In Nomine Iesu
St. Luke 6:27-38
February 24, 2019
Epiphany 7C
Dear Saints of Our Savior~
Mercy is on the menu today. For today’s Holy Gospel can be easily summarized in a single sentence from the lips of our Lord: Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.
All of the imperatives—all of the commands—spoken by the Savior today are really just different expressions of mercy. Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. To do all that is to render mercy. Judge not; condemn not, forgive all, and give to others. It’s all mercy. If you can muster the strength to show kindness and do good where it is least deserved, then you are on your way to mastering mercy.
The liturgy teaches us our need for mercy. And the liturgy leads us to pray for mercy—as we do in the Kyrie—nearly every Sunday. Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy. But admiring mercy and recognizing our own need for mercy is one thing. Actually showing mercy to another person—that is something altogether different.
In Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice, Portia describes mercy this way: It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest, It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes. She goes on to say of mercy: It is an attribute of God himself And earthly power doth then show likest God’s When mercy seasons justice. But if showing mercy to others is so divine and virtuous, why don’t we do it? Why are we more inclined to live our lives like Shakespeare’s Shylock, always demanding our “pound of flesh” from those who fail us?
Today’s Old Testament reading gives us a great illustration of mercy. What does it mean to be merciful? To be merciful is to be like Joseph. You remember Joseph, don’t you?—how he was hated by his brothers, how he was stripped of his robe, cast into a pit, sold into slavery and, how because he refused to sleep with another man’s wife, ended up in a dank, dark, Egyptian dungeon? Mercy is years later to have these same brothers standing before you—now the most powerful man in all of Egypt—able to do to them anything you want, to take any kind of revenge your heart desires—but then to forgive them, kiss them, shed tears of joy, and embrace them as your long-lost family. That is mercy.
If only Jesus had said, “Be merciful, just as Joseph was merciful.” For then we would have something to shoot for—something to aspire to—a goal on which we could set our sights. But what Jesus said was, “Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.” To be merciful, then, is to be like God. God shows mercy by sending His Son to gather up all His children, only to have them shove away His Son and spit in His face. God shows mercy to the world by sending His Son into the world—by opening His hands to sinners and offering them the treasures of heaven—only to have them pierce those hands with nails, crown His head with thorns, and watch with glee as blood and oxygen drain away into death. That is the mercy of our heavenly Father.
Be merciful, Jesus says, just as your Father is merciful. But you can’t do it. Loving your enemies, doing good to those who hate you, turning the other cheek—none of this is hardwired into the content of your character. What is hardwired into your DNA is a boundless love for yourself. You can’t be merciful to others, ultimately, because you love yourself too much. You think you have to defend your honor. You think you have to protect your future. You think people will take advantage of you if you start showing mercy like some saint. You think . . . well, you think primarily of yourself. And that’s a problem.
Who needs mercy from you? It’s not those who love you and do good to you. It’s your enemies who need your mercy. It’s those who aim to make your life miserable—those who, if given the chance, will drive you to despair and sometimes even to tears. They work overtime to bring out the worst in you. They cause you pain. They cost you sleep. They have taken advantage of you and might just do so again. And to them, Jesus says, be merciful, even as your Father is merciful. Martin Luther, preaching on this same text, said that “the mercy of Christians must . . . be complete and comprehensive, regarding friend and foe alike, just as our Father in heaven does.” And then Luther spoke the Law in its full severity in one short sentence: Where this mercy is absent, faith also is absent.
All we can do is repent. All we can do is confess that we cannot free ourselves from our sinful condition. It’s true that we are far, far from showing mercy as our Father in heaven does. But what is truer still is that your heavenly Father is still merciful to you. On us—who are much more like Joseph’s brothers than Joseph—our gracious God lavishes forgiveness, pardon for sin, and embraces us with tears of joy as His own dear family.
Jesus is our brother indeed—the new and greater Joseph—who for us men and for our salvation was stripped of His robe by the soldiers and was cast into the pit of the tomb. Your sin is no match for His mercy. No matter how hot the flames of your sin may burn, His font of grace contains more than enough mercy to douse the fire.
Luther said it this way: If [God] should give us according to our merit, He could give us nothing but hell fire and eternal condemnation. Therefore, whatever good and honor He gives us, it is out of sheer mercy. He sees that we are stuck in death, and He has mercy upon us and gives us life. He sees that we are children of hell, and He has mercy upon us and gives us heaven (Day by Day, p.258).
Jesus Christ has done it all for you. He is God’s mercy in human flesh. What seems and sounds impossible and absurd to us was actually the beating heart of Jesus’ earthly ministry. It was Jesus who turned the other cheek again and again—who wound up broken and bruised, beaten and bloody. It was Jesus who gave the tunic off His back, to have that back stripped of skin by the soldiers, who died in nakedness and shame. It was Jesus who gave away all He had and all He was—who lived in such a recklessly generous way that He poured out His life unto death. Jesus Christ was merciful to all the enemies of God—including you and me.
All that would condemn us before God has been attached to the bloody wood of Jesus’ cross. Our idolatries and infidelities, our greed and our sad love of self—they are forgiven. Jesus is judged that you might be acquitted. Jesus is condemned so that you might be justified. His mercy droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven, falling into the font, and washing you clean in your baptism. His mercy seasons your life as your lips receive His most precious body and blood. In this meal His perfect mercy is made manifest in you.
If you’ll permit me, I’d like to borrow from “the Bard” one last time—again, Portia’s plea for Shylock to show mercy: Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That in the course of justice none of us Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy, And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy. God grant it also to us, for Jesus’ sake.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Monday, February 25, 2019
Monday, February 18, 2019
Blessed Are You?
In Nomine Iesu
St. Luke 6:17-26
February 17, 2019
Epiphany 6C
Dear Saints of Our Savior~
Healing and hearing are on the menu for today. Jesus heals every disease and casts out every demon He encounters. And He also has words for His disciples—words of blessing and words of woe—words also intended for our hearing and our healing.
