Sermon: Wittenberg Academy - Sept 17, 2024

17 Sept 2024

Text: Col 4:1-18

In the name of + Jesus.  Amen.

St. Paul closes his letter to the Christians at Colossae with some last-minute advice about how we should treat slaves (because we are all slaves of Christ), about being steadfast in prayer, watchful, grateful, and praying for the leaders and missionaries of the church.  The apostle implores us to speak with wisdom, especially to outsiders, and to manage our time well. 

But the bulk of his conclusion reads like a litany of the saints.  For while we focus on St. Paul as the author of this epistle, and indeed, as the writer of most of the books of the New Testament – the apostle Paul is not alone in his ministry, nor is he alone in being persecuted for the sake of his proclamation.  This is a reminder that the church is indeed a “great cloud of witnesses” (Heb 12:1).  There are far more saints involved in the work of the ministry than Paul himself. 

He mentions Tychicus, Onesimus, Aristarchus (who is also a prisoner), Mark, Barnabus, “Jesus who is called Justus,” Epaphras, and Luke the Evangelist.  He also greets members of the church at Colossae by name: Nympha (who allows the church to meet at her home) and Archippus (a local minister).  And beyond these people mentioned by name are the many unnamed saints whose work makes Paul’s ministry possible: servants of local churches (both the laity, as well as the clergy: bishops, presbyters, and deacons), those who financially support Paul as well as their fellow Christians in poorer regions, those who volunteer to carry manuscripts of the letters to the various churches (epistles which have become books in our Bibles).  And then there are those who provide countless meals and other hospitality, making the ministry of the church possible. 

We have had centuries of heroes of the faith: saints whose names are set apart for commemoration on specific days of the calendar.  Christians all over the world and in every jurisdiction or denomination will soon honor Sts. Matthew, Michael, Luke, James, Simon, and Jude – some of whom in churches named for them. 

And then there are saints who will never have a church named for them: our mothers who read the Bible to us, our fathers who took us to Divine Service, our teachers who taught us the Gospel, our pastors who preached to us, baptized us, and gave us the body and blood of Jesus, and our brothers and sisters who worked tireless behind the scenes.  Let us honor our faithful grandparents who spent years praying for us.  Let us thank God for the faithful homebound members whose prayers ascend to heaven for our churches and members.  And let us not forget the generations of those whose labors are ended and are at rest.  Let us offer our thanks to God for all of these unnamed heroes:

For these passed on before us,
We offer praises due
And, walking in their footsteps
Would live our lives for You (LSB 517:4).

Amen.

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

Sermon: Trinity 16 – 2024

15 September 2024

Text: Luke 7:11-17 (1 Kings 17:17-24)

In the name of + Jesus.  Amen.

When Jesus raised the son of the widow at Nain, “fear seized them all, and they glorified God, saying, ‘A great prophet has arisen among us!’ and ‘God has visited His people!’”

Of course, raising the dead is a far greater miracle than turning water into wine, feeding thousands with a few loaves of bread, and even greater than curing leprosy, making the deaf hear, and giving sight to the blind.  Scripture has recorded Jesus raising the dead three times.  And in this case, the mother of the deceased son was a widow.  She was left with nobody to take care of her.  Jesus didn’t see her and say, “Here’s a real ministry opportunity to make a name for myself and grow the church.”  Rather, “He had compassion on her and said to her, ‘Do not weep.’”

Our Lord’s motivation here is to show compassion to a mourning widow.  And that He did!  Jesus delivered joy to a woman who was in the very worst of sadness.  If anyone had the right to be without hope and angry at God, it would be this widow on her way to bury her son. 

The result of our Lord’s Word – the same Word that created the universe from nothing, that Word commanding, “Young man, I say to you, arise,” – was that “the dead man sat up and began to speak” and “Jesus gave him to His mother.”  Jesus fixed what was broken, and what seemed to be permanently destroyed.  Jesus restored hope to the most hopeless situation of all.  Jesus made one mourning woman happy again.

But the result of this miracle did teach us about Jesus. 

