Pruned and Fruitful Branches

Jesu Juva

St. John 15:1-8                                                  

April 28, 2024

Easter 5B                        

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        Jesus is the vine.  You are the branches.  The Father is the vinedresser (or gardener).  That’s today’s image of your union with Jesus through faith.  Joined to Jesus in faith you are alive and fruitful, as living branches joined to a living vine.  Apart from Jesus you are dead.  Apart from Jesus you are fruitless.  Apart from Jesus you can do nothing.

        With that in mind, let me take you to my backyard, where last August I planted two Hydrangeas—Annabelle Hydrangeas—the kind that produce big, white, round blossoms.  This was a big investment—of both money and sweat.  It was a lot of work for an old guy like me to plant these in just the right place, at just the right depth, in just the right organic matter—not to mention all the watering, because everyone knows Hydrangeas love water.

        But last October I had to do something to those shrubs that went against my every instinct.  On the advice and recommendation of all my master gardener friends, I had to prune those Hydrangeas down to two inches.  I had worked so hard to keep them alive and help them to grow and flourish, it seemed counter-intuitive to cut them down to practically nothing.  I didn’t want to do it; but I did. 

        I should have read the words of Jesus in John 15 first.  Jesus tells us that dead branches get pruned by the Father—and even branches that are fruitful He snips, nips, and trims back in order that they might produce even more fruit.  The importance of pruning is especially true when it comes to grape vines and fruit trees.  Dead wood needs to be cut off.  Living wood needs to be pruned back in order to produce wood that’s even more fruitful.

        What does this all mean for you—for your life as a branch of Jesus?  It means that your heavenly Father is pruning you—not with fancy pruning shears—but with something much sharper.  God prunes you with His Law.  With the Law, He prunes away at the Old Adam, our sinful nature. 

        We all wonder sometimes just what God is up to.  Why does He allow hardship and misfortune and persecution to happen to believers?  Why do bad things happen to faithful people?  Today’s answer:  He’s pruning away the dead branches and trimming the living branches so that we produce even more fruit—so that He can accomplish even more good in this world through you.

        We don’t have many vineyards in Wisconsin, and the Napa Valley photos you normally see are of lush, green vines, loaded with big bunches of grapes.  What you don’t often see is what the vineyards look like after the harvest.  The grapevines are pruned back severely, leaving just a few branches coming off of an old, gnarled trunk.  To Midwestern eyes those pruned vines look like they’ll never sprout leaves again, much less fruit.  There are barely any branches.  But when spring growth gives way to summer fruit, the results are undeniable—much fruit, abundant fruit.

        It’s the same with fruit trees.  They may be pretty when they’re blossoming or loaded with fruit.  But if you take a close look at a commercial fruit tree, it’s not a pretty sight.  That’s because these trees are not pruned for appearance, but for fruit.  The main branches are usually topped-off to limit the height of the tree for the sake of the pickers.  Side branches and shoots are trimmed off to keep the branches from breaking under the weight of the fruit.  Some branches are actually tied with support lines to keep them from sagging.  It’s not the kind of thing you want growing in your front yard; but it’s exactly what you want if what you want is lots of fruit.

        If we’re honest, the life of a Christian—your life in particular—may not be a very pretty sight.  In our struggle against sin we have our good days and our bad days.  We have more than our fair share of failures and struggles and hardships.  It’s not victory after victory and success after success.  Often life is messy; sometimes downright ugly.  But know this:  Fruit trees and grape vines are not pruned to be pretty, but to be fruitful.  Your heavenly Father does not prune His children so that the world can admire how religious you are and aim to be just like you; He prunes for fruit.  He cuts away the deadwood that has succumbed to sin; and He prunes the living branches to make them even more fruitful.  He doesn’t prune your life to be pretty, to be successful, or to be powerful.  He prunes your life to be fruitful—filled with the fruit of good works.

        The Old Adam, our sinful nature, would prefer to grow wild, like an unpruned vine or an untrimmed tree.  “Keep those pruning shears away from me, thank you very much; I prefer to be wild and do my own thing.”  I’m sure you’ve seen what happens when a tree or vine goes untended and is allowed to grow all over the place.  Sure, there’s lots of green on the outside, but there’s lots of dead wood on the inside, and very little fruit.  That’s how Jesus described the super-duper religious types of His day—He called them whitewashes tombs.  They were pure and holy on the outside, but dead on the inside.  But you, dear believer, you are exactly the opposite—dying on the outside, but alive to God on the inside.

