Sermon: Easter 7

23 May 2004 at Holy Trinity L.C., Columbia, SC (Vicarage)
Text: John 17:20-26 (RCL)

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia.

The Gospel for today, the seventh Sunday of Easter, is a portion of a prayer of our Lord. This “Lord’s prayer” is much longer than the “Our Father.” We don’t recite the 17^th chapter of John in our liturgy, nor do we make our confirmands memorize it. It is a long prayer. It concerns the ministry of the Father through his Son Jesus. It concerns the ministry of the Son on behalf of the Father. It concerns the ministry of the Church on behalf of the Son, as carried out by the apostles, and which is carried out into the world for all time.

Although today’s Gospel is only seven verses of this prayer, there is much upon which to ponder and to meditate. There is both cause for shame among Christians, as well as cause for comfort and rejoicing. In this prayer, Jesus provides for us a model of prayer as glorification of the Father, obedience, intercession for the church and the world, all centered on the work of Jesus.

Jesus prays: “I do not ask for these only” – meaning his immediate disciples – “but also for those who will believe in me through their word.” Jesus confesses with us that the church is “apostolic.” We don’t believe in Jesus because we saw something on TV or read something about him in Newsweek. Rather, we believe in him because we believe the word of the apostles – the disciples Jesus hand-picked and ordained to preach his Gospel. We have the apostolic witness of our Lord from the writings of the apostles. In fact, the word “scripture” means literally “writings.” Through human language, pen and ink, through the work of copyists, translators, and publishers, we can hear the actual words of the apostles themselves ring out in our churches. Through the Bible, the apostles continue to preach to us, and the Word of God continues to bring about miraculous faith.

Jesus prays that such belief in the apostolic witness would lead to unity among Christians, the kind of communion that exists between Jesus and the Father, a bond of unspeakable love. And this kind of love allows the Church to carry the Father and the Son within her, allowing Christians to bring that love to the entire world. Of course, this is a great mystery, but God dwelling in us, the Church, is what converts nonbelievers to the truth.

But, of course, today the Church is divided. As our Lord testifies, our unity in the faith spreads the Gospel. What conclusion can we draw but that the disunity of the Church impedes the Gospel?

The motto of the United States is “e pluribus unum” – “out of many, one.” To look at all the various divisions and denominations in the Christian Church today, we might reverse the motto as “ex uno pluralis” – “out of one, many.” There are literally thousands of church bodies within Christendom. Non-believers see this and scoff. If the Christians can’t agree what is true among themselves, why should anyone believe them about anything.

Indeed, the disunity that has plagued the Church for nearly a thousand years when the Eastern and Western Churches excommunicated one another doesn’t serve the proclamation of the Gospel. We Lutherans love to celebrate Reformation Day – as well we should, but for all the good of the Reformation, it comes bundled with the burden that it became the first of many divisions in the Western Church.

We cannot overstate the damage caused by our divisions. Satan uses our disunity as a wedge to wrest the Gospel from the world that so desperately needs it, dividing God from his beloved creation.

However, we must also clearly understand that unity in the church is much more than simply everybody being part of one big denomination, or merely going to each other’s churches, or by swapping preachers and communing outside of our own church body. For we can’t sweep our theological differences under the rug – not if we are going to be honest with ourselves. We shouldn’t fall prey to the temptation to join the wishy-washy world’s view that “it doesn’t matter what you believe, as long as you’re sincere.” Jesus never, ever says such a thing. It does indeed matter what we believe. We need to teach our children the small catechism, and explain to them why it is important. We need to boldly confess with St. Peter that baptism saves us, and with the Church of all time that baptism is for children, and that the amount of the water doesn’t matter. We need to confess with our Lord that his ministers do indeed have the authority to forgive sins. We must never weaken our confession that Jesus is physically present in the Eucharist – even if downplaying it makes us seem more “unified” with our Protestant friends and relatives.

