blown over or apart by every little problem and even big problem in life.  Rather, we learn in suffering to turn ever more to Christ and his grace, and we endure.  Thanks be to God.

4 and endurance produces character, and character produces hope,

Character.  A strange idea.  The Greek suggests it can also mean “experience” or “proof”.  When we endure suffering we have the battle scars that prove our faith is genuine.  And even better, we have the proof of hindsight, looking back to see how God’s hand has sustained us through it all by his grace in Christ.

And looking back, it’s easier then to also look forward in hope.  Confident expectation that God will fulfill his promises to us in Christ.  A sure and certain hope of the resurrection and the life of the world to come.

5 and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

Hope does not put us to shame.  It doesn’t chase us away in discouragement of our sins and God’s disapproval.  Rather, hope encourages us that God, who spared not his own Son, but sent Jesus to the cross for our salvation – he will certainly bring that good work in us to completion.

And to further sustain us in this hope, he gives us his Holy Spirit, pouring his love into our hearts.  The picture is of a generous pouring out, an overflowing of blessings, a heart that is awash in the love of God that always grows and never fails.

6 For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly.

Christ died for the weak and ungodly.  Thanks be to God – for we are all weak and ungodly apart from him.  And he did it at the exact right time, as God’s timing is always perfect.

7 For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die—

Some of our best movies and books tell the hero story of one who sacrifices himself for others.  We aspire to such heroicism as it is rare in our world.  We hold up soldiers who die for freedom, police who are killed in the line of duty, and firemen who rush into a burning building as examples to follow and models of bravery and goodness.  But these are simple earthly examples.  God does it even better:

8 but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

He didn’t die to save a cute little girl, or a fair damsel in distress.  He died to save a rotten nasty filthy sinner like you, like all of us.  Christ died for the ungodly, the weak, the guilty.

9 Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God.

Justified by his blood – declared righteous and holy in the cosmic courtroom of God.  The blood of Christ changes the verdict for us – from guilty to not guilty, from ungodly to godly, from weak and worthless to strong in his strength.  Everything is different for us because of Jesus.  Everything is better.  It’s the great reversal.

And we are saved from the wrath of God because he, Jesus, bore the wrath of God for us.  By his holy precious blood and in his innocent suffering and death, Jesus became the substitute and made atonement for sin, all sin, even your sin.  Thanks be to God!

10 For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life.

Reconciliation.  Another picture of what Christ does for us.  He reconciles us to himself, and to God.  It’s a picture of a broken relationship made whole and right again.  A husband and wife who separate and then come back to each other.  Or two friends who have a falling out, but are able to work through their differences.  Or even enemy nations who eventually find peace and partnership – and become allies and friends.  Yes God forgives us, but his grace goes even further – he doesn’t just set the bar back to neutral.  He loves us.  He cherishes us.  Jesus calls us friends. 

And even more than wiping the slate clean and repairing the relationship, furthermore we are saved – rescued from death and hell – saved – salvaged and restored and renewed. 

11 More than that, we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.

All of this leads us to rejoice.  God’s grace for us in Christ is really just the best.  And like Paul, we could go on and on describing it in so many ways:

Justified.  At peace.  Given access to God, and having hope.  Suffering but enduring by faith, and greatly loved.  Reconciled to God and saved from his wrath.  And all of it by the blood of Jesus Christ our Lord.

Thanks be to God, and glory be to Jesus.  Amen.

Sermon - Lent Midweek - Mark 14:(48b-50) 51-52

 

Mark 14:(48b-50) 51-52

And Jesus said to them, “Have you come out as against a robber, with swords and clubs to capture me? 49 Day after day I was with you in the temple teaching, and you did not seize me. But let the Scriptures be fulfilled.” 50 And they all left him and fled.

51 And a young man followed him, with nothing but a linen cloth about his body. And they seized him, 52 but he left the linen cloth and ran away naked.

__

"John Mark"

We continue our Lenten focus on some of the “minor characters” or “supporting cast” of the Passion Narrative.  Today, we come to the Garden of Gethsemane, amidst the arrest of Jesus.  And there we see a mysterious young man who was following along, and was almost arrested by the soldiers himself.  But he managed to slip away from them, and all they got was the linen cloth he was wearing.  He fled, naked into the night.  It would be a sort of comical story if it wasn’t in the midst of the seriousness of what was happening to Jesus.

Scripture doesn’t tell us who this young man is, but the preponderance of scholarly thought assumes him to be young John Mark, the very Mark who would become an associate of Peter and Paul, the cousin of Barnabas, and ultimately the writer of this Gospel. And maybe the fact that this strange little detail is found only in Mark’s Gospel further indicates the author’s own little personal addition to the story.  “Hey, fellas, I was there!  And a funny story about that…”

We know that Mark also became a point of contention between Paul and Barnabas (Mark’s cousin).  Acts tells us that he traveled with Paul and Barnabas on the First Missionary Journey, but for some reason abandoned them partway through.  Paul therefore refuses to take Mark on his next journey, though Barnabas argued to give the young man a second chance.  Ultimately this led to Paul and Barnabas going their separate ways.  But we do know that eventually Paul and Mark made up – from Philemon and 2 Timothy.