Today’s Gospel begins with Jesus coming down from a mountain where He had just appointed His inner circle of Twelve, His apostles. Jesus and the Twelve came down to a flat, level place where a great multitude met them. They came to hear Jesus and be healed; and Jesus did not disappoint. He healed everyone. Every disease—every demon was dealt with. St. Luke summarizes: Power came out from Him and healed them all.
Diseases and demons remind us that the whole creation has been corrupted by sin. The disruption created by sin is much more than just a spiritual problem. From the sicknesses that affect our bodies to the cruel extremes of our climate—the whole creation groans. The curse of sin infects every dimension of our lives until we all eventually land six feet under. The miracles of healing performed by Jesus are more than just attention-grabbing special effects. Those miracles of healing point us ahead to the ultimate healing that awaits all of us on the Day of Resurrection. As St. Paul reminded us this morning: Christ is the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.
The healings Jesus performed that day must have generated great joy; but I suspect that what Jesus preached that day garnered only mixed reviews. His sermon serves as a good reminder that, while Jesus often pleased the crowds, He was no crowd-pleaser. He wouldn’t have enjoyed much success as an after-dinner speaker. I mean, imagine it: Woe to you who are full now. Woe to you who laugh now. Woe to you when all people speak well of you. Provocative? Yes, but not entertaining. There’s nothing entertaining about the Kingdom of God. Satisfying? Yes! Life-giving? Yes! But entertaining? Nope. Jesus doesn’t come to entertain us or make us feel good.
He does come to bless us, right? I mean, we often thank the Lord for His blessings. We pray for His blessings. We sing about the blessing of His love and care for us. But what Jesus preaches today about being “blessed” ought to make us sit up and take notice. It’s a reminder to be careful what you pray for.
Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain employs a simple, two-part structure: Words of blessing followed by words of woe. Jesus’ words of blessing speak to what we don’t have—to what we lack—to our impoverishment—to the empty-handed poverty that puts us in a good position to receive everything as an undeserved gift. Jesus speaks woe to the fullness of our lives: our bursting bank accounts, our belching bellies, the compliments and admiration of those around us. When you’ve got all that going for you, you don’t really need God, do you? From that kind of fullness Jesus wants to rescue us.
Jesus said: Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Notice that this is different from His Sermon on the Mount where He blesses the “poor in spirit.” Today Jesus speaks about the pure poverty of an empty wallet—the blessing of a drained bank account—a total depletion of assets. The corresponding “woe” is to those who are rich—who have everything they want here and now (or just one click away on Amazon). The rich have nothing to look forward to because they’ve got it all now.
Most of the time we’ve got it wrong when we say we are “blessed.” We’ve got it backwards and upside down. We say those people are blessed who are financially comfortable, who can afford nice homes, who have rich food on their tables, who sleep securely at night. And we say “woe” to those who have little to nothing. They really screwed up somehow.
Jesus wants us to see how hard it is to look forward to His “kingdom” when you already live in a castle of your own creating. It’s hard to fall down on your knees and pray, “Lord, have mercy,” when you yourself are a Lord. Treasure in heaven really doesn’t hold that much appeal when you’re up to your eyeballs in earthly treasures. I would dare to say that this is probably one big reason why—in a place like Whitefish Bay—the number of people who regularly attend church is dropping like a rock. Unless you swung by Brueggers Bagels on your way here I doubt that you encountered much traffic at all this morning.
But make sure you’re hearing what Jesus is really saying. It’s not that the poor go to heaven because of their poverty, or that the rich go to hell because of their wealth. Not so! Jesus is telling His disciples, “Don’t count yourself blessed because you are rich; and don’t conclude that you are cursed because you are poor.” No, flip it around for a change. Consider your poverty a blessing in light of the heavenly kingdom you are inheriting through faith in Jesus. And view your wealth as a woe—a potential stumbling block to faith and a dangerous distraction from the life of the world to come.
Jesus also blesses His disciples in their hunger; and He pronounces woe on those who are full now. The hungry beggar is the image of faith before God. Hunger equals need and dependency. And the disciples of Jesus need and depend on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord. Years ago I recall someone telling me about a visit they had made to an elderly relative in the former East Germany, behind the Iron Curtain in the days of Communism. What amazed the American guests was how their elderly German relative did not leave a single speck of food to remain on the plate after the meal. Her plate required no rinsing. Why? Because she had—years earlier—known hunger—real hunger—rib-revealing hunger bordering on starvation. And because of that, no calorie was ever taken for granted.
That kind of hunger is another picture of what it means to have faith. We should live for the next meal. The blessings our Lord serves up for us in the preaching of His Word and in the meal of His most holy body and blood—that’s a banquet of blessings for starving sinners like us. Faith just can’t get enough of God’s gifts. We need every calorie and every crumb of our Lord’s forgiveness. Every gram of grace. When bread from heaven is on the menu, we will be there—at the table, at mealtime, with a healthy appetite in tow.
And then there’s the matter of laughter and tears. Blessed are you who weep, for you shall laugh. . . . [But] Woe to you who laugh now, for you shall weep and mourn. Laughter regularly rings through the halls of this building. They say that laughter is good for you, and it is surely a gift from God. But the laughs of this life are temporary. Laughs are few and far between when we consider the reality of our sin and death. There’s nothing funny about our sinful condition. Jesus wants you to know that the purpose of this life is not to be happy. It is to be faithful. And to be faithful to Christ and His Word is sometimes—often—a recipe for grief and tears and sadness.
Finally, Jesus blesses His disciples in their persecution. Blessed are you when people hate you and when they exclude you and revile you and spurn your name as evil, on account of the Son of Man. Faithful prophets are never as popular as false prophets. False prophets know how to massage the lie to scratch the itching ears. They know what sells. And right now what “sells” in our culture is the supremacy of the self. Take a public stand that deviates from that, and watch your popularity plunge into persecution. And so it goes.