When a man appears in history, works miracles, raises the dead, is executed as a criminal, but rises from the dead Himself, sends eleven men out into the world, and from this small group, believers in Jesus are soon in every country in the world – there’s going to be a discussion about who Jesus is.

Jews can point to Jesus being called “Rabbi,” and they can say that this is what Jesus is: a teacher and a preacher.  They’re not wrong.  Muslims can point to this confession of who Jesus is, “A great prophet has arisen among us,” and say that this is what Jesus is: a prophet.  They’re also not wrong.  But where they are both wrong is in saying that Jesus is only a teacher, only a preacher, or only a prophet.  For there is certainly more to Jesus.  It is also not wrong to say that Jesus is a man, or that the Bible is comprised of humanly-authored books, or that the Eucharist is bread and wine.  But it is wrong to stop there, dear friends.  For there is indeed certainly more.

For our God is compassionate.  Our God has come to raise the dead.  Our God has come to destroy death, to reverse its effects, and to restore what we broke at the fall in the Garden of Eden.  Jesus is a prophet, but He is also God who has “visited His people.”  Jesus is a prophet, and a priest, and a king.  But there is certainly more to Jesus.  He is the Prophet, the Priest, and the King.  He doesn’t merely serve God in these offices.  He is the God who created these offices.  Jesus takes on these offices Himself in order to show compassion upon us and raise the dead.

And just as Jesus takes on all of these offices Himself, as a man, and as God, Jesus will also die Himself, becoming also the sacrificial Lamb – the “Lamb of God that takest away the sin of the world.”  And like the widow of Nain, He indeed has “mercy upon us.”  And not only does He give us God’s mercy, He answers our prayer and confession granting us His peace.”

When people saw Jesus raise the widow’s son, they immediately thought of the great prophet Elijah.  This was no accident.  Almost nine hundred years before Jesus was born, Elijah raised the dead son of a widow.  For “a great prophet had arisen” among the people. But Elijah was not God.  The great prophet Elijah prayed that God would raise the widow’s son.  And God had compassion upon that widow in that day, and through the great prophet’s prayer, God raised this young man from the dead.  Elijah “delivered him to his mother” and said, “See, your son lives.”  The joyful mother said, “Now I know that you are a man of God.”

When Jesus raised another widow’s son more than nine hundred years later, we do not hear a confession that Jesus is a man of God (which would not be untrue).  For there is certainly more to Jesus.  He is the man who is God.  He is the God who has compassion.  And He is the one true God who has visited His people in the form of a man.

And this confession of Jesus, that a “great prophet has arisen among us” takes on a different meaning for us after our Lord’s own resurrection.  For this word “arisen” is the very same Greek word that the angel spoke to the Marys at the tomb.  St. Luke, who recorded our Gospel for today, wrote that the angel said, “He is not here, but has risen.”  Upon hearing this, “they remembered His Words.”

We too remember His Words, dear friends.  Jesus’ words are not simply little nuggets of wisdom from a nice man who has compassion (as the unbelieving world says).  For there is certainly more to Jesus.  Jesus is not simply a teacher of one of many spiritual truths which are all pathways to God (as the pope has recently said).  Jesus is not simply a rabbi (as the Jews say, at best).  Jesus is not simply a preacher proclaiming God (as many who call themselves Christians seem to believe).  Jesus is not simply a prophet (as the Muslims proclaim).  For there is certainly more to Jesus.

Jesus has compassion upon those who have suffered the effects of death, for death is the final crushing result of sin and the ongoing destructive work of the devil.  God has compassion upon all of us who have suffered death.  We are all the widow of Nain, and God has visited us, dear friends.  God has arisen among us.  For God in the flesh was crucified as the sacrifice that we could never pay.  He died, and rose again for our justification.

And God is still visiting His people. 

He visits us when He baptizes us, with His own words, making us His disciples “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”  He visits us when and where His Word is proclaimed.  He visits us when His forgiveness is given by virtue of the office that He has established to speak in His name.  He visits us when He offers us His true body and blood, given and shed for you, “for the forgiveness of sins.”  And He will visit us again in the future, when He returns in glory.  It will be at a time when it will look to all the world that there is no hope.  He will have compassion upon us, and He will come again, establishing His kingdom among us in fulfillment of all of the words and deeds of the great prophets. 

