Easter!

 

God’s grace, peace and mercy be with you. … My sermon is entitled What Are You Doing Here? and my focus is our Gospel (Mark 16:1-8). Let us pray. Heavenly Father, the psalmist wrote, “I rejoiced when they said to me, ‘Let us go to the house of the Lord.’” Now that our feet are within your gates, we rejoice to hear your Word. As we listen, may your Spirit enlighten our minds and move our hearts to love deeply as Jesus loved. This we pray to you, Most Holy Trinity. Amen.

Everyday we meet people we know in likely settings – the grocery store is always a place where we would see a family member, friend or neighbor and never think to ask, “What are you doing here?” There are places where we would ask that question – the hospital would be one. A few years ago, when I was working for Jubilee Soup Kitchen managing a program for mothers incarcerated at the Allegheny County Jail, I was approaching the door of the jail when out walks a friend of mine and his wife. Each of us asked the obvious question – What are you doing here?

Of course, my response was work. My friend’s response was, “My son’s here.” My friend explained the circumstances leading up to his incarceration. I open with that incident because it is a good question that helps us examine our Gospel today and allows me to ask you, “What are you doing here?”

What were the women doing at the tomb? Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and Salome were all present when Jesus died. They were among the women looking on from a distance when Jesus breathed his last. And as the last verse of chapter 15 tells us, the two Mary’s saw where the tomb was.

In the first verse of chapter 16, Mark reports that the three of them bought spices to anoint him, indicating the reader already knows who he is. Obviously, Mark does not have to explain that the time in between the burial of Jesus and the opening verse of our passage was Passover. What were the women doing between Friday afternoon and Sunday morning? Well, at first, nothing. No one was working. No markets were open. They simply observed Passover and bided their time until the feast had ended. During their first opportunity, the women bought spices from the merchants, and prepared them to anoint Jesus’ body.

 What was Jesus doing? He was dead. What was happening? I mean, what happens when people die? They decompose. After 4 minutes decomposition begins. If you want to read more about this, check my sermon footnotes.[1] My point is that the women hurried to the tomb. The tomb was not right around the corner. It was outside the city. Our best guess is that Jesus’ tomb was several miles outside Jerusalem. If you are young and jog, how much time would it take you and a couple of friends to travel there at night while carrying spices and cloths?

So, the women were preparing to anoint Jesus’ decomposing body, travelling on foot to his tomb. My follow-up question, “What else were they doing?” is more about what we all do when someone dies. We grieve. We cry. We want to be alone or we seek support. In short, these women were among the many who followed Jesus and ministered to him while he was alive. They were part of his entourage that entered the city triumphantly. By Sunday morning, they were an emotional trainwreck. No one could have ever prepared them for what they were to experience when they reached Jesus’ tomb. Jesus’ prophecy of his resurrection eluded their grasp, just as it did their male counterparts.

At one point, it dawned on them that none of them would be able to move the stone. This then became their preoccupation because all together they could not budge this huge stone. Miraculously, the stone had been rolled back, and they step inside. What would you expect to see and smell? Certainly not a young man dressed in a white robe! Of course, they were alarmed. Who was he? How did he get here? What was he doing here?

To answer the first question, we must return to chapter 15. The moment Jesus was arrested, all of his disciples fled, but vv 51-52 tell us that “a young man followed [Jesus], with nothing but a linen cloth about his body. And they seized him, but he left the linen cloth and ran away naked.” And here he sat in radiant, intensely white clothes (Mk 9:3). Revelation tells us that those who were slain for the word of God and for their witness were each given a white robe. Those who stood before the throne and the Lamb were clothed in white robes (6:11; 9:3).

Mark does not identify this young man, but given the Evangelist’s gift for linking examples, such as the inability of the disciples to perceive Jesus’ teaching and the ability of a blind man to suddenly see, it’s no stretch to believe that these two passages are about the same man.

What was he doing here? He was proclaiming the heart of the Church’s preaching: Jesus of Nazareth, the crucified … has been raised! His message stresses the reality of Jesus’ passion: it is the same Jesus who truly suffered and died on the cross, who now is truly risen from the dead.[2] Jesus’ agonized question on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” has received its answer. God did not forsake his beloved Son but vindicated him with a triumph far greater than any of his enemies could have imagined, an everlasting triumph over death itself. Jesus did not escape death any more than any of us will, but Jesus destroyed death from within it. As an ancient hymn goes, by trampling on death by death.

Back to the women. The women were told to look at the empty tomb, in itself not as proof, but as a sign received in faith, confirming testimony that Jesus did rise from the dead (Acts 13:30-35; Rom 10:9; 1 Pet 1:21). The faithful women are divinely called to be the first witnesses of the resurrection, and sent as apostles to the apostles.

Now it seems that they thwarted Jesus’ promise that after he would be raised up that he would go before his disciples to Galilee (14:28) because they fled and said nothing to anyone because they were astonished and afraid. They were seized by a holy awe at the overwhelming power of the resurrection. The irony is that where Jesus imposed silence on those he healed (1:44; 5:43; 8:26), which was sometimes ignored (1:45; 7:36), now that the time had come for the mystery to be made known, the response is silence.

Now that we have some understanding of what these people were doing at the tomb of Jesus, let me ask you: What are you doing here? But before we can address that question, we must ask why this Gospel’s original ending is marked with silence? Its ending brings us face to face with the announcement of Jesus’ resurrection, and leaves us to ponder how we have responded.

Have you remained silent? Have you announced to others that Jesus Christ has been raised from the dead? The first Christians proclaimed the Gospel to an empire that killed people for doing so. We live in a culture that only cancels people for their beliefs. So, what will you do – remain silent or proclaim your belief that Jesus Christ is risen? Jesus kept his promises for you and me, for us as Church. His promises were fulfilled not because the women succeeded in carrying out their mission, but by the power of God who is able to overcome every human failure – yours, mine, ours. And now, you are invited to accept in faith the testimony to his resurrection through the life you live.