But take heart: There is some good news today. Jesus Himself is all the things He describes as blessed—poor, hungry, mourning, reviled and persecuted. Jesus was rich with the riches of heaven, but for our sake He became poor so that in Him we might become rich with the treasures of heaven. Jesus was filled with the good things of heaven at the right hand of His Father. But Jesus emptied Himself and made Himself nothing. Jesus knew the joys of heaven, but left it all behind to join us in the sorrow and suffering of this sin-filled world. He suffered pain and persecution as our sin-bearing substitute. He wept with us, endured pain with us. He came to seek and save the lost, and yet was rejected by all. Yet for the joy set before Him He endured the cross, scorning its shame. He became a curse on the tree of the cross, rejected by God and man so that we might be accepted by God—and loved by God—in spite of our sins.
Today our Lord reminds us that things are not as they seem. God works in unexpected ways—ways that seem upside down and backward. In heaven things will be right side up again. Until then, we wait, confident and full of hope. We trust the Word preached in Jesus’ name and we are filled and strengthened with His life-giving body and blood. Blessed are you.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
St. Luke 6:17-26
February 17, 2019
Epiphany 6C
Dear Saints of Our Savior~
Healing and hearing are on the menu for today. Jesus heals every disease and casts out every demon He encounters. And He also has words for His disciples—words of blessing and words of woe—words also intended for our hearing and our healing.
Today’s Gospel begins with Jesus coming down from a mountain where He had just appointed His inner circle of Twelve, His apostles. Jesus and the Twelve came down to a flat, level place where a great multitude met them. They came to hear Jesus and be healed; and Jesus did not disappoint. He healed everyone. Every disease—every demon was dealt with. St. Luke summarizes: Power came out from Him and healed them all.
Diseases and demons remind us that the whole creation has been corrupted by sin. The disruption created by sin is much more than just a spiritual problem. From the sicknesses that affect our bodies to the cruel extremes of our climate—the whole creation groans. The curse of sin infects every dimension of our lives until we all eventually land six feet under. The miracles of healing performed by Jesus are more than just attention-grabbing special effects. Those miracles of healing point us ahead to the ultimate healing that awaits all of us on the Day of Resurrection. As St. Paul reminded us this morning: Christ is the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.
The healings Jesus performed that day must have generated great joy; but I suspect that what Jesus preached that day garnered only mixed reviews. His sermon serves as a good reminder that, while Jesus often pleased the crowds, He was no crowd-pleaser. He wouldn’t have enjoyed much success as an after-dinner speaker. I mean, imagine it: Woe to you who are full now. Woe to you who laugh now. Woe to you when all people speak well of you. Provocative? Yes, but not entertaining. There’s nothing entertaining about the Kingdom of God. Satisfying? Yes! Life-giving? Yes! But entertaining? Nope. Jesus doesn’t come to entertain us or make us feel good.
He does come to bless us, right? I mean, we often thank the Lord for His blessings. We pray for His blessings. We sing about the blessing of His love and care for us. But what Jesus preaches today about being “blessed” ought to make us sit up and take notice. It’s a reminder to be careful what you pray for.
Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain employs a simple, two-part structure: Words of blessing followed by words of woe. Jesus’ words of blessing speak to what we don’t have—to what we lack—to our impoverishment—to the empty-handed poverty that puts us in a good position to receive everything as an undeserved gift. Jesus speaks woe to the fullness of our lives: our bursting bank accounts, our belching bellies, the compliments and admiration of those around us. When you’ve got all that going for you, you don’t really need God, do you? From that kind of fullness Jesus wants to rescue us.
Jesus said: Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Notice that this is different from His Sermon on the Mount where He blesses the “poor in spirit.” Today Jesus speaks about the pure poverty of an empty wallet—the blessing of a drained bank account—a total depletion of assets. The corresponding “woe” is to those who are rich—who have everything they want here and now (or just one click away on Amazon). The rich have nothing to look forward to because they’ve got it all now.
Most of the time we’ve got it wrong when we say we are “blessed.” We’ve got it backwards and upside down. We say those people are blessed who are financially comfortable, who can afford nice homes, who have rich food on their tables, who sleep securely at night. And we say “woe” to those who have little to nothing. They really screwed up somehow.
Jesus wants us to see how hard it is to look forward to His “kingdom” when you already live in a castle of your own creating. It’s hard to fall down on your knees and pray, “Lord, have mercy,” when you yourself are a Lord. Treasure in heaven really doesn’t hold that much appeal when you’re up to your eyeballs in earthly treasures. I would dare to say that this is probably one big reason why—in a place like Whitefish Bay—the number of people who regularly attend church is dropping like a rock. Unless you swung by Brueggers Bagels on your way here I doubt that you encountered much traffic at all this morning.
But make sure you’re hearing what Jesus is really saying. It’s not that the poor go to heaven because of their poverty, or that the rich go to hell because of their wealth. Not so! Jesus is telling His disciples, “Don’t count yourself blessed because you are rich; and don’t conclude that you are cursed because you are poor.” No, flip it around for a change. Consider your poverty a blessing in light of the heavenly kingdom you are inheriting through faith in Jesus. And view your wealth as a woe—a potential stumbling block to faith and a dangerous distraction from the life of the world to come.
Jesus also blesses His disciples in their hunger; and He pronounces woe on those who are full now. The hungry beggar is the image of faith before God. Hunger equals need and dependency. And the disciples of Jesus need and depend on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord. Years ago I recall someone telling me about a visit they had made to an elderly relative in the former East Germany, behind the Iron Curtain in the days of Communism. What amazed the American guests was how their elderly German relative did not leave a single speck of food to remain on the plate after the meal. Her plate required no rinsing. Why? Because she had—years earlier—known hunger—real hunger—rib-revealing hunger bordering on starvation. And because of that, no calorie was ever taken for granted.