For there is certainly more to Jesus that what the devil, the world, the Jews, the Muslims, and even the pope want us to believe.  No, not all religions are equal.  If they were, God would have no compassion upon us, for that would mean that He is a God of confusion and contradiction, that He is a God who leaves us wondering what the truth is, or if there even is a truth at all.  But God has visited us, and He said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”  And Jesus added, “If you had known Me, you would have known My Father also.  From now on you do know Him and have seen Him.”

This Jesus who is the Prophet and God who has both “arisen among us” and “visited His people,” who has come to have compassion upon us by raising the dead and restoring the world to its created glory, this Priest who is also the Sacrifice, this God who is also man, is coming again in glory.  He is the way, the truth, and the life.  And this confession is, in the words of the Athanasian Creed, both “the Christian truth” and “the catholic religion.”  It is all about Jesus, dear friends.  Nobody else.

The reality that God has visited His people is good news for the world.  Our job is to confess it, proclaim it, preach it, and not compromise it.  For Jesus has compassion.  “A great prophet has arisen among us!’ and ‘God has visited His people!”

Amen.

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

Sermon: Wittenberg Academy - Sept 10, 2024

10 Sept 2024

Text: Phil 2:12-30

In the name of + Jesus.  Amen.

In the Creed, we confess Jesus as “God of God, light of light, very God of very God.”  And this is confession of the Holy Trinity being of one substance, but with distinction of person.  But it is also a confession of what St. John the apostle taught us: “In Him [that is, in Jesus] was life, and the life was the light of men.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:4-5).  Jesus is the “uncreated light,” and the first thing He created “in the beginning” was light that reflects Him (Gen 1:1-3).  But when we fell into sin, it was as if the flame of this created light was extinguished, the glory obscured, and all the world was thrown into the confusion and chaos of darkness.  Jesus said, “And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil. For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his works should be exposed. But whoever does what is true comes to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that his works have been carried out in God” (John 3:19-21).

Our Lord Himself came into this darkness, saying, “I am the light of the world” (John 8:12).  And indeed He is, dear friends.  And He has given His church the joyful responsibility and privilege to take Him, as a Lamp, and cast away the darkness of the devil, the world, and our sinful nature.  “You are the light of the world,” says our Lord to us.  “Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house” (Matt 5:14-15).

St. Paul reminds us of our Lord’s words, building on them when he says, “you shine as lights in the world.”  Though we are poor reflectors of our Lord, though our flame is often weak, though we may be at times little more than a spark or an ember – the church remains the contrast, and the hope, of a “crooked and twisted generation.”  The tongues of fire that graced the apostles on Pentecost demonstrate the gift of the Holy Spirit whom Jesus has given to His church.  And the church’s job is to set the world on fire with the Gospel.

Indeed, we have the Gospel, dear friends.  We have the Good News that those who “sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,” need and crave.  And this is why St. Paul urges us to “work out [our] salvation with fear and trembling,” to “do all things without grumbling or questioning,” and that we strive to be “blameless and innocent” as “children of God.”  And we do this, by “holding fast to the Word of life.”

Our motivation to lead lives that are different than the dark world around us isn’t to earn God’s favor, or to somehow save ourselves by our works.  Rather, we offer our meager good works as a thank-offering to God out of love for our neighbor, as our Lord Jesus says: “Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.”

Lord Jesus Christ, with us abide,
For round us falls the eventide.
O let Your Word, that saving light,
Shine forth undimmed into the night (LSB 585).

Amen.

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

Sermon: Wittenberg Academy – St. Gregory the Great, 2024

3 Sept 2024 

Text: Eph 3:1-21

In the name of + Jesus.  Amen.

In the previous chapter of Ephesians, St. Paul summed up the Good News that Christians have for the world: “For by grace you have been saved through faith.  And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.” And “for this reason,” Paul is a prisoner, and has been called to proclaim this mystery to the Gentiles.  For the faith is a “mystery” made known to Paul by “revelation.”  And of this “gospel,” this good news, Paul was “made a minister according to the gift of God’s grace.”  This Gospel is what Paul calls “the unsearchable riches of Christ.”