So, what are you doing here? There are many good reasons for being here. In addition to attending church with family on Easter, you may have other reasons. Maybe some miracle occurred recently in your life. Maybe a tragedy struck your family and you are asking God for a miracle. Some of us are here because we are almost always here on Sunday mornings. I may be here because it’s about time I started attending church. In a word, we are all here to worship.

What is worship? Showing honor and reverence for God. As Lutherans, what are we doing here? Those of you who have been attending our Small Catechism classes know that our worship occurs through the means of grace, that is, God gives us gifts. The gifts God gives us when we worship are the forgiveness of our sins and the promise of eternal life. What we do when we gather here for worship is simple: we receive gifts.

When we receive those gifts from God because of the Paschal Mystery, the suffering, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we experience joy deep in our souls. We may not act as excited as my grandchildren act whenever we give them gifts on Christmas or their birthdays, but receiving forgiveness of our sins and eternal life when we hear a pastor proclaim the Words of Absolution, or the Word of God, or the words he speaks when he takes bread and wine and gives us Christ’s Body and Blood to eat and drink – all of this – renders a deep, satisfying joy in our souls. And all we have to do is receive.

Being Lutheran is simple. We do not have to get emotional. We don’t have to weep or shout, wave our arms or clap our hands. Being Lutheran is knowing that when we worship together it is all about receiving God’s gifts through the means of grace (Baptism, Confession, Absolution, Holy Communion). It is all about God and what God does for us. You don’t need a pastor to entertain you. You don’t need a praise band or magnificent choir. You don’t need a youth minister dressed as an Easter bunny.

Knowing that, what do want to be known for? I ask that because we become known for what we do. For example, Mary Magdalene was the first to share the Good News of Jesus’ Resurrection, and she is known for that. Peter was the one who denied knowing Christ, but repented, and then led the Church. The women in our Gospel today are known for their faithfulness. They are all known for what they did. Numerous others are known for what they did – Paul, Philip, Martha, Mary, Timothy, Titus and on and on.

But you? What will you be known for? Here’s an example from a blessing service of a woman who died in Swissvale 30 years ago. I was asked to conduct the blessing service at Nied Funeral Home in Swissvale for the aunt of a man who was employed there. The woman’s nephew, Tony, was in his 60s, and rather brusque even on his best days. After reading the Gospel and commenting on the passage, I asked if anyone in the small crowd would care to say anything about the deceased. After a moment of silence, Tony spoke up. He said, “I guess not.” We erupted in laughter.

My point is, that could be you. That could be any of us. We could be remembered for nothing. At the end of our lives, people will remember us for nothing or something. Depending on what we do, we can be known for nothing or for something. What do you want to be known for, not only as individuals, but also as a congregation? Now, there’s a question to discuss over Easter dinner.

Let’s focus not on the past, but on the future. We have been in this building for one year. I ask you to consider what do you want to be known for today? In a year? In a decade? I can offer some ideas, but not a definitive answer. We can be known for being faithful. We can be known for living by the Spirit (Gal 5:25) or known for living the fruits of the Spirit (5:22-23) because we who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. (5:24) There’s something to consider. There’s something to be known for. But to be known for that, each of us has to be about doing or living the fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

If we want to be known for that, we can simply receive God’s gifts and ask the Holy Spirit to guide us into a life lived according to its fruit. To be known for that, I must answer the question – What are you doing here? – with “Living the fruits of the Holy Spirit.”

Live that, and may the Resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead mark your Easter and your life, and may the peace of God that surpasses all understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

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[1] https://australian.museum/about/history/exhibitions/death-the-last-taboo/decomposition-body-changes/

[2] Healy, 329.

Repulsive Attraction

God’s grace, peace and mercy be with you. … My sermon is entitled Repulsive Attraction and my focus is our First Lesson (Isaiah 52:13-53:12). Let us pray. Heavenly Father, the psalmist wrote, “I rejoiced when they said to me, ‘Let us go to the house of the Lord.’” Now that our feet are within your gates, we rejoice to hear your Word. As we listen, may your Spirit enlighten our minds and move our hearts to love deeply as Jesus loved. This we pray to you, Most Holy Trinity. Amen.

Periodically, we are faced with a lectionary passage that is complex. It raises questions and leaves us wondering why the scribe was inspired by God not only to write these words, but also to place them where they are. Our passage from Isaiah today is one of those. Rather than preach in my typical style, this evening, a bit of teaching to try to make sense not only of Isaiah, but also Christ Crucified on a Good Friday and what all of this might mean for our lives as individuals and as a congregation.

Today’s passage is a poem about God’s Servant. There are four Servant poems in Isaiah (42:1-4; 49:1-6; 50:4-9; 52:13–53:12). You should read them together and aloud because poems are intended to be read aloud. Each is inserted in the text for a particular reason, but we have to excavate the text to understand why it is there.

The second half of Isaiah, aka The Book of Consolation, often speaks of Israel as a servant of Yahweh, chosen, saved, and set apart to be God’s witness before nations. But the second song distinguishes the Servant from Israel. We read in 49:5-6: “And now the Lord says, he who formed me from the womb to be his servant, to bring Jacob back to him; and that Israel might be gathered to him—for I am honored in the eyes of the Lord, and my God has become my strength—he says: ‘It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to bring back the preserved of Israel; I will make you as a light for the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.’”

