Sermon: Quinquagesima – 2022

27 February 2022

Text: Luke 18:31-43

In the name of + Jesus.  Amen.

It is fitting that our Gospel for this Quinquagesima Sunday, the last Sunday before Mardi Gras and Ash Wednesday, should be the account of a blind man begging near the road as a parade-like commotion is going on in the street. 

For our Carnival parades are a parody of the old triumph parades of emperors and kings.  While the king would ride by, the people would wave their hands and beg.  In days of old, the king and the nobles might toss out money or jewelry or foodstuffs to the waiting and cheering people, evidence of riches taken in the latest wars.

Of course, today our royals are not real kings, but they act and play the part.  And as people beg from the roadside, they might even call out, “Throw me something, Mister!” to get the attention of the king and his court, hoping to catch something tossed from the float. 

Of course, Jesus is the true King, and He offers us something infinitely better than beads and doubloons and other trinkets.  For our Lord gives us beggars the gift of eternal life.  We see this as the blind beggar hears the commotion, and learns that “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.”  And he shouts out, not, “Throw me something, Mister,” but rather, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”  And by calling Jesus the “Son of David,” the blind man is acknowledging that Jesus is the King.  Not Herod and not Caesar.  Jesus.  King Jesus.  

And others along the side of the road try to shut him up.  “But he cried out all the more” demanding that the King throw him some mercy.  

The parade stops and Jesus asks that the man “to be brought to Him.”  He asks, “What do you want Me to do for you?”  The blind man asks Jesus, “Lord, let me recover my sight.”  Jesus grants his wish: “Recover your sight.”  But then, our Lord adds an explanation, the same thing He often says when he heals someone: “Your faith has made you well.”  For what is it to cry out “Throw me something?” other than to believe that the rider hears your request and will answer it.  If you didn’t have faith that the rider would toss you something, you wouldn’t bother shouting and holding your hands up.  You have faith that the rider has something to throw, and you cry out whether other people like it or not.  

This blind man cried out to Jesus and refused to be silenced.  For He believed that Jesus would hear his prayer, and that indeed, the Son of David would have mercy on him. 

And, dear brothers and sisters, the man was healed.  Think about how glorious this is.  What better news could this beggar receive than to recover his sight?  And in gratitude, he followed Jesus.  He became a disciple, a Christian, a believer.  And he “glorified God.”  And indeed, the entire assembly witnessed the Son of David throwing His mercy to those with outstretched hands who prayed to Him.  And they saw Jesus answer prayers and perform signs.  They too believed, and “gave praise to God.”

Jesus not only offered this man healing from his blindness, He threw him something even greater: mercy that extends beyond healing, beyond even death, mercy that forgives sins and grants everlasting life!  And the great irony is that though this man was blind, he was able to “see” what others did not.  He “saw” that Jesus was the Son of David, the Messiah-King prophesied in scripture.  He “saw” the power of Jesus to overcome disease, disfigurement, demons, and even death by means of nothing more than His Word, by hearing that Word, and by believing that Word.  This man’s persistent prayer was an act of faith, as was his shameless public confession that Jesus is the “Son of David” with the power to rescue him.

This is why Jesus said, “Your faith has made you well.”  Faith receives the promise and believes it.  And even faith is a gift of God.  “Faith comes by hearing,” says St. Paul, and though this man was blind, he heard the Good News that “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.”  Somehow, he heard of the Lord’s works and recognized Jesus in the Scriptures.  He knew who Jesus was, confessed Him, and prayed to Him as His King and Redeemer. 

Dear friends, we are here for the same reason.  We are not gathered to receive plastic beads or fake gold coins.  We are gathered here because Jesus of Nazareth is here, according to His Word and promise.  We too confess that He is the Son of David, the Messiah-King, both God and Man, the crucified one, the Lamb of God whose blood restores us to the Father’s favor.  Jesus comes to open our eyes to see with the eyes of faith, and to believe His promise.  And like the blind beggar, when we gather around our King, we pray in the liturgy: “Lord, have mercy upon us.”  We repeat this refrain no matter who may want to silence us.  “Christ, have mercy upon us,” we sing.  And then we sing it again for good measure, “Lord, have mercy upon us.”

