Meditations - Good Friday - The Seven Words from the Cross

The First Word:  Luke 23:34

33 And when they came to the place that is called The Skull, there they crucified him, and the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. 34 And Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”[b] And they cast lots to divide his garments.

The first word out of his mouth was a prayer.  A prayer to the Father, not for himself, but for his enemies, his oppressors, the perpetrators of his demise.  Yes, for the Romans, the Jews, the bloodthirsty crowds Jesus prayed.  But also for you and me, whose sins put him on that cross just the same.

We know not what we do.  Who can know his errors?  Who can know the depth of his sin?  We see only a small sliver of the true measure of the evil within us.  But on the cross we can surely see the price.  We can see the consequence.  We can see what our sins have wrought:  death, in all its ugliness.

But even as he goes to death, Jesus brings forgiveness.  That’s the whole point of this bloody, gruesome business.  To destroy death by death, his death, and to win for us forgiveness.  Jesus, by dying thus, answers his own prayer to the Father.  In Christ, and only in Christ, do we have the forgiveness of the Father.

The Second Word:  Luke 23:43

39 One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him,[d] saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” 40 But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? 41 And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.” 42 And he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” 43 And he said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

Just as his first word prayed for forgiveness for the wicked who put him here, his second word offers a promise to another wicked sinner under the same sentence of death.  Who knows what this man had done – they are called thieves and robbers, he confesses he’s receiving the just reward of his deeds.  Really it could be any sin, for all sin deserves death, temporal and eternal.  That cross next to Jesus could just as well be yours or mine.

That other thief was with Jesus – but he wasn’t with Jesus.  He was with him in time and space, under the sentence of death, but he couldn’t be farther away in his heart.  But the second thief, was with Jesus already by faith, and that meant Jesus had a word of hope for him in this dark hour.

But Jesus speaks a beautiful word of comfort here.  He answers this poor sinner’s prayer, directly, profoundly. Today you will be with me in paradise.

Death is not the end of us.  Paradise awaits.  Those who are with Christ now, in faith, will be with him even in death.  But even paradise isn’t the end of the story.  For that thief, and for all scoundrels who find our hope in Christ, paradise for the soul gives way to a resurrection of the body and a life in the world to come.  

 

The Third Word:  John 19:26-27

26 When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son!” 27 Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother!” And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home.

He cares for his enemies.  He cares for condemned thieves. Of course he cares also for his mother and his beloved disciple.  There is no time for self-pity, or crying victim.  Jesus is always, even at his lowest, concerned for others.

He provides for Mary.  Take care of her, John.  You’re family now.  But isn’t that the way of the church?  Our connection to Christ connects us to each other, and it all starts at the foot of the cross.

Today there are many Marys who bear griefs and sorrows, and many Beloved disciples who bear all manner of sins and hurts. We all need Jesus and his cross.  But we also need each other.  And so the Christ who dies for his people also gives us each other – the Church – in which to proclaim and hear his gospel, to forgive and be forgiven, and to bear one another’s burdens – even as he has borne the sins of all.

The Fourth Word:  Matthew 27:46; Mark 15:34

46 And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

The word of ultimate suffering.  The thorns, the nails, the flogging, the mockery, the nakedness, the despair of death – none of it compares to this.  Being forsaken by the Father.  We can’t even imagine.  The Son of God, in perfect communion with the Father from eternity, sharing a unity that we cannot comprehend and can only barely confess, somehow experiences separation from his Father  This is hell.  This is the pinnacle of his suffering.  The wrath and punishment of a Father who turns his back on his Son, because the Son has become sin, the very thing the Father hates.

This is for you, dear Christian.  This is so you will never, ever, have to fear such a fate.  The Father will never forsake you, because Jesus was forsaken for you.  The Father’s anger is turned away from you, because it was all spent upon Jesus.  Thanks be to God.

The Fifth Word:  John 19:28

28 After this, Jesus, knowing that all was now finished, said (to fulfill the Scripture), “I thirst.”

And now, a very human word.  A very human thing: thirst.  We could explain it scientifically, clinically, noting all the blood and sweat that he had lost.  We could see it as yet another aspect of his suffering, that after all of this, now also thirst.  But we can also see it as John tells it, this fulfills prophecy.

That same Psalm 22 Jesus had already quoted, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” foretells this part too:  

my strength is dried up like a potsherd,

    and my tongue sticks to my jaws;

    you lay me in the dust of death.

And so we see that even in his death, in the final moments of suffering, Jesus does what needs to be done.  He fulfills prophecy, he completes his mission, down to the last little detail.  He has done all things well.

And maybe one last reason for the thirst, and the last sip.  To prepare his dry mouth for the great declaration that is to follow in the next word:

 

The Sixth Word:  John 19:30

30 When Jesus had received the sour wine, he said, “It is finished,” and he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

In the Greek, one word, “Tetelestai”.  In English 3 little words, “it is finished”.  With this word Jesus puts a giant bow on the gift of his work for us.  He declares his work for us complete.  

But it’s not just an exhausted exclamation, like a runner who’s huffing and puffing after finishing a long race.  This is an official decree.  A pronouncement.  Like when the jury reads the verdict, “not guilty” or the pastor says, “I now pronounce you husband and wife” or, “I forgive you your sins”.  These words, or this word, makes it official.  It is finished.

And finished not just in the sense of done and over with, but also fulfilled.  It’s complete. It’s perfect.  His work of salvation for you has left no sone unturned, not loose end untied, like a masterpiece painting and the artist adds that final magical brush-stroke.  It is finished.  With the flourish of a single word, Jesus declares it, and it is so.

Your sins are finished.  Guilt and shame are finished. The devil and all his works are finished.  Even death itself is finished.  Jesus suffering is complete, and now as he dies, there is nothing left to do.

We cannot add anything to his work.  No merit or worthiness of our own counts a whit, can add a thing to his perfect, completed, all-sufficient work of salvation.  Jesus died for you.  Let the period at the end of that sentence stand forever.

The Seventh Word:  Luke 23:46

46 Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” And having said this he breathed his last.

Jesus’ work of suffering now complete, all that is left is to die.  He commits his spirit to the Father.  And he shows us by this word that we also may die in peace, committing our spirits to the Father.

His final word, like his first word, is a prayer to the Father.  It is a prayer of trust, knowing that his work complete, the Father will receive him joyfully.  Indeed, the Father will soon show just how please he is with his beloved Son and his work of salvation – for after his brief rest in the tomb, the Father will raise the Son to life again.  

Until then, Jesus rests secure in the Father’s hands.  Just so, when we die, we rest secure in the Father’s hands until our own resurrection.  After all, “It is finished”, the Father has forgiven us, and we will be with Jesus in paradise.

Jesus’ last word on the cross is no word of despair, but of hope, and trust and faith.  It stands as an example of the same for all who die in Christ, that we too can depart in peace, secure in the care of the Father, because of the precious death of the Son.  

Sermon - Maundy Thursday - 1 Corinthians 11:23–32

 

1 Corinthians 11:23–32

There is no higher blessing on earth that we may receive than the Holy Sacrament of Christ’s Body and Blood. It is a most precious gift.