That kind of hunger is another picture of what it means to have faith. We should live for the next meal. The blessings our Lord serves up for us in the preaching of His Word and in the meal of His most holy body and blood—that’s a banquet of blessings for starving sinners like us. Faith just can’t get enough of God’s gifts. We need every calorie and every crumb of our Lord’s forgiveness. Every gram of grace. When bread from heaven is on the menu, we will be there—at the table, at mealtime, with a healthy appetite in tow.
And then there’s the matter of laughter and tears. Blessed are you who weep, for you shall laugh. . . . [But] Woe to you who laugh now, for you shall weep and mourn. Laughter regularly rings through the halls of this building. They say that laughter is good for you, and it is surely a gift from God. But the laughs of this life are temporary. Laughs are few and far between when we consider the reality of our sin and death. There’s nothing funny about our sinful condition. Jesus wants you to know that the purpose of this life is not to be happy. It is to be faithful. And to be faithful to Christ and His Word is sometimes—often—a recipe for grief and tears and sadness.
Finally, Jesus blesses His disciples in their persecution. Blessed are you when people hate you and when they exclude you and revile you and spurn your name as evil, on account of the Son of Man. Faithful prophets are never as popular as false prophets. False prophets know how to massage the lie to scratch the itching ears. They know what sells. And right now what “sells” in our culture is the supremacy of the self. Take a public stand that deviates from that, and watch your popularity plunge into persecution. And so it goes.
But take heart: There is some good news today. Jesus Himself is all the things He describes as blessed—poor, hungry, mourning, reviled and persecuted. Jesus was rich with the riches of heaven, but for our sake He became poor so that in Him we might become rich with the treasures of heaven. Jesus was filled with the good things of heaven at the right hand of His Father. But Jesus emptied Himself and made Himself nothing. Jesus knew the joys of heaven, but left it all behind to join us in the sorrow and suffering of this sin-filled world. He suffered pain and persecution as our sin-bearing substitute. He wept with us, endured pain with us. He came to seek and save the lost, and yet was rejected by all. Yet for the joy set before Him He endured the cross, scorning its shame. He became a curse on the tree of the cross, rejected by God and man so that we might be accepted by God—and loved by God—in spite of our sins.
Today our Lord reminds us that things are not as they seem. God works in unexpected ways—ways that seem upside down and backward. In heaven things will be right side up again. Until then, we wait, confident and full of hope. We trust the Word preached in Jesus’ name and we are filled and strengthened with His life-giving body and blood. Blessed are you.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Monday, February 11, 2019
At the Word of Jesus
In Nomine Iesu
St. Luke 5:1-11
February 10, 2019
Epiphany 5C
Dear Saints of Our Savior~
It’s probably not the kind of art that you would hang on your living room wall, but the little sketch on the cover of this morning’s bulletin is a real gem. Grab a bulletin and take a look with me. It’s a snapshot of a moment recorded in today’s holy Gospel. It’s the call of Saint Peter; and Peter is at the center of the sketch. That’s Jesus on the left and a fellow fisherman on the right—perhaps Andrew, James or John.
Let’s start with the fisherman on the right. His face is darkened and downcast. He looks slightly stooped over and fatigued.
That’s because they had been out fishing all night, but hadn’t caught a single slimy fish. You can probably identify with that experience in your own vocations. You work like crazy—put in double overtime—drive through a snowy polar vortex to get there—but at the end of the day you’ve got nothing to show for all your hard work.
Now look at Jesus on the left. Jesus has just ordered Peter to get back in his boat, head out to the deep water, and let down the nets for a catch. Look at the Lord’s face: humble, gentle, earnest. The eyes of Jesus seem like a window to His soul; and they’re looking directly at Peter. It’s interesting that Jesus has placed His hands on Peter. St. Luke doesn’t give us that detail. But if you’ve been following along in recent weeks, then you know the type of people Jesus did make a habit of touching—the sick, the fevered, all those in need of healing. Just a few verses earlier Luke wrote, “He laid His hands on every one of them and healed them” (4:40). Perhaps the artist wants us to see Peter’s transition from unbelief to faith as a kind of healing.
Finally, look at Peter in the center. Look at the look He’s giving Jesus. What would you call that look? The stink eye? The skunk eye? Extreme skepticism? The annoyance of someone who hasn’t slept in 24 hours but has nothing to show for it? “You want me to do what?” It’s probably the same look you would give me if I showed up where you work and started telling you how to do your job. Peter is a professional fisherman—a card-carrying member of fisherman’s local #448. Jesus is a rabbi—a teacher—who might have some carpentry skills from earlier in life, but who doesn’t know the first thing about the fine art of fishing on the Sea of Galilee.
“Master, we toiled all night and took nothing!” Peter knew that night time was the right time to catch fish on the Sea of Galilee, and that venturing into the deep water in the middle of the day was a complete waste of time. But Peter also knows this: When Jesus says something, it pays to listen. Peter has listened to Jesus rebuke demons and send them scurrying. Peter has seen his own mother-in-law healed by Jesus—as well as scores of sick people in his own front yard in Capernaum. “Master, we toiled all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets.” Because you say so, I will do what you say.” This is the key to the whole episode. This is the faith point—the point of the miracle that follows: Trust the Word of Jesus.
Will we? Will we trust Jesus, and take Him at His Word, even when He asks the illogical thing—the unreasonable thing—the thing that makes no sense based upon our own personal experience and intelligence?
Jesus works this kind of trust-building in us all the time. Will you do what Peter did? Will you take Jesus at His Word? Do you believe that God is for you, even when it feels like He’s working against you? Do you believe that you are valuable and precious even though you feel depressed and worthless? Will you speak a word of forgiveness to that person who has hurt you, even though every cell in your body screams out for revenge and retribution? Will you treat your spouse and marriage as something holy and sacred—as a union created by God—or will you dishonor and despise that gift by your words and actions? Will you believe Jesus? Will you trust Him? Will you do what He says? Will you follow His Word even when it feels like a huge waste of time—or worse?