We ask Him and we do so publicly and without shame because we believe He will throw us His mercy.  And that faith is what enables us to receive His mercy, catching it and rejoicing in our good fortune, “glorifying God.”  And when others who gather here likewise see it, they too rejoice and “give praise to God.”

Jesus gives us the treasure of His mercy in the preaching of the Gospel, and in the giving of His body and blood in the sacrament.  We come to Him where He is found.  We beg Him on our very knees to give us His mercy.  For Jesus commanded that we be brought to Him.  He commanded this in our baptism.  And what’s more, He hears our prayers for mercy, and He feeds us with His very body, and He gives us His blood to drink, “for the forgiveness of sins.”

This is a feast, dear friends.  This is a celebration!  Let us revel in the Lord’s mercy, celebrating His lavish grace, and let us not take His mercy for granted.  Indeed, let us follow Him, glorifying God. 

For our Lord Jesus Christ delights in throwing us His mercy, for He is our true King to whom we pray, “Lord have mercy upon us, Christ have mercy upon us, Lord have mercy upon us.”

Amen.

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

Sermon: St. Polycarp – 2022

23 February 2022

Text: Matt 10:26-33

In the name of + Jesus.  Amen.

St. Polycarp learned the Christian faith from the Apostle John.  And Polycarp himself was ordained into the office of the holy ministry, and later became the bishop of Smyrna, in what is today part of Turkey.  He was a beloved figure in the early church, even before his heroic death.  He defended Christian orthodoxy against Gnostic heretics, fearlessly calling their famous leader Marcion, “the first born of Satan” right to his face.  Polycarp was a preacher and a teacher, and brought many heretics back into the church.  His name itself means: “much fruit,” even as Polycarp’s pastor, St. John the Apostle, recorded our Lord as saying: “By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples.”

But it is on account of the bishop’s death that he is most remembered, bearing much fruit and proving himself to be a disciple.  St. Polycarp was 86 years old, and was ordered to burn incense to Caesar – which was a ritual of State worship.  In refusing, St. Polycarp replied, “I am a Christian,” and with shocking defiance, asked his interrogators if they would like to be instructed to study Christian doctrine, encouraging them to make an appointment with him.  When he was commanded to worship Caesar or be put to death, the old bishop said, “Eighty six years I have served Him, and He never did me any injury: how then can I blaspheme my King and my Savior?” They built a pyre and put Polycarp to the flames and to the sword.  The elderly bishop did not fight them, but went manfully to his martyrdom.

St. Polycarp knew all about Jesus from the preaching of John, and he knew the Scriptures like the back of his own hand.  He took to heart what our Lord Jesus Christ said concerning our persecutors and those who hate us: “So have no fear of them, for nothing is covered that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known. What I tell you in the dark, say in the light, and what you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops. And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell.”

We are to fear God instead of men.  We are to “bear much fruit” and thus “prove to be [His] disciples.”  For ultimately, all that our enemies can do to us is to kill us, and then, we are untouchable to them, as we enjoy the blessings of eternal life, knowing that we await our resurrection by our Lord Jesus Christ, after which, we will live forever in the flesh in a new heaven and a new earth.  So we “fear, love, and trust in God above all things,” even above our fear of persecution or pain or death.  “The fear of the Lord” is indeed the “beginning of wisdom.”  St. Polycarp knew this and confessed it; he lived it and he died affirming it.

Bishop Polycarp feared God – even as He loved and trusted in His Lord, taking to heart Jesus’ command to “have no fear of them.”

Our Father knows even the number of each hair of our heads.  He knows and cares for every sparrow on the planet.  And the Father cares so much for us, His fallen creation, that He sent the Son into our world to die for us, to rise for us, and to give us new and eternal life in His name – the name by which St. Polycarp was endowed with courage, the name of the Lord Jesus whom he served as a Christian and as a bishop over the course of a long life of proven discipleship, bearing much fruit.