        The word of the day is “abide.”  Abide in me and I in you.  As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me.  What happens when a branch is severed?  It dies.  Not right away, perhaps, but it slowly dries up and certainly bears no fruit.  What happens to a believer when he or she is cut off from the Word, or from the Body and Blood of Jesus?  Same thing.  Faith doesn’t necessarily die right away.  It kind of dries up and shrivels.

        We take our life in Christ (our abiding in Him) far too much for granted.  Whether it’s our lackadaisical attitudes about church, or the casual way we listen the Word, or the complaints we silently mutter during the Divine Service.  We seem to take the attitude that we’re just fine on our own; and all we need is a little booster shot of Jesus now and then to keep us going.  And that, right there, is the devil’s trick.  Convince the branch that it can do without the Vine—or that all the branch needs is to be reasonably close to the Vine.  But “reasonably close” doesn’t cut it.  A severed, dying branch placed right next to a living tree is still severed and dying.  You must be connected to the living Christ!

        That’s why Jesus invites us to “abide.”  To abide is to dwell, to reside, to have your home someplace and somewhere.  To abide in Christ is to live in Him through faith.  Christ is your life and there is no life apart from Him.  To “abide” is not something that happens once a week for 75 minutes.  That’s not abiding.  It’s not a “Gee, I’d really like to go to church but we were out late last night and I’ve got tickets to the ball game, and the kids have soccer games and parties to attend and my allergies are acting up this morning so I’ll be skipping church today” kind of thing.  That’s not abiding.  Abiding isn’t dipping your toe in the water; it’s diving into the deep end head first.  The reason Christians in general, and we in particular, aren’t living more fruitful lives is that we cut ourselves off from Jesus—the living Vine.  Don’t blame Jesus for the lack of faith and love in your life.  Blame yourself.  Blame your Old Adam.  Blame sin at work in you.

        And don’t gripe and complain when He applies His pruning shears to your life and cuts away some of the idols that prevent you from abiding in Jesus.  Don’t say, “Why is this happening to me?  What did I do to deserve this?”  But look at it this way:  Every loss in our life is just another dead branch being pruned away, another idol being kicked over, another distraction being eliminated, until there’s nothing left but Jesus—and Jesus is everything.  We want to be happy; but God wants us to be fruitful.  We want to be comfortable; but God wants us to be comforted.  We want to be pruned for pretty; God prunes for fruit—for good works which no one on earth may notice, but which cause angels to rejoice in heaven.

        In Galatians this fruit is named and listed:  love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.  You can’t produce that fruit on your own.  It’s the fruit of the Spirit.  It’s the Holy Spirit who flows from the Vine to the branches to make them fruitful. 

        You can summarize that long list of fruit with one little word:  Love.  Love is the fruit of faith.  This isn’t love “the feeling,” but love “the action,” love that lays down its life, love that gives with no regard for receiving, love as in God sending His Son into the world to be the atoning sacrifice for our sin.  God is love.  This is love, not that we have loved God but that He loved us and sent His son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sin.  Jesus is our true Vine, and He withholds nothing from His branches.  He gives us everything:  faith, forgiveness of all sin, life that lasts forever. 

        God is love; we are not.  In order for us to love, we must be joined to God in Christ.  And being joined to Jesus, we in turn love one another as God in Christ has loved us.  And this love only happens when you abide in Jesus and Jesus abides in you.  It’s kind of a mystery really.  Just like you can’t see the sap that runs from the vine to the branches.  All you can only see the fruit.  In the same way, you can’t see Christ or faith.  You can only see the fruit of faith.  The Father is glorified that you bear much fruit.  Jesus is the Vine.  You are the branches.  Abide in Him, as He abides in you.  This is the Christian life:  It’s not pruned to be pretty; it’s pruned to be fruitful.

        Oh, and by the way, my pruned Hydrangeas are going great guns.  There’s green growth all over the place.  I’m starting to believe that the pruning advice I received was good advice—Biblical advice.  And on a warm summer day I hope you’ll be able to look out one of these windows, and see those big, beautiful white flowers gracing the garden in my backyard.