Christ’s final gift to his church, apart from his very death on the cross, is given that Holy Thursday evening.  In fact, we can’t really separate the Sacrament from Christ’s death – because it is the same Body and Blood given and shed for us at the cross, the same Body resurrected in victory over death on the third day.

To meditate upon this precious gift this evening, let us consider Paul’s words to the Corinthians, which in some ways really form the foundation of Christian teaching about the Sacrament.  Matthew, Mark, and Luke all record the Words of Institution – but Paul’s version in 1 Corinthians 11 really is the most expansive and includes some important commentary.

Paul begins, “I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you…” and let’s not pass by this little phrase too quickly.

Paul received this – as a gift – passively.  What is this?  The entirety of the Lord’s Supper, but especially the words of Christ which he is about to reiterate to the church in Corinth.  And I say re-iterate, because it’s clear that he already taught them these words.  He had already established this practice among them, for that is one of the very basic and clear marks of any Christian church – the receiving of his gifts.

What Paul has received, Paul delivers to his people.  It’s no different today with pastors and congregations.  We pastors receive what his handed to us by the Lord, and we distribute it to you, his people. 

We aren’t to make things up, concoct our own doctrines and ideas.  Egads, who would want such a thing as I have to offer of myself?  Rather, we feed the sheep with his word.  We care for the lambs of his flock by leading them to the green pastures of his word, and the living water of Holy Baptism, and the food of his Holy Supper.  We, ourselves, need these gifts, these means of grace.  And then God calls us also to steward these mysteries for the benefit of his people.

Therefore the pastor is most pastor when he is preaching and teaching, baptizing and administering the Lord’s Supper.  The gifts of God for the people of God, all received and given freely.

Paul then focuses us on the words themselves, Christ’s words of institution.  A last will and testament of sorts.  A holy and precious paragraph chocked full of blessings for Christians of all time.  Let’s note some of them:

He gave thanks.  What a powerful example for Christians that Jesus gave thanks as he instituted this meal.  Thanks to whom?  The Father, of course.  The giver of all good things.  But more than just setting a pattern for us to pray before meals (which is of course a good thing to do), Jesus rightly gives thanks to God for the bread, and for all that he too gives us in this meal.  These are good gifts!  And good gifts are to be appreciated with thanksgiving.

And then these simple words:  This is my body.

This.  This real thing here, this loaf of bread.  In real time and local space, Jesus institutes a meal of blessing.

IS.  Is means is.  He doesn’t say symbolizes, or serves as a metaphor.  This is no figure of speech.  Something real is happening.  The “is” confesses the reality of it.  And we should take Jesus as his simple word.

My.  Only Jesus’ body and blood could do the trick.  Only the incarnate Son of God could die and rise and give his body sacramentally, for the forgiveness of your sins.  And as it is his, it’s his to give to whom he chooses.  And that’s you, dear Christian.

Body.  Jesus took on human flesh for many reasons.  To live a perfect life in our place.  To sympathize with us in our weakness.  To offer that body up in death, and likewise to shed his very real blood as a sacrifice and payment for sin.  But I submit another reason… to give his body to us in this sacrament.  To unite himself with us in the flesh, and then also to give that very body to us to eat, along with his blood to drink.  Without the incarnation of Christ there is no Sacrament.  And so it all goes together.

For you.  Yes, these little words matter, too.  The whole point of Jesus giving his body and blood in the sacrament, and of everything that Jesus does and is – is that it is for you.  And not just for those disciples long ago, but the words, “in remembrance of me” teach us that the “for you” was meant to go forward, and be for all his people.  Again, “for you” emphasizes this is a gift, not a ritual of obeisance or some offering up to God for payment or placation.  Our God gives, he gives of himself, he gives us his Son.  Christ gives and gives, and even his very life for you. 

So why is it so difficult to receive God’s gifts like the Lord’s Supper on his own terms?  Why must we tinker with the simple, straightforward words of Christ?  It’s as old as the question, “Did God really say…?”

And I’m not just talking about those church bodies whose theology denies Christ’s presence in the meal, or who teach it is only a symbol.  Even we Lutherans can misuse and abuse this precious gift of God, just like we are prone to do with all his gifts.  Perhaps we simply take this gift too lightly, and fail to esteem it as the great treasure it is.  Perhaps we neglect it, if only in our hearts.  Or else we consider it a right, or entitlement.  Or a reward for good behavior or attaining a certain status. 

Yes, we sin, even when it comes to the Holy Sacrament of God.  Paul warns us about this, too.  In fact the hole last paragraph of this reading is a warning against abuse of the Sacrament. 

In Corinth, it took several forms.  The people were divided, the rich wouldn’t share with the poor.  And some even drank to excess and became drunk from the communion wine!  They treated this precious gift, it seems, like any other common feast – or even a revelry of sin.  A very serious abuse.  Paul indicates that this even led some of the Corinthian Christians to get sick and die, as a judgment of God for abusing the Sacrament!

But his warnings are wider.  Let a man examine himself.  That is to say, let us be sure that we are well-prepared and ready. What does that mean?  Examine yourself.  See that you are a sinner.  For this medicine is only for the sick.  If Jesus says it’s for the forgiveness of sins, and you say you have no sin – then it’s not for you. 

Secondly, see that you believe Christ’s words concerning this meal.  That it really is what he says it is – his body and blood – and that it’s really for what he says it’s for – the forgiveness of your sins.  Paul calls this, “discerning the body”.  Seeing that yes, truly yes, this is the body and blood of Christ, for me, a sinner.

You see, true preparation to receive this gift doesn’t mean doing a bunch of good works in order to deserve it.  It doesn’t mean attaining a level of holiness that qualifies you.  Rather the opposite.  Seeing the truth that you are a beggar who comes to Jesus only with need, and with an open hand.  This is judging ourselves truly.

Luther’s Small Catechism puts it another way:  “Who receives this Sacrament worth?”  Fasting and bodily preparation are certainly fine outward training.  But he is truly worthy and well prepared who has faith in these words:  given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.  For the words, “for you”, require all hearts to believe.

No, it’s not good works, holy living, or even right understanding that qualify you for his table.  It’s faith.  A humble, repentant faith.  A recognition of our sins, and a discernment of his body.  Or in other words, simply taking Jesus at his simple words. 

It’s not complicated.  Jesus says, This is my body.  This is my blood.  Given and shed for you for the forgiveness of your sins”  And my friends, that is far, far more than enough.

Dear Christian, come again on this Holy Thursday and receive what Jesus gives:  a rich feast, a holy meal, lavish and overflowing with blessings, for he feeds you with himself.  And he forgives you freely and fully.

Sermon - Palm/Passion Sunday - Philippians 2:5–11

 

Paul writes to the Philippians that they should have the same mind or attitude as Christ.  And that attitude or mindset is:  humility.

On this Palm and Passion Sunday, let us consider that Christian value and quality of humility.  It is a characteristic we see most prominently in Christ our Lord, and most especially in his obedience unto death on the cross.  But it is also a quality that is reflected in his people by the power of His Spirit.