Polycarp knew that our Lord said clearly: “Everyone who acknowledges me before men, I also will acknowledge before my Father who is in heaven, but whoever denies me before men, I also will deny before my Father who is in heaven.”  We are Christ’s witnesses, whether we are among friends or foes, whether confessing Him is safe or dangerous.  St. Polycarp confessed Jesus in the face of suffering and death, and his example has inspired hundreds of years of Christian brothers and sisters to likewise faithfully bear witness and confess Christ, saying, I am a Christian,” come what may, like it or not.

Dear friends, until recently, it had been easy to be a Christian.  Our faith used to be mainstream, and not that long ago.  Ordinary people packed churches every Sunday.  Saying “I am a Christian” might even give you advantages: business connections and respect in your community.  But those days are over.  We have seen the high cost of discipleship in Finland, where acknowledging Christ before men, where publicly bearing witness to our Lord and His Word, where simply saying, “I am a Christian” is enough to be arrested, interrogated, charged, and possibly imprisoned.  We have seen more than a hundred churches burned down by hatred-fueled arsonists in Canada, and the prime minister’s response was to shrug and say that it is “understandable.”  Once again, the State is a jealous god that demands citizens pinch a bit of incense to Caesar.  And in our own country, Christians are hauled before judges, sued, and accused of crimes for believing that the Word of God is true, and living one’s life and running one’s business while confessing “I am a Christian” brings financial ruin. 

In our culture, in our schools, in movies and television, and on the Internet, we see hatred and hostility against Christian people that rivals the days of the Roman Empire, where we were called cannibals, accused of incest, and labeled “haters of men” and “atheists.”  Today, Christians are called “haters” and “bigots” who “oppose science” and who should be removed from public life. 

We are not being literally compelled to pinch incense to the president of the United States or the prime minister of Canada, but we are hated and our legal, God-given rights are being undermined by the government.  We have truly become “enemies of the State.”  Yes indeed, dear friends, we still confess with St. Polycarp: “I am a Christian.”

And while we should not hesitate to call our opponents “the firstborn of Satan” and rebuke them with the boldness of the good bishop, we must always also retain Father Polycarp’s gentleness and willingness to die for our faith if need be, with a meekness and serenity that amazed both Christians and their persecutors. 

And when we do feel fear and anxiety, dear friends, when the threats of what the future has to offer in our country and in the world for those of us who confess Christ fill us with foreboding, let us not only remember the warning about denying Jesus, let us also hold fast to the gracious promise about acknowledging Him before men.  For to God, we are more valuable than the sparrows for which God cares and preserves during their lifespan.  Let us remember that each one of us is the recipient of the greatest gift of all: the blood of Christ, the redemption of the cross, the salvation of Him who willingly went to His own death, the death of the cross, so that He can bring our name before the Father in heaven as one whom He acknowledges as redeemed by the blood of the Lamb!  How can we blaspheme our King and our Savior?

And so, let us “bear much fruit” and prove to be our Lord’s disciples.  Let us always be eager to acknowledge Him by confessing with St. Polycarp and all the martyrs throughout history, whether our culture praises us or curses us, whether we are respectable members of society or enemies of the State.  Let us hear the whisper of the Word of God in our ears, and let us proclaim our confession on the housetops: “I am a Christian.”

 Amen.

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

Sermon: Sexagesima – 2022

20 February 2022

Text: Luke 8:4-15 (Isa 55:10-13)

In the name of + Jesus.  Amen.

The sower in our Lord’s story doesn’t operate like a farmer.  For a farmer devotes time to cultivating soil.  He tills.  He fertilizes.  He clears out weeds and rocks and thorns.  He makes sure that the soil in which he plants is all good, otherwise his time and his seeds will be wasted.  A good farmer is selective about sowing, and he will plant the seeds at just the right depth at just the right distance from one another at just the right time.  There is a science to agriculture, and the goal is to get a good yield, maybe even a hundredfold.

