Rev. Cwirla's Blogosphere

The Triune Mystery

Rev. William M. Cwirla — Mon, 19 May 2008 10:52:24 -0600

Matthew 28:16-20 / Holy Trinity / 18 May 2008 / Holy Trinity - Hacienda Heights, CA

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

Today we rejoice in the mystery of that invocation and the mystery of our faith - the “tri-unity” of God - that God is three Persons in one divine Being and one divine Being in three Persons, neither confusing the Persons or dividing the Being.

That mystery is already revealed in the first sentence of the Bible in the book of Genesis. “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The word for “God” - Elohim - is a plural and yet there is but one God. The Spirit of God, whom we know as the Holy Spirit, is there too, hovering like a mother hen over the face of the Deep. And the Word is there too, as God speaks and it is so. John identifies this Word as the eternal, only-begotten Son of the Father. And so you might say that the entire work of creation is from the Father through the Son (the Word) by the Holy Spirit.

Each creative day gives us a daily liturgy for prayer and praise, reminding us that no matter where we look in this marvelous and intricate creation, we are seeing the work of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. The creative days also give a liturgical structure and rhythm to our own work week. You might say that Genesis chapter 1 is the rhythm of the symphony of creation, the drumbeat of the cosmic order, under the creative direction of the Divine Designer.

Listen to the rhythm:

Day one (Sunday): Light. “Be light,” and light there is. The work week begins with light. And it was good.

Day two (Monday): Sky. The earth’s unique atmosphere making ours a rare gem of a planet among the planets - oxygen and water, dancing clouds that produce rain and let in sunshine. Clear yet protective. And it was good.

Day three (Tuesday): Sea and dry land and their playful interface of beach and tidepools. How we love the shore, the place where sea and dry land kiss. And it was good.

And more: Plants springing up from the dry land in all their wonderful diversity. Marigolds and dandelions and oak trees and jacaranda trees along with tasty avocado, orange, lemon, almond. And it was good.

Day four (Wednesday): Sun, moon, and stars. A grand cosmic light show for signs and seasons. Sun and moon - the right size, the right distance, the right relationship to each other. The next time there is a total eclipse of the sun (which will be August 1 in Siberia, in case you want to see it), notice how the moon perfectly covers the sun like a lens cap. And it was good.

Day five (Thursday): Fish in the sea; birds in the air - showing the artistry of the triune God in all their glorious shapes and sizes and colors, showing the humor of the triune God with all their wonderful mating and nesting rituals. Just by looking at them, you know that fish and birds belong to the same liturgical choir. And it was good.

Day six (Friday): The animals - domestic, wild, creeping - in all their diversity from aardvaark to zebra, from the ant to the guerilla.

And more: last of all in the grand hierarchy, Man uniquely in the image of God. If God is the conductor of creation’s symphony, then Man is the concert master. Again the triune Mystery as God speaks to Himself - “Let us make man in our image.” Like the Persons of the Trinity, man is made for relationship. Male and female He created them. And God blessed them to be fruitful. And it was very good.

Day seven (Saturday): Rest. The endless day. The day with no morning or evening. It is God’s reminder that we live by faith and not by our works. Faith rests in God and enjoys the fruits of our labors and of God’s. We rest by faith in the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. St. Augustine said, “Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in Thee.”

Each creative day reflects the creative work of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Each work reflects the love of the Father, the wisdom of the Son, the life of the Spirit. Everywhere you look and listen there is worship of the triune God, the liturgy of the creation. The heavens declare the glory of God, the skies proclaim the works of His hands, as do sea and dry land, plants, sun, moon, and stars, fish and birds, animals and man - a chorus of praise.

Our sin destroys the harmony and the rhythm of creation. It is a sour note, a random, chaotic noise, disturbing the order. The whole creation feels it and groans down to the smallest living creature. It is the foreign, alien word - the lie to Eve and to Adam - God is not true; you can be like God. We see the effects - destruction, devastation, decay, death. The earthquakes, the whirlwinds are the groanings of the creation waiting for our redemption, for the new creation, for our resurrection. We see the effects in our own lives - the brokenness, the hurt, the diseases, the suffering, the killing.

The Father loves His cosmos. He hates nothing He created. He shows His love for the cosmos by sending His eternal Son, the Word, in our flesh. Jesus came to embrace the world, to shed His blood on a cross, to die and rise, and in dying and rising to rescue all that He had made from decay and destruction. This is the triune God’s second great work: redemption. He redeems what He created.

We talk about “saving the earth.” We didn’t create it, and we can’t save it. We can take care of it and be stewards of its resources but we can’t save it. Jesus has, by His dying and rising. He has brought the new creation, by water and Spirit, in Baptism. He has poured out His Spirit on the face of this dying earth by the preaching of the Gospel, the good news of His atoning death and life in His resurrection.

Jesus holds “all authority in heaven and on earth.” He received it from the Father from all eternity. The Son of God in human flesh reigns over His creation, having redeemed it by His blood. He’s “the man in charge.” With His authority, He authorizes His Church to make disciples of all the nations, as many as He died for, everyone without exception. Disciples are made by baptizing and teaching. Baptizing in the triune Name - the fulness of the God’s self-revelation, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, teaching the fulness of what Jesus entrusted to His Church. In this disciple-making, Jesus is present - “Lo, I am with you always.”

This is the third work of the triune God: sanctification - to make holy by water and the Word.

The new creation has already come in Jesus. A new first day, a day of light and life. The resurrection of Jesus and the outpouring of the Spirit tell us that even as the old is passing away, even as the grand diversity of species go extinct and the very life of the earth is threatened with change and decay, even as we ourselves die, a new creation has already dawned with the open, empty tomb and the outpouring of the Spirit.

That’s why the Church worships on Sunday - it’s new creation day, the first day of an eternity in Christ of which you already participate through your Baptism. Your life is already hidden with Christ in God. You already live in the trinitarian love of God as a sinner justified for Jesus’ sake, baptized in the Name.

The small catechism teaches us to invoke the triune Name every morning when we arise and every evening before we go to sleep. “In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” Every morning we consecrate our work day in the Name of God who made the heavens and the earth. And every evening we offer up that day’s work as a living sacrifice to the God who redeemed us and all creation with the blood of His Son.

Also here at Holy Trinity - 46 years of discipling the nations, of baptizing and teaching under the grace of God. Such a privilege it is to confess the Name, to worship the Name, to glorify the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Amen

O Day Full of Grace

Rev. William M. Cwirla — Wed, 14 May 2008 10:42:58 -0600

John 7:37-39 / Pentecost A / 11 May 2008 / Holy Trinity - Hacienda Heights, CA

In Nomine Iesu

If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink, whoever believes in me. As the Scripture says, “From his heart will flow rivers of living waters.” (John 7:37-39)

Today is one of the highest and holiest days on our calendar. It’s a day we dare not forget, for if we do, we will forget the one who birthed us, washed us, nurtured and fed us. How dare we forget the womb that birthed us, the breasts that nursed us, the arms that comforted us. Of course, I’m talking about Church, our spiritual mother of our baptismal birth. Pentecost is, in a very real sense, our Mother’s Day, the day of the Church and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. And of course, happy Mother’s Day to all who are mothers, and thanks be to God for our mothers.

St. Cyprian once said: "No one can have God as Father who does not have the Church as Mother.” There’s a great deal of truth to that. You always know who the mother is. And the mother will tell you who the father is. The Spirit of God cries out “Abba, Father” and testifies to our spirits that we are the children of God. And the Spirit speaks through the Church by which we were born of water and Spirit in Holy Baptism.

That’s why it’s fitting and proper on this Mother’s Day to recognize that Pentecost is about holy Mother Church. We cringe at that phrase sometimes. Part of it, I suspect, is our residual anti-Catholicism. It sounds just a bit too “Catholic” for our protestantized ears. Holy Mother Church. We have no problems with calling God “Father” (unless, of course, the feminist theologians have invaded our thinking), but we are reticent to realize that we also have a mother in our baptismal birth from above. Drawing on an analogy to Sarah, the wife of Abraham, the apostle Paul calls the heavenly Jerusalem, the Church, “our mother.”

You sometimes hear Pentecost called the “church’s birthday” but there already was a church before Pentecost. It numbered about 120 disciples including Jesus’ mother and brothers. Properly speaking, the Church was “born” on Good Friday, the day that Christ, the second Adam, died on the cross, and in the sleep of His death, a new Eve, the mother of all the living, was fashioned from His side by the water and the blood. As Eve was taken from the side of her sleeping Adam, so the Church was made from the baptismal water and the eucharistic blood that came from the side of Christ on the cross. As Eve was called the mother of all the living, so the Church is the mother that bears all believers in Baptism to eternal life.

John tells us in the prologue to his Gospel what it means to be the children of God: “To all who received Him, to those who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God - children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision, nor of a husband’s will, but born of God.” Not of natural descent - you aren’t naturally born a believer. Nor of human decision - you don’t decide to believe. Nor of a husband’s will - children of God are not conceived in the natural way.

Our small catechism puts it this way in the third article, “I believe that I cannot by my own reason or senses believe in Jesus Christ my Lord or come to Him. We believe that we do not naturally believe. Our hearts are naturally dead toward God, dead in sin, hopelessly turned inward, without fear, love, and trust in God. We must be born anew, “virgin born” through water, Word, and Spirit.

Pentecost is not the church’s birthday, but the church’s birthing day, her delivery day. The day that mother Church bears her first children by the preaching of the Word and by Holy Baptism. Three thousand were baptized that day. Three thousand heard the preached Word through Peter and came to the birthing waters of Baptism with the promise that they too would receive the gift of forgiveness and the Holy Spirit. And not only them, but also their children. Pentecost is the church’s delivery date, the day she gave birth to three thousand born from above children of the heavenly Father through water and the Spirit.