If, indeed, the young man in the garden was Mark, then why was he there?  We do know from Acts that after Peter escapes from prison in Jerusalem, he ran to the home of Mark’s mother. So Mark lived there in Jerusalem, which has made some suspect that his home was the venue for the Last Supper on Maundy Thursday, and that perhaps young Mark followed Jesus and the disciples to Gethsemane after the meal.

Another possibility is that Mark and his family had traveled to Jerusalem for the Passover, and like many pilgrims, were camped out on the Mount of Olives.  Thus, this would explain why he was there only in his “PJs” in the evening.

In any case, this "linen cloth" is the same word that the gospel uses for the  fine linen cloth that Joseph of Arimathea used to wrap the body of Jesus for burial.

Now, what to make of all of this?  I’m glad the school children are here with us this evening, as I have fond memories of hearing this story about Mark running away naked and snickering to myself as a child.  But where does all the snickering and discomfort with nakedness begin?  Of course, we go back to Eden.

Adam and Eve had sinned, and their eyes were opened, and they knew they were naked.  The felt ashamed, not only at their sin, but even their very bodies.  They sewed together fig leaves to cover themselves and apparently did a poor job at that.  God himself provided them with a better covering – animal skins – the first shedding of blood in the Scriptures was done by God – to cover the shame of Adam and Eve.

Nakedness reminds us of all that.  Though we may try to cover up our sins, our guilt and shame, they are still there.  Nothing we can do can take them away.  And just as we’d be embarrassed to be seen naked in public, so we also would be humbled to have all of our sins on display for the world to see, or worse, for God to see. 

Adam and Eve hid – but you can’t hide from God.  Mark may have escaped from the soldiers, but there is no escape from the wages of sin.  Left to our own devices, all of us are laid bare, naked and afraid, lost in the night.

But then, of course, there is Jesus.  And believe it or not, he knows something about nakedness.  Remember at the cross, after all the whipping and beating and the mockery, the crown of thorns and the carrying of his cross.  All his friends had deserted him.  The few who remained were powerless to help.  The soldiers who nailed him to the cross and would stand grisly death watch over the three condemned to die – now they took his clothes.  Even his clothes, at the end, and divided his garments among them.  We depict Jesus more modestly in our art and on our crucifixes, but the truth is, he was almost certainly crucified naked.  The Romans would not allow even allow him the last shred of dignity, even in death.

And all of this Jesus endures for you, and me, and for Mark, and for Adam and Eve, and for all sinners and their guilt and shame.  He takes our place.  He gets hat we deserve.  He suffers the physical pain, the emotional distress, and yes even the dishonor and shame that we deserve – to free us from it all.

And then, when it is finished, his body is prepared for burial.  Joseph brings that fine linen shroud and wraps Jesus up, lends him is own tomb, and rolls a stone to seal it shut.  Joseph did the best he could to honor the body of Christ, but Jesus wouldn’t need that grave for long.

Jesus’ story didn’t end with nakedness and shame, nor even with the final thud of the grave stone.  He rose on the third day, victorious over death, and left that linen shroud behind, neatly folded. 

Mark’s story didn’t end in the frightful naked night, either, but he would come to know the story of Jesus, and write a Gospel to tell the world about his Lord and Savior.

Adam and Eve’s story didn’t end with the shame of nakedness and sin, either, because even though they couldn’t stay in the Garden, they took something with them – not just those garments of animal skin – but also the promise of God.  One day, the seed of the woman would crush the serpent.  One day, God himself would make right what they had made so wrong.  And Adam and Eve must have told their children, and children’s children that same promise, shared the same hope with them, and looked forward in faith to its fulfillment in Christ.

My friends, your story doesn’t end with sin and shame, either.  Your story doesn’t even end in the grave.  You who are in Christ, have a hope just as well.  You are part of the salvation story.

In Revelation 7 we see John’s vision of a great multitude that no one could number, waving palm branches of victory, and wearing white robes.  We are told these are the ones coming out of the great tribulation, who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.  We aren’t told their names, either, but it’s clear enough who they are. 

They are the people of God.  They are the church.  They are you and me.  Clothed in Christ’s righteousness and gathered together in a throng of celebration in the life of the world to come.  In baptism they are clothed with Christ.  And by faith in Christ their filthy garments and naked shame are no more – only bright, white, glorious robes fit for the children of God.