In withholding communion from those who don’t share our confession, and when we refrain from communing when we visit different churches with our families and friends, we are painfully reminded of this disunity, of these unhealthy divisions. And yet, it is also a confession of the truth to which we cling. It demonstrates integrity, even when social pressure tempts us to cave in for the sake of a false unity. St. Paul even tells us such divisions among Christians have a purpose – to give us an opportunity to confess the truth. The reality of this division is painful, awkward, and often hampers the Gospel. The root of the problem is sin – and we can’t undo a thousand years of disunity by putting our heads in the sand and pretending we all confess the same thing. When Christians lack integrity, it does even more damage to the Gospel than does disunity. Sin – our own sins as well as the sins of our fathers – has placed us into unenviable circumstances.

But we can take comfort in the fact that not even our current multiplicity of denominations can truly destroy the church’s unity. Though she is racked with error, with bad doctrine, with scandal, with division, in short, though she is awash in sin, she still confesses one Lord, one Baptism, one holy catholic and apostolic Church. As our Lutheran confessions put it, the churchly unity that Jesus refers to doesn’t mean having the same name, the same bureaucratic structure, the same pope, the same synodical president, or the same patriarch – rather the oneness of the church refers to the proclamation of the Gospel and the right administration of the sacraments.

This is not to say that we should give up on all theological discussions to bring about unity - not at all. We should enter fellowship where we have agreement, and we should keep talking where we don’t. Where we confess the same thing, we should rejoice, and where we differ, we must have the integrity to acknowledge it. Some accuse our synod of being isolationist – and there is probably some truth to the charge (this too is a result of our sinful nature). However, many people don’t realize that the Missouri Synod is in fellowship with more than forty different church bodies. We are constantly dialoguing with churches all over the world. This summer, pending a vote in convention, we will unite in fellowship with our Lutheran brethren in Kenya. Such worldwide unity is essential to carry out the Great Commission. We must work hard to forge agreements with those who confess as we do. We must realize that division in our churches is a scandal. It does interfere with the Gospel. It’s part of our mission as a church body to strive for unity with more and more church bodies for the sake of the Gospel.

On the other hand, we must avoid the temptation to seek unity above the truth. When church bodies prioritize themselves to serve unity before truth, they quickly surrender the Way, the Truth, and the Life for a false sense of unity. Unity like this is a self-serving fraud that does not confess, does not stand for the truth – the Truth which ultimately, is Jesus himself. For we confess with Jesus that our faith is apostolic – it is a confession. It cannot be changed at will to make it more friendly for unity.

In the last generation we’ve seen what a watered-down confession has done to the faithful. When for the sake of unity and popularity churches began to downplay the Scriptures, to ordain women, to waffle on the issues of sex and marriage, to trade in the biblical liturgy for entertainment, to replace confessional hymns with toe-tapping ditties – we’ve seen a degeneration of the faith. Within a generation of these experiments, formerly faithful denominations have seminaries teaching that the resurrection is a myth, we’ve seen male and female bishops arguing that Jesus and the apostles may well have been homosexuals. We have churches which call themselves Lutheran paying for the abortions of their own priestesses – while congratulating themselves on the unity they have achieved with other denominations. Unity is too expensive if the price tag is the very faith itself. As important as unity is, it is less important than obedience to our Lord and integrity of confession – even if it divides us.

And so our Lord’s prayer is both troublesome and comforting. It is disturbing insofar as it shows our shortcomings as his people. When we meditate on our Lord’s fervent prayer for unity in the Church for the sake of the Gospel, we can only hang our heads in shame. Our own sin has resulted in this mess. When we have deviated from the apostolic witness, we have created division. We Lutherans, who rally around Scripture and the Book of Concord (a word which means “agreement”), are today shattered into dozens of church bodies. In our own church body, we have all sorts of factions, each with its own newsletter, newspaper, website, and free conferences. We have political conventions complete with campaigning and arm-twisting. Dear friends, does this advance the Gospel? When we consider our own church body’s disunity, we should hopefully see Law in our Lord’s call for unity. We should see our own sins, be driven to the cross, plead for forgiveness from God, and seek reconciliation with our brothers in our synod.