The day is significant. Pentecost means “fifty.” Fifty days after the Passover came the winter wheat harvest festival. It was the celebration of the first fruits, the first harvest of the year. At the time of Jesus, it was also a day to celebrate the giving of the Torah to Moses on Mt. Sinai. These two themes come together - the harvest and the giving of the Word. Fifty days after Jesus’ death and resurrection comes the first fruits of the harvest, the first believers to believe through the apostolic Word and Baptism. It also comes with all the Sinai-signs - fire and wind. Three thousand people, from among the thousands that were in Jerusalem for Pentecost, heard the Word of Christ preached by the apostles, were baptized by them, and received the Holy Spirit.

In other words, those three thousand came to faith the way we came to faith. Not by walking around with Jesus, as the disciples did. But through the preached Word and through the water of Baptism. That’s why the day of Pentecost is so important in the life of the Church. These are the Church’s first children, of whom you and I are also numbered. And they were born again in the same we are born again, through water and the Word. Whoever has God as his Father has the Church as his Mother.

You don’t bring honor to Father while dishonoring Mother. Like all mothers, the Church is not without sin. But that’s no excuse for despising her or neglecting her. Luther said that we ought to thank God daily for our mothers even if they did nothing else than bear with us for nine months. Without them, we wouldn’t be around. And without the Church, flaws and all, we would not have the gifts of Baptism, the Word, the Supper. The Church is our mother. And we might wish for another, as I once did when I put a sign in the window that read, “Mom for Sale 5 Cents.” Ah, she’s the only we have, and thank God for her. Through Mother Church the Spirit, the Word, the water come to us to birth us to new life.

That brings us to the Gospel text for today. I took the liberty of rearranging the sentences a bit from what you have in front of you. The Greek permits that. Jesus says, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me, and let him drink, the one believes in me.” To thirst is to be dried up and parched. Relief comes from the outside, not the inside. When you’re thirsty, you need seek a source of water and it isn’t in you. To “drink” of Jesus is to trust Him, to take Him at His word, to hear Him, to drink in all of His gifts by faith.

As the Scripture says, “Out of His heart will flow rivers of living water.” The “his” belongs to Jesus, not to you. In the OT, God is the source and fountain of living water. Jesus promised to give the Samaritan woman living water. It isn’t from our hearts that living water flows, but from the heart of Jesus. From our hearts flow murders, adulteries, thefts, false witness, gossip, slander, greed, idolatry - all that is wrong and broken and evil in our lives. The outflow of our hearts is an effluent of sin. Not fresh living water, but raw sewage.

But from the heart of Jesus, pierced for our iniquities by a Roman sword, there flows living water, water mixed with His life’s blood. (John is the one who captures this detail for us.) Jesus is the source, the fountain of that living water that cleanses from sin, that births us with a new and heavenly birth from above, that marks us as a new creation, children of God redeemed by Christ the crucified. Baptismal water is that living water Jesus was speaking, a water that flowed from His wounded heart to you in your Baptism.

John explains that Jesus was speaking about the Spirit that was to come. First Jesus had to die; it is out of His death that life flows. Then, risen and reigning, Jesus breathes out His Spirit, with the signs of fire and wind and languages. And three thousand thirsty sinful souls were quenched with water and the Word. They were baptized. And then there were more, as the three thousand went back to their homes, and the Church spread literally by word of mouth, words from mouths to ears carried along by the Spirit.

And as these last days draw to their close, that stream of living water flows to you - baptized, believing, forgiven, born anew of water and Spirit, born from above of Mother Church, heavenly Jerusalem, our free mother who bears her children in the freedom of Christ.

And so as we give thanks to God on this day for the gift of our mothers who bore us and nurtured us, we give thanks to God for the Church, our spiritual mother, who birthed us in Baptism and nurtured us with the pure spiritual milk of the Word.

Oh day full of grace! Happy Mother’s Day. Blessed Pentecost.

In the name of Jesus,
Amen

Living Stones, A Holy Priesthood

Rev. William M. Cwirla — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 09:04:54 -0600

1 Peter 2:2-10/ 5 Easter A / 20 April 2008 / Holy Trinity - Hacienda Heights, CA

In Nomine Iesu

Who are you? There’s a deep question to get things rolling. Who are you? In the martial arts they teach you to know your center of gravity. If you know your center of gravity, you aren’t easily knocked over, no matter how hard you are hit. It allows you to stand firm in the midst of battle without being locked in place. You can move and act with confidence, because you know where your center of gravity is. If you don’t know who you are, you have no personal center of gravity. You’re easily knocked off balance by the slightest thing. You let other people define who you are, lay expectations on you, try to bend and mold you to their idea of who you are.

When we don’t know who we are, we tend to ball up on ourselves, assume a kind of fetal position with respect to the world. And we never mature, we never grow up, when we don’t know who we are. We have no sense of meaning, purpose, place. We simply exist and let others or our circumstances define us.

Who are you? Peter answers that question for some newly baptized Christians in his first epistle, part of which you just heard. They are newborn infants that need to nuzzle up to the breast of mother Church, to drink the pure spiritual milk of the Word so that by it they would grow up to salvation. They have tasted that the Lord is good. They have come to the table, still dripping wet from their Baptism, wearing white robes, oil running down their faces and onto their robes. They have come to eat their Savior’s body and drink His blood and taste that the Lord is good.

Now Peter tells them who they are as baptized believers: They are living stones built into a spiritual temple; and they are a holy and royal priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices that are acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. Another way of saying it: they are worshipers who worship the Father in Spirit and in Truth.

They are living stones, and so are you. You probably never thought of yourself as a stone before, let alone a living stone. Stubborn as a rock, maybe. Jesus named Cephas “Peter,” petros, which means rock, but we know how solid he was. You are living stones. Not dead rocks, but living stones. Alive because you have come to the Living Stone, the rejected Rock named Jesus, the Stumbling Stone that God the Father laid in Zion that causes men who refuse to believe to stumble in their attempts to save themselves, and yet saves those who fall on Him in faith.

That’s how it is with Jesus and His death and resurrection. He’s the big Rock in the middle of the religious road. There’s no avoiding Him. You’re going to have to deal with Him sooner or later. Now or on the Last Day. And you can’t be agnostic about Him. Either you will trip over Him to your eternal shame and ruin, or you will fall on Him in faith to your salvation. He is the Way, and there is no other way; He is the Truth, and there is no other truth. He is the Life, and there is no other life.

He is God’s cornerstone, the elect one and precious. He is the eternal Son of God, the elect Son chosen to be the world’s Savior. Jesus is the only one who is elect in Himself. Everyone else is elect in Him; just as you are living stones only as you are joined to Jesus the Living Stone. Without Jesus, you are just a dead pile of rubble. In Baptism, God takes you, a dead rock, and makes you alive in Christ Jesus, a living stone. A precious stone, worth the price of Jesus’ blood shed on the cross.

Notice this. You are a stone in a temple; you are a priest in a priesthood. There are no loose boulders, no isolated priests. Stones have a building; priests have a priesthood. There is no such thing as an isolated Christian believing on his own or her own. The same Spirit who calls you also calls me and gather us together into congregations that manifest the whole gathered church.

Christians congregate. It goes with being baptized. You are living stones built into a house built by the Spirit, a Spirit-built house, the Church. It’s noteworthy that none of the descriptions of the church are individual in the Scriptures. No “I am the church, you are the church.” The church is always an aggregate whole - a body made up of members, a priesthood of priests, a temple of stones, a household of family members, a nation of citizens. When we congregate, especially to worship, we are doing the natural thing for baptized people to do. We are following the urging of the Spirit that calls us together. Even our Lord promises to meet us in congregations, where two or three are gather in my Name, there I am in their midst.

So let’s be done with this individualized “spirituality” that floats around today. Yes, if you were on a desert island all alone, there would be no one with whom to congregate, and Christ would still be with you. And if you brought a Bible along with you on your desert island, then that’s all the preaching you would have, and it’s all you would need. But we’re hardly on an island here, are we? And God is so much richer in His goodness toward us. He brings us together. He arranges to have the Word laid into our ears. The Body and Blood of Jesus put in our mouths. Taste and see that the Lord is good! And nothing tastes better than forgiveness, life, and salvation in the Name of Jesus.

You are a stone built into a spiritual house. You have a place and a purpose, and without you, the building is impoverished, the priesthood is lacking. Every baptized man, woman, and child has a place and a purpose in the Christ’s priesthood.

You are a chosen race, as OT Israel was once a chosen group of people. Don’t think of “race” the way we commonly do. Rather, a chosen group, selected to show God’s mercy to sinners to the world. He chose you. You didn’t choose Him, He chose you. You say, “But I didn’t do anything.” That’s right. He chose you to show the world that it’s by grace and not by works. You say, “But I’m not a very good person. Why would God choose me?” Precisely the point - to show the world that it’s not about being good, that God is merciful to sinners, that He justifies the ungodly.

You are a royal priesthood - kings and priests. You say, “I don’t feel like a king and a priest. No one treats me like king and a priest.” That’s right. That’s why you have to be told; you wouldn’t know that. You are kings in Christ’s kingdom; priests in His priesthood. But don’t priests wear robes? You do. “As many of you as were baptized into Christ Jesus have been clothed with Christ.” You wear Christ like a robe. I wear a robe to remind you of the baptismal robe you wear. You could all wear robes, but then you’d have another excuse not to come to church on Sunday. I’m happy if you don’t wear beach clothes.

You say, “But don’t priests do religious things?” And that’s where your old Adam has you tricked. He’s very religious that old Adam of yours. He thinks you have to get religious. Spiritual sacrifices are what Paul calls “living sacrifices,” the worship of your day to day life. Your vocation, your calling as father, mother, son, daughter, worker, citizen, worshiper. This is the liturgy of life. You’re a priest. You consecrate stuff with the Word of God and with prayer. All that ordinary stuff of your day to day work is holy because you are holy on account of Christ.