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

 

At Home with Jesus

Jesu Juva

John 14                                                              

April 26, 2024

Jerry Schiesel Funeral          

Dear family and friends,

Dear saints of our Savior,

        Let not your hearts be troubled.  So says Jesus:  In my Father’s house are many rooms. . . . I go to prepare a place for you.

        The Bible begins with perfection.  But within a few chapters, perfection gives way to eviction.  Our first parents had the perfect place to call home.  God created a garden for them, filled with the finest flowers, fruits and vegetables—teeming with birds and wildlife of all kinds.  Adam and Eve had work to do in the garden, but this work was pure pleasure because there were no weeds, no thorns or thistles.  (Jerry would have loved it.)  They shared space in that Garden with God Himself.  It was the perfect place to call home.

        But our first parents blew it.  They got themselves evicted from the perfect home.  The Lord kicked them out.  They rebelled against God—tried to be gods in the place of God.  And with that eviction began a steep, downward descent—a fall from grace for the whole human race, including you and me.  St. Paul gives this sad summary:  Sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned (Rom. 6:12).  And this is why we find ourselves here—at funerals like this one, confronted and confounded with the sad and terrible truth:  The wages of sin is death.   

        And ever since Eden, all of humankind has been on the hunt for a place to call home.  And yet every home we can find is temporary.  On planet Earth we lack a permanent place.  We are perpetual pilgrims, exiles from Eden, always on the move.  Every moving box and moving truck is a sad reminder of what we’ve lost—of the perfect home that once was ours.  There’s no place like home.

        You would be hard-pressed to do better than Jerry.  He managed to maintain the same address for nearly six decades.  He was a fixture who could be found at 517 W. Bender.  He was a pillar of the community—a member of the Glendale fire department, doing risky and dangerous work to rescue his neighbors when flames and smoke threatened.  He was the beating heart of this congregation for nearly his entire life, serving and working and contributing to our life together in countless ways.  And he was a rock for his family—a perfect match for Karen—a godly husband, father, uncle, grandfather and great-grandfather.  A fixture.  A pillar.  A rock. A beating heart.

        But even Jerry had no permanent home in this world.  He was a pilgrim just like the rest of us—an outcast from Eden.  And he knew it.  Like every son and daughter of Adam, Jerry was a poor, evicted sinner.  And every week, right here, he confessed the worst about himself—that he was a sinner whose thoughts and words and deeds often did not align with God’s plans and purposes.  By nature, we all stand before God—empty-handed, poor in spirit, with nothing to plead before God but one simple petition:  God, be merciful to me, a sinner.

        But even better, Jerry knew where forgiveness could be found.  Jerry had a Savior who loved him and gave Himself for him.  Jesus is the eternal Son of God.  Jesus had a permanent, perpetual place in heaven, a glorious throne, together with the Father and the Spirit.  But Jesus left it all behind.  He became a Paschal Pilgrim, a man on the move.  Jesus left behind the kingdom, and the power, and the glory.  The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.  And Jesus dwelt among us to accomplish two things: to pay for our sins as our substitute, and to bring us home at last by the power of His resurrection from the dead.

        Jesus said, Let not your hearts be troubled.  Believe in God; believe also in me.  In my Father’s house are many rooms.  If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.

        Jesus prepared a place for Jerry in His Father’s house.  Jesus is the reason for Jerry’s heavenly homecoming.  Jesus prepared this heavenly home using some of the same, common elements that are used to construct every house on the north shore.  Jesus prepared a place for Jerry with nails and wood, with blood, sweat, and tears.  But the nails Jesus used were the nails that pierced His hands and feet.  The wood that Jesus used was the cross on which He died.  The blood, the sweat, and the tears came flowing out of Jesus because of the suffering He went through—for Jerry, for you, for the whole world.

        The only way for any of us to get home to the Father’s house—home to our permanent dwelling—is through Jesus, who died for our sin.  All that would keep us out—all that would separate us from God’s love—all that would condemn us eternally—has been answered for by Jesus.  Without the death of Jesus on the cross, there’s no room prepared for anyone but Him in the Father’s house.  But with the death of Jesus on the cross, the doors to the Father’s house have been thrown wide open for all believers. 