That’s what Peter did. Peter let down the nets in deep water, in broad daylight—and the result was a net-busting, boat-sinking load of fish! In fact, it took two boats to haul in the schools of fish that apparently swam to their ultimate demise at the command of Jesus.
But for Peter, the thrill and the euphoria of the ultimate catch quickly gave way to fear and guilt. Peter falls down at Jesus’ feet and declares, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” And this, too, is the voice of faith. Faith recognizes when we stand in the presence of the holy God. Faith recognizes that in Jesus the holy God has become one of us and stands in our midst—that He is the Lord of creation whom the wind and the waves (and even the fish) obey.
Faith leads us to know and confess our sinfulness. Can you, together with Peter, confess that you are a sinful man or woman? That your problem isn’t just a curse word here and a little bickering there and an occasional moment of lust or greed or whatever? Can you ‘fess up that you are by nature—down to your core—sinful and unclean?
Peter sounds a lot like Isaiah did when he came face to face with the Lord in today’s OT reading. Isaiah knew what it meant for someone like Him to be standing before the holy God: Woe is me! For I am lost. I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips. But Isaiah quickly learns that the God who is “Holy, Holy, Holy” is also gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love. A burning coal from the altar is applied to Isaiah’s lips and Isaiah is purified: Your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for.
This is how sinners can stand in the presence of the Holy, Almighty God and live: Your guilt must be taken away. You sin must be atoned for. Your debt must be paid for you. That Jesus standing on the lakeshore—that humble, gentle man with His hand on Simon Peter’s shoulder—He’s the one. He’s the atoning sacrifice. He’s the guilt-bearer. He’s the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, and washes you white as snow in His bright red blood.
Like Peter—like Isaiah—we are people of unclean lips and lives—sinful down to our DNA, sinful from when we were conceived. And when it comes to that sin, all we can do is follow the lead of Isaiah and Peter: admit it, own it, confess it. Don’t pretend it ain’t so. Don’t say, “Well, I’m not so bad.” You know it’s not right with you—whether on your lips or in your life. And no matter how hard you try, you can’t make it right.
What happened to Isaiah in the temple happens to you here today. Isaiah’s sinful life and lips were purified by a burning coal taken from the altar. And from this altar the Lord Jesus purifies your lips and life with His body given into death to save you, and with His blood, shed for you as the atoning sacrifice for your sins. Through the lips of His called and ordained servant, He puts the forgiving words of absolution into your ears and heart: Do not be afraid. Your guilt is taken away. Your sin is atoned for. I forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Peter and his fishing buddies received a whole new vocation that day: “Don’t be afraid,” Jesus said, “from now on you will be catching men.” They used to catch fish in nets, but now they will catch men and women in the nets of Jesus’ death and resurrection. In fact, if I could persuade you to take just one more look at the sketch on the bulletin cover, notice that there are no fish to be found in the sketch. But look at the net. Are Peter and his crew-mate merely holding onto the net? Or is the net rising up to catch them? Are they about to be caught by Jesus? Either way, Jesus was at work to snag Himself some new disciples, creating faith in the hearts of crusty, skeptical, stink-eyed fishermen.
We too have been caught in the net of Jesus—baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. But unlike the thousands of fish who lost their lives that day in the Sea of Galilee, to be caught like us in the net of Jesus—is actually to live forever in Him. To live is Christ; to die is gain. Whoever loses his live for Jesus’s sake will certainly find it. In your baptism you were caught—you died a watery death to sin. And then you were dragged out of the depths of that sin and right into the boat of Jesus—this boat we call the church. You’ve been caught by Jesus. And that’s the best of news on this 5th Sunday after the Epiphany in the year of our Lord 2019.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
St. Luke 5:1-11
February 10, 2019
Epiphany 5C
Dear Saints of Our Savior~
It’s probably not the kind of art that you would hang on your living room wall, but the little sketch on the cover of this morning’s bulletin is a real gem. Grab a bulletin and take a look with me. It’s a snapshot of a moment recorded in today’s holy Gospel. It’s the call of Saint Peter; and Peter is at the center of the sketch. That’s Jesus on the left and a fellow fisherman on the right—perhaps Andrew, James or John.
Let’s start with the fisherman on the right. His face is darkened and downcast. He looks slightly stooped over and fatigued.
Now look at Jesus on the left. Jesus has just ordered Peter to get back in his boat, head out to the deep water, and let down the nets for a catch. Look at the Lord’s face: humble, gentle, earnest. The eyes of Jesus seem like a window to His soul; and they’re looking directly at Peter. It’s interesting that Jesus has placed His hands on Peter. St. Luke doesn’t give us that detail. But if you’ve been following along in recent weeks, then you know the type of people Jesus did make a habit of touching—the sick, the fevered, all those in need of healing. Just a few verses earlier Luke wrote, “He laid His hands on every one of them and healed them” (4:40). Perhaps the artist wants us to see Peter’s transition from unbelief to faith as a kind of healing.
Finally, look at Peter in the center. Look at the look He’s giving Jesus. What would you call that look? The stink eye? The skunk eye? Extreme skepticism? The annoyance of someone who hasn’t slept in 24 hours but has nothing to show for it? “You want me to do what?” It’s probably the same look you would give me if I showed up where you work and started telling you how to do your job. Peter is a professional fisherman—a card-carrying member of fisherman’s local #448. Jesus is a rabbi—a teacher—who might have some carpentry skills from earlier in life, but who doesn’t know the first thing about the fine art of fishing on the Sea of Galilee.
“Master, we toiled all night and took nothing!” Peter knew that night time was the right time to catch fish on the Sea of Galilee, and that venturing into the deep water in the middle of the day was a complete waste of time. But Peter also knows this: When Jesus says something, it pays to listen. Peter has listened to Jesus rebuke demons and send them scurrying. Peter has seen his own mother-in-law healed by Jesus—as well as scores of sick people in his own front yard in Capernaum. “Master, we toiled all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets.” Because you say so, I will do what you say.” This is the key to the whole episode. This is the faith point—the point of the miracle that follows: Trust the Word of Jesus.