It begins in worship. Priests gather for worship, and your priesthood is to hear the Word, receive the Body and Blood, and offer your spiritual sacrifices of prayer, praise, and thanksgiving. That’s how you “proclaim the excellencies of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light.” That’s what’s happening in the liturgy when you say your “amen.” You’re doing your priestly work, offering spiritual sacrifices, not to atone for your sins but because your sins are atoned for by Jesus’ sacrifice. That’s why your sacrifices, your worship, is acceptable to God. It comes to the Father “through Jesus Christ.”

It extends through all your life. Priestly work doesn’t just happen on Sunday morning or whenever you come here. Priestly work goes on where God has called you to be a priest - at home with your children, in your community, in your workplace, in the classroom, on the playground, with friends, family , coworkers, neighbors. You are priests of God blessing, teaching, praying. Baptism permits you to worship God, to pray, to praise, to give thanks, to bless others, to teach others. That’s what priests do.

The mother nursing her baby, the father teaching his children, the worker doing excellent work, the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker are priests to God in Baptism, offering up their work, their lives and bodies, as living spiritual sacrifices through the one atoning Sacrifice of Jesus.

You are a holy nation. God’s nation. The United States isn’t God’s nation; it’s just another nation among the nations in the eyes of God. Israel today is not God’s nation. God’s nation is the Church, His baptized believers united with Christ in His death and resurrection. You are a holy nation. You may be American or a citizen of some other country, but that’s your temporary citizenship. Your permanent citizenship is in God’s nation.

Once you were not a people. LIke Hosea’s son - Lo Ami - not my people. What a thing to name a son. Not my people. Once you were outside of God’s mercy. Like Hosea’s daugher - Lo Ruhamah - not mercied. What a thing to name a daughter. Not mercied. Imagine Hosea calling the kids for dinner - Not my people, Not Mercied. I’m sure the neighbors loved it.

That’s what it means to be outside of Christ. You are not God’s people, you are not mercied. That’s what happens when in unbelief you trip over the the stumbling Stone. Not my people; not mercied.

Who are you? You know who you are. You are living stones in God’s temple; a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation. You are God’s prized possession. You are baptized into Jesus Christ, the crucified, risen, and reigning Lord. He is the source of your identity. He is your center of gravity. Built on Him, baptized into Him, believing in Him, nothing can knock you over.

In the name of Jesus,
Amen

Shepherd and Door

Rev. William M. Cwirla — Mon, 14 Apr 2008 15:19:06 -0600

John 10:1-10/ 4 Easter A / 13 April 2008 / Holy Trinity - Hacienda Heights, CA

In Nomine Iesu

Jesus the Good Shepherd; Jesus the door for the sheep. The images are comforting and “pastoral” in the literal sense of that word. The word “pastor” is Latin for shepherd. In the Scriptures, “shepherd” and “bishop” (or as we have it “overseer”) run together too, which is why you see bishops in the church carrying shepherd’s staffs. A bishop is a shepherd of souls under the Good Shepherd who is Jesus. Jesus the good Pastor.

To speak of Jesus, the Good Shepherd, is to call up the Good Shepherd psalm (Psalm 23) with all its pastoral allusions. David, the shepherd-king boasts as a sheep bragging about his shepherd, “The LORD is my shepherd, and boy do I have it good! I lack nothing. Listen to what he does for me. He makes me lie down in fresh, green pastures of His Word. He leads me beside quiet cooling water of Baptism. When I fall down, he restores my soul. He knows how I love to wander, and so he leads me in the well-worn ruts of righteousness for His name’s sake.

David then turns to his Good Shepherd and speaks to him in prayer. “Even though I walk through the dark valley where death is all around me and the wolves gaze on me from the cliffs, I’m not afraid. I fear no evil. Why? For Thou art with me, walking ahead of me through death and on to resurrection and life. Your rod of the Law, your staff of the Gospel, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me, right there in the presence of my enemies - your Body and your Blood given and shed for me. You anoint my head with the oil of forgiveness, absolving all those pesky sins that nag at me like flea bites on my nose. I have it good. “My cup runneth over.”

And then David speaks to himself and to us once again in the confidence of faith. “Surely goodness and mercy will dog me like sheepdogs, all the days of my life. And I know how it all comes out in the end when the Lord is my Shepherd. I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

Nice to hear, isn’t it? Even for a city kid like myself who has no idea what it means to be a shepherd, the image is comforting. Too bad we reserve Psalm 23 for funerals. I go to the hospital and pull out Psalm 23 to pray with someone and they think I’m administering a Lutheran form of last rites. And that’s too bad, because Psalm 23 is for the living, for those whose life is hidden in Christ by faith, for those who live even though they die.

Now to be a sheep of the Good Shepherd’s flock means that you have to accept that fact that you are a sheep, which from everything I’ve read isn’t a terribly flattering picture. Sheep are mean, prone to wandering, not terribly bright, and very dependent, which is precisely the picture that God is painting here. We are mean, kicking and biting and head-butting each other in constant effort to be the top sheep. We are prone to wander, following every false path, chasing down every poisoned weed and polluted puddle. And we aren’t terribly bright when it comes to the things of God. In fact, we are clueless by nature, and without the Holy Spirit we wouldn’t have a clue no matter how many degrees are hanging on our wall.

It all boils down to dependency, and the fact that we cannot save ourselves. We need a Shepherd, a Bishop of our souls, who will feed us, care for us, sustain us, deliver us. And that we have in Jesus, the Good Shepherd.

The Good Shepherd is contrasted with the thief and the robber. The Shepherd enters by way of the door, but thieves and robbers climb in some other way. The “other way” is not the way of Jesus’ death and resurrection. You can always tell a thief or a robber from the shepherd by the message he brings. Listen carefully. Anyone who does not preach Jesus Christ to be your Shepherd, who bore you sins on the cross, who laid down His life for your salvation, in whom you are justified before God freely for Jesus’ sake, is not speaking on behalf of the Good Shepherd.

It doesn’t matter if he’s wearing a clerical collar, a ton of gold robes, a business suit, or a Hawaiian shirt. It doesn’t matter if his hair neat and moussed or all messed up, whether he is clean shaven or has a beard down to here. It doesn’t matter whether he uses PowerPoint or powerful points to make his point. If what he says is not connected to the narrow door of Jesus’ death and resurrection, he is a thief and a robber and a wolf in sheep’s clothing. It doesn’t matter if he heals your dandruff, gets you off of drugs, and makes your bank account swell. If he doesn’t preach Christ and Him crucified, he’s a thief and not a shepherd.

The sheep hear the shepherd’s voice; their ears perk up. He calls them by name, and they follow him. Luther said that the church is a flock of holy sheep who hear the voice of their Shepherd Jesus. He also reminded pastors that their job was to make the voice of the Good Shepherd heard and not their own bleating. “He who hears you, hears me,” said Jesus.

That puts us pastors who believe this at a bit of a disadvantage these days. The trend is to win people with the messenger rather than the message. You hear talk about “dynamic” preaching and “relevant” teaching. We have no idea how “dynamic” Jesus was as a speaker, do we? The apostle Paul admits to being more impressive in print than in person. And as for “relevence,” Paul admitted that the Jews were looking for miracles and the Greeks had a hankering for great rhetoric and wisdom and all the Paul had was a crucified Messiah named Jesus, which the Jews stumbled over and the Greeks that was foolishness.

Here’s the problem. We sheep like to hear how good we are and how great potential there is in us just waiting to be released if we have enough faith. We love to hear about ourselves. Let’s admit it, the last thing we want to say on Sunday morning is what poor miserable sinners we are. That’s hardly going to motivate sheep to greatness! Yeah, and we’ll follow anyone who dangles a little sweet morsel of Religion in front of our noses, a sweet hour of prayer that will make us feel good about ourselves and feel cozy with God.
But that is not the green pasture Jesus has in mind for you, His sheep. He’s rescued you from slavery to self, to sin, to death. He freed you to be the people of His pasture. He’s marked you as one of His flock in Baptism. You bear the Good Shepherd’s seal of ownership, right there on your forehead and on your heart, the mark of the cross, His death for you. Don’t forget whose you are because that tells you who you are. You are a sheep in the flock of the Good Shepherd who laid down His life to seek and save you in His death on the cross.

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. He sounds nice enough, maybe even nicer the the shepherd, but don’t trust him for a second. The devil does masquerade as an angel of light, we are told. He’s a religious devil who would love to throw some distractions your way, a few false paths to deflect you from those boring, well-worn ruts of righteousness. You know what he wants. He wants to get between you and Jesus, and he’ll throw anything in there. Strike the shepherd, and the sheep will scatter. But that didn’t work with Jesus because the stricken Shepherd rose from the dead. So plan B is to distract the sheep and get between them and the Shepherd. Just a little daylight between you and the Word, a little gap between you and the altar, just enough to get you to follow the thief to your doom.

Fortunately, the Good Shepherd knows His sheep and their wandering ways. That’s why He has a rod and a staff. The rod is there to ward off the wolves and the thieves. It’s occasionally there for a bit of discipline too, and we need that discipline as well. We don’t like it, but coming from the Good Shepherd, we know that it’s love and not wrath. And the rod of the Law is especially there to drive us back to the Good Shepherd’s fold in case we think we can go it alone without our Shepherd. The Law is good, remember. It drives us to Christ and puts a fence around us so we don’t stray.

There is the gentle shepherd’s staff, with that round crook, by which a shepherd can lift a sheep up when it’s cast down. The Gospel, the good news of free forgiveness for Jesus’ sake. The good news that ungodly sinners stand before God righteous and holy by His declaration for Jesus’ sake. The Good Shepherd gently nudges the sheep with His staff, reminding them “Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you.”