        Jesus wants you there.  Jesus wants Jerry there.  So in the fullness of time, God sent forth His only Son to prepare a place for Jerry and all of us in the Father’s house.  Jesus lived a perfect life in our place; and He gave that perfect life to God in exchange for our sinful lives.  On the cross, He paid the price for our every sin by suffering the death we deserve.  There God counted Jesus as the sinner, in order that He might credit you with Jesus’ perfect, righteous life, through faith.  There on the cross, Jesus opened for us a pathway home—a beautiful way of forgiveness, life, and salvation—all by grace, through faith, for Jesus’ sake.

        Jerry was a man who knew where His true and lasting home was to be found.  For He trusted that Jesus is, indeed, the way, the truth, and the life.  Shortly after Jesus said these words about Himself, He said this about Jerry and all who follow Him in faith:  If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him (Jn. 14:23).  Jesus says that for those who keep His Word and cling to Him in faith—that both He and the Father will come to him and make our home with him.  The same Jesus who prepares a place for us in the Father’s house—He doesn’t leave us to fend for ourselves during the days of our earthly pilgrimage.  Jesus makes His home with us.  What does that mean?

        It means that for 84 years God the Holy Trinity made His home with Jerry.  Beginning with that precious splash of Holy Baptism, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit made a home with Jerry.  Jerry’s Savior from sin and death wasn’t some distant deity in the sky.   He made His home with Jerry.  There was Jesus every time Jerry was absolved of his sins. There was Jesus as Jerry listened to the plans and promises of God in Holy Scripture.  There was Jesus in the bread and wine of His Holy Supper, showing His love for Jerry, cleansing him and calling him home.

        Because God made a home with Jerry, it meant that Jerry was free.  Because he knew he was headed home to be with Jesus, he could live a life on earth filled with love and service to his family, his church, and his community.  Because Jerry knew that nothing could snatch him out of his Savior’s nail scarred hands, Jerry could get busy, get to work, living a fruitful life of love and service.

        I only knew Jerry for the last twenty years, but during those decades of retirement Jerry didn’t retire.  He was here at Our Savior—not just on Sunday mornings—but sometimes daily—doing big jobs and little jobs—dirty jobs and messy jobs—jobs that nobody else had the time or inclination to take on.  If it was broken he fixed it.  And if he couldn’t quite fix it, then he would “jerry-rig it” until it worked.  Over the years he cleared snow from my driveway.  He tilled my garden; and a little later in the season would drop in some pretty produce from Pick n’ Save to make me feel better about my gardening. (It might’ve been a miracle if only he hadn’t left the stickers on the tomatoes.)  He was a true friend to man and beast.  And the beasts at my house can attest that Jerry rarely left home without milkbones in his pocket.  There isn’t time to tell of all the ways he lived out his faith.  I still expect to see his jeep parked in front of the church.  When I’m alone in the building and hear a noise, I just assume that’s Jerry.  But it isn’t.

        Because Jerry was a man who knew where he was headed.  He knew where his true home was to be found.  He walked by faith, not by sight.  He knew that these years on earth were temporary; but that he had an eternal place prepared for him in the Father’s heavenly house.  Jesus is risen from the dead, bringing victory for the evicted and a home for the homeless.  For 84 years the Lord Jesus Christ made His home with Jerry—giving Jerry faith in the midst of trials, joy in times of sadness, and peace at the last.  Very early on Sunday morning, Jerry fell asleep in faith—at home—and in an instant he awoke—at home with Jesus—in the Father’s house.

        And if you want a place in the Father’s house, like Jerry, trust in Jesus yourself.  Believe in Him.  Be part of a church that proclaims the pure promises of Jesus.  If you need help finding a church like that around here, I happen to know of one in the six thousand block of Santa Monica Blvd.  Because you need the Jesus we proclaim.  Sin is real.  It’s why we die.  But you do not need to die in sin.  You can die with Christ who took your sin away.  You can receive His full forgiveness.  You can rise with Jesus and be welcomed into the Father’s house and the life of the world to come.  What is for Jerry is for you too.  It is a gift.  It is God’s desire for one and all.  Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in Jesus who has prepared a place for you in His Father’s house.