But at the same time, such reconciliation must be a true reconciliation, a true unity of confession and expression of the faith, not merely a bureaucratic procedure that gags discussion and leaves crucial questions of doctrine unanswered.

But our Lord’s prayer is not predominantly Law. Not by a long shot. For the Lord’s prayer for unity among Christians is not simply something our Lord orders us to do, and then berates us for our failure to do it. Instead, we see that the unity of the Church is being driven by God the Father, who dwells in the Son, who in turn dwells in the Church. Our Lord tells us we have been gifted with his glory – the same glory of God which led the people of Israel out of bondage, the same glory of God which radiated from the resurrected body of our Lord Jesus Christ, blazing into the universe and conquering death. In spite of our sin, the Lord’s glory is given to the Church through his Son. We are to strive to be faithful and obedient, trusting in his Word, confessing doctrine correctly, and living a life motivated by Christian love.

Living a life motivated by Christian love is a hot topic today – with books and Bible studies about living a “purpose driven life.” People are hungry for the sense of community and service that is missing from our current “me first” culture. But the kind of love Jesus speaks of – the familiar Greek word “agape” – isn’t something that can be achieved by pop-psychology and law-driven programs. Life cannot be driven by a purpose, rather it is driven by the Gospel, fueled by the forgiving blood of our Lord, given physically to us in the Lord’s Supper, with our eyes focused on the cross. Living a life of love is about the forgiveness that wells up in us and, like the cup of the twenty-third psalm, running over, spilling out into the lives of those around us.

This, dear brothers and sisters, can’t be achieved by reading a self-help book or by whipping ourselves up into an emotional frenzy with trendy slogans and fads. Rather, we live out a life of love – the kind of love that Jesus tells us in our text is a testimony of both himself and his Father – by ordinary means. You don’t have to join the green berets to be a hero – you are a hero when you spend time with your children. You don’t have to start a religious order in India and devote your life to the poor, by simply committing to give a certain amount of your resources to the Lord’s work, no matter how humble, no matter how unnoticed by anyone else, you are allowing the Lord to dwell in you, just as Jesus prays. When you conduct your work and business with honor and integrity, when you go the extra mile to help a client or customer, when you smile at a stranger on the street, or offer consolation to someone who is grieving, you are testifying before all the world, the hope that is in you. The Lord daily provides us opportunities to demonstrate this “agape” love as a testimony to our Lord, as a way of overriding the disunion of the Church with the unity that comes from serving our one Lord by virtue of our one baptism in the one faith – as Jesus prays to his Father, “so that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you loved me.”

If the Church is ever to be reunited on this side of the grave, the Lord will bring it about in his way and in his time. This is of great comfort to us, the imperfect, the divided, and yet forgiven and still “one holy catholic and apostolic Church. For the unity of the Church isn’t about us, but rather about our victorious, resurrected Lord, who forgives us all our sins. And so, it is the Church’s prayer and song:

The Church’s one foundation
Is Jesus Christ, her Lord;
She is his new creation
By water and the Word.
From heaven he came and sought her
To be his holy bride;
With his own blood he bought her,
And for her life he died.

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia.

Sermon: Easter 5

9 May 2004 at Holy Trinity L.C., Columbia, SC (Vicarage)
Text: John 13:31-35 (RCL)

In the Name of + Jesus. Amen.

In today’s very short Gospel text, Jesus speaks volumes. But he uses two words that are terribly misunderstood by the world, especially by our culture. Jesus speaks of “glory” and “love.”