These verses and others contrast the Servant from the nation of Israel by highlighting qualities showing the Servant to be a particular individual. The Servant is called from the womb of his mother and named by God (49:1). God also put his spirit on this Servant (42:1), made him a disciple and opened his eyes (50:4-5) so that establishing justice on earth (42:1,3), he may instruct mankind (42:4; 50:4), and sort and judge humanity by his word (50:10-11). All this he performs gently and without display, as we read in 42:2-3: “He will not cry aloud or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; a bruised reed he will not break, and a faintly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice.” In the end, he even appears to have failed. He says “I have labored in vain; I have spent my strength for nothing and vanity; yet surely my right is with the Lord, and my recompense with my God.” (49:4)

I make the point that the Servant is an individual because to argue that the nation of Israel is the Servant, as some do, means that we would have to pay no attention to what the Word of God says in these poems. Serious Christians do not turn a blind eye or a deaf ear to God’s Word.

This Servant is also suffering. His suffering begins to cast its shadow on him in the second song and continues into the third. It wounds and bruises the one who bore the sins of others. When we reach the fourth and final song – we begin to see clearly who this Servant is, although Isaiah never names him.

I have said this before. Sometimes you go to Bible class, and sometimes Bible class comes to you. So, we begin with verse 13. Behold, my servant shall act wisely; he shall be high and lifted up, and shall be exalted. The Lord promised to be personally present to his people, and in his Servant fulfills this promise. To act wisely means that the Servant knew exactly what to do in order to bring about the intended result. And the threefold exaltation expresses a dignity beyond any other. It is impossible not to be reminded of the resurrection, ascension and the heavenly exaltation of Jesus Christ.

14 As many were astonished at you—his appearance was so marred, beyond human semblance, and his form beyond that of the children of mankind. Here astonishment is similar to how appalled, shocked and shattered we were on 9/11. It is akin to what a bereaved wife feels at the sudden death of her husband. He was so marred, so disfigured far beyond what The Passion of the Christ portrays that you would instinctively step back in horror and wonder aloud not “Is this the Servant?” but “Could this possibly even be human?!”

15 So shall he sprinkle many nations. Kings shall shut their mouths because of him, for that which has not been told them they see, and that which they have not heard they understand. The Servant’s work is holy, and like the priest performing his ministerial duty, he sprinkled blood on many nations. The silence of the kings is inexplicable. We are reminded of Job’s reply to God, “I am unworthy—how can I reply to you? I put my hand over my mouth.” (40:4)[1] I am sure that at times you found yourself speechless. Compound that moment exponentially and you begin to understand who Isaiah was describing.

The poem continues into chapter 53. Who has believed what he has heard from us? And to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed? Who believed? No one. Why? Because there is no belief before divine revelation. There is no human reason to desire this ordinary looking Servant during the time of Isaiah or at some time in the future. Yet, the arm of the Lord is the Lord himself who acts even when you can’t see Him.

The reason no one believed is found in verse two. For he grew up before him like a young plant, and like a root out of dry ground; he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him. This person had an earthly look. How could a mere man born of natural means be the arm of the Lord? Of course, this is what was said of Jesus. “Isn’t this the carpenter’s son? Isn’t his mother’s name Mary?” (Mt 13:55) Isaiah was saying that this Servant had no distinctive look. Yet, the prophet’s imagery pointed to the truth for those who had eyes to see.

The Servant was not well built, impressive or handsome, and so we can actually feel what Isaiah was doing when we recall how people dismissed Jesus’ Messianic status because he came from Nazareth and not Bethlehem (Jn 7:41-42). Because it was not easy to believe that he could be the Lord to come, people shunned him, as we read in v. 3.

3 He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Isaiah’s realistic and descriptive image of the Servant showed that people were mockingly dismissive towards him. Yet, we should not think that he was an incessant sorrower and sufferer in himself but was so only because he took on our sorrows and weaknesses as his own.

That the Servant is of no esteem, a big fat zero, according to Isaiah, is actually a reflection of us. Those who see the Servant and find no beauty in him reveals how bankrupt our human emotions are. We are not attracted to him. He is repulsive to us. To spend time with this Servant and then reject him exposes one’s misguided human will and collapsed human mind both corrupted by sin. In other words, we will never arrive at Truth through reason and will. “Nothing but divine revelation can make the Servant known to us and draw us to him.”[2]

4 Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. Notice how Isaiah placed the words he and we. He acted as a substitute and carried our sorrows. He dealt with everything that alienates us from God. He dealt with all that deserved wrath and fulfilled the will of God. He was truly the Lamb of God. Obversely, we long for more – a longer life, a healthy, comfortable life so that we can retire with no financial worries. I include myself in this. We do not long for what the Servant experiences – to be humbled and humiliated. Yet, that is what he accepted.

5 But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed. He was pierced fatally because we deliberately flouted the Lord and His Law; and our fall from grace resulted in an ever-flowing fountain of sin. In order to secure and restore our peace with God, his punishment was necessary. Why? Because we strayed.

6 All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all. Straying sheep summarizes our inadequacy and errant nature; and so, the Lord laid upon this Servant our sins. This verse expresses common culpability and individual responsibility. We cannot blame a herd instinct. Hence, by divine act the Servant was the meeting point for all of our sins.[3]  Each sin of every sinner is a separate wound in the heart of this man of sorrows. If that does not bring us to our knees, I don’t know what will.

And so, the Servant lets it happen to him. In these next verses we see his procession (7), execution (8) and burial (9). He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth. The Servant offered no physical or verbal resistance at all. He knew well and went to his death with a calm, thoughtful submission.

Isaiah was a priest who knew the efficacy of the altar and the sacrifices which God appointed. During his vision in the Temple, he cried, “Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!” Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a burning coal that he had taken with tongs from the altar. And he touched my mouth and said: “Behold, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for.” (6:5-7) Isaiah’s idea for Substitution is theologically and biblically brilliant. Isaiah knew that the blood of animals could never take away our sins. We see that in Hebrews 10:4: “It is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins.” Even when the priests offered these mandated sacrifices, they looked forward to the perfect sacrifice yet to come. The Servant did not deserve to die but volunteered to die for our benefit because only a person can substitute for personal sin, and this one with knowing submission went forward to die for us.

