The Loving Hands of Easter - John 20:19-31 (Youth Confirmation Sunday)

“The Loving Hands of Easter”

John 20:19-31

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  Amen. 

Five hundred years ago, it seemed the entire city of Nuremberg, Germany, had come out to see the local boy, now a famous artist, come home. His name was Albrecht Durer. Albrecht and his brother, Albert, both had a natural talent for art: Albrecht with paints and pencils; Albert as a sculptor. Unfortunately, money was tight and the two could not go off to university at the same time. They came up with a plan: they would flip a coin, the winner going off to university to study art and the loser going down into the mines to work to pay for the brother’s school. After the first completed schooling, they would trade places. The next Sunday morning, the coin was tossed and Albrecht the painter, won the toss and went off to University while Albert went down into the mines – not to sculpt, but to dig copper and silver from the mines. 

Albrecht’s talents were soon discovered by the faculty. While his paintings were excellent, he became famous for woodcuts, basically, hand-carved stamps made from blocks of wood. By the time he graduated from university, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works. 

Finally, after years of study and work at honing his craft, it was time for Albrecht to return home. There was music and laughter, food and festivity: the famed artist had returned home. Finally, Albrecht stood to make a toast to his beloved brother for his sacrifice. He said, "And now, Albert, it is your turn. Now you can go to university to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you." 

All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, "No ...no ...no ...no." Albert looked down the long table at the faces he loved, and then he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go anymore. It is too late. Look ... look at what four years in the mines have done to my hands! All of my fingers have been smashed at least once, my right hand hurts so much that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast much less make delicate cuts in blocks of wood. No, brother ... for me it is too late." 

Almost five centuries have passed since Albrecht Durer held his brother’s broken hands in his own. Albrecht Durer's pieces hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works.  That very day that he returned home, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply "Hands," to remind all the world of what his brother sacrificed so that he could fulfill his dream of becoming an artist.

On that first Easter Sunday, the disciples gathered in the upper room, wringing their hands in fear. They were afraid for their lives, afraid for their future, afraid of those who had clamored for the crucifixion of Jesus. Those who had killed Jesus would surely come for them now that the rumors of His resurrection were beginning to circulate.

Into that little fortress of fear comes the resurrected, but still gentle, Jesus. Jesus comes humbly, quietly. His hands didn’t pound on the doors.  His hands didn’t reach out to tap the disciples on the back of the head and say, “You should have known better.”  Jesus simply enters the room.  It amazes me: the Master comes to the students; He doesn’t wait for them to work up the courage. He comes to them with their fears and stands in their midst.  

Raising His nail-marked hands, Jesus speaks the words of absolution. “Peace be with you.” His words give what they say. Peace. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” His hands show that peace has been won for them. “I have said this to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.”  

Peace. So simple; so rich. Peace means that harmony and unity has been restored between God and man. With sin atoned for and the death-price paid, the relationship is whole again. Think what that means for these men: they had all failed Him in His hour of glory. Peter had denied him three times. The disciples had abandoned him. But, worst of all, none of them had believed His words - that on this day – it’s still Easter night, remember - the first day of the week, He would rise from the dead. They didn’t believe Him when He foretold His death would happen; they didn’t believe when the resurrection happened, either.  Their hearts were filled with fear. 

I take great comfort in the truth that Jesus does not berate them for their unbelief or chide them for the lack of faith. Instead, He comes graciously to them to speak His peace.

The proof is in His hands, feet, and side.  From these rich wounds come the peace that Jesus speaks. "The punishment that brought us peace was upon him and by his wounds we are healed." 

Kaden, Chloe and Lance: while this is true for everyone here, I want you especially to remember well these wounds, for by these wounds you are healed from the disease of your sin and your death. Recall those wounds when your life is in turmoil and upheaval, when you are threatened and filled with fear, locked up in your room in sheer despair, remember the wounds. His are the wounds from which the cleansing blood of God's Son flowed upon the wood of the cross for you. They are your peace.