By the world’s standards, “glory” is about winners and losers. “Glory” is scoring the winning touchdown in the Super Bowl, and is punctuated by a dance in the end zone in the faces of your defeated opponents. “Glory” is hearing Donald Trump say “you’re hired!” after hearing your foes condemned with “you’re fired!” week after week. “Glory” is winning the American Idol singing contest, while all of the other contestants have been sent packing by the wisecracking judge in the black t-shirt. “Glory” is winning a war and expressing the glory of victory by torturing and humiliating the captured enemy prisoners. “Glory” is about winning, and is also about lording over the loser.

But is this the kind of “glory” Jesus speaks of? Jesus speaks these words only moments after his last supper, moments after Judas has departed to betray him. The passion has just officially begun, and this is what Jesus means by “glory.” In a few days, Jesus will be arrested, made sport of, stripped, beaten, and executed to the jeers of the crowd. When Jesus speaks here of glory, he is not speaking of being worshiped by the magi, nor by having the voice of God sound forth at his baptism, nor of his transfiguration, nor even of his resurrection. Jesus is calling his passion, crucifixion, and death: “glorification.”

This is why St. Paul tells us the preaching of Christ crucified is “foolishness” to the rational and worldly Greeks. In the eyes of the world, this is insanity.

One of my classmates at the seminary, a Russian pastor, was a Christian during Soviet times. He had to carry around humiliating papers identifying him as mentally ill. He was sent to “treatment” and was discriminated against in housing and employment. Christianity was seen as foolishness since the glorious triumph of Marxism. Thankfully, the foolishness of the cross has triumphed over the “glory” of Communism in Russia.

But even here in America, the glorious land of capitalism and prosperity, Christianity is seen as foolishness. A psychiatrist named George Dvorsky is pushing the mental health profession to define “religious fundamentalism” as a “psychological disorder.” He defines “fundamentalism” as the kind of Christianity that believes in Creationism and confesses Scripture as truly the Word of God, that Jesus was actually and physically resurrected from the dead, and that there is truly an afterlife of heaven and hell. Such people are dangerous, the kind of people who fly planes into skyscrapers, and should be given treatment for their disorder for the good of society.

This illustrates the incompatibility of Christianity with our culture, the kingdom of heaven vs. the kingdom of the world. The great writer C.S. Lewis argued that Jesus is either “Lord, liar, or lunatic.” We Christians see him as Lord; the world sees him as a liar or lunatic. It makes no rational sense that a painful, humiliating death should be “glory.” When the secular world’s eyes gaze upon a crucifix, they see a “loser,” not “glory.”

But when Jesus speaks of “glory,” he speaks of his Father. “Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him.” God the Father is glorified by the obedience of the Son. The cross is glorious because, in spite of its appearance, it is a glorious victory. By death, death is defeated. By becoming sin for us, sin is defeated. By carrying out the cleansing will of the Father, the filthy work of the devil himself is overcome.

Thus the humiliated prisoner is glorified, and the gloating soldiers are defeated. The meek victim on the cross is glorified, and the mighty kings and governors are defeated. The Son of God is glorified as the father’s will is carried out, and the prince of this world is defeated, as his work has been swept away. Glory is not one man’s victory over another man, but rather God’s victory – which becomes a victory for all of us.

Jesus knows this coming glorification of himself will change the way he relates to his people in the world. “Little children, yet a little while I am with you… Where I am going you cannot come.” And yet, he still promises to be with his church until he comes again, as the creed confesses, “in glory.” When Jesus returns, his glory will by no means continue to be misunderstood by the world. Meanwhile, while we await his coming, Jesus remains with us in his seemingly inglorious Word and Sacraments. His glory is veiled from the world, but made manifest to those who confess him as Lord.

And the glory of Jesus is to be displayed to the world by his church. “People will know you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” Here is where Jesus reveals the true nature of glory: it is rooted in love. The world’s view of glory is self-centered. It is an exultation of oneself, usually accompanied by the degradation of others. One can’t be on a pedestal unless others are on a lower level. There can be no winners without losers. But Jesus points us to the glory of love, a glory that manifests itself not in winning, but in serving. As he told his disciples only moments before: “Whoever would be great among you must be your servant.”