Like so many things with the Christian faith, we see in the concept of humility a deep and subtle mystery, a paradox, and are constantly led away from ourselves and again to the foot of the cross.  But especially as this Holy Week begins, there really is no better place to be, than at the cross, with Jesus.

Paul begins, “let this mind be among you, which is yours in Christ”.  It’s a bit of a strange statement.  He’s telling them to be something, but in the same breath admitting they already are, telling them to have something they already have.

Be humble, as you already are.  We are humble, ah, but the problem is, we are not.

What, in fact, is the opposite of humility, but pride?  Sinful pride.  In many ways pride is the root of all sin.  What tempted Adam and Eve, but pride?  “You will be like God.  Don’t you want to be like God?  Be all that you can be.  Who is he to tell you what not to do?  Go on, you’re worth it.  You know best.  Be your own boss. Run your own life.  Be true to yourself.  Look out for number one.”  And so they ate.  And so we sin.

Our pride is so easily offended.  Don’t you know who I am?  We become indignant so easily.  Oh, does she think she’s better than I am?  Pride is like a suit of glass armor we build around ourselves, the first pebble of offense someone casts at us, and the whole thing can shatter like a windshield.  It can even lead us to other sins, rage, violence, slander.  Nothing good comes of it.

Pride, sinful pride, really, is based on a lie.  And the lie is this: that I am good.  But our sinful reaction to even the slightest of slights should demonstrate otherwise.  Perhaps it’s the insecurity we feel deep down that sparks such a reaction – that no, I’m not that great.  No, I’m not so special.  No, I really don’t deserve anything but temporal and eternal punishment.

An honest encounter with God’s law should disabuse us of all pride.  There is no escape.  We can’t even push back against God, like we can against a human accuser, “Well you’re no better than I am!”  God’s perfect law always, always accuses us.  And if we are honest, it demolishes our pride.  It cuts us down and brings us low.  It crushes us with its weight.  Truly the letter kills.

This is our experience of spiritual humility.  An honest rendering of our spiritual state before God. 

But take Christ’s humility.  It’s different.  Though he was in the form of God, didn’t consider equality with God worth grasping or clinging onto.  But rather, he gave up his rightful place on the throne of heaven, and condescended to us.  He emptied himself.  He took on the form of a servant, not a master.  He lowered himself to be creature, not exercising his rights as Creator.  He humbled himself.  He entered a state humility.  Putting aside, for the most part at least, his divine rights and privileges, his power and glory, to walk the dusty roads of Galilee as a humble human man, in poverty and obscurity, nothing special about that life he lived. 

Except that it was without sin.  When we are humiliated or brought low, it’s just showing forth the truth of our lowliness.  When he is humiliated, it is of his own will.  He who remained spotless and without blemish is the only one among us humans with the right to have pride.  But he put even that aside, and continually humbled himself for us. 

Paul shows the extent of it.  Not only did he humble himself in the incarnation, and in a life lived under the law, he was perfectly obedient to God under that law.  But even more, he was obedient even unto death (though, of course, unlike us he didn’t deserve death).  And not just any death mind you, but he even died on a cross. 

And we might add:  not just any cross, but his death on the cross, taking the entirety of our sin upon himself, yes, even our false and sinful pride – Jesus destroys sin and death and wins us the victory.

Paul reasons, rightly, of course, “therefore…”  Therefore God exalted him.  Because of his great humility even unto death.  Because of he made himself the lowest of the low to save lowly us….  God raised him up.  He exalted him.  He exalted him to life again in a glorious resurrection.  He exalted his human nature into a glorious exalted state.  And he even raised Jesus up again to heaven, to the very right hand of the Father, to his rightful throne on high.  Therefore every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

But that Christ was and is and remains ever exalted is good news for you and me.  For we are in Christ.  And in Christ, we, too, are exalted.  In Christ, we too will have a resurrection.  In Christ, by our baptism, we are already dead and buried and raised.  In Christ we are, already, a new creation.  And in Christ, we already have that attitude of humility and service that we see most perfectly in him.

Here’s the great paradox and mystery.  Though we are prideful sinners, in Christ, we are humble saints.  The mind of Christ is ours – we have it – the humility of Christ, so says the Holy Spirit through St. Paul.  Now, of course we don’t always show it.  And we pray with the same desire as St. Paul, that God would prompt us ever more to the mindset of Christ.  We pray that we would be, and remain humble.

I’m coming up on 25 years as a pastor this summer.  And nothing in those years has impressed me more than when I see the humility of Christians.  What great humility God creates in us when our faith is nurtured and grows.  The true mark of Christian maturity is not intellectual understanding, or even outward good works of great love and service.  It is humility.  It is an attitude that is formed in us over and over again by God’s Spirit working through his word.

Consider the repetition of our confession of sins.  I am a poor miserable sinner.  We say it, over and over, and we learn to believe it more and more.  We can never really know how true it is, how deep and low the fissures of our sinful nature.  But we confess what God says about us.  And that is enough. 

But the more we believe it, as we grow in the humble recognition of our sins, the more God forms the mind of Christ in us.  And the more we appreciate how much he has forgiven us, and how great is his mercy in Christ, the more and more we grow in humility and faith.

It’s an old joke among us when someone says, “see how humble I am!”  By claiming to be humble you prove that you are not.  But not so for Jesus, who also says this, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” (Matthew 11:29 NIV)

It is precisely Jesus’ humble service that gives us rest and hope and peace.  It is his humble suffering and obedient death on the cross that empties us of sin and fills us with his righteousness, and forms in us the mind of Christ himself.  May we ever grow in such humility, and learn true humility from him. 

Sermon - Midweek Lent - Matthew 27:50-54

 

50 And Jesus cried out again with a loud voice and yielded up his spirit.

51 And behold, the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. And the earth shook, and the rocks were split. 52 The tombs also were opened. And many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised, 53 and coming out of the tombs after his resurrection they went into the holy city and appeared to many. 54 When the centurion and those who were with him, keeping watch over Jesus, saw the earthquake and what took place, they were filled with awe and said, “Truly this was the Son of God!”

The Centurion—Matthew 27:50-54

Today we come to our final minor character of the Passion account. 

As with most of these, we know little about this man – not his name, not his origin, really only his job and a statement he made when he observed how Jesus died – “Truly this man was the Son of God”  It’s a notable comment, to say the least!  Certainly, something we can agree with.  And we will unpack this beautiful statement of faith in just a few moments.

But first, let us consider the role of the Roman Centurion.  From the same word that we get the term, “century”, a centurion was a sort of mid-level Roman officer, in charge, officially, of 100 soldiers.  Roughly equivalent to a Captain in today’s military terms.  He would usually be a man of some experience and skill, perhaps even a veteran of battle.  He is a man who both gives and takes orders, to those below and above him, respectively.  And the Roman military was nothing if not orderly.  That was part of what made them such a force to be reckoned with.