One of the things a shepherd does for His flock is lie in the opening of the pen at night. Every night, the sheep are herded into their enclosed pen. That’s what Jesus means when He says, “I am the door of the sheep.” He literally lays down His life for the sheep. He lies in the door of death, and through His death, His sheep can go in and out and find pasture. Through the narrow door of Jesus’ death there is life for you, life in abundance, and eternity of life. He’s done it for you - died, rose, reigns. And in the Good Shepherd’s flock you are safe forever.

If anyone tries to come after you and take away your salvation, the Good Shepherd says, “Over my dead and risen body.”

In the name of Jesus,
Amen

On the Road to Emmaus

Rev. William M. Cwirla — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 07:44:28 -0600

Luke 24:13-35 / 3 Easter A / 6 April 2008 / Holy Trinity - Hacienda Heights, CA

In Nomine Iesu

It was a long, slow seven miles from Jerusalem to Emmaus for two disciples on that first day of the resurrection.   Cleopas, whom some believe to be the brother of Joseph, Jesus’ uncle so to speak, and another disciple are walking back to their homes. As they walked, they talked about all that had happened the past week. The arrest, the trial, the crucifixion, the burial, the odd news from the women of the open, empty tomb, angels (were there one or two?), the report of Peter and John. But no sight of Jesus.

They had staked their lives on this Jesus from Nazareth. Everything they had. They thought He was the one. A Prophet powerful in word and deed. He made blind men see, the lame to walk, the deaf to hear. He raised the dead. They hoped He was the messiah, the promised One who would redeem Israel. And then in one short week their hopes seemed to come to ruin. Jesus was dead, buried, and now nowhere to be seen.

Disappointment, disillusion, grief, bewilderment, confusion, sadness. What words can describe what goes through your mind as you walk that lonely Emmaus Road? You trusted Jesus and now He seems to have disappeared without a trace. You feel betrayed, used maybe, certainly sad. Rumors don’t provide any comfort. Even reports of a vision of angels rings hollow. It all seems to hang on that little sentence, “But Him they did not see.”

They had to see Jesus. Unless they saw Him, they would not believe. Unless they saw Him, there would be no point in going on. Unless they say Him, all they could do is walk the seven miles back from Jerusalem to Emmaus as the late afternoon sun was setting.

A stranger caught up with them. It was Jesus, but their eyes were kept from recognizing Him. Note that. It wasn’t that they were so caught up in their grief that they didn’t recognize Him. It wasn’t a case of the “eyes made blind by sin.” They were not permitted from recognizing Him. Jesus concealed His identity.

Why? Why play this little game with two grieving disciples? Why not just show yourself, as Jesus did to Mary Magdalene? Jesus is still the Teacher. First, He wants to hear from their own lips what they believe about Him. It’s something like walking into a room where people are talking about you and don’t know that you’re there. What they say to Jesus about Jesus betrays the fact that they do not yet take Him at His word. He said He would die and in three days rise. They’ve been counting the days. They knew it was the third day, and getting late. Yet they did not believe the good news from the women.

Jesus chides Cleopas and the other disciple. “O foolish men and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken!” The reason they were sad and moping was that they were being foolish, that is, faithless, with heart slow to believe. It wasn’t their eyes, it was their hearts that were messed up. Hearts weighed down by sin, alienated from God are slow to believe, even when they beat in the chest of a near relative and another close disciple. Our hearts are slow about the things of God, alienated from God, turned away from God and turned inward on self. Our hearts do not naturally believe the promises of God. They must be made new, softened by the Word, enlivened by the Spirit.

“Beginning with Moses and the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the scriptures the things concerning himself.” He taught them the proper way to interpret the Scriptures. Not as a book of rules or an owner’s manual for life. But as God’s revelation of His Son. It doesn’t say exactly what Jesus talked about, but I imagine He talked about the Passover, the Exodus, the sacrifices, Isaiah’s suffering servant, and all the images behind which He had been hiding. It must have been quite the Bible class on that Emmaus Road. The two disciples reported that their hearts were burning, which means they were taking it all in and everything was clicking at lightning speed.

Have you ever had a case of Scripture heartburn? I call it “seeing in primary colors,” everything is so crystal clear, all the pieces come together, you think you’re head is about to explode for joy. That’s the power of the Scriptures when they are read through the death and resurrection of Christ. Jesus had said that the Scriptures were speaking about Him. He speaks through the Scriptures. As the OT dots are connected, and Jesus is revealed as the Lamb of God chosen from eternity to bear the world’s sin in His dying and rising, slow hearts become believing burning hearts.

They still don’t recognize Jesus. Their eyes are still kept from recognizing Him. He wants to teach them so they in turn can teach others. He would not be seen for too much longer. Forty days, to be exact, and then He would ascend in glory and be hidden from their eyes until the Last Day. How would they hear from Him? Where would they go when their hearts were slow and sad? To the Scriptures. To the Word of God.

There’s a popular old Easter hymn by C. Austin Miles back in 1912 that you don’t sing around here for good reason. It’s called “In the Garden.” It has a refrain that goes,And

He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.

Now I know this isn’t on the cutting edge of contemporary Christian music, but the sentiment is still popular that Jesus walks with us and talks with us as He did with Mary Magdalene in the garden. But the Emmaus road teaches something different. He walks with us and talks with us in the Scriptures. Do you want to have an Emmaus walk with Jesus? Then take and read. Come to the church and hear. Take a stroll through the Scriptures searching for Jesus’ death and resurrection, and your slow, sad hearts will burn too. Save the garden for bird watching.

They came a fork in the road, and Jesus pretended to go in the other direction. Still hiding Himself, still more to give. The two disciples urged Jesus, “Stay with us, it’s almost sundown.” So Jesus went to their house. At supper, He seems to take over the house and make it His own. He takes the bread, gives thanks, breaks it, and begins to distribute it to them. Sound familiar? It should! Echoes of the upper room the week before, the Passover table, the breaking of the bread. “This is my body.”

And then, at that very moment, with the bread, their eyes were finally opened and they recognized Jesus. Just as suddenly, Jesus disappeared from their sight. Poof! He was gone. Curiously, they didn’t ask, “Where did He go?” They didn’t have to ask. They knew where they could find Jesus. It was where He promised to be for them - in the Scriptures and in the Breaking of the Bread. Word and Sacrament, as we Lutherans like to say it.

I hope you can see how the Emmaus Road shaped Christian worship from the earliest centuries. We hear from Christ in the Scriptures; He reveals Himself to us in the Supper. And that’s the point of the Emmaus Road. This in-between time, between Jesus’ resurrection and our resurrection, is not a time for seeing with our eyes but of hearing with our ears the Word and receiving with our mouths the Body and Blood. This is how Jesus walks with us and talks with us and tells us we are his own. The liturgy is our Emmaus Road from death to life, from sorrow to joy, beginning with our death and burial in Baptism, walking the Scripture road with hearts aflame with faith, leading to the table where Jesus is made known to us in the Breaking of the Bread.

There is a beautiful prayer for Easter evening when our journey on the Emmaus Road comes to its ending:

Abide with us, Lord, for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent.
Abide with us and with Your whole Church.
Abide with us at the end of the day, at the end of our life, at the end of the world.
Abide with us with Your grace and goodness, with your holy Word and Sacrament, with         Your strength and blessing.
Abide with us when the night of affliction and temptation comes upon us, the night of         fear and despair, the night when death draws near.
Abide with us and with all the faithful, now and forever.

In the name of Jesus,
Amen

Peace

Rev. William M. Cwirla — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 00:16:45 -0600

John 20:19-31 / 2 Easter / 30 March 08 / Holy Trinity - Hacienda Heights, CA

In Nomine Iesu

To fearful disciples behind locked doors Jesus appears risen from the dead. The disciples were afraid. Who wouldn’t be? You would; I would too. They’d crucified their Teacher and Friend. Surely they would be next. They’d heard the news from Mary Magdalene who had seen Jesus, touched Him, heard Him. He is risen! Peter and John had investigated the tomb. Nothing there. The grave clothes were folded neatly, the head covering off to the side. Everything was in order. Clearly not the work of grave robbers.

Yet still, the disciples are locked up in this little room, afraid. Death is conquered. Jesus is risen. And still they are afraid. They knew about the resurrection of Jesus, but they hadn’t yet seen, heard, and touched Him. That makes all the difference in the world. Dead men don’t rise, ordinarily. We know that. They knew that too. They weren’t ignorant. The news seemed too good to be true.

Then Jesus appeared. No standing at the door and knocking Jesus. Who would have answered? He simply appears, as though He were there all along though not seen, as He is with us, here and now. Can’t see Him, but He’s present, in that little room and in this one, and wherever two or three are gathered in His Name.

He comes and stands among them, HIs little church of disciples. He blesses them: Peace be with you. Words that flow from His resurrected lips to their ears, giving what they say, “Peace.” Shalom. Wholeness. Everything as it ought to be. This is the first gift of the resurrection - Peace. It is a peace that comes only from Jesus, from Him who died and rose again. Only by way of death and resurrection can we have this peace, a peace that surpasses all our understanding. “Peace I leave with you, my peace a give to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.”

With His words come also His wounds, the nail holes in His hands and feet, the spear wound in His side. Why the wounds? They mark Him as the crucified One. Had jesus appeared without wounds, we might doubt we have the right Jesus. Is it really Jesus? Or perhaps his stunt double? The wounds mark Him for certain. That’s what Thomas wanted to see. “Unless I see in His hands the mark of the nails and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into His side, I will never believe.” Pretty strong statement, but then, dead men don’t ordinarily rise, so who could blame him? I’d want to see the marks too.