And like the world’s notion of “glory,” the world’s understanding of “love” is also rooted in self-worship. This is especially apparent with the debates over marriage. It is no longer viewed by the world as an institution we have received from our ancestors and from God, rooted in nature, and focused on raising children, rather it is seen as a “lifestyle choice.” It is treated as our own personal property to be redefined as we wish. No longer is sexual love restricted to married men and women, it is now a form of casual recreation, not only extended to non-married men and women, but also to people of the same sex. The primary goal of marriage is no longer love, commitment, and procreation, but rather a selfish union of incomes and a mutual pursuit of personal fulfillment. It’s no wonder half of today’s marriages fail.

But Jesus speaks of a different kind of love here – not the kind of love between husband and wife, between friends, for country, or even for ideals of goodness and truth. Rather Jesus speaks of the kind of love he demonstrates in his glorification: a divine love that drives a man to lay down his life for his friends. It is the kind of love that impels a parent to enter a burning building to save a child. It is the kind of love that throws all caution to the wind, and doesn’t count the cost. It’s the kind of love that is not understood by a world wrapped up in itself, in its “right to choose,” in its “lifestyle choices,” in its winner-take-all mentality. In fact, such love as Christ preaches and lives out is seen as insane, as a mental disorder, as foolishness.

And yet, Jesus uses strong language – “a new commandment” – to describe the Christian approach to glory and love. We are to glory only in our Lord’s cross, and we are to love our neighbors as ourselves. We are to follow in the steps of our savior, and yet we know that ultimately, where he goes “we cannot come.” We cannot love perfectly, nor can we cut ourselves off from the world’s sense of glory. And yet in spite of our shortcomings, we take up our crosses and we follow. We know that any love we display is actually not our own, but rather the love of God that dwells in us by virtue of our baptism. We know that any glory we display is only reflected light from the glorious face of our Lord.

So, dear Christian friends, let us live and die with Christ, and let us rise again with Christ. Let us glorify our crucified Lord, and let us allow his love to continue to do the Father’s will in re-creating a new heaven and a new earth – using us, his humble and inglorious creatures, to bring that truly glorious love, to a misunderstanding and broken world.

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

Sermon: Easter 3

25 April 2004 at Holy Trinity L.C., Columbia, SC (Vicarage)
Text: John 21:1-19 (RCL)

Christ is risen, he is risen indeed! Alleluia!

At the risk of making every belly in the sanctuary grumble, today’s Gospel text makes it necessary to talk about food. The disciples are fishing – not for a day of relaxation and recreation, but rather they are working the night shift in their small business: fishing in order to supply the market with food.

The risen Jesus appears to them from the shore, and gives them a suggestion as to how to increase their yield. Jesus is repeating the first miracle that Peter was ever to see Jesus perform, telling Peter to cast his nets on the other side. This divine déjà-vu reveals to the disciples that this mysterious figure on the shore is the risen Jesus. Out of respect for the Lord, Peter dresses himself modestly and dives into the water to meet Jesus. By the time Peter and his associates have brought their bulging net with 153 fish back to the beach, Jesus has already fired up the grill and invites the disciples to have breakfast with him.

And notice that Jesus not only issues the invitation to eat with him, Jesus himself serves the bread and the flesh of the fish with his own hands: “Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them.” John calls this sharing of this Lord’s meal a “revelation” – as this was the third time that the resurrected Jesus “was revealed” to the disciples. The grammar in this sentence is not an accident – it makes it very clear that this revealing, this revelation, was carried out by God himself. Notice that the sentence has no subject. Biblical writers do what our composition teachers tell us not to do – write sentences without subjects – as a way of telling us the subject is God. God does the revealing. The disciples only receive what God has revealed in Jesus’s sharing of the meal with them. Just as when we discern the Lord’s Body and Blood, we do so because God himself reveals this reality to us in the meal we share with Jesus. Every Lord’s Supper is a revelation of God, a revealing to us something that remains hidden to those outside the church.