Scripture presents us with a total of 7 different centurions.  And with each one there is something to admire.  Consider in chronological order:

The centurion of  Luke 7:1-10, who came to seek the aid of Christ for his slave who had fallen ill.  Jesus says of him, “I tell you, I have not found such great faith even in Israel.”

Next we have the centurion who had charge of Jesus at the cross, who we especially consider this evening.  He is mentioned here in Matthew 27 and also in Mark 15.

Then in Acts 10 we have a centurion that is named for us, Cornelius, a convert to Christianity through the ministry of St. Peter.  He was a devout man, the first Gentile believer to be baptized by the church.  “He and all his family were devout and God-fearing; he gave generously to those in need and prayed to God regularly.”

Later in Acts, another centurion is seen taking St. Paul into custody.  Paul tells them he is a Roman citizen, “and when the centurion heard this, he went to the commander and reported it. “What are you going to do?” he asked. “This man is a Roman citizen.”  Another centurion who had regard for good order and the law.

In Acts 23:23 we see two centurions taking Paul to Felix and protecting him from the threatened hostility of the crowd.

And in Acts 27:1-28:16 we meet Julius, the centurion responsible for taking Paul to Rome.  He enacted the mission capably and humanely and became interested in Paul, so much so that he saved him from death at the hands of the soldiers in the hour of threatened shipwreck.

Verses 42-43:  The soldiers planned to kill the prisoners to prevent any of them from swimming away and escaping.  But the centurion wanted to spare Paul’s life and kept them from carrying out their plan.

So the centurion at the cross is in fairly good company, as his fellow officers mentioned in Scripture are either men of honor and duty, righteous in a worldly sense, or in some cases even converted or seemed to convert to the Christian faith.

But this one at the cross.  What an interesting little anecdote he gives us. Would you say he is a Christian?  A believer?  A God-fearer?

Certainly his witness, short as it is, could indicate the beginnings of faith.  After all, the early Christian creed, “Jesus is Lord” is an even shorter statement of faith.  And Paul says in 1 Corinthains 12, “no one speaking in the Spirit of God ever says “Jesus is accursed!” and no one can say “Jesus is Lord” except in the Holy Spirit.”

And so something more than a casual observation seems to be going on with this man. 

He had surely seen more than his share of crucifixions.  Dozens, maybe hundreds of criminals hung on Roman crosses for various offences.  Like a soldier in war becomes numb to the killing, for this man to crucify three more poor souls must have been just another day at the office.  Until.. it wasn’t.

Jesus’ death was different.  We notice some of the details:

The curtain of the temple was torn in two (and from top to bottom no less).  Did the centurion hear word of this?  Did the news spread?  We wonder.  We can clearly understand the significance of it, though.  That in the death of Christ, we, his people now have access to the very Holy of Holies, for Christ reconciles us to the Father by his blood.  The separation between God and man is no longer, and hence the curtain is torn in two.

Then, what the centurion would certainly have seen, and heard, and felt – the earth shook.  The rocks split.  But this was no ordinary tremor, caused by some Faultline or geographical phenomenon.  This was creation itself reacting and convulsing to the death of the Son of God.  This doesn’t happen every day.

So also for us, who have become numb to sin and death.  Sin is so much a part of us and our lives that we often pay it no mind, it’s just part of the background.  Why doesn’t it shock us, disgust us, drive us to our knees?  Why doesn’t sin, our own sin, rock our world?  Shake our foundations?  What does God have to do to get our attention?

We are dulled, perhaps even to the cross.  We see crosses everywhere, perhaps even with a corpus, a body of Christ depicted upon them.  We wear them as jewelry, we decorate our homes with them.  And perhaps we also pass them by too quickly, without recalling even a little, what these symbols represent to us.  That here, on a Roman cross, the Son of God truly died. For us!

The centurion saw the sun darken, he felt the earthquake and perhaps heard about the torn curtain, and maybe even some holy people rising from death.  These events of nature and miraculous happenings Perhaps he also observed the grace with which Christ died – praying forgiveness for his tormentors, promising paradise to a condemned thief, caring for his mother and friend, and committing his spirit to the Father.  And through all these things the Holy Spirit worked to bring this man to a simple confession – a profound declaration, “Truly this man was the Son of God!”

The same Spirit brings you to faith in Christ.  The same Spirit the brings your heart to believe gives you lips to confess the Son of God.  It may also be a simple creed, “I believe in Jesus”, or “I’m a Christian”.  It may be a more thorough confession of our own sin and of God’s forgiveness.  It may be a formal creed or an informal conversation.  But the Spirit inspires and awakens faith, and that faith speaks.

And sometimes just a little confession goes a long way.  After all, the centurion’s simple confession, one little sentence, still speaks to us today through the words of Scripture.  He joins his voice to ours in that great chorus of the faithful who recognize the Son of God in the Son of Man, Jesus, the Christ.

We don’t know what became of the centurion.  Maybe he continued in that confession and was baptized and believed.  Certainly many Romans and Greeks, Jews and Gentiles, priests and solders became Christians.   Or maybe he went back to business as usual, another day at the office. 

But we do know that the cross changes everything for us.  For Christians, Good Friday is never just another day.  Oh, and by the way, there is another day….  Soon, there would be another earthquake, and the Roman soldiers keeping watch over the tomb would faint like feathers.  Angelic power will roll the stone away, and the one who died will live again.  And the church will confess that the Christ who died is the Christ who lives, and his resurrection will prove even more, truly this man was, and is, the Son of God.

As this Lenten season comes to a close:  Thanks be to God for his word, and especially for the account of the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ.  Thanks be to God for every little detail, every little facet of the story, by which his word continues to draw us in.  For in these minor characters, we can see even ourselves, and appreciate ever more the Christ who died for us, and who has made us a part of his story.  Glory be to Jesus!  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

Sermon - Lent 5 - Mark 10:35-45

Sometimes people will say, “Pastor, I want to tell you something but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”  Or maybe your kids will say to you, “Dad, I want to ask you for something but you have to say yes”.  Another like it is, “I want to tell you something but you have to promise not to be mad.”

Well it’s hard to make such a promise before you know what you’re agreeing to.  The asker maybe is trying to soften the blow a bit, or prime the pump to test how generous or patient you are feeling.  In any case, that’s what James and John seem to do with the request they bring to Jesus. There’s the request before the request, the question before the question, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever it is we ask of you.”

This suggests that they knew their request was at least somewhat out of line.  These disciples, after all, were prone to their own little petty squabbles and contests.  We know for certain they would argue which one of them was the greatest.  They would no doubt jockey for position amongst themselves in various other ways.  Who gets to sit closest to Jesus.  Who gets to have this honor or that privilege.  I’m sure there was no small bit of jealously amongst the 9 that the 3, Peter, James and John, seemed to have closer access to Jesus in certain situations.