The hands, feet and side mark Jesus the crucified One, the One whose body was nailed to the cross. This was no imposter or spiritualized phantom Jesus, but a genuine flesh and blood Jesus, newly risen from the dead.

Jesus presents His same words and wounds to us in the water with which you were baptized, the word with which you were instructed, the Body and the Blood which you will soon receive for the first time. In the Supper of His Body and Blood, Jesus shows forth His wounds and His words, the sacrifice that bought our redemption, together with the words of peace that deliver His redemption to us. He extends His hands to us, telling us "For as often as you eat of this bread and drink of this cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until He comes."

I don’t know if you’ve ever heard the story of Albrecht Durer and his “Hands” before.  The next time you see the painting or sculpture, stop and look at it.  Wherever you are when you see those hands, the hands of one brother who was willing to sacrifice his dream for the other brother, I hope you remember the story.  But, I also hope you remember the story of another set of hands – Christ’s hands.  His hands were nailed to a cross for you.  His hands bled for you.  And now, His nail-marked hands reach out in blessing for you, proclaiming to you that all of your sins are forgiven and peace has been restored between God and you.

An Empty Tomb, a Rolled Stone and a Risen Jesus - Luke 24:1-12

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

The women were seeking a grave. They had witnessed Jesus’ burial just two nights earlier as Sabbath had approached. Sabbath law forbade work of any kind, so with Jesus dead, and time running out for proper burial, they could only give the body the most rudimentary of burial care that it deserved. It wasn’t what they wanted to do; it was all they had time to do. The grave had been cut out of solid stone. It was new; a body had never been laid in it before; and, most important, it was nearby and available. In this sepulcher, the God of Creation was entombed into the belly of His own creation. 

The women were looking for a body. They wanted to show Jesus a final honor. They watched helplessly the last days of Jesus’ life as He was arrested, hauled away in bondage, tried and convicted. They wept as they stood in the crowd that lined the streets as Jesus staggered by under the weight of the cross. They wept again when Jesus was crucified. They heard His seven words; they saw Him breathe His last. They saw Him die. They had cared for Him in life; the least they could do was care for Him in death. They had seen Joseph and Nicodemus take the body, which had been taken down from the cross, and place it in the tomb.

They were expecting a stone that stood in the way of their plan’s fulfillment. To get to Jesus, to use the precious spices and aloes they had purchased, they must move the stone. It was probably large and heavy; they knew they couldn’t move it themselves. Perhaps a sympathetic solider would lend them aid, or perhaps a disciple or curious citizen would help. But even then, it had been sealed – stamped – with Governor Pilate’s mark. It was as if creation and Rome were both conspiring to prevent their final act of love from happening. 

They were seeking what every person expects when they walk into the cemetery: a grave, a body within, and stone. And silence. It’s always silent because the grave, the body, the stone – they do not speak.  The story always goes the same in a cemetery. Loved ones seek the place where the dead lay. The silence is broken with whispers, with tears, with sobs. It’s what is expected in the cemetery.

Except this wasn’t the same story. It wasn’t the same old grave, it wasn’t the same old stone, and it certainly wasn’t the same body. This was Easter morning. This was resurrection day. This was Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of God. The grave they sought was open. The body they were looking for was gone. The stone they expected to cause so much trouble was moved away. Open grave, absent body, moved stone – no, this was nothing that they expected. 

Two men with dazzling clothes shone into the darkness, radiating light. “Jesus Christ is the light of the world, the light no darkness can overcome, we sang on Maundy Thursday.” These two men were not the Light, but they come to bear witness to the Light.  A gentle reproach, a direct question: “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here but has risen.” This is the first Easter proclamation. Good News abounds! Where Good Friday was darkness and death, and Saturday’s Sabbath rest was rest in the tomb, the first day of the week brings resurrection and with resurrection is light and life. 

“Do you remember, the angels asked, how He told you these things?” It’s as if the angels ask, Do you remember Jesus’ telling you how He spoke plainly, just these past days, how He must go up to Jerusalem, be arrested, and suffer and die at the hands of the chief priests and teachers of the Law? Do you remember that? Do you see how that has been fulfilled in what you witnessed these past days? 