Jesus’ wounds are more than proof that He’s actually risen, they are the source of the peace Jesus spoke. Jesus’ peace is not some hollow, religious wish, but peace with God who has reconciled the world to Himself in the death of His Son. From those wounds come our forgiveness, our life, our salvation. “He was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed.”

His wounds denote the sacrifice. Here is the redemption price, the price of our freedom and forgiveness. He is the sacrificial Lamb, offered up for the sins of the world, For your sins.

Our sin is what keeps us locked up in fear. We’re afraid to talk about them, afraid to confess them, afraid to look at them in the mirror of the law. We’ve learned to cover them up under piles of excuses, self-sacrifices, religion, etc. We cover our sins under our “Sunday best,” an old trick learned from Adam and Eve who hid from God’s judgment behind self-stitched fig leaves. That’s sounds a bit silly, and it’s supposed to, because hiding from God behind anything you’ve done is utterly ridiculous and futile.

The wounds are the key. Remember what flowed from Jesus’ wounded side on the cross? Water and blood - a testimony that He was truly dead. And also a sacramental sign, that from His death flow the water to the font of your Baptism and the blood to the chalice that touches your lips. Water and Blood, Baptism and Supper, together with the Spirit these three testify to Jesus’ death for you.

Again Jesus says it. “Peace be with you.” Wouldn’t once have been enough? Not for faith. Faith never hears enough of Jesus. He is sent by the Father as the Father’s apostle, and now He sends them out of their little, locked up room into the big wide world for which He died. How will they manage, this group of fearful disciples locked up in a little room? What will propel them out the door into the world? Jesus’ breath and His words. That is the second gift of Easter- Jesus’ breath and His words. “He breathed on them.”

His breath is the Spirit which delivers His Word. “Receive the Holy Spirit.” This is the breath of the Church that speaks the Word of Christ. You know how it is when you are out of breath. You’ve been running hard or bicycling up a hill. You can’t talk. You can barely get the words out. Words are pushed by air, breath. The Church’s breath is not her own but Christ’s, the wind of God that blows from the mouth of risen Jesus. He resuscitates His fearful disciples with the air of freedom and life. He breathes upon His Church as He did here, and as He did in a big way at Pentecost. This one is a little Pentecost, for His disciples, the eyewitnesses of His resurrection. Fifty days later, Jesus would breath out again over His church, this time bringing 3000 people to Baptism where they too received the Holy Spirit.

In the beginning, the Spirit of God blew over the waters of creation and God spoke the creative Word that brings light and life. In your Baptism the Spirit of God blew over the waters of baptism, and God spoke His Word to you, joining you to Christ in His death, burial, and life. Baptism is Jesus’ breathing on you, bestowing His Spirit, raising you up from your death and sin. Just as God breathed life into Adam’s lifeless clay, so Jesus’ breaths life into His disciples and you too, in your Baptism.

“If you forgive the sins of anyone, they are forgiven.” Jesus’ words and breath deliver forgiveness. This is the third gift of Easter - forgiveness. You don’t have to search for forgiveness from God. You don’t have to look to heaven, or in your heart. Look for the mouth and listen with your ears. Forgiveness is something spoken and heard. In the liturgy of personal confession, the pastor asks, “Do you believe that my forgiveness is God’s forgiveness?” My forgiveness is not going to do you a bit of eternal good. It may make peace between us, but not between you and God. Only God’s forgiveness can do that. It comes to you from Christ through His Church. The Church, as Luther once put it, is a mouth house of forgiveness. Forgiveness is spoken here, and where forgiveness, there also life and salvation.

Forgiveness is both won and received. On the cross it was won, once for all. In the hearing, it is received through faith. It is “for you.” This is why Jesus died - that you might hear forgiveness of your sins. What a gift that is! You can be certain, as sure as the voice speaking to, as though Christ were there speaking to you. It is as certain as Jesus’ word that does what it says.

The opposite is also true. “If you withhold forgiveness, it is withheld.” Forgiveness is a gift freely given by grace and freely received through faith in Jesus. But there is no neutral, middle ground between forgiveness and unforgiveness, as there is no middle ground between faith and unbelief. God forces no one to be forgiven. Refuse it in unrepentant unbelief, and forgiveness is withheld. But don’t blame God for that. He wants to forgive. He sent His Son to forgive. He baptized you to be forgiven.

This is as good a time as any for a little refresher from the catechism. What do we believe according to these words? “We believe that when the called ministers of Christ deal with us by His divine command, in particular when they exclude openly unrepentant sinner from the Christian congregation and absolve those who repent of their sins and want to do better, this is just as valid and certain, even in heaven, as if Christ our dear Lord dealt with us Himself.”

So forgiveness is not something floating about in the air, or some spiritual gas that infuses into you by some kind of osmosis. It is a concrete, real, earthy thing. Words going from a mouth to an ear by the breath and words of the Son of God who gave His life and rose again that we might hear the forgiveness of all of our sins and live in the confident freedom of God’s baptized children.

When Thomas finally got his chance to see Jesus in the flesh, to see those wounds of His crucifixion, he had nothing more to say than “My Lord and my God.” That’s a confession, not an exclamation. He believes. He trusts Jesus. The wounds show Jesus to be what He is for Thomas and for each of you hear today. Your Lord and your God who has saved you by dying and rising and who forgives you.

Blessed are those who have not seen and yet, having heard, believe.
And believing, you have life in His Name.

In the name of Jesus, Amen

Behold! The Lamb of God

Rev. William M. Cwirla — Fri, 21 Mar 2008 08:00:59 -0600

[This is one of the finest Good Friday sermons I know by the sainted Rev. Dr. Kenneth F. Korby. I first posted it here in July 2006 in Kenneth's honor. I repost it today as our Good Friday Devotion.]

Behold! The Lamb of God

Abraham was right. That faithful old man, the “father of believers,” was caught in the deepest anguish of his faith when God stuck him on the spear-point of his order to sacrifice his son. Laden with wood on his back, the boy asked, “Father, where is the lamb?” With fire in his box - and in his own heart - and with the knife in his hand, Abraham was faithful.

Behold the Passover

God provided the Lamb for the burnt offering. And so that you and I and the rest of the world might not miss the Lamb or get muddled with the claims of a thousand and one other messiahs who promote themselves - willing to make us sacrifices to their ideologies and dreams - God took the pains to send John the Baptizer to point to Christ. John, that bony, strange, and brave man, was sent for your service. Let him do his divine service for you as you listen with due attention to his speech: “BEHOLD THE LAMB OF GOD wo takes away the sin world.” Follow the direction of his bony finger when he points to that burnt-offering sacrifice on the cross.

Contemplate that Lamb on the cross, the sacrifice offered once and for all time for our redemption. The fire of God’s wrath, fanned by his mercy and passionate love to be our God, roasts this Lamb. Stretched out on the cross, this Lamb is God’s embrace of the world of his enemies: He is our peace. Like a magnet drawing filings itself, this Lamb, when he is lifted up, “draws all men” to himself. Into himself this Lamb draws the poison of our death: his death is ours. When he dies, we all died.

The curse of death is everywhere in the world. It is in us too. The slavery of death causes us terror in our loneliness, fear in our boredom, anger and grief in our loss. That curse lives us not rest, no Sabbath. It hunts us down, drags us out of hiding, and snatches us away from all we love. Death and its curse dog our days mercilessly and mock our deceits of culture, religion, and civilization to escape them.

Contemplate the wounds

And yet Israel lived safely in its houses when death passed over the land. Hiding behind the blood of the Lamb, they could eat, talk to each other, and rise up to walk to the land promise to them. So you too hide yourselves in these sweet and glorious wounds of Christ. Look on the Lamb of God and consider.

On the head of the Lamb are the wounds that heal your minds in the heavenly joy of repentance. Learn to think with a new mind about God and yourself by contemplating the wounds of his head.

In those hands are the wounds that heal the works of your hands, making them fruitful again in the service of God and your fellows.
In those dear feet are the wounds that heal your straying feet so that you may walk with your Lord on the way of your Lord.

On that back are the wounds of stripes that heal all your wounds of self-inflicted flagellation or the blows you receive from the hostility of your fellow victims. Your backs are healed to stoop down and pick up on your shoulders the lost and the straying and the bruised among your fellows.

And from the side of the Lamb, where the spear of our curiosity about death, where the hatred and the violence of our hearts, are rammed deeply into his heart, there flows the mystery of the love of God. There flows the holy church, the mystery of the unity with God as she is bound together in cleansing and forgiving. Water from his death cleanses you in the baptismal washing and cools down the feverish conscience. Blood fills the chalice you drink that your mortal and condemned body, riddled with disorder, might be ordered sweetly again with God in forgiveness of sins that is lively and salvific. In those wounds you may hide safely from the curse and sin and death. From those wounds flows to you the life that is full of blessing, fidelity, and vitality.

BEHOLD THE LAMB OF GOD WHO TAKES AWAY THE SIN OF THE WORLD!

Behold and listen

And now, look at those parched, chapped lips. No chap-stick of mortals can heal or soothe them, for in his mouth he suffers the cost of the scorn, the lies, and the blasphemous abuse of his Name. The healing comes rather from his mouth. He utters through those cracked lips the words that heal you - at cost to himself. He is the Author of those gracious words. Therefore, those words have authority - authority to heal you in and with and through those words. He heals not himself but you.

The first word

His first and last words are addressed to his Father and ours. First: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” He does not scorn us in contempt for our ignorance and willfulness. He does not wither us with words of disgust and revulsion. He does not drive back into our souls resentment, the bitter hatred we pour out on him. He embraces it all - and us - to himself, into his body to carry it all to the grave and bury it. The lethal, murderous hatchet is buried. It sinks deeply into his soul and by him the sin is extracted from our soul. We are delivered.