Will we? Will we trust Jesus, and take Him at His Word, even when He asks the illogical thing—the unreasonable thing—the thing that makes no sense based upon our own personal experience and intelligence?
Jesus works this kind of trust-building in us all the time. Will you do what Peter did? Will you take Jesus at His Word? Do you believe that God is for you, even when it feels like He’s working against you? Do you believe that you are valuable and precious even though you feel depressed and worthless? Will you speak a word of forgiveness to that person who has hurt you, even though every cell in your body screams out for revenge and retribution? Will you treat your spouse and marriage as something holy and sacred—as a union created by God—or will you dishonor and despise that gift by your words and actions? Will you believe Jesus? Will you trust Him? Will you do what He says? Will you follow His Word even when it feels like a huge waste of time—or worse?
That’s what Peter did. Peter let down the nets in deep water, in broad daylight—and the result was a net-busting, boat-sinking load of fish! In fact, it took two boats to haul in the schools of fish that apparently swam to their ultimate demise at the command of Jesus.
But for Peter, the thrill and the euphoria of the ultimate catch quickly gave way to fear and guilt. Peter falls down at Jesus’ feet and declares, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” And this, too, is the voice of faith. Faith recognizes when we stand in the presence of the holy God. Faith recognizes that in Jesus the holy God has become one of us and stands in our midst—that He is the Lord of creation whom the wind and the waves (and even the fish) obey.
Faith leads us to know and confess our sinfulness. Can you, together with Peter, confess that you are a sinful man or woman? That your problem isn’t just a curse word here and a little bickering there and an occasional moment of lust or greed or whatever? Can you ‘fess up that you are by nature—down to your core—sinful and unclean?
Peter sounds a lot like Isaiah did when he came face to face with the Lord in today’s OT reading. Isaiah knew what it meant for someone like Him to be standing before the holy God: Woe is me! For I am lost. I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips. But Isaiah quickly learns that the God who is “Holy, Holy, Holy” is also gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love. A burning coal from the altar is applied to Isaiah’s lips and Isaiah is purified: Your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for.
This is how sinners can stand in the presence of the Holy, Almighty God and live: Your guilt must be taken away. You sin must be atoned for. Your debt must be paid for you. That Jesus standing on the lakeshore—that humble, gentle man with His hand on Simon Peter’s shoulder—He’s the one. He’s the atoning sacrifice. He’s the guilt-bearer. He’s the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, and washes you white as snow in His bright red blood.
Like Peter—like Isaiah—we are people of unclean lips and lives—sinful down to our DNA, sinful from when we were conceived. And when it comes to that sin, all we can do is follow the lead of Isaiah and Peter: admit it, own it, confess it. Don’t pretend it ain’t so. Don’t say, “Well, I’m not so bad.” You know it’s not right with you—whether on your lips or in your life. And no matter how hard you try, you can’t make it right.
What happened to Isaiah in the temple happens to you here today. Isaiah’s sinful life and lips were purified by a burning coal taken from the altar. And from this altar the Lord Jesus purifies your lips and life with His body given into death to save you, and with His blood, shed for you as the atoning sacrifice for your sins. Through the lips of His called and ordained servant, He puts the forgiving words of absolution into your ears and heart: Do not be afraid. Your guilt is taken away. Your sin is atoned for. I forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Peter and his fishing buddies received a whole new vocation that day: “Don’t be afraid,” Jesus said, “from now on you will be catching men.” They used to catch fish in nets, but now they will catch men and women in the nets of Jesus’ death and resurrection. In fact, if I could persuade you to take just one more look at the sketch on the bulletin cover, notice that there are no fish to be found in the sketch. But look at the net. Are Peter and his crew-mate merely holding onto the net? Or is the net rising up to catch them? Are they about to be caught by Jesus? Either way, Jesus was at work to snag Himself some new disciples, creating faith in the hearts of crusty, skeptical, stink-eyed fishermen.
We too have been caught in the net of Jesus—baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. But unlike the thousands of fish who lost their lives that day in the Sea of Galilee, to be caught like us in the net of Jesus—is actually to live forever in Him. To live is Christ; to die is gain. Whoever loses his live for Jesus’s sake will certainly find it. In your baptism you were caught—you died a watery death to sin. And then you were dragged out of the depths of that sin and right into the boat of Jesus—this boat we call the church. You’ve been caught by Jesus. And that’s the best of news on this 5th Sunday after the Epiphany in the year of our Lord 2019.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Monday, February 4, 2019
Love, Corinthian Style
In Nomine Iesu
1 Cor. 12-13
February 3, 2019
Epiphany 4C
Dear Saints of Our Savior~
We’ve been hearing bits and pieces from 1 Corinthians over the past few Sundays. And 1 Corinthians is always a good place for any congregation to spend time. Last week’s reading from 1 Corinthians included this rather remarkable statement: “Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.” And please notice that St. Paul does not say that you symbolize the body of Christ, or that you represent the body of Christ, or even that you correspond to the body of Christ. No, Paul’s words are unambiguous: You are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.
Paul used a lot of ink explaining to the Corinthians how each part of the body of Christ is a vital part. Paul compared individual Christians with individual body parts: Feet and hands, eyes and ears, God has arranged all these many parts into one body. Each part serves a purpose. Each part is valuable. Each part is connected to all the other parts.
It’s kind of a fun exercise to speculate about which part you are. Which part are you? The beating heart of the congregation? A bicep or quadricep, providing power and muscle for all the heavy lifting? Are you the “brains” of the operation, always making thoughtful
contribution to our work together? Or do you see yourself in more of a smaller part—more like a wisdom tooth, a tonsil or a toenail?