8 By oppression and judgment he was taken away; and as for his generation, who considered that he was cut off out of the land of the living, stricken for the transgression of my people? The Servant endured the punishment which should have fallen upon “my people” (God’s people), indicating that the speaker here is God. He is struck by God in our place.

9 And they made his grave with the wicked and with a rich man in his death, although he had done no violence, and there was no deceit in his mouth. Now dead, no violence or deceit could ever be found in the Savior. Yet, his burial place is among all – the wicked and the rich.

10 Yet it was the will of the LORD to crush him; he has put him to grief; when his soul makes an offering for guilt, he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days; the will of the LORD shall prosper in his hand. We find that it was not only the Lord’s will to crush the Servant, but also His delight. The Servant made his soul, his whole being a guilt offering for us. Death ushered the Servant into sovereign dignity and power. His life, now ended on earth, continues in reality and effectiveness. God restored the Servant on the far side of the grave where the dead are alive. As we read earlier in Isaiah, “Thus says the LORD, who redeemed Abraham, concerning the house of Jacob: ‘Jacob shall no more be ashamed, no more shall his face grow pale. For when he sees his children, the work of my hands, in his midst, they will sanctify my name; they will sanctify the Holy One of Jacob and will stand in awe of the God of Israel.’” (29:22-24)

11 Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied; by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant, make many to be accounted righteous, and he shall bear their iniquities. The Servant’s death is not simply something that happened, but it is a purposeful act.  This verse is one of the fullest statements of atonement theology ever written. The Servant knew the needs that had to be met and what had to be done. He was fully acceptable to the God our sins offended and was appointed by God to complete this task. He was righteous – free from every contamination of our sin – but personally identified himself with our sin and our need, and totally committed himself to the role of the Suffering Servant, accomplishing it fully.

12 Therefore I will divide him a portion with the many, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong, because he poured out his soul to death and was numbered with the transgressors; yet he bore the sin of many, and makes intercession for the transgressors. Only the victors divide the spoil.

That said, let me ask you two questions. What attracts you? What repulses you? In regards to the Suffering Servant and Christ Crucified, what attracts you and repulses you?

Let me give only one example that makes sense to me. When I served as a pastor in Canonsburg, I was temporarily assigned to be the chaplain of Western Center. The facility is no longer there. It’s now Southpointe. If you ever saw the opening scene of Silence of the Lambs, Western Center’s Administration building served as a backdrop to where Hannibal Lecter was imprisoned. In its day, Western Center was home to hundreds upon hundreds of men and women with severe physical and mental disabilities. Some were immobile and lived their lives in giant cribs. They were placed under the care of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, and even though they were loved by parents and siblings, a good number were neglected or abused by staff. Why? Because sinful people saw God’s children as repulsive human beings not created in the image of the Almighty. Repulsive is how people saw and see Christ crucified.

The Gospel of John which we heard this evening sees as attractive what the world saw and sees as repulsive. Christ crucified was not, is not the bloody end for Jesus and the Gospel. Christ crucified is the glorious achievement of Almighty God. It is God’s moment of glory.

I close by paraphrasing Francis Chan, an evangelical pastor, who recently asked his listeners, “If you could name your wishes, what would they be?” He then asked if anyone wished to see God’s glory.

Friends, if you have not, add that to your bucket list. And if you wish to see God’s glory, look to Christ Crucified. That is God’s glory because we know what happens next. This repulsive attraction between Christ Crucified and Christ Risen keeps us going like a magnetic force. Keep that in mind until Easter morning when I will ask another question. Until then, may the peace of God that surpasses all understanding keep your heart and mind in Christ Jesus. Amen.

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[1] Also see Job 21:5; 29:9.

[2] Motyer, 429.

[3] Motyer, 431.

Three Words

 

God’s grace, peace and mercy be with you. … My sermon is entitled Three Words (Disturbing Words, Institutional Words, Personal Words) and my focus is our Gospel (Mark 14:12-26). Let us pray. Heavenly Father, the psalmist wrote, “I rejoiced when they said to me, ‘Let us go to the house of the Lord.’” Now that our feet are within your gates, we rejoice to hear your Word. As we listen, may your Spirit enlighten our minds and move our hearts to love deeply as Jesus loved. This we pray to you, Most Holy Trinity. Amen.

Disturbing Words. My hope is that you are having a peaceful, easy feeling; that you’re feeling easy like Sunday morning; and that all is well with your soul. If you are, I hate to disturb you. None of us likes to hear disturbing news whether it’s personal – “You have cancer.” “You’re fired.” “I’m leaving you.” – or communal – “President Kennedy has been shot.” “The Challenger has exploded.” “A second plane has crashed into the South Tower.”

Disturbing news causes feelings of worry, concern or anxiety. The word disturb means to frighten, alarm, break up the tranquility. The Latin word disturbare means to throw into disorder, from dis, meaning completely, and turbare or turba, meaning turmoil. Disturbing synonyms include aggravating, annoying, pesky, rankling and vexing to name a few.

I begin our Triduum – our three-day observance of the Lord’s Passion, Death and Resurrection – with Disturbing Words because that is what we hear from Jesus. But before I get to that, allow me a few moments to set the scene.

Jesus’ instructions to two disciples regarding where to eat the Passover seem a bit out of place. A man carrying a water jar will be looking for them. First, men in Jesus’ culture did not carry water jars; women did. Second, what are the odds of this man knowing who these two disciples are. Know this about the Evangelists: they don’t explain everything.