Do you remember that this Jesus who died, died for you? Do you remember that Jesus, who lived a perfect life because you are unable to, became your substitute? Do you remember that Jesus, the Lamb of God, was the perfect sacrifice for your sins? Do you remember the cry of Jesus, “Father forgive them?” He prayed that for you. Do you remember the plea, “I thirst?” He drank the bitter cup of suffering for you all the way to the dirty dregs. Do you remember how He gave His mother to the care of John, the Disciple? It shows He cares for you in this life. Do you remember His pledge, “Today you will be with me in paradise?” It shows He also will care for you into eternity. Do you remember the agonized cry, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” He was forsaken by God so you never will be abandoned by your Heavenly Father. Do you remember his declaration, “It is finished?” God’s plan of salvation, the atonement – the payment – for the sins of the world is done in Christ’s death. Do you remember the final prayer, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit?” Through Christ, we are restored to the Father’s presence and His holds us in His hands in love, grace and mercy.

Do you remember what else He said? That after three days He will rise again? As the past days have come true, so also will His third-day promise. Today’s the third day. Today is Easter Sunday. Today is resurrection day.

It is no small thing that this takes place very early on the first day of the week. Creation began on Sunday in Genesis; it comes to completion on Sabbath, what we call Saturday. When else would you expect a new creation to begin, a new heaven and a new earth opened but at the beginning of a new week. The old week is complete. It is finished, remember? As is the week, as is God’s plan of salvation. Resurrection Day begins a new week; it’s an 8^th day of Creation, if you will. Resurrection gives a new beginning; it gives new life. He who was dead is alive. He who was buried is raised. He who was restrained cannot be contained any longer – not by creation, not by a stone, not by a grave, not by death. He has risen!

I met Ruby and Elmer in the spring of my internship year. They were probably in their 80s and, from the looks of things, life was tough. After the initial chit-chat of strangers meeting for the first time, there was silence in the room. I noticed Ruby, in the bed with her blankets pulled to her chin, was staring at her husband, wearing a red gimme hat and a plad shirt under his overalls. I can’t remember which of them spoke first, any more, but one said, “I’m scared.” A diagnosis of stage four, inoperable cancer will scare anyone. A few seconds later, the other agreed, “Me too.” Over the course of the discussion, I discovered that the couple hadn’t been inside a church since they were each baptized as babies. Now, with Ruby’s life in grave danger, staring death in the face, they needed a word of comfort and hope. They needed to hear about Jesus.  

Over the next few months the pastor and I visited them in their home and then in the nursing home. Pastor took them through adult instruction and made them members of the congregation via confirmation. On Ash Wednesday, for the first time, they took communion together, Ruby in her bed and Elmer at her side. They didn’t need ashes; the reminder of death was drawing ever closer. Ruby died a few weeks later. 

Pastor and I visited Elmer at home. You can imagine, some of you know first-hand, the pain he was experiencing. He promised he would come to church…soon, but not this week. Finally, it was Easter morning. The church was full. When it came time for the communion service, as Pastor and I were sharing Christ’s body and blood, suddenly, there was Elmer kneeling at the rail. I saw Pastor start to cry as he gave him the body of Christ and hoarsely whispered, “The body of Christ for you.” That got me. I choked out “The blood of Christ” as tears began to fall. We finished the table and had to excuse ourselves. We stepped back into the sacristy for a minute and wept – tears of sadness but also tears of joy: Elmer was there. With sad smiles, we went back and finished the service. 

After church, Elmer held back just a little bit. He wanted to thank Pastor for everything. I watched these two men, both gruff and grumbly, hug. Then, I heard Elmer’s rumble: He’s not here, Pastor. He’s risen. Neither is my Ruby, but she’s risen, too. You taught me that. And that means I’ll get to see her again one day. Christ is risen.” And with a final handshake, Elmer walked out the door. 

That is why the empty grave, and the rolled-back stone, and the resurrected Jesus are so important. 

Christ is risen. He is risen, indeed. Alleluia.
 