In his body - the body of Mary, of the Tree, of the Table - he carries the sin. But out of that body’s mouth he speaks the word of the forgiveness of sins, the word which creates his body, the church. And by that word he fills the church chock full of forgiveness of sins. Into that body, the church, created by his word of the forgiveness of sins, you have been placed for the daily and generous forgiveness of sin so that you may as freely forgive as you have been forgiven. As the forgiveness springs from the heart of God, you can freely and heartily forgive those who sin against you.

His first word opens the door to life forever. That word, hot with the fire and passion of God, welds us to the faithfulness of the Speaker, creating the faith that embraces him. That union of his mercy and our trust heals us forever in the eternal redemption.

and the last

And his last word, “Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit,” finishes what he began. At the end of his life and work he prays the prayer of his boyhood, the prayer he learned from the lips and laps of his parents. It was his “Now -I-lay-me-down-to-sleep” prayer. Having gathered us together in himself he lifts us up into the Father’s hands as he returns whence he came. With a loud voice he roars into our confused ears and minds what our end is. These words tell us where we are going. He carries us with himself. As he offers himself on the cross, he takes us along that where he is there we may be also. Without ceasing day and night, he who alone can condemn you rather prays for you.

Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world and hear the words of his prayer. His first word is your beginning, your origin, your creation anew in righteousness. His last word is the way you are finished out in perfection. It is the word of your destiny, the word that teaches you to die well, to end your life where it has begun: in him with the Father. Hold that cross before your closing eyes. By faith enfold in your heat this One who has enfolded you in his. Who dies thus dies well.

“Today you shall be with me in paradise.”

In between the first and last word of Jesus, those gracious lips of the suffering Lamb nurture our life for living. To the thief on his right Jesus speaks the word that gives courage to suffer with patience and with hope the rewards we receive for our wrong doing. This is no superficial smile, condescendingly turned to look at a wasted life, botched opportunities, and broken hearts. Here is no look of regret at a life that is full of plain evil and harm unleashed on others. Here is no sentimental muttering about the evil of the system as the painful, shameful verdict falls on the perpetrator of evil. Here is the deep and terrible truth about us who are the proper targets of God’s infallible detection system.

But the deep and terrible truth is caught up in a deeper truth and the terrible good. “Remember me, Lord,” is the cry of faith in the midst of pain - pain justly deserved and suffered. And we, with nothing else than death on our hands, are taught by our Lord’s words how to pray to and how to confess the truth. From our cross we learn to pray to him on his cross: “Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus, our Priest, says the AMEN: “Truly (Amen), today you shall be with me in paradise.” For his shame there is the gracious look, the beauteous word that covers the thief with glory. For despair and anger there is the life-giving promise. For the empty sorrow of regrets there is the vivifying hope, the root of courage.

BEHOLD THE LAMB OF GOD WHO TAKES AWAY THE SIN OF THE WORLD that you may be filled with patience, courage, and hope.

“I thirst!”

Do not trick yourself, or deceive yourself, or deprive yourself of the benefits of this Lamb by imagining that his pain and sorrow were somehow not real, as if God’s only-begotten Son would not (surely) feel the brute pain as you do. His is real pain - as real as his real death. He hurt. He died. And for hours, now, he had been, mocked and scorned. He was the Victim of coarse injustice. Physically he had been knocked around, whipped, and slapped. Now he is thirst:y: plain, burning, parching, painful thirst. Indeed, he thirsts for you salvation, too. We heard him say in last night’s Gospel (Luke 22) how he longed and thirsted to eat this passover meal (the Lord’s Supper) with his disciples. But his thirst is also plain thirst. Don’ t by-pass this plain pain. The recollection of it will sustain you at times when you are in plain pain. Remember his thirst so that you may know the thirst for the Holy Supper when you are in pain and the help offered to you seems as cynical and manipulative as the vinegar he received when he wanted a drink of cool water. Recall his pain with yours so that you may also learn to have pity on those of your fellows who are hungry and thirsty. In them, Christ, incognito, still cries out. “ I thirst”; he still waits for you to care for him in his pain with something other than vinegar.

BEHOLD THE LAMB OF GOD WHO TAKES AWAY THE SIN OF THE WORLD so that in your pain you may have the companionship of him who feeds you and the comfort of him who knows real and inescapable pain.

“Woman, see you son; son, your mother.”

However, the pain goes deeper than the body. Loneliness and lostness, division and separation, loss and rejection, conflict within the circle of family, friends, and loved ones are aches of the heart and soul, too. Mary was a Jewish mother. Can you imagine the confusion that could beset the mind of this pious and God-fearing mother when her son has been tried, deemed worthy of death by God’s law as a blasphemer, despised, and now killed on this instrument of damnation and curse? Her son had been generous and faithful, good and true. He had borne the stamp of divine pleasure in his conception, birth and baptism,. And now she watches this scene. What would you women think if this were your son? Would that now be the cause of confusion compounded? Would you not wonder: “What on earth is God doing?”

And then think of John, Jesus’ special friend. What do you do when you stand by and see a friend abused? How desolate John and Mary must have been. They are impotent sufferers, and silent. But in their confusion grieved by the loss of their love, they receive the look of tender love from his eyes. With the gracious look of the face of God who sets the solitary in families, who wraps in the care of his arms those devastated by death, he says, “Woman, see your son; son, your mother.” the separation in his death is the death to our separation; he gives us to each other as mother and son in the company of the holy church.

A pledge of peace from God I see
When thy pure eyes are turned to me
To show me thy good pleasure.
Jesus, thy spirit and thy word,
Thy body and thy blood, afford
My soul its dearest treasure.
Keep me Kindly
In thy favor, O my Savior!
Thou wilt cheer me;
Thy word calls me to draw near thou.
("How Lovely Shines the Morning Star," stanza 4)

BEHOLD THE LAMB OF GOD WHO TAKES AWAY THE SIN OF THE WORLD and from his gracious look and gracious words, receive “your mother” and “your son” in your family and in your church.

Look at him too when he must go alone, even though our closet attention to him cannot enter he terrible God-forsakenness. The depth of the abyss of hell and damnation, the wretched loss of God himself, is beyond our knowledge and experience. He alone goes to that far country. He has come from the secret heart of God. Now he opens up that secret.

"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"

Angels sang at His birth. Angels came to serve Him in the wilderness of temptation. Angels came to comfort Him in His Gethsemanic sweat. But now there are no angels. Ten thousand times ten thousand of powerful shining spirits, faces ablaze with indignation, swords drawn and singing, mounted on steeds chomping at the bit and pawing the sky for release, would have swooped to work a rescue that would have made the most powerful cavalry charge seem like a twitch of the nose. But God looks down on this Man of Sorrows, Grief, and Death, and says to the angels who love to do His will: "Stand back. Do not raise a finger to help. Verily, do not raise an eyelash."

And God Himself turned away.
The burden is the burden of the Lamb alone.

We are that terrible and lonely burden. He is the God who comes to us in our loneliness, forsakenness, and curse. Lost in the "non-place" of our aloneness, He comes to be our place. We cannot go to Him. He comes to us. He is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Caught in the enchantment of our self-love, bound in the enslavement of our own sin, strapped down by the Law's verdict of condemnation, and writhing in our shameful servitude, this Lamb comes to us. Well do we sing, “Blessed is He that cometh in the Name of the Lord! Hosanna - please save us.”

Enough of this religious prattle that speaks of our doing this and deciding that. First He comes to us. He helps us, not by stepping on us, and not by shouting out commands for self-improvement at us, but by coming, by stooping down even under us to lift us up on His neck. He humbled Himself and became obedient unto death - even death by the cross. We are His burden.

BEHOLD THE LAMB OF GOD WHO TAKES AWAY THE SIN OF THE WORLD.

“It is finished”

He isn’t finished. You are not yet finished. But the work is finished; redemption is perfected and completed for you. The price has been paid, in full. Redemption by the Lamb has no missing pieces that you must full in. It is perfected in order to perfect you. By his cross he has brought joy to the whole earth; he is out to perfect you in that joy. He who won the prize and paid the cost through suffering and death speaks the word of the perfected redemption to you so that you may know what you will be like when he is finished with you.

Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. Adore him. Adore his cross. In him on that cross the perfection of heaven, with pure joy, is given to you. He was put to death that he might vivify his people.

MERCIFUL JESUS. LAMB OF GOD, look on us that we may cling to you, and in your mercy have our peace forever. Amen!

Kenneth F. Korby, ThD.

Holy Thursday

Rev. William M. Cwirla — Thu, 20 Mar 2008 15:33:51 -0600

Holy Thursday

In Nomine Iesu

It is Passover night, the night before the day the children of Israel walked though blood-stained doorways into freedom and life. This is the paschal night, the night of the remembrance meal - the hard, unleavened bread, the bitter herbs, the lamb roasted to dry toughness. The Lamb’s blood painted on the doorposts. It is the night of judgment and death as God seeks out the blood. Under the blood of the lamb, you are safe. Death passes over. Without the blood you are dead. It is neither safe nor salutary to deal with God apart from the blood of the Lamb.

It is a night of remembrance. “This day shall be for you a day of remembrance, and you shall keep it as a feast to the Lord; throughout your generations, you shall observe it as an ordinance forever.” In this meal, you remembered the Lord and His saving work; and the Lord remembered you, His Israel. You ate in solidarity with Israel, past and present. It was a holy communion of a holy community.

Jesus reclines at the head of a table with His disciples, His Twelve, His Israel. At this table, Jesus gives to His disciples in two ways. First, an example of humble service - He washes their feet. The Lord and Creator of all, bends down to do the work of the lowest rung of servant. The Master becomes the slave. He came not to be served, but to serve, and to lay down His life as a ransom for the many.