What we can surmise from the preparation is that people seldom finished eating the Passover meal before midnight. Note that Jesus and the Twelve did not arrive until evening. So, that night he was within the jurisdiction of the priestly authorities who planned to arrest him secretly and then kill him, and if he was close to Mount Zion, he was near Caiaphas’ house. That in itself is frightening, but here are the disturbing words from our Lord.

Imagine, now, you’re gathered with Jesus and as the meal begins the first words out of his mouth are, “Truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me, one who is eating with me.” Imagine sitting down for Easter Dinner with your closest family members and dearest friends, and the host says that you will betray him. Is it no wonder that Mark records their upset feelings – distress, grief, sorrow and sadness – and their responses: “Surely, you don’t mean me?” “Am I the one?” “Is it I?”

Jesus’ disturbing words isolated him from the Jewish authorities and his own disciples. Though surrounded by enemies and followers, he is alone. A more chilling effect comes when he says, “It is one of the twelve, one who is dipping bread into the dish with me.” This is the deepest sort of betrayal.

His words are prophesied in Psalm 41, where we read, “Even my close friend in whom I trusted, who ate my bread, has lifted his heel against me. But you, O LORD, be gracious to me, and raise me up, that I may repay them!” In more familiar words, we recall, “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.” (Ps 23) In other words, all is going according to divine script for Jesus’ life. The irony is that during a meal where bonding and celebrating occur, the participants will betray, deny and desert Jesus.

Jesus goes to the cross without his closest allies and support group. The Twelve were upset at Jesus’ words, and Mark portrayed them accurately as a self-concerned bunch, undiscerning to the end. And though Mark makes no mention of Judas’ departure, the punishment for his deliberate breach of faith is described in verse 21, “For the Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that man if he had not been born.” There is no exoneration for him. Disturbing words, indeed!

Now, because Holy Thursday marks a transition within Holy Week and Lent as the first of three sacred days known as the Holy Triduum, Latin for three days, it serves as the beginning of the Paschal Feast. As we are fed and nourished at His table, we are strengthened to take up our cross, follow Him, loving one another in real and significant ways as He has loved us. With that, we move from Disturbing Words to Institutional Words.

Institutional Words. Before commenting on the Institutional Words, a few remarks about the passage. This is the earliest Gospel description of the Last Supper. Yet, the earliest written account is 1^st Corinthians 11:23-26.

Though this is a Passover meal, there is no mention of what is customarily consumed – lamb and bitter herbs – for the focus is on bread and wine. Jesus is not participating in the temple-centered feast of Passover. Instead, he discarded its symbolic ritual meal in order to narrate his new story – that of the Human One who gives his life for the people. Blood was the ultimate pollutant in the Jewish purity system. Yet, the blood of Jesus is the means of ultimate cleansing of people from their sins.

The Words of Institution are symbolic to the disciples. Otherwise, how difficult it would be for them to drink human blood. Even as a symbol, it would offend the sensibilities of any Jew. Still, they eat and drink the bread and wine offered by Jesus.

We cannot overlook the significance of the verse that follows. When Jesus says, “I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God,” he anticipated that he would share no more Passover meals nor drink any more wine. He would drink new wine in the messianic banquet for his death was instrumental in bringing forth God’s Kingdom.

In heaven we won't receive the Lord's Supper because we will have Jesus — the Bread of heaven — in all his fullness. As Lutherans, we believe this messianic banquet – Eucharist – as one of our sacraments. The Words of Institution are an historical report: this is what Jesus did and what he said. According to Christ’s command, we celebrate the Lord's Supper not as a meal of remembrance but as a Sacrament by which Jesus himself comes to us.

In Luther’s Small Catechism, we read that the Sacrament of the Altar is the true body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ under the bread and wine, instituted by Christ Himself for us Christians to eat and to drink. These words, “Given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins,” show us that in the Sacrament forgiveness of sins, life and salvation are given us through these words. For where there is forgiveness of sins, there is also life and salvation. Whoever believes these words, and eats and drinks Christ’s Body and Blood, has exactly what they say: “forgiveness of sins.” But anyone who does not believe these words or doubts them is unworthy and unprepared, because the words “for you” require our hearts to believe.

Martin Luther placed the highest priority on Jesus’ instituting words. He wrote: “You must above all else take heed to your heart, that you believe the words of Christ, and admit their truth, when he says to you and to all, ‘This is my blood, a new testament, by which I bequeath you forgiveness of all sins and eternal life.’ … Everything depends … upon the words of this sacrament. These are the words of Christ. Truly we should set them in pure gold and precious stones, keeping nothing more diligently before the eyes of our heart, so that faith may thereby be exercised. . .. If you would receive this sacrament and testament worthily, see to it that you give emphasis to these living words of Christ, rely on them with a strong faith, and desire what Christ has promised you in them.”

To further appreciate why Luther valued the Words of Institution to this degree, it is necessary to remember the controversies that emerged surrounding the Lord’s Supper. Amidst the errors of the Roman Catholic sacrificial interpretation and the Reformed rejection of the bodily presence, Lutherans continued to confess that the Lord’s Supper is the very body and blood of Jesus, given in bread and wine, not as a sacrifice for sins, but for the forgiveness of sins. The foundation and defense of their confession were Jesus’ own mandating words. Like Luther before, the next generation of Lutherans ardently held fast to the words of institution: with these words Jesus instituted this sacrament and shows what is given in it.

The authors of the Formula of Concord followed Luther in their fervent confession of Jesus’ words of institution: “This very opinion on the Lord’s Supper … is founded on the only firm, immovable and undoubtable rock of truth. It comes from the words of institution, in the holy, divine Word. … We are certainly duty-bound not to interpret and explain these words in a different way. For these are the words of the eternal, true and almighty Son of God, our Lord, Creator, and Redeemer, Jesus Christ. … With simple faith and obedience, we receive the words as they read, in their proper and plain sense.”