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

 

The Good Shepherd

 Jesu Juva

St. John 10:11-18                                             

April 21, 2024

Easter 4B                                            

Dear saints of our Savior~

        The gospel of John is famous for the “I AM” statements of Jesus: I am the bread of life.  I am the light of the world.  I am the door—the way, the truth, and the life—the vine—the resurrection and the life.  Each of those sayings is packed with meaning.  But none of them quite carries the kind of comfort we heard today from John chapter 10:  I am the good shepherd.  Without a doubt, that’s the kindest, gentlest, most intimate picture of Jesus that we are given.

        It’s a little surprising that this image of shepherd and sheep should resonate so deeply with us.  For most of us live a “sheepless,” “shepherd-free” existence.  Are there any sheep to be found in Milwaukee County?  Perhaps, but I’m not sure where that might be.  Maybe the power of this image—and the deep meaning of this metaphor—is simply a testament to the power of God’s Word, and to the perfect preaching and teaching of Jesus, our Good Shepherd.

        Jesus clearly had Psalm 23 in mind when He said, “I am the good shepherd.”  He wants to be known in shepherding terms.  First century shepherds basically lived with the flock—dwelt with the sheep, slept with the sheep.  They were essentially one of the sheep.  The sheep recognize the shepherd’s voice.  He knows them each by name.  He leads them and they follow him—because they trust him.  The sheep will follow the shepherd even where their instincts tell them not to go—like through dark and dangerous valleys.

        What a wonderful picture this is of the disciples’ relationship to Jesus.  He is their good shepherd; they are the sheep of His pasture.  Even if you know nothing at all about sheep and shepherding, it’s still a warm and comforting image.  No wonder we have so many paintings of Jesus with sheep.  Where would Sunday school lessons and bulletin covers be without Jesus the Good Shepherd?

        But I’m sure you’ve sat through enough sermons on Good Shepherd Sunday to realize that being compared to sheep isn’t very flattering.  You probably know that sheep can be stubborn, stupid, and mean.  Some of you know that the softball team at Luther Memorial Chapel in Shorewood is known as the “Fighting Sheep.”  It’s the perfect name for a church team; but it certainly doesn’t strike fear into the hearts of their opponents.  Why not?  Because sheep are too helpless—too foolish—too prone to wander into trouble.

        That itch to wander away from our Good Shepherd is something we inherited from our first parents.  Adam and Eve wanted to be like God, and chart their own course, and so do we.  To them, the forbidden fruit looked desirable.  For us, the grass is always greener over there, in that other pasture.  This is why we get restless in church, spiritually bored.  It takes surprisingly little to entice us to exit the well-worn path that lead to eternal life.

        In Kansas, where I was raised, keeping livestock was a way of life.  In Kansas, herds of livestock were as common as coffee shops are in this neighborhood.  But I’d have to say that cattle were definitely the livestock of choice in my boyhood home.  Compared to sheep, cattle are relatively low maintenance.  Put them in the pasture and they’re good to go.  The bovine are fine . . .unless someone leaves a gate open.  But sheep are a different story.  They need to be supervised much more closely.  That’s why there are shepherds; and that’s why a shepherd has to get down and dirty with those wooly mammals.

        This is why stinky shepherds were considered to be on the lower rungs of the social ladder.  Not many young people aspired to be shepherds.  Their sheep wandered all over the place, without regard for property lines and boundaries.  And the shepherds were right there with them—trespassing all over the place.  They weren’t exactly the sort that you would invite to your next dinner party.  The shepherds were the first to worship Jesus in Bethlehem partly because they were the only ones outdoors that night, doing what they always did, keeping watch over their flocks.

        Jesus the Good Shepherd contrasts Himself with the “hired hand.”  The hired hand doesn’t really care about the sheep, and is quick to make an exit when danger draws near.  Jesus was referring to the religious leaders of His day who simply beat people over the head with religious rules and regulations.  They led people to believe that you could get in good with God by improving your spiritual performance—and then bragging about it. 

        But sheep aren’t very good performers.  I’ve seen bears ride unicycles and tigers jump through rings of fire and dogs catch Frisbees in the air.  Even my Labradoodles can “sit” and “shake” and “stay.”  But I’ve never seen a sheep perform even the simplest trick.  You can coerce the sheep and make demands on the sheep all you want—bribe them, threaten them, and harass them.  That’s what the religious leaders of Jesus’ day were doing.  But sheep are not performers.