Maybe that’s what prompted James and John to come forward with such an audacious request.  Something like, “hey Jesus, obviously you seem to have a fondness for us – you took us up the mount to meet Moses and Elijah.  We’re some of the first to follow you, and after all, look at all we gave up to do so.  We could have been working for dad on the fishing boat.  But we know, you said we’d be fishers of men.  So here we are, Jesus, asking you to really just make it official.  We just want a little assurance, that we really are at the top of the heap.  So, when you come into your kingdom, give us the places of honor, the right and left hand, ya know?  We’re on your team and we deserve to be in that inner circle, and really, you should just let everyone else know right now so there’s no big fight about it later.  We’re looking out for you after all, Jesus.  What do you think?”

And what must he have thought!  At your right hand and your left hand in your glory.  They were thinking thrones!  Jesus was thinking crosses.  They were thinking glory as the world knows glory – with pomp and circumstance, power and privilege, honor and might.  Jesus knows his true glory is in suffering.  His honor is in dishonor.  His throne is a cross, his crown:  thorns, his royal robes a naked shame, and his kingly work is to die.

You don’t know what you’re asking, fellas.  Do you really want to die with me?  Jesus knows the disciples will scatter when he is stricken.  Jesus knows that they won’t be joining him in this task, this phase of his ministry.  They followed him from Galilee, they learned at his feet, they even went out on his behalf preaching and healing, casting out demons.  But this task – suffer and die for the sins of the world – this cup, he alone could drink.  This baptism of suffering and death for the redemption of all – only the God-man could undergo. This sacrifice, only he would, only he could make.

And not only that, Jesus knew this was all planned out.  It was all prepared.  Indeed, the Lamb was slain from the foundation of the world.  So the spots of honor, if you could call them that, on his right or left, were reserved for two thieves who would die at his sides.  One mocking, the other repentant, but that’s a story for another day.  Let’s stay with James and John for now.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Jesus says.  And here we are so often like James and John.  

We think we’re up to the task.  We think we have the strength, the capacity, the wherewithal, to do what needs to be done – whatever it is in his kingdom.  But we forget that he’s the one with the plan.  He’s the one to do what is needed.  And we are the passive recipients of his glorious salvation.

Sin gets it wrong both ways.  We underestimate our evil and overestimate our good.  We are blind to how blind we are, and our proud heart thinks too much of itself.  One look at the cross should foil all of that mischief.  There at the cross we see the price, the true price of our sins.  The perfect, spotless Lamb of God despised by men and forsaken by God.  There we see the impotence of our own devices as Christ does it all, and far better and more than we ever could, he gives everything for us, down to the last drop of his holy, precious, blood.  How can our pride stand before the cross?  How can we hope to offer anything so valuable, so precious, so divine?

No, you don’t know what you’re asking.  But Jesus does know.  And he’s got the plan.  This is his divine purpose, his holy mission, his death, his cross, for your salvation.

But there’s another sense in which Jesus answers their request positively.  There’s another way in which they will share his cup of suffering, and will be baptized with his baptism.  A pastor friend of mine put it this way:

Are you able to be baptized in a baptism like his? Yes. And I tell you, you were. “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life” (Romans 6:3–4 ESV). You have been baptized into Jesus’ blood. His blood cleanses you from all unrighteousness. His blood covers all of your sin. His death has paid your ransom. You are free from sin and death. 

 The death he suffered you have participated in. You received his death. You died to sin with him. You drank the cup he drank. His death is now your death. In baptism you have been put to death to sin. Likewise, you have been raised to life in him. His death is your death, which means his life is now your life. You have eternal life!

There’s a little epilogue to this, and it begins when the other disciples hear about James and John’s request.  They become indignant.  They are offended, bent out of shape we might say.  Their own pride is disturbed.  “How dare they!  Who do they think they are!” And each of the others must have had in mind why he, instead, deserved great honors even more.

So Jesus sets them straight, and us, also.  Here’s the proper way to think.  This is how my people desire to be:  servants.  True greatness consists not in being served, but in serving.  A true Christian is far more concerned about serving and loving his neighbor, even the least of them, rather than worrying about our own station and status, our own honor and privilege.  

Indeed, whoever would be first among you must be slave of all.  Hard words for our sinful nature to swallow.  Words that run afoul of our pride.  But a joyful description of the redeemed child of God in Christ!

Christ, the greatest among us, has already become the servant of all.  If you want to be like Jesus, then be like Jesus. Not in receiving honor, but in showing it to others.  Not in being served, but in serving.  If you want to be at his right and left hand, then be his hands of service.  

No, the Gentiles are concerned with place and position, power and status.  The Gentiles want to lord it over each other whatever little shred of power they can.  Not so the Christian.  The Christian lives to sere, just as Jesus lived to serve, even to death, to give his life as a ransom for many.

In fact it is precisely this good news itself that motivates and spurs our works of service.  It is the ransom he paid that calls us to pay it forward.  Only in Christ, in faith, by his Spirit, do we imitate and follow in his steps of service and love and humility.  

And here’s a little something you may not have noticed.  Even in the midst of instructing them “how to be” is a promise:  “But it shall not be so among you.”  The difference between believer and unbeliever, when it comes to works of service, lies first in the promise of Christ.  You will be different from the world, because of who Christ has made you to be, and promised you will be.

So when James and John came to Jesus with “the big ask”, looking for power, privilege and position – he rather points them to his own position of service, and to his baptism and cup, that is to say, his cross.  One day, they would come to understand what they were asking.  And one day, they would even come to share in that suffering and death in a new way they had never imagined.  They would suffer for his sake, bear all manner of persecution, and die as his martyrs, not for honor and glory for themselves, but in humble faith and service.  

God grant such an end to us all.  A faithful end, a peaceful end, trusting in Christ.  And until then a life full of service to others, all for the sake of him, the Ransom, the servant of all.

Sermon - Midweek Lent - Mark 15:16-22

Simon of Cyrene

Mark 15:16-22

16 And the soldiers led him away inside the palace (that is, the governor’s headquarters),2 and they called together the whole battalion.3 17 And they clothed him in a purple cloak, and twisting together a crown of thorns, they put it on him. 18 And they began to salute him, “Hail, King of the Jews!” 19 And they were striking his head with a reed and spitting on him and kneeling down in homage to him. 20 And when they had mocked him, they stripped him of the purple cloak and put his own clothes on him. And they led him out to crucify him.

21 And they compelled a passerby, Simon of Cyrene, who was coming in from the country, the father of Alexander and Rufus, to carry his cross. 22 And they brought him to the place called Golgotha (which means Place of a Skull).

Malchus and Mark, Annas and Caiaphas along with the Servant Girl, all background characters in the Passion account, through whom we have explored a bit deeper into the story.  Tonight perhaps a more famous minor character, Simon of Cyrene.

As with most of these minor characters there isn’t much we know about them.  The account of Simon carrying Jesus’ cross is found in Matthew, Mark and Luke, but not John’s Gospel.  We are told he is from Cyrene, which was a Greek city in northern Africa, what is now Libya.  But that doesn’t mean he was dark-skinned, since Cyrene was a Greek city and also had a Jewish population.  Simon, whatever his ethnic background (and that, of course, doesn’t matter) was likely in town for the Passover feast like everyone else. 