Personal Words. From Institutional Words to Personal Words. Most people consider Easter as one of their top ten holidays. Throughout the US and the world, people place Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween, Independence Day, Hanukkah, New Year’s and Ramadan ahead of Easter. Personally speaking, Easter has been my favorite holiday ever since I came to know and love Jesus Christ. The three days preceding the Resurrection of the Lord are the most solemn and mystical days on our calendar. And as decades pass, my opinion, like concrete, has solidified about the solemnity and celebration of Christ’s Passion, Death and Resurrection, otherwise known as the Paschal Mystery.

My thoughts exclude any of the Easter trappings: chocolate bunnies and baskets, children’s clothing and egg hunts. They do include what enhances our worship – singing joyful alleluias and smelling fresh flowers – to the point that years ago I said that whenever I am buried, I want it to be on Easter Monday: the pain of death experienced on a Day of New Life.

In 2003, I experienced the pain of death against the backdrop of new life. In that year, on April 16^th, Wednesday of Holy Week, my father died suddenly and unexpectedly of a massive heart attack. Ironically, we buried him on Easter Monday. I speak of this not to garner sympathy, but to offer an insight. By now, we have all experienced pain, grief, sadness, unbelief and all those emotions that occur when one we love dies. Though we may be able to mask those emotions temporarily while receiving guests at the funeral home or leading worship during the Triduum, we do not escape them. At some point, they overcome us and leave us feeling broken, empty and maybe even hopeless. Yet, life goes on, and we realize that though we are feeling loss, most of the world outside our circles of family, friends and church, have no clue that we lost our loved one.

We turn to whatever helps us cope. Some turn to unhealthy habits and develop addictions. Others find healthy activities to fill their days – volunteering in the church or community. Still others develop new relationships. Humanly speaking, all good. Yet, what I found, years removed from the sudden death of my father, is that the emotional experience of loss can lead to deeper reflection and appreciation not only for what my father did for family, community and church, but more importantly for what Jesus Christ did for us as Savior and Redeemer.

Reflecting on the Paschal Mystery from the perspective of loss deepens our appreciation and love for Christ knowing the depth of his love not only for his family, friends and disciples, but also for us, brothers and sisters of the Lord.

My friends, what I am asking you to do between now and Easter Sunday, amidst all the activity which engages your time and attention, is to spend some time reading and reflecting upon the passion narratives found in the Gospels. Take time for prayer and meditation not only publicly in church, but also privately at home. May the Passion of Jesus mark your Triduum. And may the peace of God that surpasses all understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

In His Memory

 

God’s grace, peace and mercy be with you. My sermon is based on our Gospel (Mark 14:1-15:47). Let us pray. Heavenly Father, the psalmist wrote, “I rejoiced when they said to me, ‘Let us go to the house of the Lord.’” Now that our feet are within your gates, we rejoice to hear your Word. As we listen, may your Spirit enlighten our minds and move our hearts to love deeply as Jesus loved. This we pray to you, Most Holy Trinity. Amen.

The disciples were happy as they walked along under the stars. It was a bittersweet happiness. Jesus said too many sorrow-shadowed things. His final words, especially, kept ringing in their ears: “Do this in memory of me.”

Years after the Last Supper, Paul wrote, “As often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the death until he comes.” Paul’s point is important. Jesus is present in a mysterious way in every celebration of the Eucharist, or the Lord’s Supper, but the fullness of his presence will be realized only when he returns in glory. Until then, the Lord’s Supper will always be a paradox of presence and absence.

It will be a call to mourning as well as feasting, to sadness as well as to joy, to longing as well as to satisfaction. When you attend church and come to the Lord’s Table to receive Christ’s Body and Blood under the form of bread and wine, why is it so meaningful for you? Do you mourn or rejoice? Are you sad or satisfied? Perhaps your feelings are influenced by life’s events and affect how Christ comes to you in the Lord’s Supper. Is it the birth of a grandchild or the death of a grandmother? Before you retire this evening, take time to speak to Jesus about the opportunity to share in His Supper.

Next, the discouragement Jesus must have felt. We have all experienced discouragement. It may have been as a child or as a parent, in our personal or professional lives. Like Jesus, we have all experienced discouragement.

In the vein of Paul Harvey, I tell you the story of a mother who experienced great discouragement when one day her partially deaf son came home from school with a note from his teacher. Little Tommy handed the note to his mother.

Mother opened the note slowly and read it. As she did, she choked back tears. The note suggested her son was too dull to learn. He was holding back the entire class. It would be better if she would withdraw him from school.

The mother finished reading the note. At first, she felt discouraged, then awkward and finally challenged. She said to herself, “My son is not too dull to learn. I’ll teach him myself.”

When little Tommy died many years later, the entire nation honored him in a remarkable way. At exactly 9:59 p.m. Eastern Standard Time in late October 1931, every home turned off its lights for one minute as a tribute to the man who invented those lights.

Thomas Alva Edison, inventor of the electric lightbulb, the movie projector and the record player, the boy “too dull to learn,” died with a thousand patents to his credit.

From the outset of his ministry, Jesus faced opposition. He was opposed not only by the devil, but also by those he called. “I mean, really,” said one of his disciples, “could anything good come from Nazareth?”

As a follower of Jesus, I am certain you experienced discouragement. This week, recall those moments, and speak to Jesus about how he handled discouragement.

I close with a quote from Harper Lee’s main character in “To Kill a Mockingbird,” Atticus Finch. One of the memorable lines in her book is often memorized and quoted like a confirmation verse. “You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view … until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.”