        But Jesus, the Good Shepherd—coercion is not His cup of tea.  Making demands is not His modus operandi.  His yoke is easy and His burden is light.  In fact, Jesus lays down His life for the sheep.  On the cross, Jesus laid down His perfect life for His sinful sheep.  That means you are died for.  Your sins are atoned for.  Whoever would seek to pick apart your poor performance in this life is now answerable to Jesus, whose perfect life and sacrificial death now count for you.  Through faith in Jesus you now have life to the full—abundant life—life that lasts forever and a promise that you will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

        This self-sacrifice—this self-giving love—this grace and good ness and mercy is what sets Jesus apart in the world of religions.  It’s what makes Him the GOOD Shepherd over against all the hired hands with their demands and expectations.  Every religion has examples to follow.  Every religion has promised pathways to enlightenment.  But there’s only one Savior—one Good Shepherd who lays down His life for all—including those who were not following Him, for those who hated Him, and, yes, even for His enemies.  Jesus is not one Savior among many saviors—nor is He one of many pathways to paradise.  But we confess together with Peter in today’s first reading: There is salvation is no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved.  Jesus, our Good Shepherd, is one of a kind.

        That’s not an exclusive statement, for the invitation to salvation has gone out to the inclusive all.  No sheep left behind.  God wants all to be saved in Jesus.  All are died for.  The Lamb of God has died for the sins of the whole world—no exceptions, exclusions, or asterisks.  In fact, Jesus spoke about “other sheep” in today’s text.  He hinted that His flock was even bigger than His disciples could see or appreciate.  When Jesus spoke of “other sheep” who were not of Israel’s fold, He was referring to the Gentiles, the non-Israelites, and, ultimately, to you and me.  We are included in the one flock of the Good Shepherd.

        “I know my own,” Jesus says.  Again, that’s you He’s talking about.  The Good Shepherd knows His sheep very well.  He knows even the things we’d rather He didn’t know.  But this is grace:  the One who knows the shameful extent of your sin and the depth of your depravity—loves you—loves you despite it all—loves you to the extent that He laid down His life for you.  In fact, “by this we know love, that [Jesus Christ] laid down His life for us” (1 John 3:16).

        Your Good Shepherd knows you and loves you.  He’s not interested in having you jump through rings of fire. But He does invite you to listen to His voice as it is preached and proclaimed here.  He has cleansed you and claimed you in the still waters of Holy Baptism.  He does rejoice to prepare a table before you—the holy meal of His own body and blood.  And He will one day lead you right through that place where none of us can travel alone—right through the valley of the shadow of death.  You lack nothing.  You shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

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

The Touchable Truth of Easter

Jesu Juva

St. Luke 24:36-49                                              

April 14, 2024

Easter 3B                        

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        How do you know whether something is true or not?  How do you know it’s not a “deep fake” generated by artificial intelligence?  How do you know it’s not misinformation or disinformation—or pure propaganda?  Is it reality, or virtual reality?  How do you know it’s not a lie?

        How do you know whether something is true or not—especially when that something is the resurrection of the dead?  We believe in the resurrection of the body.  That’s the whole point of this joyful Eastertide.  The body of Jesus is risen from the dead.  And our bodies will be raised on the last day—guaranteed by Jesus, who is the firstfruits of them that sleep.  But how do we know it’s true?

        All four of the gospels record the resurrection of Jesus.  The final chapters of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John all deal with the hard evidence of the resurrection—each with its own unique accents:  The open, empty tomb.  The folded burial clothes.  The Savior’s wounded hands and side.  The appearances to the eyewitnesses.  The gospel writers are careful to lay out all of the evidence for you—and for the whole world—that this Jesus is the crucified and risen Messiah, the Savior of the world, the Son of God—and He is alive forevermore.

        Today we hear from the pen of Saint Luke.  And in Luke’s gospel, the fact of Jesus’ resurrection is almost always underscored by a meal.  Jesus appeared to two disciples at Emmaus just as the meal got underway.  He had joined them earlier on the road, but they were prevented from recognizing Him.  But when they sat down to eat—at the breaking of the bread—they immediately recognized Him.  And those two Emmaus disciples immediately rushed back to Jerusalem to tell the other disciples what had happened.