Lent calls us to reflect.  It points us toward our sins, in a somber way.  We may even feel the shame or the fear as sin leaves us naked in the night.  But let’s not forget about Jesus, who bore our sins and sorrows, our stripes and shame, and yes even our nakedness… to provide for us the robe of righteousness and a resurrection to eternal life.  So flee from sin.  And flee in faith to Christ, always.  In Jesus Name.

 

Sermon - Lent 1 - Mark 1:9-15

Lent begins. Our 40 day time of preparation and prayer, penitence and fasting. A time of testing and probing, that leads us, with Jesus, to the cross.

Any student of the Bible quickly learns that 40 is an important number. 

The rains fell in Noah’s day for 40 days and nights (Genesis 7:4)

Israel ate manna and wandered in the wilderness for 40 years (Exodus 16:35)

Moses was with God on the mountain, 40 days and nights, without eating bread or water (Exodus 24:18, 34:28)

The spies searched the land of Canaan for 40 days (Numbers 13:25)

40 lashes (stripes) was the maximum whipping penalty (Deuteronomy 25:3)

God allowed the land to rest for 40 years (Judges 3:11, 5:31, 8:28)

Abdon, a judge in Israel, had 40 sons (Judges 12:14)

Israel did evil; God gave them to an enemy for 40 years (Judges 13:1)

Eli judged Israel for 40 years (1 Samuel 4:18)

Goliath presented himself to Israel for 40 days (1 Samuel 17:16)

Saul reigned for 40 years (Acts 13:21)

David reigned over Israel for 40 years (2 Samuel 5:4, 1 Kings 2:11)

Solomon reigned the same length as his father, 40 years (1 Kings 11:42)

The holy place of the temple was 40 cubits long (1 Kings 6:17)

Elijah had one meal that gave him strength for 40 days (1 Kings 19:8)

Ezekiel bore the iniquity of the house of Judah for 40 days (Ezekiel 4:6)

Joash reigned 40 years in Jerusalem (2 Kings 12:1)

God gave Ninevah 40 days to repent (Jonah 3:4)

Jesus fasted and was tempted 40 days and nights (Matthew 4:2, Luke 4:2, Mark 1:13)

Jesus remained on earth 40 days after the resurrection (Acts 1:3)

And this is not even every mention.

40 is a time of testing, a time of proving, a full generation, a time for something to run its full course.  There’s a wholeness to the number.  It shows the fulfillment of something, usually a divine intention.

And so our season of Lent is patterned after this, all of this, but perhaps most especially Jesus’ 40 days of fasting and temptation.

Mark tells us that after Jesus is baptized the Spirit drives him, or more literally “casts him out” into the wilderness.  It’s a bit of a strange construction.  But it reminds us of another Old Testament story, which we do well to compare to Mark’s temptation account here.

It reminds us of another time, long ago, when another man was cast out. Adam, and his wife Eve, fresh with the stain of sin, and death, the fruit of their sin, they are cast out of the Garden of Eden. No longer to have access to the tree of life, for in his mercy, God didn't want them to eat of it and live forever in sin. So what seemed like exile, punishment, and rejection was really also an act of love. God placed an angel with a fiery sword to block the way back. And now Adam would bring food to the table only with great trouble. Work had become labor. The ground produces thorns. Life is tough.  And then, death.

The wilderness is the opposite of the garden.  In the garden, everything is orderly and nice, beautiful and safe.  The fruit is already there, pleasing to the eye and good for food.  But in the wilderness it’s chaos and danger.  This is what sin has wrought. This is where we live.  The whole world has become such a wilderness.  All of us in sin are cast out of paradise.

Jesus is the Second Adam. He comes to repair the damage. Fresh with the baptismal water of his anointing with the Spirit - a baptism not for his own sins, but which identified him with us sinners.... and fresh with the declaration of the Father, “This is my Son, whom I love” ringing in his ears, Jesus is driven out to the wilderness.

His public ministry begins with a fast. 40 days.  A time of testing, probing.  A time of self-denial. A time of preparation, and the full measure of it is appointed.

Satan gets a chance to have at him. And Satan fails. We know from Matthew's Gospel many of those details, the three different temptations. But Mark doesn't fill us in. It's enough, here, to know that he was tempted. But unlike the first Adam, Jesus does not fall for it. 

One of the interesting details that only Mark mentions is that in the wilderness, Jesus was with the wild animals.

The first Adam had named the animals. God brought them to Adam, and whatever he called them, that was their name. But with Adam's fall, all creation fell, and even the animals now have become wild. Paul says all of creation groans in expectation, like a woman in labor, waiting for the end, the renewal of all things. And that renewal happens in Christ. The lion and the lamb together, the sheep and the wolf, even the little child can safely play by the adder’s den.  This is how Scripture pictures the renewal of fallen creation in Christ.  And so, yes, even the wild animals in the wilderness, with him in his temptation, seem to bear witness that this Jesus is about to bring blessing to all creation. The Second Adam, the Son of Man, the Savior of all. And the angels minister to him.