We are told that he was the father of Alexander and Rufus.  And there is a tradition that Alexander and Rufus were two of the early Christian missionaries based in Rome.  Mark’s Gospel, which mentions them, was written to Roman Christians after all.  Paul also mentions a Rufus in Romans 16.  And it’s also possible that Simon was among the “men of Cyrene” who preached the Gospel to the Greeks in Acts 11.

But all of these were common names at the time, and for all our speculation about what happened with these men we again must limit ourselves to what the text of Scripture tells us.  And that is simply that Simon was compelled to carry the cross for Jesus.

I mentioned a while ago some of the “divine ironies” of the Passion narrative.  Caiaphas’ prophecy that one man should die for the people – a truer statement than he knew.  That Jesus was betrayed with a kiss.  That Jesus Barabbas was freed, and Jesus of Nazareth condemned.  That the soldiers mocked Jesus as King of the Jews, and Pilate wrote the same title for his cross.  Even the crowd that cried out, “his blood be on us and on our children”.  So many of these statements, events, and details of the Passion account hold a meaning far deeper than the participant knew at the time.

Here, too, we have another one of these.  That Simon would carry the cross for Jesus, when Jesus bore the cross for Simon, and for the world.

Think of the weight of that cross.  In 1870, a French architect determined the Jesus cross weighed 165 pounds, assuming it was three or four meters high, with a cross beam two meters wide.  And so if Simon carried just the cross beam maybe we are talking 50 to 70 pounds.  But the true weight of the cross that Jesus bore was much more, for upon his shoulders was the sin of the world.  And it crushed him.  But the yoke that he gives to us is easy and the burden is light.  He, Jesus, does the heavy lifting when it comes to sin.

There is some debate whether the Romans chose Simon to carry the cross because he was a sympathizer of Jesus, or perhaps precisely because he was an obvious outsider.  Or maybe it was just random.  But Jesus precisely knew and chose this cross, willed to bear it for us, prayed that his Father’s will would be done by it.  None of this happened by accident.  He clearly spoke of the whole thing, plainly, to his disciples for some time.

Simon carried the cross only part of the way, but at Golgotha that cross went back to Jesus again.  Jesus would endure the full measure of the suffering appointed to him, the full measure of what our sins deserve.  Simon’s participation was symbolic, it was temporary, it was a small part.  Jesus does it all, does it for real, and does it well, for all people.

Here's another interesting detail.  Simon was on his way in, Mark tells us, from the country.  But the entourage with Jesus is on their way out – out about a half a mile, from the house of Pontius Pilate called Fortress Antonia, outside the city to the Place of the Skull, Golgotha.  So when the Romans nabbed Simon for this grim task, they made him turn around, and go in the opposite direction.  The cross changes our course, as well, doesn’t it?  It changes everything.  We were headed toward judgment, death and hell.  Jesus takes that all away, and turns us around.  He charts a new course for us, through his own cross, a new destination in the mansions of heaven.  He goes to prepare a place for you there.  But first he prepares it by going to his cross.

One might consider Simon to be the prototypical “innocent bystander”.  He was minding his own business when the Romans forced him into this grizzly duty.  But, of course, there really is only one innocent here, and that’s Jesus.  The only one without sin of his own.  Simon deserved that cross, not Jesus.  You and I deserve that cross, not Jesus.  But the spotless Lamb of God goes uncomplaining forth.  The innocent for the guilty.  The righteous for the unrighteous.  The great exchange – Christ gives his blood, his life, for ours.  And he who had no sin was made to become sin for us, to destroy that sin, once and for all, in his body, on the tree.

What an honor Simon had, to take part even in this small way, to assist our Lord in this holy task.  And what an emblem Simon becomes of every disciple, every follower of Christ, as he carries the cross behind Jesus.

For Jesus calls us, also, to cross-bearing. 

24 Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. 25 For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. (Matthew 16:24-45)

Simon stands as a reminder to all of us who follow Jesus, that doing so also means bearing our own crosses, as Jesus calls us to do.

A wise old pastor friend once remarked to me, “We don’t get to choose our own crosses.”  How true it is.  Simon didn’t choose, he was chosen to carry Christ’s cross.  And if I got my way, I wouldn’t choose a cross either.  If I had to choose my cross, I would choose the lightest, most pleasant cross, perhaps one covered with comfy cushions.  A cross that would be no cross at all.  But that’s not how it goes, is it?

God allows us to suffer, and in a sense, he lays our crosses upon us.  Jesus calls us to take up those crosses, and to follow him and his cross. For only his cross can make any sense of our own cross-bearing.  Only in his cross and victory over sin and death do our crosses become the easy yokes and light burdens that they are.  Only through him does suffering produce endurance, character, and hope that does not fail.

If your cross is a physical ailment, a bodily disease, even if it leads to death,  Christ’s cross has gone before you.  Life awaits you.  He who believes in Jesus Christ, even though he dies, yet shall he live.  We have a bodily resurrection in store for us.  And what a joy that will be!

If your cross is an emotional hurt, a sorrow or grief, a pain of loss.  Remember this is Jesus, who bore our griefs and carried our sorrows, even unto death.  And at the last, he will wipe away every tear from our eyes.

If your cross is persecution for the sake of Christ, then blessed are you.  “Rejoice!” Jesus says, “for so they persecuted the prophets before you”.  You’re in good company.  And great will be your reward in heaven.

If your cross is worry or anxiety, cast it on him, for he cares for you.  If you cross is a broken relationship you cannot fix, some fracture between you and a loved one… a parent, a spouse, a child, a friend.  And you’ve prayed and worked for reconciliation but it simply will not be this side of heaven – then perhaps your cross is to forgive for your part, and simply bear that loss, praying God’s will be done.

If your cross is some sin, some baggage of guilt and shame that you can’t seem to shake.  If the weight of your past is a drag on your conscience, and a ball-and-chain to your soul.  Then bring that burden to Jesus, and let him carry it for you. Confess it to your pastor, and hear the precious absolution.

All our little crosses pale in the shadow of his cross.  All our cross bearing is child’s play compared to the burden he bore.  And all our crosses will be laid down one day, in that brighter future that is ours because he has gone before us with his cross. 

Thank you Simon, for your service to Christ, and to us, reminding us that though we bear our crosses, Christ has gone before us.  Thanks be to God, and glory be to Jesus.  Amen.

Sermon - Midweek Lent - John 18:15-18; 25-27

 

The Servant Girl

15 Simon Peter followed Jesus, and so did another disciple. Since that disciple was known to the high priest, he entered with Jesus into the courtyard of the high priest, 16 but Peter stood outside at the door. So the other disciple, who was known to the high priest, went out and spoke to the servant girl who kept watch at the door, and brought Peter in. 17 The servant girl at the door said to Peter, “You also are not one of this man's disciples, are you?” He said, “I am not.” 18 Now the servants and officers had made a charcoal fire, because it was cold, and they were standing and warming themselves. Peter also was with them, standing and warming himself.

25 Now Simon Peter was standing and warming himself. So they said to him, “You also are not one of his disciples, are you?” He denied it and said, “I am not.” 26 One of the servants of the high priest, a relative of the man whose ear Peter had cut off, asked, “Did I not see you in the garden with him?” 27 Peter again denied it, and at once a rooster crowed. 