The sower in our Lord’s story could be seen as a bit lazy.  He pays no attention to testing the soil, let alone improving it.  He does not till, does not fertilize, and he leaves the weeds and rocks and thorns in place. He casts his seeds recklessly, scattered to good soil and bad.  He seems unconcerned with wasting seeds or his time.  The sower is indiscriminate, sowing in ways that appear to be random.  His sowing is unscientific, though he too would like to see a good yield, maybe even a hundredfold.

The farmer judges his success or failure based on the yield of the crop, and whether he turns a profit or incurs a loss.  The sower in our Lord’s story is not to ask “what prideful profit it may make,” as we sang in the hymn. 

The good farmer and the sower in our Lord’s parable are quite different.  The farmer is a scientist, while the sower seems a little bit crazy, if not lazy.  And yet, Jesus uses the example of the sower to teach us about the Word of God, and how it is sown into our hearts by preaching.  The apparently crazy, seemingly lazy sower is the preacher, dear friends.

While the life-coach, the self-help guru, the psychologist, psychiatrist, counselor, and confidant all seek to make bad soil good, the preacher pays it no mind.  While the person in search of worldly success sets himself up to succeed, it almost seems like the sower, the preacher, sets himself up for failure.  According to our Lord’s story, the sower fails 75% of the time.

In fact, the Lord’s parable isn’t even so much about the sower as it is about the different kinds of soil.  And the sower’s job is to cast the seed everywhere, not to judge the soil or try to make himself a success, but rather to send the seeds flying over all the world, making disciples of all nations, and watering the fledgling seeds with baptism. 

While the farmer tends his plants, the sower is called upon to, in the words of Luther, “let God be God.”  The preacher puts forth the Word, even in hearts that seem unreceptive.  For it is not the preacher’s job to judge the soil, but rather to sow, and allow the Word of God to do its work.

The prophet Isaiah says that God’s Word “shall not return… empty, but it shall accomplish that which [God purposes].”  And regardless of what the world and even what the preacher may think when he sees the results – even a large rate of what appears to be failure, God says that “it shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.”

So in our Lord’s story, some seed falls on the path and never germinates.  The devil snatches it away.  That is not the preacher’s concern.  He did as the Lord called Him to do.  Those who hear the Word but do not allow it to penetrate into their hearts are without excuse.  Some seeds fall in stony ground, spring up quickly, but lacking root, fall away just as quickly.  Those who are not grounded in the Word of God, who are shallow and have other distractions, are also without excuse.  Some seeds fall among thorns, grow for a while, but are choked out by the briars and weeds, that is, the “cares and riches and pleasures of life,” and never mature and bear fruit.  They too have been warned, and are without excuse.

But when the Word of God falls upon the ears and the hearts of those who are receptive, dear friends, who allow the Word to take root, who are not shallow, who don’t have their priorities messed up, those who hear and believe, the little seed of the Word of God grows to be a mighty tree, bearing fruit a hundredfold – and those seeds in turn are sown into the hearts of others, and God’s kingdom multiplies. 

The good news is that God sends sowers to every kind of soil, that is, God provides preachers to people in every nation, to the good and the bad, to the rich and the poor, to those in power and to those of humble estate.  God causes the preacher to sow the Word into your heart, for He put you here today to hear, and He put me here today to preach.  The Word of God is what bears the power, dear friends.  Your part is not to do, but to believe, not to force God’s kingdom to come, but to hear – for “faith comes through hearing, and hearing by the Word of Christ,” as St. Paul proclaimed to the Romans.

We Christians don’t just send churches to the wealthy.  We have planted churches in every country and village – even where the Word of God is perceived – rightly so – as dangerous.  For it is powerful and life-changing, even carrying with it the mighty power to raise the dead.  Dictators fear the Word of God, and tyrants always, always, always outlaw the sowing of the seed.  God’s Word has a power and might that the kings and emperors and presidents and prime ministers can only dream of. 

Every political leader wants to be immortal, but they all end up in a whitewashed tomb.  But the seed of the Word of God bursts open the grave.  As St. Peter confessed to our Lord: “You have the words of eternal life.”  Jesus entrusted Peter and the other apostles – and their successors in the preaching office – with the explosive power embedded in the seed, that is, the Word.  The Word of God topples empires.  And the mighty men of this world know it.  The Word of God raises the dead.