This stuff matters to you and me, too. We are the children of Adam. We are the heirs to Adam’s fallen nature, and we live in this fallen creation. In sin did our mothers conceive us, and we are born in iniquity. Life for us is a wilderness, filled with thorns and pains and dangerous beasts both literal and figurative. Satan, too, would tempt us, and rule over us. He’s a lion looking for someone to devour.  And always hovering over us is the curse of death that Adam's sin and our own sin have brought.

Every day your Old Adam rebels against God, shakes his fist in anger at the law, and blames everyone and everything but himself. Every day the Old Adam seeks to deceive and deny and destroy your very faith. But every day the same Spirit that drove Jesus into the wilderness drives you back to the waters of your baptism, where that Old Adam is drowned and dies. By repentance and faith. By sorrow for sin and believing in Christ's forgiveness.

Jesus defeats Satan, conquers sin, and destroys death – beginning in the wilderness, until “it is finished” on the cross. There he is finally cast off from God, who forsakes him. There your sins are finished, and Satan's head is crushed. There the Second Adam deals death to death and by a tree restores us who were defeated at the tree.

In this wilderness temptation, Jesus prepares for all this. He prays, and he fasts. During the season of Lent, many of us will do the same. Martin Luther says, “Fasting and bodily preparation are certainly fine outward training.” And it is true. But the best preparation is the inward training of faith, and that faith in the word of God.

Jesus doesn't just stay off by himself. He comes back and preaches: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel.” Those words are still in effect. They are still training us for righteousness. They are still convicting us of sin – yes, repent of your sins, even this day! And they are still calling us to faith – to believe in his Good News.

What's more, there is no fasting from his table. There's no reason to refrain from eating and drinking the gifts of his body and blood. But there is great reason to take and eat, take and drink! Jesus gives you himself – here – for your forgiveness. To starve to death the Old Adam and feed the New Adam with his own life. To sustain you for your wilderness wanderings in this world, until he brings you safe at last to the promised land.

40 days of Lent – they lead us to the cross. Where Jesus deals with sin, decisively. 40 days of preparation – so prepare. Hear his word. Receive his gifts. Repent of your sins. Believe his Good News. It is for you. In Christ, Amen.

Sermon - Ash Wednesday - John 18:1-11

 

A blessed Ash Wednesday to you, dear Christians.

 

We begin the season of repentance known as Lent.  The ashes on our foreheads a stark reminder of the wages of sin – death – that has marked itself on every cell of our body, indeed, our very soul.  But even as ashes was away easily with water, so our baptism has removed the soil and stain of sin from us, and thus also its consequences.  The flesh will die, but we who are in Christ will live, and one day see a resurrection.  The ashes form the sign of a cross, as a reminder that the death that counts is Jesus’ death, and that in that death we have victory over the grave.  So our repentance is not despair.  It’s not just sorrow and contrition for sin, it’s also marked by hope – the only hope the world has ever had – the sure and certain hope that is found in Christ crucified for sinners.  Therefore let us journey to the cross together in repentance and faith, in sorrow for sin, but in joy that springs from sins forgiven. 

 

Every year our midweek series affords us an opportunity to tread off the beaten path somewhat.  We have considered the 6 chief parts of the small catechism, the 7 churches of Revelation, the animals of the Passion, and many other series.  This year, I’d like to examine some of the minor characters of the Passion account.  You might call them the “supporting cast” if this were a movie.  Through them, each midweek we will delve a little deeper and peel back a few more layers of this rich and captivating story of our Lord’s passion.

 

And so we start, tonight, in the Garden of Gethsemane, at the arrest of Jesus, with a man named Malchus.

 

18 When Jesus had spoken these words, ⁿhe went out with his disciples across ^othe brook Kidron, where there was a garden, which he and his disciples entered. 2 Now Judas, who betrayed him, also knew ^pthe place, for ^qJesus often met there with his disciples. 3 ^rSo Judas, having procured a band of soldiers and some officers from the chief priests and the Pharisees, went there with lanterns and torches and weapons. 4 Then Jesus, ^sknowing all that would happen to him, came forward and said to them, ^t“Whom do you seek?” 5 They answered him, “Jesus of Nazareth.” Jesus said to them, “I am he.”¹ Judas, who betrayed him, was standing with them. 6 ^uWhen Jesus² said to them, “I am he,” they drew back and fell to the ground. 7 So he asked them again, ^t“Whom do you seek?” And they said, “Jesus of Nazareth.” 8 Jesus answered, “I told you that I am he. So, if you seek me, let these men go.” 9 ^vThis was to fulfill the word that he had spoken: “Of those whom you gave me I have lost not one.” 10 Then Simon Peter, ^whaving a sword, drew it and struck the high priest’s servant³ and cut off his right ear. (The servant’s name was Malchus.) 11 So Jesus said to Peter, “Put your sword into its sheath; ^xshall I not drink the cup that the Father has given me?” ( John 18:1-11)