Resurrection - Luke 24:1-12

On that first-day morning,
To the tomb they did bring
Burial spices and aloes
To bury their King

They heard His last words,
They saw His last breath; They thought to be certain:
The King met His death

So three women went early
While dark was the sky
As dark as their spirits
For their King, He did die.

Their memory fogged
With horror and pain
No memory or hope of
The King's promises plain.

Their concern was quite simple: "Who would roll back the stone?"
But the stone had been moved -
The King's body was gone!

They saw two men sitting
Where the body had laid
And heard them proclaim
The King rose from the grave!

"He's not here! He has risen!"
Evil's plans are undone!
The One crucified, now lives!
The King - Victory won!

The Donkey Preaches on Palm Sunday: John 12:12-19

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is John 12:12-19.

How do you see Jesus? It depends on your perspective. If you try to see Jesus without the cross, you’ll always be disappointed in the Jesus you find. 

The Jewish leaders saw Jesus as a threat to their power and control over the worshipping community of Israel. His teaching and His preaching demonstrated that they are no longer in God’s grace, they are misleading God’s people and His anger is growing against their work. In retaliation, they are planning and plotting how to get rid of Jesus through any means necessary. The crowd’s reception only fuels their lustful desire for His downfall.

The crowds that lined the streets of Jerusalem, waving palm branches and shouting “Hosanna!”, saw Jesus as a restored Davidic king, one who would throw out the Romans and restore Israel to a political powerhouse, able to stand on her own against neighboring rival nations. When Jesus raises the three-day-dead Lazarus, this only fuels their misconception of who Jesus is. Imagine a king who can resurrect the army that dies in battle! Their cry is sadly ironic: Hosanna means “Save us” or “Help us”. That’s exactly what Jesus came to do, but they don’t understand how.

The disciples…they should get it, right? But they see Jesus as a mishmash of an Old Testament prophet who speaks powerfully and is able to perform mighty miracles of God, but also as a socio-political leader whose coattails they want to ride into their own positions of power and authority. After all, if the people are flocking to Jesus, and they are His closest friends and confidants, surely there is something in this for them as well.

The Romans see Jesus as just another pseudo-Messiah, someone to keep an eye on, lest he stir up trouble that incurs the wrath of the Emperor. 

They were all seeing Jesus without the cross. Without the cross, this is all Jesus is: a troublemaker, a rabble-rouser, a curiosity, someone who needs to meet expectations to please and appease the crowds.

Of all those who gathered that first Palm Sunday, there is only one who recognizes Jesus for who He is, only one who realizes this is God-in-flesh, the Son of David riding back into the City of David to do what He must to do redeem, to rescue, to save. That was the donkey. That’s right: the donkey. 

I’ve not spent much time with donkeys, so I am assuming what is true about horses is true for them as well. A young horse doesn’t take well to being ridden. It takes time, patience, and a lot of skill to break a horse to ride. You start with a bridle, then a saddle blanket, and then a saddle, slowly letting the horse acclimate to each step. Then, and only after it’s gotten used to having something on its back, does a rider attempt to try to ride it. Even then, it’s almost a guarantee the horse will do everything he can to remove the rider as quickly as possible.

Jesus sits on this young donkey’s colt and it doesn’t buck, it doesn’t bolt, it doesn’t blitz through the noisy crowd. It simply goes forward. It’s no small thing that this simple beast of burden – who, remember, is also part of God’s creation that Jesus has come to redeem – the donkey gets it. In the Palm Sunday excitement, the donkey is the only one who provides a faithful witness to Jesus. The donkey is obeying not his master, but The Master. The donkey, with Jesus astride, is heading to the cross. 

It’s not mere happenstance. This is a fulfillment of Zechariah’s prophesy from centuries earlier: “Behold, your king is coming, sitting on a donkey’s colt.” Don’t misunderstand the donkey. Our modern, American mindset sees donkeys as a joke. In western movies, only the town drunk rides a donkey – except for Clint Eastwood, and no one laughs at Clint Eastwood more than once. The heroes ride horses – big, strapping animals. That’s post-Romantic era America. But in ancient Israel, donkeys were seen as strong, sure-footed animals, noble beasts. In fact, when David rode into Jerusalem as the conqueror, he did so on the back of a donkey – not a massive stallion. Jesus enters Jerusalem, the city of David, in the way of David, to assume His rightful throne. 