But we who are entrusted with the Word do not seek personal power or notoriety.  We just cast the seed everywhere like madmen, knowing that the work of cultivation is God’s work.  It is the Holy Spirit who is the Harvest Lord “who gave the sower seed to sow” and who “will watch and tend His planted Word” as we sang in the great hymn.

Our goal is not “prideful profit” or to somehow harness the power of the Word for our own aggrandizement.  We do not ration the Word of God to make people dance to our tune, nor do we offer it for sale to the highest bidder.  The Word is free, and God provides it in abundance.  And it never returns empty. 

Dear friends, hear this Word.  For it is the Word of the cross.  And as St. Paul proclaimed to the Corinthians, “The word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.”

The Word is powerful, and the Lord is giving you that power, dear brothers and sisters, the power to rise from your own tomb, to live forever in glory, forgiven, redeemed, and made new!  This is the hundredfold yield that Jesus points us to!  And this fruit that comes from the matured seed is this free gift of eternal life, even as “Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.” 

May each one of you receive the seed, “hearing the Word,” and “hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patience,” even unto everlasting life. 

Amen.

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

Sermon: Septuagesima – 2022

13 February 2022

Text: Matt 20:1-16

In the name of + Jesus.  Amen.

“Life isn’t fair.”  You probably heard someone say that to you at some point in your life.  Maybe when you suffered your first major disappointment.  Maybe one of your parents or grandparents said this to you.  “Life isn’t fair.”  It’s a dose of reality about our fallen world.  There is injustice.  There are people who get away with things, who don’t get what they deserve.  There are times when we don’t get what we deserve.

And that’s just how life is.  If we expect things to be fair in the realm of the devil, the world, and our sinful nature, we will be disappointed.  And so, our elders will sometimes just shrug and say, “Life isn’t fair.”  It’s a bitter pill to swallow, dear friends. 

And as bad as it is in our fallen world, the fact that “life isn’t fair” in the “kingdom of heaven” is good news for us!  For what do we deserve from God, dear friends?  While we complain about people all around us getting off scot-free, and not facing justice, what about us?

Are you perfect?  Have you committed sins?  You must have.  I heard you all speak the confession at the beginning of this service.  You called yourself a “poor, miserable sinner.”  I did too.  You said that you, “justly deserved” God’s “temporal and eternal punishment.”  So did I.  And if it isn’t true, then you lied – so it must be true.  And yes, let’s be honest: it is true.  According to our works, we deserve to be punished in this life by suffering here in time, and in by suffering in eternity in hell. 

Life isn’t fair.  If it were, we would all be in prison until we die, and in hell after we die.  You know the people that make you angry because they get away with stuff?  Well, go look in the mirror.

The “kingdom of heaven” is a rigged system.  It is unjust and unfair.  Jesus Himself says so by means of a story called, “The Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard” which we just heard.  Let me remind you of how that went.

A guy running a vineyard hires day laborers in the morning.  He offers a group of guys “a denarius a day” to work in his field.  That is a typical wage for a typical day.  And so these men set out to work a twelve hour day for a twelve hour wage.  A couple hours later, the master of the vineyard hires another group, promising to pay them “whatever is right.”  He goes out around noon and again at three o’clock, making the same offer.  Finally, one hour before sundown, he hires still more men who will only be working for an hour.

At the end of the day, it’s time to be paid.  Lo and behold, guys who worked one hour were paid a denarius – twelve hours of pay!  This was a surprise that nobody expected.  But when the guys who worked twelve hours came to be paid, they now expected to be paid more.  But they weren’t.  Life isn’t fair.

“They grumbled at the master of the house, saying, ‘These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.”  In other words, they are arguing that being paid a denarius for twelve hours is now unfair and unjust.

But what they are forgetting is that they agreed to this pay rate.  The vineyard belongs to the master.  He kept the contract that he made with them.  The fact that he cut someone else a break is not their concern.  The owner says: “Friend, I am doing you no wrong.  Did you not agree with me for a denarius?  Take what belongs to you and go.  I choose to give to this worker as I give to you.  Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me?  Or do you begrudge my generosity?”