 

We know little of Malchus, but surprisingly he is mentioned in all four Gospel accounts.  His claim to fame is that his ear was cut off by Peter in the scuffle that ensued at Jesus’ arrest. Of course, only John’s Gospel tells us that Malchus was his name, or that Peter was the disciple who wielded the sword.  And only Luke’s Gospel tells us that Jesus immediately healed Malchus – perhaps not surprising since Luke himself was a physician.  This was Jesus’ last miracle that he performed before his resurrection!

 

Who was this Malchus?  And why does John mention his name?  What does the incident teach us about the Kingdom of God and of the Passion of our Lord?  Let’s consider these questions a little further.

 

Like many of the minor characters throughout the Gospels, Malchus is mentioned by name, as we said, though only by John.  This could be for various reasons.  One is simply, that was his name, and the Gospels don’t shy away from telling us the details of things that actually happened.  These are not fictions or myths, but Jesus was really arrested in a garden that had a name, by men that had names, and there are people who knew them all.  These little details add to the narrative those bits of realism that draw us into the story, but it is a true story, and the names and times and places we are told matter because they are true. 

 

And since only John’s Gospel tells us Malchus’ name, it could also be that John knew Malchus personally, as it is also indicated that John had some personal connection to the high priest – a connection that got him inside during the trial of Jesus.  Maybe Malchus was that connection.  We also know that the second servant girl who questioned Peter there was a relative of Malchus.

 

It’s also a tiny detail, but notice John mentions it was Malchus’ right ear that was cut off.  Again, the details like this indicate a true eye-witness account.  And if his ear was cut off, was he perhaps not wearing a helmet, and perhaps, then, not a soldier?  And is Peter, perhaps, just swinging his sword at just the nearest available enemy?

 

There is also some speculation that perhaps Malchus was known to the early church, to whom St. John was writing, possibly even because he became a Christian.  With the healing of his ear, it’s not a stretch to imagine the incident had a profound effect on Malchus.  But it is just that, speculation and imagination.  We simply don’t know.

 

We never want to push the narrative of Scripture past what it tells us, and forget the distinction between revelation and speculation.  Even the ancient traditions of the church surrounding these events can lead us astray if not taken with a grain of salt.

What is clear is that Jesus rebukes Peter’s violence.  He doesn’t condone it in general, and certainly not in this case.  This is not how his kingdom comes. 

 

If it was, Jesus could have called 12 legions of angels – that’s 72,000 or so, to his own personal protection.  One angel could have easily done the job against this bunch.  But Jesus has a cup to drink.  He has a cross to face.  He has a death to die for Peter, and Malchus, and you and me.

 

Peter’s a slow learner, as are we all.  Jesus already rebuked him, “get behind me Satan!” when he tried to talk Jesus out of going to the cross.  But Peter is still looking for victory and glory and triumph, not suffering and shame and cross.  We, too, often look for another way – our own way – though it may not be violence, it’s always some exertion of our own will, our own plan, our own efforts to make things right – when only Christ can. 

 

Peter is not the first, or the last person to try and take things into his own hands when it comes to Jesus.  Or to come to Jesus’ rescue, as if he needs Peter’s sword.  But Jesus doesn’t need Peter’s help, or ours.  Jesus is the Savior here.  We do well to remember that.

 

Another key takeaway here is this: Jesus didn’t have to heal Malchus, but he did.  Even in the midst of his own troubles, in the act of being arrested, Jesus acts in compassion.  While most of us would be distracted by the events at hand, too sidetracked to help poor Malchus, Jesus is not.  Though Jesus faced far worse than losing an ear, still he takes a moment to help this man who surely meant Jesus no good.

 

The preacher is practicing what he preaches when he says “love your enemies”.  And Jesus doesn’t have to save you, but he does.  In our sins we are, in fact, enemies of God.  Rebellious and impudent.  We are no better than Malchus, or the Jews, or the Romans, or the bloodthirsty crowds crying for his crucifixion. 

 

But Jesus prays for our forgiveness.  He bleeds for our redemption.  He dies for our healing.  He loves his enemies, loves us to death, to bring us life, and make us his friends.

Now what about that ear?  Why the ear?  Just as it would be wrong of us to drift into speculation and go beyond what Scripture says, nor should we draw any allegorical or symbolic meaning here as some have done:  that Malchus’ ear represents some symbolic refusal to hear and now, after Jesus, we can listen to God’s word anew.  Or that Malchus stands for all the unbelievers who are hurt by the violence of believers.  These aren’t symbolic events.  They really happened.