This proclamation doesn’t stop with the apostles.  In fact, it just begins with them.  Our Lord told the apostles to preach this good news to every nation, making disciples by baptizing and teaching.  It started very small, but grew according to God’s will.  More than five hundred years after Paul was put to death in Rome, a bishop of Rome, in a Europe that had converted to Christianity, carried forward this order of Jesus to spread the wealth to every nation.  St. Gregory the Great, the former mayor of Rome, was called into the office of the holy ministry.  He gave away his worldly wealth and evangelized new Gentiles: people in the north who lacked these “unsearchable riches of Christ.” 

St. Gregory understood how important the liturgy was for missions.  We still speak of his Gregorian chant today, and many of the collects we still use in the liturgy were standardized by St. Gregory.  He gave us the church calendar, and launched missionaries into northern Europe – parts of which took centuries for the Gospel to be established, including the ancestors of most Americans.  Today is the feast day of St. Gregory the Great.  And what made him “great” was that he was saved by grace, and received this gift through faith.  His redemption in Christ was not because of his works, and thus when we boast on this feast of Gregory, we are not boasting in him, but rejoicing in what God did through him.  For even as Paul explained that we are saved by grace, through faith, not by works, the apostle pointed out that good works are a result of our salvation: “We are [God’s] workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.”

We look to the saints to teach us what this looks like in a fallen world.  What does it mean to be a saint still embodied in fallen flesh – but flesh that has been redeemed by the God who took flesh?  For here we are today still proclaiming this same Good News to all nations.  Some of us in our Wittenberg Academy community live on the other side of the world, engaged in foreign missions, like St. Paul, and like St. Gregory’s missionaries.  Most of us are carrying out domestic missions, since the nations have come to us, and there are many among us who lack the “unsearchable riches of Christ.”  For we “bring to light for everyone what is the plan of the mystery hidden for ages.”  This “manifold wisdom of God” is proclaimed, as Paul says, “through the church.”

Dear friends, we are the church.  Our confession is our mission.  Like Paul and Gregory, we live by faith, and we do what we are called to do, whether studying, teaching, honoring our parents, sacrificing for our children’s education, carrying out administrative tasks for our school, planning, donating time, talent, or treasure to its mission.  For its mission – our mission – is the Gospel.  We are called to make it known and to live it out.  Let us keep this desire of St. Paul central in our mission, dear friends: “that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith – that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.”

That is our confession.  That is our Gospel.  Thank be to God!  Amen.

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

Sermon: Pentecost 15 (Trinity Lutheran Church) – 2024

1 September 2024

Text: Mark 7:14-23 (Deut 4:1-2; 6-9; Eph 6:10-20)

In the name of + Jesus.  Amen.

Dear friends, we are a nation at war.  And what is our nation?  God says that if we hear the Word of God and keep it, with “wisdom and understanding,” we will say, “Surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people.”  For “what great nation is there that has a god so near it as the Lord our God is to us whenever we call on Him?”  Part of our problem, dear friends is that we don’t know what nation God is speaking of.  When we hear the word, “our great nation,” we usually think of America: our flag, our history, our ancestors.  It’s good to be patriotic and love our country, but America is not our nation, dear brothers and sisters.  It is not our identity.  Our identity is to be baptized into Christ.  Our nation has a King, not a president.  Our nation is Israel, and not what the world thinks Israel is: a modern country halfway around the world.  We, the one holy Christian and apostolic church; we, the baptized; we the confessors of the Most Holy Trinity and our Lord Jesus Christ are the nation.

And we also forget, dear friends, that we are a nation at war. 

We forget because of God’s mercy.  We go about our lives without seeing the warfare all around us.  We think we’re at peace, when there is no peace.  For Satan is like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. 

St. Paul reminds us that we are a nation at war in the famous passage of Ephesians that we heard yet again: “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.”  St. Paul urges us Christians to “take up the whole armor of God.”  It is spiritual armor for a spiritual war.