John 18:15-18; 25-27

So far we’ve examined Malchus, the servant of the High Priest whose ear Peter cut off at the arrest of Jesus.  We’ve considered the young man, likely John Mark, who ran away naked when the soldiers tried to seize him.  And we’ve looked at Annas and Caiaphas themselves, high priests who put Jesus on trial.  But today let’s look at someone even more obscure, even more in the background of the story.  The gospels present us with this minor character, the servant girl who manned the door at the palace of the High Priest.

There are other servant girls of note in Scripture, notably Namaan’s servant girl who told her leprous master about the prophet Elisha – through whom Namaan would eventually be cleansed and healed.  Then there is the servant girl Rhoda, who answered the door to Peter in Acts 12, when he had been broken out of prison by the angel.  An interesting comparison to the servant girl we consider tonight.

So what about the servant girl of the high priest?  We know very little about her.  We don’t even know her name.  We don’t know where she comes from.  Is she a servant or a slave?  Could be either.  All we know is that she was there, and she challenged Peter, “You also are one of this man’s disciples!”  which led to his first denial.

The four Gospels each give varying details of this story as well.  That doesn’t mean they are in conflict, of course.  Rather, it speaks to the authenticity of the account – for each tells it slightly differently, emphasizes various points.  Mark mentions three denials. 

In Mark, she follows Peter after his denial and starts to point him out to the other servants.

Matthew seems to indicate a second servant girl who accused Peter before his second denial.

And Luke mentions the detail that the servant girl noticed Peter and seemed to recognize him by the light of the fire as he stood warming himself. 

John mentions that the servant girl who first challenged Peter was in charge of watching the door.  In John’s version, it was John himself who was known to the High Priest, and who spoke to the servant girl to have Peter let in.

In every case, however, we have Peter, the leader of the disciples, the one who always came forth as their spokesman, challenged by a servant girl, identified as a follower of Jesus.  And Peter fails the test.  He denies his Lord, just as Jesus predicted.  The rooster crows.  And so the story goes.

What makes this detail worthy of inclusion in all four gospels?  That a servant girl’s accusation led to Peter’s denial?

Consider, it wasn’t the high priest himself that challenged Peter or put him on trial.  Peter would have surely crumbled before a powerful man and the weight of his office.  Nor did it come from a brawny soldier who could overpower Peter with brute force.  The challenge came from a servant – and a girl at that.  The slightest challenge from the least intimidating person on the scene, and Peter folded like a house of cards.

As Jesus said of Peter earlier that night, “the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

Indeed, even for St. Peter, it doesn’t take much pushback for him to fall, to deny his Lord, for him to fear for his own skin.  At the word of servant girl, this great pillar of faith – who walked on water, who saw Jesus transfigured, who witnessed so many miracles and even saw the dead raised – he wavered, he cowered, he shrunk away, and he crumbled.

But let’s not sit in judgment over poor Peter, when we, ourselves, are just the same. 

How much does it take to make your faith waver and fail?  How little pushback or temptation is needed to get you off your spiritual game?  How often does the smallest challenge from the least imposing person lead you to do the things that just as surely deny your Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?

It takes so little.  A little pointing finger of the law.  An offhand comment in a sermon that offends us because it hits a little too close to home.  A challenge from your wife or your children or your friend.  A setback in life – whatever it may be.  The saints and martyrs who gave their very lives for their confession of Jesus- they put us to shame.  They would not deny him, even when faced with suffering and torture and gruesome death.  And we fail the test at the drop of a hat, even just to avoid embarrassment. 

The servant girl, insignificant as she was to the story, speaks even today, challenging us, questioning us, “are you one of his disciples, too?”

The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak with us, too, isn’t it?  We also ought to pray not to enter temptation.  And when we fail, like Peter, we also need the restoration that only Christ can bring.

Peter’s denial of Jesus that night wasn’t the end of the story of Peter.  After the resurrection, Jesus appeared to Peter, along with the other disciples, and brought them peace. 

19 On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors being locked where the disciples were for fear of the Jews,[c] Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” 20 When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples were glad when they saw the Lord. 21 Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you.” 22 And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. 23 If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them;  (John 20:19-23)

And eventually, in another post-resurrection appearance, the risen Lord would also take Peter aside and offering him the three-fold restoration that matched his three-fold denial.  Peter was forgiven, reconciled, and re-commissioned as an apostle and pastor of God’s people. 

15 When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Feed my lambs.” 16 He said to him a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Tend my sheep.” 17 He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.” (John 21:15-17)

Feed my lambs.  Tend my sheep.  Feed my sheep.  If you forgive anyone his sins they are forgiven.

Yes, restored Peter and all the pastors who follow in his office are given the office of the keys – the authority to forgive sins on earth, which are just as surely forgiven in heaven.  This is why Peter’s symbol is the crossed keys.  This is Peter is so often pictured as the gate-keeper of heaven, questioning all who would enter, checking to see if your name is on the list.  Not because he is, but because Jesus charged him to unlock the gates of heaven for others by proclaiming forgiveness in Jesus name!

The forgiveness of sins is how pastors like Peter tend the sheep and feed the lambs of Jesus.  With the word of absolution, the water of baptism, and the feast of forgiveness that is Christ’s holy meal.  This is how the door to heaven is opened to you.

So Peter, who was once undone by a mere servant girl watching the door, would be charged to open for other poor sinners the very doors of heaven by absolving sins, and proclaiming Christ.  And every pastor who baptizes and teaches, forgives sinners and preaches the gospel, who gathers and feeds the sheep and lambs of Christ’s flock – follows in Peter’s footsteps and upholds the Lord’s commission. 

Jesus also mentions in John 21 how Peter’s death would glorify God.  For after all, at the end, Peter did confess, and not deny Christ.  Peter did die as a martyr, crucified upside down in Rome.  By God’s grace, a servant himself, and a powerful witness to the end.

It's so easy to fall, my friends.  To fall into sin, to deny even knowing Jesus.  But Christ’s word of forgiveness is even more quick and eager to meet your ears.  Yes, we sin daily and sin much.  But Christ forgives daily, and forgives freely.  You are baptized! No servant girl, no soldier, no mighty man on high, not even the devil himself can accuse us of a sin that Christ didn’t die to forgive. 

And so, then:  “Are you, also, one of Jesus’ disciples?”  May we answer boldly when asked such a question, “Yes!  For God has had mercy on me, a sinner, and restored me in his son, Jesus Christ!”  And let us pray for all Christians to have such boldness and steadfast faith.

Sermon - Lent 3 - John 2:13-22

 

The True Temple

It’s one of those little phrases from the Bible that’s made it into the secular lexicon:  “Your body is a temple”.  But the scriptural theology of the temple is rich and deep, and goes to much more than treating the body well.  It steeps us in Jesus who is crucified for us, rises from the dead for us, renews and restores us by his grace.