 

But they may serve to remind us of such truths.  Jesus is very concerned about who has ears to hear his message.  Paul tells us faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.  We are, in our sins, spiritually deaf until the Spirit comes and opens our ears to the Gospel.  All of that is true. 

 

David wrote “create in me a new heart, oh, God….” And we might well pray, “create for me, new ears, oh, God…”  Ears to hear the word with clarity, ears to hear it in all of its truth and purity.  Ears not stopped by pride or distracted by the noise of this world.  Ears that hear clearly the condemning law and the forgiving gospel. 

 

This Lenten season, let us tune those ears especially to his passion, his suffering, his cross borne for us.  For Jesus drinks the cup the Father has given, for Malchus, for Peter, for you.  Thanks be to God. 

 

Sermon - Transfiguration - Mark 9:2-9

 

What a strange event was the Transfiguration of our Lord!  Sticking out like, well, a mountaintop, in the midst of the Gospels.  Most of the miracles Jesus does directly benefit someone who is suffering or in need.  But this one is different.  This is a teaching moment.  This is a revelation.

Peter, James and John have front row seats to a spectacular event – Jesus is transfigured before them.  And through their witness, we can peek on in to see it too.  His appearance, his figure, changes.  No longer appearing as your average, every-day, humble Jewish man of the first century.  Now Jesus gets all bright and shiny and glorious.  Even his clothes change, and are elevated to a brightness that is beyond anything of this earth. Normally, just looking at Jesus, you wouldn’t see anything particularly special about him.  But now, here, it’s unmistakable.  The picture speaks loud and clear.

But, look!  It’s not just Jesus!  There’s two other men, too.  Moses and Elijah!  Two of the greatest figures of the Old Testament!  (And as a sidenote – how did the disciples KNOW it was Moses and Elijah?  Perhaps something in the conversation clued them in.  Or perhaps, this is an indication that in glory, we will all be known to one another?)  But in any case it’s clear that Moses and Elijah they were.  And it’s hard to overstate what this would have meant to the disciples.

Moses – the great deliverer of the people of Israel!  The one to whom God appeared at the burning bush and revealed his personal name – Yahweh!  Moses!  The one through whom God rescued them out of bondage in Egypt.  Moses!  Who parted the Red Sea, and led the people through on dry ground.  Moses!  Who met with God on Mt. Sinai, face to face, and experienced such glory that his own face once glowed with borrowed light, and had to be veiled before the people.  Moses received the 10 commandments.  Moses received the instructions for the Tabernacle and the whole sacrificial system.  Moses who died at 120 years of age with eye undimmed and vigor unabated.  Moses who also promised a “prophet like me” would be raised up from among the people.

And then there’s Elijah!  Most famous of the prophets.  Elijah who had the guts to speak against wicked king Ahab and queen Jezebel.  Elijah!  Who bravely stood against the 400 prophets of Baal and mocked them when their false god didn’t answer their prayers, but who prayed simply for Yaheweh to hear and saw fire from heaven consume his sacrifice, his altar, and all the water he had dumped on and around it.  Elijah!  Who heard the voice of God not in the storm or earthquake, but in the whisper of the wind.  Elijah!  Who performed so many miracles, and even a resurrection, maybe the greatest of all the prophets.  And then it was Elijah, with a spectacle of his own, who was taken to heaven on the fiery chariot, as his protégé Elisha looked on. 

For Peter, James, and John, they must have been star-struck.  This would be like meeting two of your idols, two of the founding fathers, like if they had to make a wish to have coffee with any 2 historical figures, they might have chosen Moses and Elijah!  Starstruck, we might say, but Mark tells us they were terrified.

Peter didn’t know what to say, but that didn’t stop him from saying something.  “Lord, it’s good to be here!  Let me put up three tents – one for you, one for Moses, one for Elijah” 

Perhaps he had in mind that the three disciples would just sleep out on the ground.  We can stay and visit for a few days.  Maybe 40 days, Moses likes that number.  I can send John back down to get some refreshments.  Whaddaya say, Jesus? 

But, of course, Peter misses the point.  Jesus was not there to point them to Moses and Elijah.  Moses and Elijah were there to testify to Jesus. The cloud overshadowed them, and the voice boomed from the cloud.  The voice of the Father. And if Moses and Elijah being there was good, now it’s great.

“This is my beloved Son.  Listen to him.” And when the cloud was gone they saw Jesus only.

Listen to Jesus.  See Jesus only.  The message is clear.

The Transfiguration of our Lord Jesus Christ is a feast for the eyes and ears.  We see Jesus a little bit less veiled, a little peek at his true glory, just a tiny glimpse of the divine nature that he’s had hidden all along.  Moses and Elijah appear, to testify by their presence that this Jesus is the one they had been waiting for.  It was toward his coming that they had worked and preached and served.  Everything they did, and even now their appearance on the mount, is a testimony to Christ.