So, dear friends, just as this life isn’t fair, so too, the “kingdom of heaven” isn’t fair either.  And thanks be to God that it isn’t!  If God were fair, we would receive our just wages.  St. Paul put it well when he said, “The wages of sin is death.”  This is the “temporal and eternal punishment” that we deserve, dear friends.  Do you really want God to be fair? 

Jesus says that the moral of this story is, “The last will be first, and the first last.”  We are not paid according to our works, but rather on account of the Lord’s generosity.  For He is free to do what He chooses with what belongs to Him.  And we belong to Him, dear brothers and sisters.  He chooses to have mercy on us.  Jesus is teaching us about the cross.  The cross is unfair, because the last is first and the first is last.  The one who lives a perfect life dies for the sin of the world, and the one who has sinned is credited with righteousness. 

God chooses to give us wages as if we had earned a place in glory instead of paying us our just desserts in hell.  So instead of complaining, “Take what belongs to you and go.”  Go, and live your life in the joy of the Gospel, because you are forgiven!  Go, because for the sake of Christ crucified, you have been credited with His righteousness.  Go, enjoy the wages earned by our Lord Jesus Christ who took our place in the punishment we deserve.  Go, because you have the promise of everlasting life in His name.

And whether you have been a Christian your whole life long, or whether you converted yesterday; whether you have a long resume of service of good works, or whether you have a rap sheet a mile long; whether people think you are worthy of praise, or whether you have a bad reputation – in Christ, none of that matters!  In Christ, whether you are first or last doesn’t matter.  In Christ, you are paid a denarius regardless of what you think you deserve, or what others think you deserve.  God thinks you deserve a denarius.  And He owns the vineyard.

Life isn’t fair.  And in eternity, that is something to rejoice about.

For just as St. Paul said, “For the wages of sin is death,” he points out that, “the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”  The owner of the universe pays us not for what we have earned by our works, but rather, He rewards us according to His generosity, “for the sake of the holy, innocent, bitter sufferings and death” of God’s beloved Son, Jesus Christ, and He is indeed “gracious and merciful” to us poor, sinful beings.   

Life indeed is not fair.  Thanks be to God!

Amen.

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

Sermon: Wittenberg Academy - Feb 8

8 February 2022

Text: John  2:13-25

In the name of + Jesus.  Amen.

Today’s reading is known as the “cleansing of the temple.”  John’s Gospel is more thematic than the other Gospels (which tend to be more chronological) – and John tells of this incident early on in his book rather than later on, as Matthew, Mark, and Luke do.  All the Evangelists see this event as important.  And for us in this day and age when Christians and non-Christians alike reduce Christianity to a mealy-mouthed ethical system of “niceness,” this is an eye-opener.  When haughty unbelievers tell us to “be better” and “be like Jesus,” I don’t think they mean we should make a whip out of cords, cast animals into the streets, and send coins flying from overturned tables.

Jesus did not come to teach us to “be nice.”  He did not come to be a new Lawgiver.  We don’t need God to come into our world in the flesh, be crucified, die, and rise again in order to wag a finger at us and tell us to “be better.”  And if we really could “be better” in the real sense of the world, that is the perfection that God actually requires, we wouldn’t need a Savior.  We should strive to keep the Law, and being nice is certainly ideal – most of the time, anyway – but Jesus is not a referee, nor is He an arbiter on etiquette.  He is our Savior.  He is the conqueror and victor over sin, death, and the devil.

Jesus saves us from the world of the devil and the demonic, from evil itself that blinds our eyes to what is really happening at the altar.  For evil fixes our eyes on ourselves (our good works, our “niceness,” the money we donate to the church), and on the world (making money for ourselves through trade) – rather than looking to the altar to see what the Father wishes to show us in His holy house, namely, the Son, who comes under our roof not merely to receive our praise, but to give us His free gifts of forgiveness, life, and salvation.  The demonic realm would rather us look to our own works, to our own wealth, and to our own security rather than to our Savior.