But, unlike David, His throne isn’t made of the finest woods and inlaid with gold and precious stones. It’s not found in a palace surrounded by servants to do every whim and fancy. It’s not surrounded by layers of security to protect the king from all harm and danger. Jesus is King of all – He could have all of these and more. This King, who is in the world, is not of the world; nor is His kingdom. Jesus has emptied Himself of His heavenly and divine majesty. He will be labeled “The King of the Jews,” but not as a title of honor or sincerity. His throne will be made of two massive wood beams. It will be sunk into the ground on a hill called Golgatha, the place of the skull. Jesus will ascend to His throne, but He will do so to be suspended between heaven and earth, rejected by both God and man. He will be surrounded by soldiers, yes, but not for security but to make sure He dies in the most gruesome way possible. He will die for the Jewish leaders, even though they reject Him as Messiah. He will die for the crowds whose cries will change from hosanna to crucify. He will die for the disciples who run away. He will die for the soldiers who drive in the nails. He will die for you and for me, carrying our sins to the cross, dying the death we deserve. He even dies for fallen creation. Jesus dies for the donkey.

The Jewish leaders don’t get it; the crowd certainly doesn’t; the disciples don’t yet understand or believe; the Romans don’t care. But the donkey is carrying Jesus. He is heading to the cross. With the cross, Jesus is Messiah, the Christ, the Savior, the Son of God who fulfills all of the promises of God.

If you look at the back of a donkey, there’s a dark line that runs down his spine. It meets a dark line that runs laterally across the shoulders. From the side, it’s hardly noticeable, but from the top down you’ll see that those lines form a cross. There is a legend – please hear that word, legend, so it goes in the same category as Paul Bunyon and George Washington’s cherry tree speech – that the cross appeared on the donkey after he carried Jesus into Jerusalem, and that his descendants are thus marked for the honor he had in carrying the Master. It’s a legend, a cute story: I don’t buy it. But it is interesting that the only one who recognized Jesus for Who He is has the God of Creation sitting on his back.

The English poet, philosopher and lay theologian G. K. Chesterton wrote a poem called The Donkey. [1]

When fishes flew and forests walked

                And figs grew upon thorn,
            Some moment when the moon was blood
               Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry

                And ears like errant wings,
            The devil’s walking parody
                On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,

                Of ancient crooked will;
            Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
                I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;

                One far fierce hour and sweet:
            There was a shout about my ears,
                And palms before my feet.

The donkey is the faithful preacher, preaching to us in silence. But, he carries us where we also need to be this Palm Sunday, entering Holy Week just as Jesus entered into Jerusalem. The donkey takes us to the cross. That’s where we need to be. That’s where we see Jesus.

In His name, amen.

---

[1] https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47918/the-donkey

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The Landowner Sent His Son To Die - Luke 20:9-20

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is the Gospel lesson.


A landowner is trying to collect what is His: his harvest. He sends out three servants: the first is beaten up, the second is beaten but he is also shamed – I imagine he was probably stripped and sent home naked - and yet a third servant is sent; this one is actually wounded. That is when the landowner decides to send his son.


I don’t think it would matter where you told this parable – from the ancient Israel to Inez, from Jerusalem to Junction – or when you told it – from 2000 years ago to this morning – anyone hearing this parable recoils at the landowner/father’s decision. He is 0-3 in sending emissaries to these ungrateful tenants. Their behavior is growing more violent. It’s bad enough he sent the third servant. There is no reason to suspect that the tenants will become suddenly remorseful and surrender their rent. In fact, their increasingly violent behavior is demonstrating a likelihood that the next messenger will get an even worse treatment. So, the fact that the landowner/father sends his son to such reprehensible, violent tenants is inconceivable. It simply wouldn’t be done.