And oh, what the disciples heard!  The conversation with Jesus about his Exodus, his own going- out.  Moses had an exodus, he had THE exodus.  He wrote the book.  Elijah had a pretty fancy exodus of his own.  But the exodus of Jesus was to run through the cross and grave, and then an exodus from death and a glorious ascension to heaven.

Like the disciples, we are easily distracted.  Even with Jesus shining as bright as the sun before them, they are confused and terrified.  As great as Moses and Elijah were, this was all about Jesus.  As great as reveling and basking in the glory of the mountaintop experience might be, Jesus has work to do, down there.  

Jesus had told the disciples already about his upcoming death and resurrection.  He would repeat it several times, ever more plainly as it approached.  The voice of the Father reminds them, and us, “Listen to him.”

Listen to Jesus when he tells you about his mission.  Listen to Jesus when he points you to his cross.  Listen to Jesus when he prays, “Father forgive them” and declares, “it is finished”.  Peter, listen to Jesus when he forgives your denial and charges you to forgive sins on earth that they be forgiven in heaven. And Christians, listen to Jesus when he speaks through your pastor declaring to you your sins are forgiven. 

Listen to Jesus, and see Jesus only.  Moses and Elijah had their place, but only Jesus is our savior.  Only Jesus can save from sin and death and hell by his blood.  Moses and Elijah can’t.  You certainly can’t do it yourself, either.  But Jesus can, and Jesus did.  Listen to him.

The Transfiguration, it is said, was a sign to help prepare the disciples for what was about to happen.  When the come down from the mountain, you might say, it’s all downhill from there.  Jesus sets his sights on Jerusalem, and on his cross.

Lent is upon us, and so we do the same.  We set our sights on the cross – Good Friday, and also the resurrection to follow.

About a year after posting the 95 Theses, Martin Luther took part in a debate called the “Heidelberg Disputation”.  It was there that he began to articulate his famous distinction between the “Theology of the Cross” and the “Theology of Glory”.  And while there’s much more we could say about this contrast, we can see it clearly on display in the Transfiguration. 

Peter is interested in the glory.  Visiting with the great men of old!  Basking in the glory of the mountaintop!  It’s good to be here!  Peter is a theologian of glory – much like we all are at times.

But Jesus is a theologian of the cross.  He knows his true mission, his true work, his true glory – is in bloody sweat and agony on a cross. 

The Transfiguration is not the thing, it’s merely a step on the way to the cross.  The bright shining glory, the majesty and awe – none of it are the thing.  It you listen to Jesus, you’ll know it’s all about the cross.  If you see Jesus only, there you will see your salvation.

 

Sermon - Epiphany 5 - Mark 1:29-39

The Epiphany season is winding down, as next Sunday is Transfiguration and then we’re right on to Lent.  Throughout these Sundays after the Christmas season, we are presented with a number of different ways in which Christ manifests himself to us.  Different ways he shows himself – different aspects of his identity and mission.  He’s the king of the Jews worshipped by the wise men.  He’s the Son of the Father, recognized at his baptism.  He’s the Holy One of Israel, confessed even by the unclean spirit that he cast out. And he is the one who preaches with authority, to the amazement of the people.  

Today, we might say, in our reading from Mark, we see Jesus especially as a healer.

The Great Physician of Body and Soul, our Lord Jesus Christ is the ultimate healer.  The New Testament records around 42 different instances of Jesus performing a healing miracle, and in some cases as we see at the end of today’s reading, he “healed many”.  He healed leprosy and dropsy, the lame, the blind, the deaf and mute.  The woman with the flow of blood.  “All manner of diseases” Mark says.  And here, also, Peter’s mother-in-law, suffering from a fever.

That Jesus is a healer shouldn’t surprise us.  Of course our Lord, perfect in every way, has compassion on all those who suffer.  He sees people hurting and his heart goes out to them.  And as the almighty creator, he certainly has the power to cure any kind of sickness or disease.  If he can call forth light from darkness, and by a word bring all things into being, he can certainly heal a fever, or whatever is ailing someone.

He does this not only out of compassion, however, but also as a sign of his identity.  For a little later, when John’s disciples come asking if he’s “really the Messiah, or should we look for another?”, Jesus points them to his works of healing as major evidence that he is indeed the fulfillment of their hopes:  “the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them.” (Matthew 11:5)

Jesus isn’t here bragging, but rather showing how his works testify and confirm his identity and his message.  

And yet, his tenderness and compassion are evident.  He goes to Peter’s house, kneels by the bedside of his mother-in-law, takes her by the hand, and gently lifts her to health again.  Without a word, he brings his healing to bear.  Just as he has deep compassion on so many others whom he heals.

It sounds beautiful, but it may raise a question for us.  Why doesn’t Jesus do that for me?