The true temple is not made with human hands, but is the very flesh and blood of Jesus, who is God, who is present with us at the altar, who is not a sheep or a pigeon offered for sale for a useless sacrifice. Rather, He is the one all-availing sacrifice, the true and terminal “Lamb of God that takes away the sin of the world.”  His sacrificial flesh and atoning blood are given to you from the temple of our churches without price, and with no need of a moneychanger to turn a profit from the arbitrage between currencies.  You have already been bought and redeemed, “not with gold or silver, but with His holy, precious blood and with His innocent suffering and death.”  And even though the temple of His flesh was seemingly destroyed by those who turned the Father’s house into a crass marketplace, Jesus Himself raised the temple of His body up again on the third day at His glorious resurrection. 

The Father’s house is not a “house of trade,” nor is it a currency exchange bureau.  For salvation is not for sale.  In the holy house of the church, we the redeemed “take the water of life without price.”  The blood and the water, the Supper and Baptism, testify to the word of the Word Made Flesh, cleansing the temples of our hearts and overturning Satan’s tables, bringing us to the richness of the banquet table at His gracious invitation for eternity!

Amen.

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

Sermon: Transfiguration – 2022

6 February 2022

Text: Matt 17:1-9 (Ex 34:29-35, 2 Pet 1:16-21)

In the name of + Jesus.  Amen.

As we have learned all too well, it’s difficult to have proper communication while wearing a mask.  You cannot see facial expressions, it’s hard to hear what is being said, and there is just something about a barrier that is dehumanizing.

When Moses came down from the mountain, after speaking face to face with God, “the skin of his face shone.”  The energy radiating from the face of God was somehow embedded in Moses’s very flesh.  This glowing from his face was disturbing to the Israelites.  It was distracting and frightening to the point where Moses had to “put a veil over his face.”

Even the reflected glory of God is too much to bear for us poor, miserable sinners.  Like men who live in caves, the light became painful to our fallen eyes. 

In a sense, our Lord Jesus Christ, who is the light of the world, who “shines in the darkness” of our sins and our separation from God, and whom the “darkness has not overcome,” wears a veil as well.  The New and Greater Moses doesn’t merely talk face to face with God, rather His face is the face of God.  And yet, in mercy to us, our Lord tones down His glory.  He veils Himself in our mortal flesh, and He speaks to us face to face, in a way that neither overwhelms us nor hides His face from us.

In centuries past, God was separated from us by a screen, but now in these last days, the “Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” And, as St. John adds, “we have seen His glory.”

For St. John was there on the mountain with Jesus.  He and his brother James and their colleague Peter were there when our Lord removed the figurative veil, and let His light shine before others, “and His face shone like the sun.”  The glory of His divinity, normally veiled behind His completely human form, was permitted to be glimpsed by our Lord’s leaders of the disciples.  They saw this beaming light at its source, not merely reflected from the face of a prophet – but from the face of God Himself.

And indeed, we poor sinners cannot stand this glory, and even as the Father’s voice spoke to them audibly, “This is My beloved Son, with whom I am well-pleased; listen to Him,” these three men, who would soon preach the Gospel to the nations, “fell on their faces and were terrified.” 

Something else happened on the mountain.  It was as if time and space were bent, as Moses and Elijah appeared in visible form, and Elijah the prophet and Moses the lawgiver were both speaking to Jesus.  And here we see what caused Moses’s face to glow: he had been speaking with God face to face, in God’s full glory.  St. John would later write, concerning Jesus: “No one has ever seen God; the only God, who is at the Father’s side, He has made Him known.” 