Until you climb into his skin and walk around in it. … This week, ask the Lord for the grace to accept life’s trials with the same courageous acceptance that he demonstrated in Gethsemane. Contemplate Jesus’ suffering the way the evangelists contemplated it. … May the Passion of Jesus mark your Holy Week. And may the peace of God that surpasses all understanding keep your heart and mind in Christ Jesus. Amen.

Feeling Ambitious?

 

God’s grace, peace and mercy be with you. My sermon is entitled You Do Not Know What You Are Asking, and my focus is our Gospel (Mark 10:32-45). Let us pray. Heavenly Father, the psalmist wrote, “I rejoiced when they said to me, ‘Let us go to the house of the Lord.’” Now that our feet are within your gates, we rejoice to hear your Word. As we listen, may your Spirit enlighten our minds and move our hearts to love deeply as Jesus loved. This we pray to you, Most Holy Trinity. Amen.

Blind Ambition, John Dean’s account as President Nixon’s counsel during Watergate, reveals Dean’s desire for power and importance, which led him to fall deeply into crisis. Dean had more than ambition. Dean had blind ambition.

Ambition, from the Latin word ambitio originally meant going around soliciting votes. One with ambition desired honor and thirsted for popularity. Today, we use the word pejoratively. She has an inordinate desire. He exudes pride and vainglory.

Some say ambition is good. Some say, “I did it so my family could have a better life. … I was only thinking of us!” … In truth, we stop looking at others along the road and become racehorses wearing blinders so we can fully fixate on the finish line and accomplish our goals at the expense of everyone and everything. Often when we win the race on the road of blind ambition, we feel lousy. Outwardly successful to others, inwardly we know joy slipped from our lives. We realize the price of earned success.

What’s the difference between ambition and blind ambition? Ambition is about improving and changing things in the world. Blind ambition is about improving things for you. Today, I examine the disciples’ blind ambition, Jesus’ teaching, and what the Gospel might mean for us today.

Our passage occurred on the way to Jerusalem. Jesus walked ahead. His disciples followed. … Going before or going in front of indicated one’s relative position to others on the journey. In this case, ‘the way’ referred to Jesus’ relationship with his disciples. He went before them as their leader, showing the way and modeling the life to which he called them.

On the way, Jesus predicted his passion for the third time. Again, the disciples heard Jesus’ message on the resurrection, but ignored what he said about the passion. After his first prediction, Peter rebuked Jesus. After the second, the disciples did not understand and were too afraid to ask. Instead, they argued about who was the greatest. Now, James and John asked what the glory could mean for them. Not one disciple was able to face and accept the passion.

James and John were among the first disciples. Like Peter, they were fishermen. Named to the Twelve right after Peter, together they experienced the Transfiguration. The three raised the most basic issues regarding what it meant to follow Christ and were the vehicle for Jesus’ most challenging teaching.

The sons of Zebedee approached Jesus with a bold request. In most cases, people modestly approached Jesus as one did a respected teacher. No one ever demanded anything of Jesus, let alone without indicating what he or she demanded. Testing the limits of what Jesus was willing to do for them, the ambitious brothers demanded Jesus give them whatever they ask of him.

Jesus answered with a question: “What do you want me to do for you?” He posed the same question to Bartimaeus, the blind beggar of Jericho. Unlike James and John, who tried to get what they wanted, Bartimaeus humbly approached Jesus and begged for mercy: “Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me.”

After the brothers made known their request, Jesus asked a follow up question: “Can you drink the cup that I drink?” The symbol of the cup has a rich background in the Old Testament. The overflowing cup expressed joy and communion with God. The cup was a symbol for someone’s lot. Psalm 11 referred to God’s wrath and judgment on the wicked: “He rains down fire and burning sulfur upon wicked people. He makes them drink from a cup filled with scorching wind.” On the other hand, Psalm 116 referred to the cup of salvation: “I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord.”

Mark immediately related the image of the cup to baptism, which also referred to the passion. Baptized with the baptism with which Jesus was baptized meant suffering the passion He suffered. Think of baptism not so much as cleansing or purification, but as dying and being buried with Christ. Think Romans 6: “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried 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.”

That is why Jesus said, “You do not know what you are asking.” What it meant to drink from the cup and to be baptized with Jesus was revealed in the passion. Jesus asked James and John if they could go with him to the passion. Now, remember, they were on the way, but they tried to avoid what Jesus previously outlined in detail. They would drink from the cup and be baptized in the way Jesus predicted his own passion. In Acts 12, we read, “Herod … killed James the brother of John with the sword, and when he saw that it pleased the Jews, he proceeded to arrest Peter also.” In the end, what the brothers lacked in understanding, they compensated for in courage.

The other ten heard this conversation and became indignant at the two who wanted to be above them in glory. Their indignation masked their own blind ambition, for the brothers’ request was what each of the disciples desired to ask. James and John simply stole their thunder.

This prompted Jesus to respond with a mini-discourse. The disciples needed to learn what it meant to be servants to all. Jesus’ response summed up his entire teaching on following him on the way to his passion and resurrection. Verse 45 was Jesus’ purpose statement. Moreover, since Jesus was going before them as their leader, showing the way and modeling the life to which he called them, his disciples had to be not only servants, but also slaves. If they were ambitious to be great, they had to be servants … to all. If they were ambitious to be first, they had to be slaves … to all.

In Jesus’ day, there was a huge difference between a servant and a slave. A servant was hired for a set of tasks and compensated according to agreed terms. A slave was owned by a master who may or may not compensate for the work performed.

Christians, especially those in authority, were to think of themselves as God-chosen slaves to other Christians and, for the sake of the Gospel, the whole human race. This meant denying yourself, giving up any personal claim on yourself and allowing Jesus to claim you for the mission of His Father’s Kingdom.