One thing’s for sure: we are all very different. As you look around at the members of the body of Christ gathered here this morning, it doesn’t take long to notice the differences. We’ve got introverts and extroverts, republicans and democrats, young and old. There are great differences in education and income and interests. We’re as different from one another as tonsils are different from toenails—each with different roles and responsibilities and gifts for our life together as the body of Christ. The miracle is how the Holy Spirit takes this diverse rag-tag mishmash of quirky people, and incorporates it into the body of Christ—into the one, holy, Christian and apostolic church.
The congregation at Corinth was even more diverse than we are. They had rich members and poor members, slaves and free, Jews and Gentile converts. Many of them had received special gifts from the Holy Spirit—gifts for teaching, for working miracles, for healing, for administration, for speaking in tongues. Few congregations have ever been on the receiving end of such a rich variety of spiritual gifts.
But wherever God richly blesses His church, the devil puts in overtime. Or as Martin Luther once put it, “Where God builds a church, the devil builds a chapel.” The rich diversity of spiritual gifts among the Corinthians—which should have been a source of blessing and thanksgiving—became a cause of division between them. It’s so predictable! There really is nothing new under the sun.
The body became divided. Some members developed an inferiority complex; while others developed a superiority complex. “Well, I can’t work any miracles and I can’t speak in tongues. So I guess that means I’m just a callous on the foot of the body of Christ. I don’t matter.” Meanwhile, the members with the more spectacular gifts concluded that they were more important than everyone else—that they were both the brains and the brawn of the body of Christ and that everybody else should just step aside and get out the way and watch the magic happen. This is why Paul wrote, “You—all of you—are the body of Christ and individually members of it.”
This is also why the Holy Spirit led Paul to devote an entire section of His letter to the topic of love. For love is the lifeblood of the body of Christ. Love is the lifeblood of this and every Christian congregation. If we don’t have love among all the parts of the body of Christ, then, Paul says, we are nothing. We may possess powers of prophecy, we may possess faith that moves mountains, we may possess knowledge and understanding and insight—we may know our catechisms forward and backward—but if we don’t have this love for one another, then nothing else matters. Love makes the body of Christ function smoothly and efficiently.
This love, of course, is agape. Agape is unlike every modern notion of what love is. Agape love has nothing to do with my feelings or my emotions. This love isn’t just a sentimental feeling. No, this love is a sacrificial love—a self-giving love. It’s a love that takes action in the form of words and deeds.
And this love is absolutely necessary between ALL the members of the body of Christ. It’s a love that says, “You matter more than me. What can I do for you? How can I help you?” It’s a love that gets shared between all the members of the body—not just the members you know and like, not just the members who are similar to you, but also those who are different, those you don’t know, those who can sometimes be cantankerous. We should love the toenails and the tonsils as much as we love the brains and the brawn. Or, if I could put it another way, every person in this body of Christ should matter to you. When they are hurting, it should be as if your own body is injured. When they are honored, your own heart should swell with pride.
Now, it’s right here that I, as a preacher, must recognize the limits of my power. I can’t create this kind of love at Our Savior. I can’t force you to be patient and kind, not to envy or to boast or to insist on your own way. I can’t even create this kind of love in my own life, so I certainly can’t create it among all of you. Nor can I expect you—even with all your good intentions—to extend this kind of amazing love to all the other members of the body of Christ. I can’t inspire you or teach you to love like this.
Love like this—agape love—can only be given to you. The ability to love like Jesus . . . can only come . . . from Jesus. And from Jesus it does come—to you and you and you. “For in one Spirit we were all baptized into [this] one body.” Whether you are a nose or an ear or a finger in the body of Christ—you are a vital part of the body because you are baptized. You are washed. You are cleansed. You are chosen by God. You become a vessel of this agape love on a daily basis, when the Holy Spirit who lives in you drowns the Old Adam so that the “Jesus” in you can arise to love God and to love your neighbor.
Today’s epistle reading is sometimes referred to as the great “love chapter” of the Bible. Here Paul lays out the kind of serving, sacrificial love that God gives between us as members of Christ’s body. But today’s epistle also shows us the love of Jesus—the kind of love that Jesus Christ has for you personally. In other words, it’s not merely about the love we should have, but the love that Jesus already has for us. St. John wrote: “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down His life for us.” God so loved you and me that He sent His one and only Son to die for all the loveless thoughts, words, and deeds of sinners like you and me. It’s there on the cross that we see love in action. There on the cross we see self-giving love—sacrificial love. In Jesus we have a love that keeps no record of sins. Jesus is love in human flesh. And this love is for you, no matter which part you are in the body of Christ.
Today once again the body of Christ gathers to be nourished. And Jesus has nothing but the best for you: His own body and blood for the forgiveness of sins. Do you feel like your faith is weak? Do you feel like your hope is fading? Does it seem like your love has grown cold? Then come to the Supper of Jesus’ body and blood where faith is strengthened, where hope is renewed and where love is given in abundance. Now we see in a mirror dimly; we struggle to make sense of it all. But the day is coming when we won’t need faith any longer. And we won’t need hope any longer. For we will be face to face with Jesus, embraced in His love which never ends.
You are the body of Christ. It matters not what part you are—kneecap or knuckle, ankle or eyebrow—you have a place and you have a purpose in the body of Christ. Don’t feel inferior. Don’t feel superior. For no one is more loved by the Lord than you are. You are the body of Christ.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
1 Cor. 12-13
February 3, 2019
Epiphany 4C
Dear Saints of Our Savior~
We’ve been hearing bits and pieces from 1 Corinthians over the past few Sundays. And 1 Corinthians is always a good place for any congregation to spend time. Last week’s reading from 1 Corinthians included this rather remarkable statement: “Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.” And please notice that St. Paul does not say that you symbolize the body of Christ, or that you represent the body of Christ, or even that you correspond to the body of Christ. No, Paul’s words are unambiguous: You are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.