How often we forget what our nation is, and what war is.  We get lulled into making peace with the fallen world, and we forget that we are but strangers here.  We think this temporary country is “one nation indivisible,” as though all countries don’t eventually fade or fall away like the Roman Empire.  Rome fell.  The rulers that replaced Rome fell.  The kings who ruled the ruins of the empire fell.  All countries fall.  But the nation, the people of God, the church, has the promise that not even the gates of hell will conquer it.  Our nation the church is truly “one nation indivisible,” for it is one, holy, Christian, and apostolic – and it is grounded in the Word of God that endures forever. 

We are the baptized, and we can never be unbaptized.  We are the redeemed of the Lord, and our demonic enemies can never overcome that reality.  But there is a danger, dear friends.  The danger is that we forget that we are at war, making peace with the devil, the world, and our sinful flesh.  And there is a danger that we forget that we are a nation: a holy nation and a royal priesthood, instead just seeing our temporary country as our national identity.

When the flag replaces the cross, when the Pledge of Allegiance replaces the Creed, when the military replaces the church militant, we need to repent.  And I say this, dear friends, as a military chaplain and seventh generation American.  We need to remind ourselves of what it means to be a nation at war. 

Our Lord’s hearers thought of their nationality in terms of their ancestry.  To them, being an Israelite was being descended from Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.  And they thought their war was against the Romans and the Samaritans and the other people who were not descended from Jacob.  They thought that what made them the people of God was external religious observance, obeying the ceremonial law.  They too did not realize they were at war.  They too had made peace with the enemy: sin, Satan, and death.  They went through the motions.  They lived a fake life of obedience based on obeying rules and regulations that – apart from faith – were meaningless.  They took more pride in not being a filthy Samaritan or Gentile or Roman rather than seeing their identity as recipients of God’s grace.  They saw their country as their nation, and they were filled with pride.  And then along comes Jesus to turn over their tables, to call them whitewashed tombs and hypocrites, eating with Gentiles and Samaritans and sinners, even praising the faith of a Roman soldier as being greater than anything that He saw among the people who boasted in their being Israelites.

Jesus reminds us that externally following rules is not what it means to be part of the nation.  We need to be reminded of this today.  We need to be reminded that we are a nation at war, that our nationality is rooted in our baptism, and we are not friends with this world.  We hold to the Holy Scriptures, and we hold ourselves to the standard that God has set for us.  It’s not about external compliance, but internal righteousness, and we only have that in Christ, by His cross.  We have that righteousness by grace, through faith, and it comes to us in Word and Sacrament.  We are at war with the forces of darkness, and our weapons are spiritual, dear friends. 

In times of war, we cannot be complacent.  But too often, we are.  Too often we let down our guard and take off our armor.  Paul tells us to put on the “belt of truth.”  For there is objective truth, dear brothers and sisters.  There is not your truth and my truth.  And if there is truth, there is also falsehood.  We stand for that which is true, and the truth is found in God’s Word, and not in human wisdom or our feelings.  The truth can be hard to abide.  The truth may turn us away even from our own families, our neighbors, and from others in our country.  The early Christians were forced to choose between honoring the emperor and honoring Jesus.  We stand with our countryman Polycarp, the 86-year old bishop who was burned at the stake for refusing to worship Caesar.  St. Polycarp understood what it meant to be a nation at war.  He said simply, “I am a Christian.”  He was joyfully defiant as he served His King.

St. Paul tells us to put on the “breastplate of righteousness.”  We protect our heart by protecting that which is righteous – not our own, but the gift of God given to us in Holy Baptism, won for us by Jesus, by His blood shed at the cross.  We rejoice in righteousness, and we do not join with the world in mocking it. 

Our shoes are “the readiness given by the gospel of peace.”  We are at war with the world, but we are at peace with God.  The first word from the mouth of Jesus when He appeared to the disciples after His resurrection was “Peace.”  He gives us not the phony peace of this world, but the true peace of reconciliation with the Father.  And this Good News of peace with God is like shoes for our feet allowing us to walk out into the world – even a world that hates us – and bring this Good News to people who need to hear it. 