Peter refuses. “You shall never wash my feet.” Pride gets in the way of Peter’s being served by the Master. It gets in the way of our being served too. Too proud, the old Adam in us. We don’t like being given to; we lose control, we’re dependent. We hate that, at least the old self-centered sinner does. But Jesus, ever patient, ever lowly, gently persists in His giving. “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.” Peter must learn the way of receiving, the way of faith, the way of Baptism. Before you can give of yourself in service, you must receive the Lord’s service. He must wash you before you can wash others.

In washing their feet, Jesus gives them a pattern for service “that you should do as I have done to you.” This is what it means to live under Him in His kingdom and to serve Him. This King bows before His subjects and washes their feet. So also you with your fellow servants. “A servant is not greater than His master; nor is he who is sent greater than he who sent him.” What would Jesus do? He would wash feet.

Jesus gives in another way, not the way of example but the way of sacrifice and gift. He takes the bread of the Passover meal, the hard, unleavened bread of affliction, He gives thanks, and breaks it into pieces, and hands a piece to each of His disciples. The morsel grants them admittance, acceptance. “This is my body, which is given for you.” His words tell us what we could not know for ourselves by the science of our reason and senses. This bread is Jesus’ body, what will later that day be given into death on the cross. Here bread finds the highest and holiest service - to deliver Jesus’ body to our bodies, the Bread of Life, living Bread come down from heaven as manna to feed His people.

He takes the cup of wine after supper. He lifts it, gives thanks, and gives each of His disciples to drink from that cup. “This is the new covenant in my blood.” The blood of the new covenant is given to drink as wine. Here wine finds its ultimate purpose, delivering Jesus’ blood to the disciples’ lips, binding those who drink of His cup in a covenant of His blood. Blood is life. “The life of the creature is in the blood.” This blood of the new covenant is a blood that was poured out for you, in your place, for the forgiveness of your sins. Where the blood of the Lamb is, death passes over. This is the food of immortality - eat and drink and live forever.

St. Cyril of Alexandria writes:

It was fitting, therefore, for Him to be in us both divinely by the Holy Spirit, and also, so to speak, to be mingled with our bodies by His holy flesh and precious blood; which things also we possess as a life-giving Eucharist, in the form of bread and wine. For lest we should be terrified by seeing actual flesh and blood placed upon the holy tables of our churches, God, humbling Himself to our infirmities, infuses into the things set before us the power of life, and transforms them into the efficacy of His flesh, that we may have them for a life-giving participation, and that the body of Him Who is the Life may be found in us as a life-producing seed. And do not doubt that this is true, since Himself plainly says, This is My body; This is My blood; but rather receive in faith the Savior's word; for He, being Truth, cannot lie. -- St. Cyril of Alexandria, Homily 142 on St. Luke (thanks to Wm Weedon for that one!)

Washing feet was Jesus’ example, something the disciples could do for each other. But giving His body to eat and His blood to drink, that was something only Jesus could do for them. He unites them with Him in His death and life. He the Vine; they the branches. His body and blood, His death and life flowing into them making them fruitful foot washers. Apart from Him, they can do nothing. Nor can you.

He gives His all to you to save the all of you. Nothing stands outside His forgiveness. Nothing can separate you from this self-giving, self-sacrificing love. No greater love is there than that this servant love that lays down His life for another. In His Supper, at His table, He lays before you the gifts of His cross and says, “These are for you.”

And from this Meal you arise refreshed, renewed, restored - in faith toward Him and in fervent love toward on another. Faith that trusts in Christ alone; love that bends down in service of the neighbor - both friend and stranger. Faith that receives Jesus’ service; love that seeks to serve Him in the least, the lost, the lowly of this world. Faith that receives the washing of sin; love that washes the feet of a fellow sinner.

In the Name of Jesus.

Rejection, Denial, Despair

Rev. William M. Cwirla — Fri, 07 Mar 2008 14:46:55 -0700

The Passion of Our Lord
Matthew 26:57-27:10

The crowd that arrested Jesus in the garden now whisks Him off to Caipas the high priest, the head of the religious court, together with the scribes and the elders of the people. Religion will judge Jesus and render its verdict. Don’t imagine for a moment that this is a fair hearing, or that this panel is interested in the truth. They have already arranged for false witnesses. They are looking for a reason to put Him to death. Many false witnesses come forward, but since their testimony conflicted, it cannot be used. The truth must be firmly established by two or three witnesses. Finally, like the desperate prosecutors find two who could agree, twisting Jesus’ words about the temple being destroyed.

Jesus stands must. “Like a sheep before its shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth,” the prophet Isaiah said of the suffering servant. He is silent against the lies hurled against him. He doesn’t seek legal counsel; He doesn’t assert is rights to a fair hearing. He doesn’t call expert witnesses to speak in His defense. His is the silence of God against the accusation of humanity and man’s Religion. God is on trial here, and God shuts His mouth to the whole thing. In the silence, our blasphemies, our false theologies, our accusations against God are absorbed in the acoustical deadness. God opens not His mouth.

Finally, in exasperation the high priest binds Jesus under oath in the Name of God “ I order you by the living God to speak. Tell us if you are the Messiah, the Son of God.” The name of God has been invoked. Jesus must speak. Yet even now, He will not answer the question. They have said it. Their own words testify. He alludes to the Son of Man in the prophet Daniel who is given all authority from the Ancient of Days. He is the one Daniel had seen, coming with the clouds of heaven, a preview picture of Christ in His glory.

Hearing this, the high priest tears his robes, something the Torah forbids him to do. The high priest must never tear his clothing, nor let his hair be unkempt Leviticus said. But their hatred for Jesus exceeds their zeal to keep the law of God. They have the evidence they seek, or so they suppose. The verdict from Religion is that “He deserves to die.” They spit in His face and mock Jesus as a false prophet. And the Son of Man, Son of God, Messiah, goes silent once again.

How can it be that people so zealous for the Word, those who knew the Torah by heart, and oriented their lives around keeping the commandments, could be turned in utter hatred against the very Word in the Flesh? How can people read the Bible cover to cover and yet miss the whole point, that God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself? The Bible cannot save you. The chief priests, scribes and elders knew their Bibles backward and forward. But a book wasn’t nailed to the cross for the forgiveness of your sins. A person was, the second Person of the undivided Holy Trinity, the creative and redemptive Word made Flesh whose human name is Jesus. He alone can save you, and He has, in His death. The Bible bears witness to this great truth, making us wise to our salvation through faith in Jesus. But it is Jesus that saves.

All the while Peter stands outside in the courtyard. A servant girl picks him out of the crowd. “You were with Jesus the Galilean.” she says. All eyes turn to Peter and stare, singling him out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, denying Jesus as Jesus had predicted. Peter hurries away to another place, and another servant girl points to him and says out louod, “Hey, this guy was with Jesus of Nazareth.” Again, Peter denies, this time with an oath. A little while later some of the bystanders come up to him. “You’re one of them, Your accent gives you away,” And Peter, summoning up his best fisherman's curse, insists on it a third time. “I’ll be damned if I know that man.” The rooster crows; the saying of Jesus if fulfilled. Peter weeps bitterly.

Peter the Rock, the bold one, the spokesman for the Twelve. Peter the great confessor, the one who said, “I would die with you before I would deny you, Peter the fisherman becomes a jellyfish. We join Peter in denial. We ourselves have said it, “I do not know the man.” We’ve said it with our lips and in our lives. We fear being labeled a religious fanatic, a kook, a fundamentalist, whatever name the world would pin on us. Wouldn’t want to take this Jesus thing too seriously no, would we? By the way, the shortened version of “fanatic” is “fan,” as in baseball fan or basketball fan or football fan. Nothing wrong with that sort of fanatic. We have no trouble with being fans of celebrities and music idols (interesting choice of word there). But to be a fan of Jesus? That’s either for the bible belt for the the psychotic ward, take your pick,

The world is asking us the same thing the servant girl asked Peter. “Are you with that guy named Jesus or not? Are you one of His?” Our accent betrays us . We’ve been baptized. We’re easily flushed out of the crowd. And before the rooster crows, we find ourselves cursing our own heads and denying Jesus too. Yet He will not disown us, even unto death.

Judas enters the picture again. He too is caught in despair. Like Peter, he too weeps in remorse. He tries to atone for his sin by going to the temple, the place of forgiveness. He wants to give the money back, to make up for what he did, to take it all back. He even makes a confession of sin: “I have sinned in Bering innocent blood.” But the faithless priests of religion have no absolution to offer. “What’s that to us?” they say. “See to it yourself.” That’s your problem, Judas. You made your bed, now lie in it.

May the Lord spare us from such faithless religion in the hour of our despair and need. Let no confession hang in the air, or be swatted away with an indifferent “Oh, it was nothing.” Confession demands absolution release, pardon, forgiveness. You have it from Christ. Speak it for Christ. He’s taken away the sin of the world. Say it, even to Judas. His life hangs in the balance. Judas heard no sweet words of absolution. No words of forgiveness. All he could do is toss the thirty silver coins into the temple, as the prophet Zechariah had done centuries before, and go out and hang himself. A sacrifice, for sin was required. Judas offered himself.

We do the same. We try to atone for our sings, try to roll back the video of our lives. If we aren’t making excuses or blaming others, then we’re bargaining and transacting with God and getting all religious hoping He won’t clobber us. We cast our thirty silver pieces in the direction of any convenient temple, looking for release from our sin. We offer sacrifices, whether ourselves or others, looking for some way to atone for what we’ve done. But none of it works

There is but one atoning sacrifice, and it’s dead Jesus on the cross. He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only ours, as John reminds us, but for the sins of the whole world. Judas included. Jesus’ death covers Judas’ betrayal and even his suicide. Let go of the religious notion that suicide is unforgivable because there is no opportunity for repentance. Forgiveness is there before repentance, or there is nothing to which to turn. Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.