Now, if all this food-talk were not enough, the Evangelist next tells us about a conversation Jesus has with Peter right after breakfast. This conversation has to do with food. Jesus tells him to feed his sheep. Jesus uses food as a metaphor for Peter’s work as a pastor. With all of this talk of food, do you suppose St. John is up to something – something other than making us all think about what we’re going to eat after church today?

John is the same evangelist who spends a good bit of time quoting Jesus when he calls himself the Bread of Life. In his Gospel and his other New Testament books, John attacks those who claim Jesus is only a spirit, as opposed to being a true, flesh and blood man. John is the evangelist who quotes Jesus’s shocking and scandalous quote that whoever would be a follower of our Lord must eat his flesh and drink his blood – a sermon that would cost Jesus a 30% decrease in his congregation. (Fortunately, Jesus didn’t have district and synodical officials to call his attention to more successful church growth strategies.)

St. John overwhelms us with presenting Jesus as more than a spirit, more than a rabbi, more than a philosopher. John presents Jesus to us in no uncertain terms as God who is in the flesh. And the greatest way to prove your solidarity, your “realness” with the people around you is to join them in a meal. Jesus routinely eats with human beings. He does what no spirit does – he puts food in his mouth, chews, swallows, and digests. He does what no ancient pagan god does – he walks up to a table and sits down to a meal – not only with pious religious folks, but also with thieves and prostitutes. Jesus eats, he weeps, he gets angry, he speaks, he listens, he bleeds, he dies. He does what every mortal does. He also goes beyond mortality by rising from the dead. And yet, even the risen Christ is still human, still one of us. He proves this by continuing to sit at table with mortals and puts cooked meat, the flesh of a fish, into his mouth, chews, and digests – thus continuing to bring creation itself into the Godhead.

And we Christians continue to bring the Godhead into ourselves, as we eat the flesh of our Lord, who continues to come to table with us mortals, with us sinners, tax collectors, prostitutes, and thieves. Jesus eats with us, and also “feeds his sheep” through the ministrations of the men who are called and ordained, like Peter, to render this service. Jesus is the Lamb of God, who feeds his sheep. He is the Good Shepherd who takes care of his flock with “under-shepherds” like Peter, like all pastors, who feed and care for Jesus’s precious lambs. The word “pastor” means literally a shepherd. This is why bishops of the church are often seen with a curved pole called a crosier. Although they tend to be fancy, they are a ceremonial reminder of the common shepherd’s crook, a hooked stick used by shepherds to herd the sheep. Every bishop, every pastor, is given the same charge as St. Peter, to tend Jesus’s lambs and to feed Jesus’s sheep.

Pastors feed the sheep with the Word of God – just as St. John was instructed to eat the scroll in the Book of Revelation. As God himself revealed to Moses, we are fed “not by bread alone, but by every Word that proceeds from the mouth of the Lord.” Our pastors also feed us the Lord’s Body and Blood, inviting us on our Lord’s behalf to: “take eat, take drink.”

Just as the fall of man came about by eating, so also our redemption comes to us by eating. Just as the Book of Genesis opens with a food-laden Paradise, so the Book of Revelation closes with a New Jerusalem, a new promised land rich in luscious fruit, centered on the Tree of Life – from which we will eat with God and the Lamb for all eternity.

In this private encounter with Peter, Jesus has forgiven Peter’s sin of denying his Lord. The threefold nature of Jesus’s question: “Do you love me” reminds Peter of his painful threefold betrayal. Like Judas, Peter’s faith was shaken. Using the weapon of fear, Satan had gotten his way with Peter. But unlike that of Judas, Peter’s faith is restored to him. Although Peter sinned, he never stopped believing. Although his faith was a dimly burning wick, our Lord did not blow it out, but rather fanned the flame, reigniting Peter’s faith, allowing him to confess and to receive the Gospel anew. Peter is renewed, and Jesus restores his ministry. Once again, Jesus invites Peter to service as a disciple and as an apostle: “Follow me.”