It is a sad fact of life in this fallen world that sickness, disease, injury and death happen to all of us.  Old age takes its toll with aches and pains and this problem and that issue.  Genetics sometimes bring us diseases that cannot be avoided.  The foods we eat and the lifestyles we lead can also contribute, to be sure.  But even the healthiest among us can’t avoid it forever – something eventually gets us.  Whether cancer or heart disease, an accident or just old age.  We are all, all of us, subject to sickness and death.  Sickness and brokenness are just the little preludes to death.  Death is where they all eventually lead.

And this doesn’t happen by accident, either.  Death and its precursors of sickness and suffering – they have a root and a cause.  They are the wages of sin.  The perversion of our physical bodies begins with corruption of the soul.  And while we’d love to blame Adam and Eve for all this, the truth is we are just as willfully sinful.  The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

And so while you may not have a certain disease because you committed a certain sin, you are a sinner living in and contributing to the cesspool of this world with all of its spiritual and physical uncleanness.  And the wages that your sin has earned are just as much yours as mine are mine.  None of us can claim we deserve better.

But back to the question I posed.  Why doesn’t Jesus heal us all, just like he did for Peter’s mother-in-law, and for the crowds of Capernaum, and all those other people with their various needs?  I pray earnestly.  I believe faithfully.  I confess my sins and receive his forgiveness regularly.  What gives?  Why must I suffer? 

Well, one answer is that, often, he does heal us.  He provides doctors and nurses and all manner of medical care, especially to us in this modern age.  He has created the human body, also, to heal itself.  And yes, sometimes, he does even heal us miraculously, with no explanation that can be given by science or human understanding.  It does happen, thanks be to God.

But sometimes, he does not.  He allows us to suffer the effects of a chronic or acute illness, and sometimes even unto death.  Sometimes even the young and vibrant among us succumb to an early demise, despite our fervent prayers, and against all our human sense of justice and fairness.

Why does God heal one and not another?  Here we can only say it is part of his hidden counsel, his un-revealed will.  We are not privy to his thoughts, which are higher than our thoughts.  But we dare not sit in judgment over him, or how or when or to whom he chooses to show the mercy of healing this side of heaven.  We pray, humbly, for the sick, “thy will be done”.  We pray for healing, always, according to God’s will.  If the sick are healed and live another day, thanks be to God!  If the sick are not healed, and God allows fallen nature to take its course, he is still the creator and we are still the creatures, thanks be to God.

But there is comfort beyond this.  Jesus is the Great Physician of body and soul.  And that has serious implications.  His power over the unclean spirits indicates that there’s more going on here than just the physical healing.  There’s a spiritual dimension.

Our Lord Jesus Christ has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.  The iniquity of all was placed upon him.  And God’s will was done.  He faced the wrath of God for sin – and suffered bodily and spiritually, to save us both spiritually and bodily.  And when his work on the cross was complete, and his rest in the tomb was fulfilled, he brought life and immortality to light in his glorious resurrection.  He conquered death.  Let that sink in for a moment.

While it is a mystery why he allows sin and suffering and disease and death to flourish here, now, for a time.  A little while, really.  It is no mystery how the story ends.  For our destiny is foreseen in his own.  Our life is guaranteed by his.  Our eternity is sure and certain in his eternal and unassailable life.

My friends, our hope is really not for this life after all, but in the resurrection.  Our prayers for healing are all answered with a giant YES – in the resurrection.  Our aches and pains and bumps and bruises and suffering and sorrow are all on the clock.  Their time is running out.  Life is on the horizon.  Life that cannot be dampened or darkened by sin ever again.  Life that cannot be tainted by disease or disaster.  Life that is, like Christ’s life, incorruptible, unconquerable, unending and glorious.  He will never die again.  And we who are in him, who are baptized into his death and resurrection, will also win the victory over sin and death in him.

When Christ returns with all his angels, riding the clouds and accompanied by the trumpet call of God…. When this heaven and earth melt away and make way for the new… When Christ calls forth the faithful dead to rise and stand before him, and changes the faithful living in the twinkling of an eye, when all the promises of God and of Christ come true in a flash.  Then life will be ours in its fullness – never to be taken from us.  And our life will be in him, and with him, and what a life it will be.  No more hunger or thirst, no scorching heat, we will see him face to face, and God himself will wipe every tear from our eyes.

That’s the healing he brings.  That’s the healing we have as a sure and certain hope, in Jesus Christ, the light and life of men.  That’s the healing that the unbelieving world doesn’t know, and cannot understand.  But it is the healing that we will surely receive and that we now boldly confess.  Healing from Jesus Christ, healing for not just our sins, but for our sin-sick souls and bodies.

So come receive the medicine of immortality, the body and blood of Christ, a foretaste of the feast to come, and a glimpse of our hidden life with him.