Yet the father does exactly that: his son is the one who is sent next. The son, in his innocence, is quite literally sent into enemy territory. The father sends his beloved son into the hands of terribly wicked men who plot to kill him, thinking – mistakenly – that by killing the heir, they will inherit the land instead.


So, this begs the question: why does this landowner, why does this father, risk sending His son to tenants who are predisposed to rejecting the landowner and his servants? There is, frankly, no rational explanation for why the Father would send His son into a dangerous place where death is likely.

Well, that’s not quite true. There is one reason – one, very good reason why the Father would send his son. Perhaps the tenants will repent. When they see the son, maybe they will realize the seriousness of the situation and turn from their wickedness, from their greed, from their selfishness, from their stealing from the landowner, and return to the landowner what is rightfully his. Perhaps the tenants will change. Then the relationship can be restored.


The one reason, the only reason, the landowner does this: he loves the tenants and wants them to repent. That is why the landowner sends his son: so the tenants might repent.

Sadly, they do not. They see an opportunity, alright, but not for repenting and being restored. Instead they see an opportunity to improve their situation. Get rid of the heir and they think they’ll inherit the land for themselves.


There was a strategic mistake. For them to inherit the land in lieu of the son, the landowner must first die. He does not. The father is very much alive and he is now very much angry. His anger against the tenants, his jealousy for his share of the harvest, his compassion for his servants scorned, and his deep love for his son murdered all rise up and burn hot against those fools. He throws the wicked tenants out of his vineyard and kills them, giving the vineyard to others instead.


Parables are stories that help us understand the kingdom of God. It doesn’t take any great difficulty to understand that the parable. We can quickly identify the characters: the landowner is God; the vineyard represents His people, Israel; the tenants are the leaders of Israel – the priests, the pharisees, the teachers of the law; the servants are God’s prophets; the son is, of course, Jesus. The parable is both history and prophesy. As history, it is an illustration of how God sent His prophets to Israel to call His people back to Himself. He has great blessings to bestow on His people. Three servants are mentioned - it’s not about which specific, three prophets were sent and abused. Three is the number of wholeness in the Bible. God sent exactly enough prophets to Israel. All are rejected. More than that, God is rejected. So, out of His great love and compassion for His people, God sends Jesus into the world.


As a parable of prophesy, it speaks of Jesus’ rejection. This morning’s Gospel lesson takes place during Holy Week. The Palm Sunday rejoicing of the crowds quickly gives way to Jesus weeping over Jerusalem. He cleanses the temple from the money changers. Jesus’ authority has been challenged, and He challenges the Jews back, causing Him to tell this parable.  Some parables that Jesus told were told in a deliberate way so that they were hard to understand. This one is painfully easy, so much so that the scribes and chief priests recognized it and sought a way they could turn Jesus over to the government for capitol punishment.


We are in the depths of Lent. We are only days from Jesus’ celebrating the Passover with His disciples, His arrest and sham trial, His crucifixion. The parable reminds us plainly and clearly that the reason Jesus came. But it also speaks and reminds us plainly and clearly that the message of God’s Word, Old and New Testaments, is one of repentance.


We are not ancient Israel, nor are you the leaders who rejected the prophets and Jesus. In fact, the exact opposite is true: you are the new Israel, the Church, and you receive Christ with thankfulness. Why repent?


Because if it were not for Christ’s vicarious atonement – his substitutionary sacrifice – we would have to face God’s wrath for our sins. If it were not for Jesus, we would be the cut-off ones, the sent-out ones, the destroyed ones.


In His mercy, God sent His Son – His only begotten and beloved Son - to rescue us, to take the Father’s wrath upon Himself, and carry it to the cross and die the sinner’s death there, alone.  The gifts of God have been delivered to us through the very Messiah that Israel rejected.


In the parable, the landowner/father delivers the vineyard to a new owner. The Heavenly Father delivers the Church to the Son. He was willing to die to rescue the vineyard for the Father. He was willing to die to rescue you from anything that would separate you from the Father. He died to save you.


In the name of Jesus. Amen.