And with this invitation, with this fanning of the flame, comes a cross. For while Peter saved his own hide during our Lord’s passion, there would come a passion of his own, and a cross awaiting Peter later on. This doesn’t only apply to St. Peter. For in our first lesson, the Lord says regarding St. Paul: “I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.”

The life of the Christian – and especially the life of a Christian shepherd – is a life lived out under the burden of the cross. To take up Jesus’s invitation “follow me” is to end up like Jesus at Golgotha, and from there, into a tomb.

But let us never forget that the pain and shame of the cross do not have the final say. Death doesn’t get the last word. For this very lesson was taught to Peter, to all pastors, and to all Christians, from the mouth of the resurrected Christ. Just as a cross awaits all of us in life, and death itself waits for us at the end of our own walk through our own versions of the passion, our own stations of the cross – let us keep in mind that a resurrection lies on the other side. And as St. John testifies in our second lesson, part and parcel of this resurrection is a feast, a feast of victory, in which we join (today, and forever) the thousands of thousands, the myriads of myriads, the church militant on earth, the church triumphant in heaven, angels, archangels, and all the hosts of heaven singing: “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing.”

This is the feast of victory for our God, alleluia, now, and in the age to come, world without end. Amen.

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

Sermon: Easter 2

18 April 2004 at Holy Trinity L.C., Columbia, SC (Vicarage)
Text: John 20:19-31 (RCL)

In the Name of + Jesus. Amen.

Texts such as today’s Gospel provide preachers with what we call today: “information overload.”

Look at what we encounter in these thirteen verses: the bodily resurrection of Jesus, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, the Sacrament of Absolution, the Power of the Keys, the Sacrament of the Lord’s Body and Blood, Holy Ordination and the Office of the Ministry, the nature of faith, and the purpose and power of Holy Scripture. Our text also presents us with several contrasts: life and death, fear and peace, belief and unbelief, forgiveness of sins and the retaining of sins.

My Goodness! Where does one begin? How about at the beginning?

Just before our text opens, Mary Magdalene has just seen and touched the risen Jesus. She has testified before the disciples, but they are skeptical. Their lack of faith results in their fear: expressed in their being huddled up behind closed doors. This is not a very glorious start for the first eleven pastors of the church: cowering in a room with no risen Christ, no gospel, no Holy Spirit, no ordination, and no courage. This is a far cry from St. Peter’s later preaching in our first lesson, who, even as a prisoner of the Jews, defiantly proclaims the gospel, vowing to obey God before men. This is also quite a contrast to what we find in our second lesson: St. John’s fearless confession and proclamation of Christ, even in the latter days of his life, as an exile on a hostile island by order of the Romans. Eleven of the twelve apostles would be martyred by the enemies of Christ. All twelve would become bold and fearless preachers and witnesses of Jesus Christ.

But for now, on this day, at the beginning of our text, they’re a sorry lot. What changes everything for them, leading them from fear to peace, from disbelief to faith, from stunned silence to stunning proclamation, is encountering the risen Lord Jesus Christ, in his Word and in his Flesh. This incredible transformation does not come from within themselves, not from their own courage, not from pulling themselves up by their own bootstraps, nor from their reading of popular self-help books. No, it comes from outside of themselves, from Jesus, who, on this day, shares with the disciples his very Body and Blood. The Lord Jesus appears bodily to them, and blesses them with words from his mouth. And it is his blessing “Peace be with you” that indeed gives peace. When God speaks, things come into being: “Let there be light, and there was light.” When God speaks a blessing, a transformation happens to those who hear it and receive it. We see an immediate and startling change in the disciples. Let there be peace, and there is peace.