Paul used a lot of ink explaining to the Corinthians how each part of the body of Christ is a vital part. Paul compared individual Christians with individual body parts: Feet and hands, eyes and ears, God has arranged all these many parts into one body. Each part serves a purpose. Each part is valuable. Each part is connected to all the other parts.
It’s kind of a fun exercise to speculate about which part you are. Which part are you? The beating heart of the congregation? A bicep or quadricep, providing power and muscle for all the heavy lifting? Are you the “brains” of the operation, always making thoughtful
One thing’s for sure: we are all very different. As you look around at the members of the body of Christ gathered here this morning, it doesn’t take long to notice the differences. We’ve got introverts and extroverts, republicans and democrats, young and old. There are great differences in education and income and interests. We’re as different from one another as tonsils are different from toenails—each with different roles and responsibilities and gifts for our life together as the body of Christ. The miracle is how the Holy Spirit takes this diverse rag-tag mishmash of quirky people, and incorporates it into the body of Christ—into the one, holy, Christian and apostolic church.
The congregation at Corinth was even more diverse than we are. They had rich members and poor members, slaves and free, Jews and Gentile converts. Many of them had received special gifts from the Holy Spirit—gifts for teaching, for working miracles, for healing, for administration, for speaking in tongues. Few congregations have ever been on the receiving end of such a rich variety of spiritual gifts.
But wherever God richly blesses His church, the devil puts in overtime. Or as Martin Luther once put it, “Where God builds a church, the devil builds a chapel.” The rich diversity of spiritual gifts among the Corinthians—which should have been a source of blessing and thanksgiving—became a cause of division between them. It’s so predictable! There really is nothing new under the sun.
The body became divided. Some members developed an inferiority complex; while others developed a superiority complex. “Well, I can’t work any miracles and I can’t speak in tongues. So I guess that means I’m just a callous on the foot of the body of Christ. I don’t matter.” Meanwhile, the members with the more spectacular gifts concluded that they were more important than everyone else—that they were both the brains and the brawn of the body of Christ and that everybody else should just step aside and get out the way and watch the magic happen. This is why Paul wrote, “You—all of you—are the body of Christ and individually members of it.”
This is also why the Holy Spirit led Paul to devote an entire section of His letter to the topic of love. For love is the lifeblood of the body of Christ. Love is the lifeblood of this and every Christian congregation. If we don’t have love among all the parts of the body of Christ, then, Paul says, we are nothing. We may possess powers of prophecy, we may possess faith that moves mountains, we may possess knowledge and understanding and insight—we may know our catechisms forward and backward—but if we don’t have this love for one another, then nothing else matters. Love makes the body of Christ function smoothly and efficiently.
This love, of course, is agape. Agape is unlike every modern notion of what love is. Agape love has nothing to do with my feelings or my emotions. This love isn’t just a sentimental feeling. No, this love is a sacrificial love—a self-giving love. It’s a love that takes action in the form of words and deeds.
And this love is absolutely necessary between ALL the members of the body of Christ. It’s a love that says, “You matter more than me. What can I do for you? How can I help you?” It’s a love that gets shared between all the members of the body—not just the members you know and like, not just the members who are similar to you, but also those who are different, those you don’t know, those who can sometimes be cantankerous. We should love the toenails and the tonsils as much as we love the brains and the brawn. Or, if I could put it another way, every person in this body of Christ should matter to you. When they are hurting, it should be as if your own body is injured. When they are honored, your own heart should swell with pride.
Now, it’s right here that I, as a preacher, must recognize the limits of my power. I can’t create this kind of love at Our Savior. I can’t force you to be patient and kind, not to envy or to boast or to insist on your own way. I can’t even create this kind of love in my own life, so I certainly can’t create it among all of you. Nor can I expect you—even with all your good intentions—to extend this kind of amazing love to all the other members of the body of Christ. I can’t inspire you or teach you to love like this.
Love like this—agape love—can only be given to you. The ability to love like Jesus . . . can only come . . . from Jesus. And from Jesus it does come—to you and you and you. “For in one Spirit we were all baptized into [this] one body.” Whether you are a nose or an ear or a finger in the body of Christ—you are a vital part of the body because you are baptized. You are washed. You are cleansed. You are chosen by God. You become a vessel of this agape love on a daily basis, when the Holy Spirit who lives in you drowns the Old Adam so that the “Jesus” in you can arise to love God and to love your neighbor.
Today’s epistle reading is sometimes referred to as the great “love chapter” of the Bible. Here Paul lays out the kind of serving, sacrificial love that God gives between us as members of Christ’s body. But today’s epistle also shows us the love of Jesus—the kind of love that Jesus Christ has for you personally. In other words, it’s not merely about the love we should have, but the love that Jesus already has for us. St. John wrote: “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down His life for us.” God so loved you and me that He sent His one and only Son to die for all the loveless thoughts, words, and deeds of sinners like you and me. It’s there on the cross that we see love in action. There on the cross we see self-giving love—sacrificial love. In Jesus we have a love that keeps no record of sins. Jesus is love in human flesh. And this love is for you, no matter which part you are in the body of Christ.
Today once again the body of Christ gathers to be nourished. And Jesus has nothing but the best for you: His own body and blood for the forgiveness of sins. Do you feel like your faith is weak? Do you feel like your hope is fading? Does it seem like your love has grown cold? Then come to the Supper of Jesus’ body and blood where faith is strengthened, where hope is renewed and where love is given in abundance. Now we see in a mirror dimly; we struggle to make sense of it all. But the day is coming when we won’t need faith any longer. And we won’t need hope any longer. For we will be face to face with Jesus, embraced in His love which never ends.
You are the body of Christ. It matters not what part you are—kneecap or knuckle, ankle or eyebrow—you have a place and you have a purpose in the body of Christ. Don’t feel inferior. Don’t feel superior. For no one is more loved by the Lord than you are. You are the body of Christ.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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