St. Paul urges us to take up the “shield of faith” which protects us against the devil’s flaming arrows.  For we are a nation at war, dear friends.  We cannot see the enemy drawing back the bow and aiming at us.  That’s why the shield has to be in place at all times.  It is faith: confidence in your Lord to protect you. 

Paul implores us to put on our helmet, to protect our minds with salvation itself.  For without our being saved by grace, our heads are exposed to the enemy’s thoughts and ideas that expose us to a mortal wound. 

Paul offers us one offensive weapon, dear friends: a sword: the sword of the Spirit, “which is the Word of God.”  Take up the Word, dear friends, and go on the offense.  For we are a nation at war. 

Because we are a nation at war, we pray “at all times in the Spirit.”  And we “keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints.”  We are a nation at war, and St. Paul is an “ambassador.”  Our pastors speak on behalf of the King.  And this holy place is an embassy, dear friends.  This sanctuary is dominated by an altar and a font and a pulpit, for it  is an embassy of heaven.  In this place, we don’t have a president, but rather we have a King.  In this nation, we don’t stand for an anthem, but we stand for the Gospel.

Let us fight, dear friends.  Let us serve our nation and King, for it is one nation, indivisible, holy, Christian, and apostolic.  And by grace, the kingdom ours remaineth.   Amen.

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

Sermon: Trinity 14 (Salem) – 2024

1 September 2024

Text: Luke 17:11-19 

In the name of + Jesus.  Amen.

St. Luke records an incident in the life of Jesus that sounds like a parable.  Although it is an actual event, Jesus uses it to teach us about what it means to be a Christian.

Ten men suffered with leprosy.  It is a terrible disease.  It is painful.  Parts of your body fall off.  Your skin rots away.  For face becomes disfigured.  Worst of all, people can catch it from you, and there is no cure.  The Old Testament laws of Israel protect the people by requiring lepers to be cast out of the cities, to live apart from their families, to cover themselves and yell “unclean” if a healthy person comes near. 

You can see why they pray to Jesus for mercy.  They have faith that He has the power to heal them.  They pray, just as we do: “Lord, have mercy!”  And by means of His Word, Jesus shows them mercy and heals them.  Now, all that they need to do is to be examined by the priests (also from the Old Testament Law) to be declared clean, so they can return home.

Of the ten, only one: a Samaritan, a foreigner, “saw that he was healed” and “turned back, praising God with a loud voice, and he fell on his face at Jesus’ feet, giving Him thanks.”

Jesus asks: “Where are the nine?”  It’s not an actual question.  Jesus isn’t asking the crowd to tell Him what cities or towns these men have gone to.  He is asking His hearers – which includes us – to reflect on the fact that they aren’t here with Jesus.  They are not here with the grateful Samaritan, not praising God and worshiping Jesus with thanksgiving.  “Where are the nine?” Jesus asks. 

Being in my twentieth year at this parish, I’ve seen a lot of people experience the grace of God, but leave.  I’ve seen faithful grandparents replaced by lukewarm children, followed up by indifferent grandchildren, whose own children will probably never be baptized.  Instead, they’ll cheer for the right college team and they’ll learn all of the world’s rituals.  Where are the nine?  There they are.

I’ve seen faithful people, even in the church’s leadership, be lured away from the church because there is something they want more than living in fellowship with the Lord Jesus Christ who healed them from the leprosy of sin.  But usually, falling away is less dramatic.  It’s more often gradual, as other things just become more and more important over time.  Where are the nine?  There they are.

I encounter people in our community who will boast about their grandparents who “built that church” or how they are related to this famous Gretna name or that, people who once filled these pews, maybe even just a few years ago - but now those names are just memories carved on plaques and recorded in the old records written in German.  Where are the nine?  There they are.

There have been many young people that I confirmed, communed once, and never saw again.  Judas Iscariot also communed once, dear friends.  Sometimes people who have long since quit the church will be sure to tell me, “I made my communion there!”  What they really mean is, “I was healed of the leprosy of sin, cleansed by Holy Baptism, and sustained by the Word of God in Christ Jesus, I was made well by my faith, but I decided to not come back and give praise to God.”  That’s really what they are telling me.  “Where are the nine?”  There they are.