But Jesus isn’t here just to say “hello,” show off a few scars, and get caught up on old times. He’s not there merely to give comfort to his frightened friends. He has urgent business at hand: the proclamation of the Gospel to the entire world. This is a mission ordered by his Father, and one which Jesus delegates to his apostles, who are, in turn, to lead the church: “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” This word “to send” is literally “to apostle.” Jesus is here on this day to give the apostles their calls into the Holy Ministry. They are called to be evangelizing bishops. But Jesus doesn’t simply give them their marching orders. Look at what he does, he breathes on them, bodily giving them the Holy Spirit. And with this ordination, the Lord authorizes the apostles to forgive sins – something the Pharisees claimed that only God could do. Of course, they were right – only God can forgive sins, only God himself can die on the cross and atone for our sins, and only God himself can, and does, send sinful, imperfect, but redeemed men to forgive sins in his name. In addition to this happy task, Jesus also gives his ministers the somber duty of withholding forgiveness from those who refuse to repent. Jesus gives his church’s pastors the power of the keys – one key to open heaven, and the other key to close it, one to free, and the other to bind.

For whatever reason, the apostle Thomas was not ordained with his classmates. In fact, when he returns, he is still in a state of disbelief, while the other apostles had been given the gift of faith. Jesus graciously appears to Thomas, not merely speaking to him, but rather letting Thomas touch his body and handle his bloody wounds. This holy and supernatural – but also earthly and physical – contact brings about Thomas’s beautiful confession echoed by thousands of Christians throughout the centuries during the Liturgy of the Eucharist, when the pastor elevates the Body of the Lord and the people repeat after Thomas: “My Lord and my God!”

While John is on the topic of faith-building, he rounds out the discussion by filling us in on the purpose of Scripture. It’s not primarily genealogy, history, science, poetry, ethics, etc. – though one will find all of these things in the Bible. But John gets right to the point: “these things are written that you might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.” In other words, Scripture, just like the Sacraments, actually creates faith. The Scriptures are a supernatural manifestation of Jesus, a means through which he breathes his spirit into all of us and gives us everlasting life, a life that overcomes fear, disbelief, and even the power of death itself.

And this is the crux of the matter: by faith, we have life. Not by our own works, our own righteousness, or by our own power. No, by faith. But faith in what? In ourselves? In money? In worldly power? No, in Jesus. And how does Jesus come to us? In his Holy Word and in his Holy Sacraments. And where to these come from? From the men our Lord authorizes to preach the Word, baptize, absolve, and distribute the Lord’s Supper. And what is given in these gifts? Faith that our sins are forgiven. Faith in Jesus, the Son of God, the crucified savior. Eternal-life-giving faith. Jesus is the giver of the faith, and the object of the faith, who also works through faith. The relationship between faith and Jesus is a “gracious circle”: Jesus gives us faith, and this faith points us to Jesus.

As St. John, one of those first twelve pastors, proclaimed in our second lesson: Jesus is the one who “was, who is, and who is to come.” He is also the “Alpha and the Omega,” that is, the beginning and the end, the first and the last.

When you boil it all down, it’s all about Jesus Christ, God incarnate, the crucified and resurrected one who comes to us in the flesh and in the Word, who gives us faith, and through that faith, eternal life. And when we have the assurance of eternal life, we can afford the luxury of courage, we can be bold to proclaim the Good News. By faith we can touch the Flesh and Blood of our resurrected Lord, knowing that his Body and Blood take away our sins and make us immortal. And in such faith, both in Christ and from Christ, we can pray with the church of every time and place:

Soul of Christ, sanctify me;
Body of Christ, save me;
Blood of Christ, refresh me;
Water from the side of Christ, wash me;
Passion of Christ, strengthen me;
O good Jesus, hear me;
Within Thy wounds hide me;
Suffer me not to be separated from Thee;
From the malicious enemy defend me;
In the hour of death call me,
And bid me come to Thee
That with Thy saints I may praise Thee
For all eternity. Amen.

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