Sermon: Laetare (Lent 4) - 2020

Note: With both the pastor and the deacon being too ill to conduct the service during this period of pandemic, this sermon is being distributed to the parish to be read in the home.

22 March 2020

Text: John 6:1-15

In the name of + Jesus.  Amen.

We live in an age of convenience.  We have stores open 24 hours.  We enjoy exotic foods from around the world any time we want.  We can choose between dozens of flavors of ice cream, and meats and vegetables, and delicacies are available on demand in our refrigerators and freezers.

We have smartphones and streaming and thousands of TV channels dedicated to every possible interest.  We live longer than our ancestors, and we don’t even have to make or repair our own clothes.  Unlike our ancestors, we don’t have to worry about things like princes going to war against each other and sending soldiers to burn down our houses.  We don’t have to deal with the bubonic plague.

We certainly have it easier than the Lutherans in the 1600s, as the Thirty Years War and the plague wiped out entire populations.  Pastor Martin Rinkart conducted 4,000 funerals – including his wife’s – in a single year.  He did what he could for the starving people – who fought over dead cats and birds in the streets.  In response to this hard life, he wrote the beautiful hymn: “Now Thank We All Our God.”

Our lives are today much easier.  And ironically, that is part of the problem.

It’s hard for us to relate to our Lord’s feeding of the five thousand when we are laden with so much plenty and convenience.  In fact, we might turn up our noses at being offered mere barley bread and fish.  We would certainly be demanding an appetizer and a dessert, and we might even post complaints on Yelp about the meal.

We have lost touch with what it means to be in danger of life and limb, of running into shortages of crucial items, and of our dependence on God for our lives with each breath that we draw.

Our churches throughout the land are shrinking as parishioners are distracted by shiny things on Sunday mornings instead of the one thing needful: the Word of God as delivered in preaching and in the Sacraments.  We see it again and again in Scripture: as the Lord blesses us, we begin to think we don’t need Him.  We turn up our noses at Him.  We despise preaching and His Word. 

And then all of the sudden, everything changes.  

It might be a diagnosis.  It might be a loved one in an accident.  It might be a pandemic and stock market crash.  And then we realize how frail our lives really are, and how dependent we are upon God’s mercy – mercy that we too often take for granted.  And now we are unable to gather in the church to hear the Word of God and to receive the Sacrament.  

Too often, we think we are lords and Jesus is our servant.  We expect Him to do things our way instead of submitting to how He designed things to work.  Every sin, great and small, is a rebellion against the created order.  And in the Scriptures, dear friends, we see it again and again where God’s people grumble and try to tell God how things should be.  But their arrogance is often checked by hunger or sickness or by an invasion by a cruel enemy.  It seems like these are the only times we will fall to our knees, submit to God’s will, and plead for mercy.  

And how quickly everything can change.  

After our Lord fed the five thousand, the crowds had it in their mind to crown Jesus king.  But that was their will, not the Father’s.  For the Father had a different crown in mind for our Lord.  And even as they were preparing to impose their will on Him “by force,” our Lord “withdrew again to the mountains by Himself.”

Yes, indeed, how quickly everything can change.

But one thing that doesn’t change, one thing is constant, and that is the mercy of God shown to us in our crucified and risen Lord.  Jesus will continue to feed us, even though He may well have withdrawn from us for a time.  He has not abandoned us, but He has certainly called us to repent of our ill-placed confidence and our taking for granted the blessings of gathering around the altar, the font, and the pulpit.  

All of the things that distract us from worship – be they sports or vacations or parties or just the feeling of being in control and not having to submit to anyone – have all fallen by the wayside.  We are without excuse, dear brothers and sisters.  We are being called to repentance.  We are being called to humility.  We are being called to fall upon our knees and to give thanks to the Lord for all of the blessings we have taken for granted.  We are being called to pray for mercy and forgiveness and to recommit our lives and our church to the Gospel, for each one of us to join together in a chain that strengthens the faith of each other.  We are being called to put our trust in God, not in princes or presidents or doctors or scientists.  God works through all of these vocations, but it is God who is in charge.  We are called upon to stop praying “My will be done” and once more pray “Thy will be done.”  There is a reason our liturgy includes the prayer: “Lord, have mercy” at the beginning.  How often we just sing these words out of habit.  But this is now our urgent prayer, dear friends. 

We are being called to return to the Word of God, which is more important than any movie or TV show or sporting event that until a few days ago seemed so important.  We are being called to bear one another’s burdens and to love our neighbor.  

We are being called to see ourselves once again as salt and light in the world (instead of just blending in), and to be prepared to live and die as men and women redeemed by Christ Jesus, without rushing into martyrdom, and without fleeing our cross.  We are called to serve in the ways that we are called to serve.  And when we live our lives according to His will, dear friends, we will have joy no matter what comes in this life.  And as we patiently wait for when we can again gather around the altar, the font, and the pulpit, let us look forward in anticipation to the Easter Feast, no matter when it will be celebrated.  

This particular Sunday in Lent is known as Laetare, based on the Latin verb “to be happy.”  It is a little break in the gloom of Lent that looks forward to the joyful celebration of Easter.  It is part of our calling to be salt and light for the world to be seen rejoicing even in the midst of suffering, for this is an act of faith in the promises of Jesus.  

Pastor Rinkart understood this even in the midst of four thousand funerals.  If Jesus could feed five thousand, surely He can, and will, raise the four thousand.  And no matter how our patience is tried by circumstances in this world, we know that a better world is yet to come.

And so, come what may, we can indeed join Pastor Rinkart at the edge of the grave, and we can sing with joy:

Oh, may this bounteous God

Through all our life be near us,

With ever joyful hearts

And blessed peace to cheer us

And keep us in His grace

And guide us when perplexed

And free us from all ills

In this world and the next.

Amen.

In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.