Sometimes the “nine” are like our Lord’s most vocal opponents, who thought their ethnicity or their superficial dedication to the Law was enough.  They didn’t need Jesus, because they were children of Abraham, because they were seen as “good people.”  Jesus told them God could raise up children of Abraham from the stones.  He also called them hypocrites and tombs full of dead men’s bones.  Often it was the outsider, the “Samaritan,” who heard the Word of God, the leper who was cleansed, the tax collector, the prostitute, and the “sinner,” who followed our Lord, while the “lifelong Lutherans” whose grandfathers “built that church,” whose names are prominent at the cemetery – who have long since left and never returned.  Where are the nine?  There they are.

Dear friends, today’s Gospel is both a warning and encouragement.  It is a warning not to become ungrateful, like the nine: to take the grace of God for granted, to forget just how bad leprosy is.  When we confess that we are “poor, miserable sinners,” these aren’t just words in a book.  It is the reality that we are falling apart and disfigured.  We are dying.  We desperately need Jesus.  That’s why we pray “Lord, have mercy” at every Divine Service.  That’s why we keep coming back here.  It has nothing to do with your ancestry or what your grandfathers did.  God doesn’t care about that.  He cares, rather, about you, about all of humanity for whom Christ died: saving, healing, and calling to a life of humility, of joy, and of gratitude.

When we are suffering, we call upon the name of the Lord.  We aren’t proud.  We aren’t living as if God doesn’t exist, as if Jesus never suffered on the cross for us, as if the true body and blood of Jesus weren’t here for you, as if the Gospel weren’t proclaimed for your benefit each and every week in this sacred space.  When we are in need of healing, we don’t forget to pray.  When meals are hard to come by, we don’t just eat them without giving thanks.  When we know the danger of sin to our bodies and minds and souls, we don’t just do whatever feels good at the moment.  Where are the nine?  Often, we are the nine.

But there is good news, dear friends.  Jesus invites us to turn back, to praise God with a loud voice, to fall down at Jesus’ feet, to give thanks.  It’s not just about going to church; it’s about being the church.  We worship together here, and we worship with our families at home.  We worship when we wake and when we go to sleep.  We pray, praise, and give thanks.  We don’t boast to God about our grandfathers or even our own deeds.  Rather, we see ourselves as lepers, as poor, miserable sinners in light of the Holy Scriptures.  We pray for mercy.  We are given healing and restoration by Jesus.  And we hear Jesus say, “Your faith has made you well.”

For this lesson from Jesus isn’t just about what we do on Sunday, but how we live every day: living as cured lepers, grateful for the sacrifice of Jesus and for His Word, filled with gratitude for our baptisms, and for the opportunity to hear the Gospel, be forgiven, and give praise to the one who “breaks the darkness.”

Let us pray as Jesus taught is to pray: “Lead us not into temptation.”  Let us also pray “deliver us from evil.”  Let us not become complacent and entitled.  Let us not become bratty children who have been given everything but show no gratitude to our Father.  Let us not push Jesus to the margins while we pursue things in life that we have learned to prioritize: sports, entertainment, teaching our families that other things are more important than learning and living the faith.  Let us hold one another accountable, encouraging our family members to keep coming back to fall at Jesus’ feet. 

For Jesus keeps coming back to give us His gifts, to forgive us again and again, to restore us to health and wholeness and to give us the faith that makes us well: faith that will sustain us forever.

It makes no difference if you are a “life-long Lutheran” or a recent convert.  It makes no difference whether or not you are German or French, or if your ancestors came from somewhere else.  It doesn’t even matter if you have been a member of the nine for many years.  All that matters is the grace and mercy of Jesus.  He welcomes all of us to just come back.  Just come back, dear friends, every day, every week, your whole life, and even unto eternity.

“Rise and go your way,” says our Lord.  “Your faith has made you well.”  That indeed is what it means to be a Christian.

Amen.

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