In his passion, Jesus fulfilled his mission as a slave. To express this, Mark evoked a passage from Isaiah 53, the Suffering Servant song. He made known that as a member of His Church – a Christian following Christ on the way – you were a slave offering your life “as a ransom for many.”

Still, the disciples were as obtuse as the disheartened rich young man who went away sorrowful. To illustrate what it meant to follow Jesus on the way, Mark completed this section with the healing of Blind Bartimaeus. When called, he threw off his cloak, symbolizing his old way of life, and when he recovered his sight, he joyfully followed his Master on the way.

Before I get to what the passage might mean for us, I ask if you ever considered seriously the divine call to be God’s slave. Have you ever met a slave? Possibly, but you were probably not aware that the person cooking in the kitchen, manicuring your nails or mowing your lawn was a slave.

Now, let me tell you the inspiring story of my friend, Minh Dang, and her struggle and challenge. I have told her story before, but it bears repeating. Minh founded an organization to end human trafficking and slavery. In spite of the fact that slavery is illegal in every country, there are 50 million slaves in the world. Over a million people were trafficked across US borders last year. There are an estimated 1.1 million slaves in America today, the majority of them are American citizens.

In 2013, after President Obama recognized Minh as a Champion of Change, she said, “It’s really bitter. I’d love to get an award for having invented the iPad. I’m getting an award for telling my horrendous story. … I’m really glad to be recognized, but that recognition doesn’t fill the hole where my mommy doesn’t love me or the hole of my wounds.”

You see, Minh’s mother stopped loving her at age 10. Her mother and father forced her into slavery for 12 long years. In short, they were partners in crime. They were criminals. Seven years after she broke free from her parents, Minh became a doctoral student at the University of California at Berkeley.

Professional, punctual, perky, pretty and polite, Minh was her Los Altos High School teachers’ delight and coach’s dream – an overachieving academic athlete. In college, she shocked everyone when she revealed that since the age of 10, her parents enslaved her for 12 years for financial gain.

I mention Minh because slavery is alive and well in America today. The FBI reports that people are beaten, starved and forced into dehumanizing situations, working grueling jobs in restaurants, factories or as domestic servants for little or no pay. When they outlive their usefulness, they are dumped or murdered.

Human trafficking is organized crime at its worst, and it is very much alive in America’s heartland. The FBI regularly arrests people in Midwest cities and across the United States for trafficking human beings. Think about that the next time you are in a restaurant, nail salon, classroom, factory or order lawn care or a new roof. Are these people trafficked?

When we hear such stories on the news, it makes us uncomfortable. Sometimes the Good News makes us uncomfortable. Minh’s story and the plight of 50 million people are uncomfortable, not uplifting. Few slaves will experience freedom. None will turn out to be doctoral students or White House awardees, but all are God’s children and we have a mission to them and their captors – to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ for the salvation of their souls and the freedom to live with dignity. Called by Christ to be useful servants and slaves of His Father’s Kingdom, that is our radical mission.

Minh said, “If everyone KNEW about human trafficking but didn’t DO anything to put an end to it, then awareness would be useless. What is one thing you can commit to doing?” Unquote.

Did you know that the Synod is committed to Christ’s Care for Children – a ministry that shields orphaned children in Kenya from slavery? Did you know that our Synod and Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service teamed up to create awareness in our churches and to respond proactively with tangible forms of mercy? They did so because human trafficking is an attack on human life. God created human life for a holy purpose, and we must be concerned about and become engaged in ending a practice that takes the most vulnerable and sells them as a commodity for unholy purposes – because Christians choose and protect life.

The Lord’s Supper Lenten preface reminds us that at all times and in all places, we give thanks to our almighty Father through Jesus Christ “who overcame the assaults of the devil and gave His life as a ransom for many so that with cleansed hearts we might be prepared joyfully to celebrate the paschal feast in sincerity and truth.”

Jesus gave his life as a ransom for us and called us through baptism and His Supper to imitate Him so that with cleansed hearts we can joyfully celebrate his paschal feast. As Lutherans, we are baptized, cup drinkers of His blood.

I may think I am inadequate to overcome the assaults of the devil manifested in human trafficking, abortion, racism, consumerism, marital infidelity or a multitude of other sins. However, I am aware of sin, and if I do nothing to overcome the assaults of the devil, what good is that? I am called through baptism and the Lord’s Supper to celebrate and share in His paschal feast – in Christ’s suffering, death and resurrection.

I may not fully understand what Jesus requires, but like James and John, I am courageous enough to drink from the cup and be baptized as our Master was, am I not? I am called to discard my cloak, my old way of life, and joyfully follow my Master on the way, am I not?

Because Christ called me to be like Him – selfless and eager to assist others – my Christian service must be consistent rather than a sporadic. Because Christ called me to be a slave, blind ambition has no function in Christian fellowship or friendship.

Now, you may say, “There is no human trafficking or slavery in Beaver County.” You may be correct, but sin exists.

Yet, if Almighty God eradicated Satan, sin and death, one master remains – self. I put my “self” above God, above God’s ways, and above God’s thinking. Human reason and emotion govern my faith. Blind ambition and self-promotion glorify me, not God. Do I volunteer because it enhances my standing among church members? Do I fish for compliments or submit to Master Christ as a slave, working without expectation of pay or praise?

If self-promotion is not the problem, then perhaps it is self-doubt – that Christ cannot save me; that I am beyond redemption or need no redemption. Until Christ conquers my “self”, I am – as St. Paul succinctly said – a slave to sin, an addict of ego – and will remain so until I produce evidence – fruit of the Holy Spirit.

Friends, as a slave of Christ, freed from the world, pray to the Trinity for wisdom and courage to choose wisely in every situation, especially difficult ones, always insignificant ones in order to avoid blind ambition. Pray in the Holy Name of Jesus, and when you do, may the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, keep our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.