It’s hard to overstate the importance of the Temple for the people of God.  In many ways, the temple was the center of it all.  The focal point of Jerusalem, built atop Mount Zion.  Central to the entire promised land, and that at the crossroads of the world, where 3 continents meet.  The temple!  The grand house of God, built by Solomon as a more permanent version of the Tabernacle, which was just a tent, really.  And it stood from Solomon’s time for some 500 years until it was destroyed by the Babylonians.  But then the Persians came to power, and Cyrus decreed the exiles should return and rebuild that temple.  So under Ezra and Nehemiah thy did.  And after another 500 years along came Herod the Great, a great builder, who extensively renovated that second temple for some 46 years.

The temple was massive.  It was the largest structure most of these people would ever live to see.  The disciples, we are told, gawked, “teacher look at these great stones!”  It was ornate, decorated with the finest materials and art.  It was also busy, a constant meeting place, a sort of town square in its own right.  Jesus taught there on many occasions to the crowds who gathered. 

The temple was the focal point of the religious life of God’s people.  It was the place of the sacrifices and the prayers, elaborate ceremonies and rituals conducted by the priests – a whole class of religious officiants.  It would have been bustling with activity, especially during the 3 great feasts of the year. 

And more than anything the temple was meant to be the House of Yaheweh.  A place where God would deign to dwell.  A place where heaven met earth, and where the Most High would make himself available to lowly sinners.  It was a place of grace, and mercy, where God gave the people access to himself, by calling upon his name.

But all that was lost, or at least heavily obscured, it seems, by the time Jesus arrived.  He found the temple very different.  Instead of a house of prayer it had become a den of robbers.  A place of business.  Bustling with all the wrong kind of activity.  Money-changers.  Animal dealers.  Most likely corruption and certainly greedy gain to boot. 

Jesus is incensed.  He is angry.  And he takes decisive action.  Not only does he turn over tables and pour out their coins… cling, cling, cling, cling on the temple floor.  He also goes so far as to make a whip out of cords, and sch-wack, sch-wack, drives out the animals, and apparently also the money changers themselves.

Momma always said, “wait till your father gets home.”  Well, friends, wait till Jesus gets home – it’s not a pretty picture.

So what do we make of all this?  Is this simply a warning for us to keep our worship life pure?  To show proper respect to God’s house in our day and age?  To treat our church with respect, and perhaps not to have a bake sale in the narthex?  Would Jesus come and turn tables here, too?  Or is there something deeper going on?

To be sure, our Triune God cares deeply about our worship life, and about how we treat the place where his name dwells for us.  There’s much to be said here about propriety in worship, reverence, and of the loss of focus that has led many churches down the path to entertainment church rather than its true purpose.  And likewise, we often hear about corrupt churches and church leaders who take advantage of people and perhaps even outright steal the church’s money, God’s money, for their own lavish lifestyles.  There’s plenty of “cleansing of the church” that Jesus might do today.  But there’s even more here.

If we springboard off of “your body is a temple”, then we might confess, “yes, perhaps, a temple of doom”.  For this flesh is corrupt.  This heart is wicked.  And nothing good comes from within me.  Each of us is a little temple that needs a spring cleaning, and Lent is a good time to do it.  But still there’s more.

To truly understand the significance of the temple, we must reconsider Jesus’ teaching that all the scriptures testify to him.  That means that the temple itself, and the tabernacle before it, testify to him. 

In other words, the temple is a picture of Christ.  It points us to Christ.  It shows us, fore-shows us Christ.  We can see how:

The temple is where God dwells on earth.  Above the Ark of the Covenant, between the wings of the Cherubim, was the mercy seat – considered to be the very throne of God on earth.  The touchstone of heaven and earth.

We read in John chapter 1, “In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God…. And the word became flesh and made his dwelling among us”  Or more literally, tabernacled among us.  My friends, that’s Jesus.  The very presence of God among us in the person of Christ.  And not only that, but incarnate.  God and man united as one in the very person of Christ.  It doesn’t get any closer than that – than for God to take on our human nature.

The temple was also the place where sins were dealt with.  And Jesus, the very body of Jesus, is the place where sin is dealt with – not just for the Jews but for all people.  “Destroy this temple” on the cross, and Jesus would rebuild it in three days.  Crucify the body of Christ, and God will raise him to life again in short order.  Zeal for God’s house consumed him, that is to say, zeal and fervor to complete his mission as the true temple – it consumed him - even unto death.  But death would not, it could not hold him for long.

And so to all of this we can say, it’s not so much that Jesus is like the temple.  Rather, the temple is like Jesus. 

We come today to God’s house.  It’s not a temple, but a church building.  It’s far more humble, much smaller, and nowhere as noteworthy or historical.  But that’s ok, because it’s our church.  And the same God who dwelt in the Jerusalem temple has promised to be with us.  The same Jesus, whose bodily temple was destroyed and raised for us, now makes his presence to dwell here, in a new way.

He makes this his temple, because this is where his word is proclaimed for us.  This place, these pieces of furniture – altar, pulpit, lectern, font – they are sanctified by his word.  They are holy.  This sanctuary is a holy place, and this chancel is pattered after the very holy of holies, because Christ is proclaimed here.  And even more.

Christ’s true body and blood are distributed from this altar.  From here, you receive Jesus.  He dwells here for you in grace and mercy, for the forgiveness of your sins.  Here he makes himself so very concrete, according to his precious words, “this is my body.  This is my blood.”  This, here, these tangible, tasteable earthy elements of bread and wine – he promises – are his body and blood for you.  It’s so real, in time and space.  He locates himself here, for you, for your forgiveness.

And so the Christian congregation is not a country club.  It is not a senior center or a youth outreach.  It is not a spiritual gym for beefing up your life of good works, nor is Sunday just another day at the office.  Nor is it even a classroom where we go to expand our intellectual understanding and become experts in Christianity. This place is where you meet Jesus, or better, Jesus meets you – for the forgiveness of your sins. 

And so the zeal for God’s house would consume him.  That is to say, zeal for the true purpose of the temple – not a giant town hall, not a marketplace for profit and certainly not a venue for greed and gain, but rather the place where sins are dealt with.  And ultimately, then, the temple is his body. 

There, in his body, did he turn the tables.  He receives the whip, as well as the thorns and the nails and spear.  His body, which is sold into the hands of his enemies for greedy gain, 30 pieces of silver.  His body, at his cross, where he turns the tables on sin and death and devil once and for all.  The true temple himself is consumed with his zeal for our salvation.

But just as his temple, his body, was rebuilt in three days, so also has he turned the tables on death for you.  One day Christ will gather all people to himself, to his judgment seat.  And the goats will be driven out forever.  And we, the sheep, will enter eternal rest.  Revelation pictures that rest as a holy city with no need of sun or moon, and no temple – for the Lord will dwell personally in the midst of us forever.

Dear Christian, may zeal for his house also consume you.  May zeal for forgiveness drive you to Christ, to his means of grace, ever more.  May you find the cleansing of your own little temple always in Jesus, until that day when after your flesh has been destroyed, you stand upon the earth and see him face to face.