But Jesus does not come to overwhelm us with His divine glory, dear friends.  For His glory is made manifest not by what terrifies us, but rather in what comforts us.  He does not come to destroy us with His mighty power, but to save us by His mighty love.  His greatest glory will be at the cross.  Instead of light radiating from His face in the glory of God, we will see His face battered and bloody, with the sky darkened even at high noon.  Instead of conversing with Moses and Elijah and hearing the voice of the Father claiming the Son as His own, we will hear the Son cry out to the Father from the cross, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken Me?”  We will see the light of His eyes dim as He surrenders His spirit.  Instead of being arrayed in gleaming white clothes, He will be covered in blood and gore.  And yet, dear friends, this is His true glory: saving the world by His sacrificial blood, atoning for our transgressions, and reconciling mankind to God – and this indeed is why the Father is “well pleased” and why we should “listen to Him.”  For as Peter confessed, Jesus has “the words of eternal life.”  Indeed, to whom shall we go?  John told us that Jesus is the very Word of God made flesh.  And so, to Him we go for forgiveness, life, and salvation! 

And the light of the world will return to the very body offered to the Father as a sacrifice for us.  And the very blood that was stilled in the heart that stopped beating in obedience to the Father and in love for us will once again course through His veins.  The spirit that He yielded up will re-enter His body, and with what must have been a blast of light like no other in history, our Lord rose again in glory, glory blasting from the tomb.

He appeared in His glorious resurrection to Peter, James, John, to the rest of the eleven, to His disciples, and to hundreds of others as well.  He veiled His glory so that even Mary Magdalene did not recognize Him at first, nor did the disciples who walked to Emmaus.  But when our Lord showed Thomas what the hymnist calls “those dear tokens of His passion,” and “those glorious scars,” St. Thomas confessed, “My Lord, and my God!”

And this, dear friends, is why St. Peter would also later write, “We did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of His majesty.”  St. Peter was there when “the voice was borne to Him by the Majestic Glory, ‘This is My beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.’”

Peter, James, and John “heard this very voice borne from heaven.”  And in spite of this experience, seeing the light of Christ outshining the sun and hearing the Word of God explain who Jesus is, St. Peter says something stunning, dear brothers and sisters.  He says, “And we have something more sure.”  More sure than being there on the mountain with the transfigured Christ, with James and John, with Moses and Elijah.  And that “something more sure” is “the prophetic Word, to which you will do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place.”  The apostle explains why the Scripture is indeed in the words of the Psalmist: “A lamp to my feet and a light to my path,” because “men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit.”

Peter, James, and John, and even Moses and Elijah had the enlightenment of the glowing face of our Lord, the voice of the Father, and the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, but we have the enlightenment of their inspired words: the Law, the Prophets, the Psalms, the Gospels, the Epistles, the entire revelation of Holy Scripture, “something more sure” than personal experience, than visions, than extraordinary hilltop experiences.  We have the Word: the Word of Holy Scripture and the Word made flesh: the flesh and blood of Christ.  This altar is the Mountain of Sinai where God’s Law does its work.  It is the Mountain of Transfiguration where the Body and Blood of Jesus are veiled under the forms of bread and wine, and yet are truly present.  This altar is the hill known as Golgotha, where the cross stands, where Christ’s body and blood are waiting to be distributed to you, even as the Father’s voice is spoken to you in absolution, declaring that He is well pleased with you, by virtue of the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ.

That prophetic word that St. Peter speaks of is called the Gospel, the Good News that God does not mask away His face from our view, but rather takes human flesh and speaks to us, face to face.  He has torn the veil that separates us from the Most Holy Trinity, ripping it off, and inviting us to join Him on the mountain – with Moses and Elijah, with Peter, James, and John, with prophets and apostles and martyrs, with saints and angels, and with all the company of heaven, basking in the glow of our Lord’s glory, no longer a terror to us, because He has cleansed us and made us worthy to stand in His presence.

For remember what happened at the end of the Transfiguration, as Peter, James, and John hid from God’s glory.  “Jesus came and touched them, saying, ‘Rise and have no fear.’  And when they lifted up their eyes, they saw no one but Jesus only.”

And on the great day of the resurrection, we will hear our Lord say to each one of us: “Rise.”  So let us indeed have no fear.  Let us listen to Him.  Let us partake of His glorious body and blood.  Let us hear the prophetic Word!  Let us look to no one but Jesus only “as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts,” even unto eternity.

Amen.

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