        Today’s gospel reading picks up as all the disciples are comparing notes on their Easter experiences when, suddenly, Jesus Himself appears in their midst.  “Peace be to you” He says.  Peace.  You heard that same greeting last week in John’s Easter account.  “Peace” is now the perfect, post-Easter greeting.  It’s how you speak now that the resurrection has come to pass.  Death is defeated.  The grave can’t hold us.  Sin is forgiven.  Life is restored.  “Peace be to you,” or, as we always say right before Jesus appears to us in His body and blood, “The peace of the Lord be with you always.”

        The disciples, of course, are startled and frightened. They wonder whether they’re seeing a spirit or an apparition or a deep fake of some kind.  But this is no illusion.  Jesus sets them straight:  See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself.  He invites them, Touch me, and see.  For a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.  He’s right, of course.  You can’t touch ghosts.  Spirits don’t have flesh and bones.  But Jesus does.  His resurrection was a bodily resurrection.  It’s not just the spirit of Jesus floating around; it’s the glorified, resurrected human body of Jesus.

        Then, just to drive the point home, Jesus asks if they’ve got anything to eat.  And what do you know, just like in Milwaukee, there’s apparently a fish fry going on.  They offer Jesus a piece of that tasty beer-battered cod and He eats it right in front of them.  The point is not that fish fries have any sacred significance.  The point is that ghosts and spirits don’t eat.  But people do—living, breathing people with flesh and bones and bodies—they eat.  Even after His resurrection, Jesus is still true God and true man—still one of us, forever and ever.  The resurrected Christ still has a real body—a touchable body—bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh.

        This is how we know that our bodies, too, are destined for resurrection.  We shall be like Him, because we shall see Him as He is.  Your body will be raised from the dead.  You are more than a soul—more than just a spirit.  The bodily resurrection of Jesus means that your body (even with all of its sins, and problems, and flaws) your body is valuable and important.  Like the body of Jesus, your body will be raised to life everlasting—the mortal to immortality.

        So start recognizing your body as a holy and valuable gift from God.  Stop using it for sinful purposes—for immorality and idolatry.  Stop seeing the body the way our culture sees the body—as only an instrument for pleasure and entertainment.  The body has so little value in our culture.  But we know what’s true about our bodies:  God gives us our bodies—male and female He creates them.  But in our culture it’s nothing to despise and reject the body God has given—in favor of a surgically-created fake body—which always means terrible trauma for the body God has given.  God creates us male OR female, and He knows what He’s doing.  Trust Him. 

        Or think of all the little bodies—the unborn bodies—subjected to trauma and death at the hands of abortionists, paid for with the very tax dollars that many of us are sending off this weekend. It is a silent, state-funded holocaust, right in our own backyards.  Lord, have mercy.  A body—a human body knit together by God—a body designed for resurrection—a body is a terrible thing to waste.

        Today’s gospel not only highlights the body, but also the mind.  A mind, too, is a terrible thing to waste.  That’s why St. Luke tells us that Jesus opened the minds of His disciples to understand the Scriptures.  Doesn’t that strike you a strange?  The disciples had witnessed the resurrection.  They had been personally instructed by Jesus for three years.  They knew their Bibles.  And yet, even now, Jesus must open their minds.  This tells us that you can know all the facts, but still not get it.  You can know the Bible by heart and still not trust that it is for you.  We are born closed-minded.  Sin shuts our minds into a default mode in which we think we are the gods, and that our words and our wishes carry the day.  We closed-mindedly think that the world revolves around us and our feelings.

        But a mind opened by Christ is freed from the tyranny of feelings and emotions.  A mind opened by Jesus means that your mind is open to His promises, open to His forgiveness, open to believe the truth about the resurrection, about your own body, and about the life of the world to come. 

        A mind opened by Jesus means that you understand your baptism as not just a splash of water, but a new birth as a child of God.  A mind opened by Jesus understands the Lord’s Supper as so much more than mere bread and wine—but a resurrection appearance of Jesus—in which you can touch and taste and see that the Lord is good.  With a mind opened by Jesus you understand that this life isn’t all there is—that Jesus Christ has destroyed death—that the grave is temporary—that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life. 

        This Third Sunday of Easter reminds us:  Jesus Christ is risen from the dead.  The resurrection is real, not fake; it’s true, not false.  His disciples saw Him, touched Him, ate and drank with Him.  In His name, here today, repentance and forgiveness of sins is preached.  Christ is risen; and in Him you too will rise.  That is the touchable truth of Easter. 

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