The religious, pious priests see the money as tainted, blood money. Ironically, it comes from the pockets of priests; Their own bloody fingerprints are all over it. They also offer up their atoning sacrifice. Don’t keep the money, use it instead for a good cause. A place to bury the foreigners. And so with the thirty pieces of blood money they purchase a “Field of Blood,” the potter’s field that Jeremiah once purchased long ago, now a place to bury John and Jane Doe. And the word of the prophet is fulfilled twice over.

This is a sad and sordid episode, a dark chapter in the Gospel. The treachery of the religious high court, the three-fold denial of the disciple, the desperate suicide of Judas. Who would ever have thought that it would come to this that wondrous day of Jesus’ Baptism? Or His glorious transfiguration? Can anything good come of this? God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not counting men’s sins against them. In with and under the worst of sin - lies, denials, despair, suicide - the good and gracious will of God is done to death and life. The One whom the religious declared “guilty” goes to His cross so that the guilty might be declared innocent.

There’s hope for you in Jesus, and He suffers this all for you. Remember this night when the religious mock you, and accuse you falsely because of Jesus. Remember this night when the rooster catches you in denial of Him. Remember this night when you hear no absolution to your heartfelt confession, when you are in despair, when you feel that God could not possibly forgive such a miserable sinner as you. There’s no need to die like Judas. You’ve already died in Jesus, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. Your death atones for nothing. Jesus’ death atones for it all and for all. And most especially for you.

In the Name of Jesus,
Amen

Be Gone, Satan

Rev. William M. Cwirla — Mon, 11 Feb 2008 07:52:21 -0700

Matthew 4:1-11 / 1 Lent A / 10 February 2008 / Holy Trinity - Hacienda Heights, CA

In Nomine Iesu

Today is a tale of two temptations - of Adam and of Christ, the first Adam and the second. The first fell, and with his fall came sin and death to all. The second stood, and with His stand comes righteousness and justification for all.

Adam was tempted in Eve, his wife. They are “one flesh,” united in every way, inseparable. The devil is shrewd. He knows if he can tempt the woman, the man will follow. He comes as a creature of God, a false “incarnation,” a crafty serpent. He begins with a tempting religious question, one that tempts every person - Did God really say? The devil begins with God’s Word. He is a religious devil. Did God really say you may not eat of any tree in the garden? The question is twisted and ambiguous. Diabolical. Intended to trap. God had said all the trees are yours save this one - the one of knowing good and evil. That one was off limits; all the others were fair game. Good and evil is not the way God wanted us to experience His creation which He declared good. The devil preys on innocence and hates it. Look how quickly he corrupts the thinking of a child and tries to get between the child and the Word of God. Look how quickly skepticism and scorn settle in.

“We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden,” the woman says, “but God did say, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.” She gives the faithful answer and a little more. Neither shall you touch it. God said nothing about touching. This is the beginning of pietism and all manmade religion. Add a little something more to God’s Word to give it a little boost. Say something more that what God has said. It sounds so pious, doesn’t it? Don’t eat, and don’t even touch. Every fall begins with a little slip, and here it is - adding to the Word of God. The devil has her right where he wants her, using religion to defend God.

“You will not surely die.” The Lie, transparent as anything, and yet covered by a false promise. “Your eyes will be opened.” Weren’t they already open? “You will be like God, knowing good and evil.” Weren’t they already the image of God? Here is the temptation that stalks every man, woman, and child. Each of us. You can be gods. Who needs God when you can be your own god?

The woman rationalizes. Reason is all that is left when faith in the Word departs. Now she is left on her own. The fruit was good, tasty, sweet and seductive. It was beautiful to see, and soft to the touch, and oh how wonderful it smelled. What could possibly be so bad? Besides, it could make you wise, and wouldn’t God want you to be wise? How can this be wrong when it feels so right? Ever catch yourself rationalizing sin that way? The less than honest business deal - I’m providing for my family. The illicit affair - we love each other. Every sin has wrapped around it this coating, a layer of self-justification and rationalization.

She bites into the sweet, seductive Lie, and she leads her husband to do the same. They are in this together as one flesh. This is no isolated sin; sin is never in isolation. Through this one trespass came condemnation, not only to Adam and Eve, but to all men, including you. “In Adam we have all become one huge rebellious man.” We are there in Adam. He is bone of our bones and flesh of our flesh. Sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin. That’s our inheritance as sons and daughters of Adam and Eve. Every child is born with it, there is no escaping it.

The same devil came to the second Adam, fresh from His Baptism in Jordan River. The Spirit had led Jesus there, into the wilderness, an Israel reduced to one man, all of humanity in one man, facing the devil alone, face to face. This time there was no serpent’s disguise. We are not told what the devil looked like; that’s none of our business.

Jesus was hungry, having fasted forty days and nights. He is vulnerable, empty, weak, isolated in a way that Adam and Eve weren’t. This temptation is uniquely His. The devil waits for the opportune moment. Not at the beginning of Jesus’ fast, but at the end, at His weakest, His stomach screaming for a crumb of bread. “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” He is the Son of God, the Word through whom all things, including the stones, were made and in whom they have their existence. What’s the big deal? Who would miss a few stones in the desert? Who would even know or care?

This is the temptation of the flesh and the appetites. We will do most anything for bread, if we are hungry enough. Human history teaches that quite well. We will sacrifice our freedom to one who promises bread for our tables. We will sacrifice even our unborn children for the sake of bread. But to live this way is not to live by every Word that comes from the mouth of God. The Word gives seed to the sower and bread to the eater. To have bread without the Word is to have a bread-god, an idol. Jesus, the Bread of Life, resists the temptation of the flesh in our flesh.

When Jesus needs bread in the wilderness He multiplies it; He does not “transubstantiate” stones. That would be most un-Creatorlike, to destroy one thing to make another. He does not use His divine power to serve Himself and His needs, for He came not to be served but to serve and to give His life as a ransom for the many.

Again, the devil comes to Him and takes Him to the holy city and the top of the temple. How this happened, we do not know, and it is none of our business. “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down.” And here the pious devil quotes a bit of Scripture, a snippet of a psalm - “For He will command His angels concerning you, “ and “on their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.” This is the temptation of faith. Does the Word in the flesh trust the Word of His Father? Or will He put it to the test?

Did God really say? Is God’s Word really true? Can it be that this Baptism is the water of rebirth and renewal? Can it be that this word is the Word of forgiveness? Can it be that this bread is the Body of Christ and this wine His blood? The psalm promises the protection of the angels to the one who trusts God. Surely Jesus had the angels on His side, didn’t He, if He was the Son of God? Angels would come and minister to Him, but not now and not here. He did not come to be lifted up on the temple, but on the cross, and there would be no angels to catch Him. He goes to death with nothing but trust in His Father, and He does it for us all.

How sneaky the devil is, to quote a psalm to Jesus. The devil is the chief distorter of the Scripture. The psalm goes on to say, “You will tread upon the lion and the cobra; you will trample the great lion and the serpent.” The devil left that part out. That’s about him. He knows what Jesus is there for, to crush his head with a cross-bruised heel. Jesus matches Scripture for Scripture faithfully - “You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.” To test the Word is to tempt God.

Again the devil takes Jesus up to a very high mountain and shows Him all the kingdoms of the world in their glory. How this happened, we are not told, for it is none of our business. That it happened is what matters to us. The prince of this world versus the King of kings. “All these I will give to you, if you will fall down and worship me.” He tempted Jesus in His flesh and in His faith. Now the temptation is to His fidelity. Will He remain faithful and true to His Father?

This is a temptation unique to Jesus, and yet it is the temptation of every Christian and of the Church as well. To have a kingdom without a cross. The devil proposes a shortcut - a simple act of homage, bow down and worship, in exchange for all the glory of the kingdoms of this world. We exchange our worship for considerably less. For Jesus it was a way around Calvary, a way around the torment of crucifixion, an easy way to an end. But the end does not justify the means. “You shall worship the Lord your God, and Him only shall you serve.”

The temptation of Christ was greater than the temptation of Adam. Where Adam fell, Christ stood. Where Adam yielded, Christ conquered. Where Adam hearkened to the Lie, Christ remained faithful to the truth. Where Adam betrayed himself and God, Christ remained true. In Adam all became sinners and all die; in Christ all are justified and all are raised to life.

Jesus conquered every human temptation with nothing but the Word and promise of God. And because He was tempted in every way as we are, yet without sin, we are able to pray, “Lead us not into temptation.” We will be tempted in the weakness of the flesh, in our faith, in our fidelity to the Word and the worship of God in Spirit and Truth. But know this, as baptized believers in Christ: Christ has conquered every temptation in the flesh, and in Him you conquer and He conquers the same in you. There will be times when we will be driven into the wilderness, left with nothing but the Word and promise of God. We will have come to the end of our prayers, our pieties, our religion. We will hear nothing but silence from God. No miracles, no displays of power, no religious ecstasies. Only the devil whispering, “Are you a child of God? You are, aren’t you?” He failed with Jesus, but he’ll try it with you, like a roaring lion, looking from someone to swallow.

Resist him; stand firm in the faith. Shake your fist at him. Throw ink bottles at him, if you’re so inclined, as Luther once did. Say, “Damn you, devil. I am baptized. I am a child of God, an heir of life, embraced by the death of Jesus my Lord and covered by the blood of Him who has you firmly under His foot. Christ defeated you in the wilderness and on the cross. You have nothing to say to me. As Christ my Lord said to you, so I say, Be gone, Satan! I belong to Christ and you cannot harm me.”

“For as by the one man’s disobediences, the many were made sinners, so by the one man’s obedience the many will be made righteous.”

In the name of Jesus,
Amen