The Festival of the Reformation (Transferred) - Romans 3:21-31

 

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

Being a pastor is an interesting vocation. If you ever want to kill a conversation fast, when a person meets you for the first time and asks what you do, tell them you’re a pastor and watch their face. One of two things happens, usually: either they freeze, trying to remember if they have “sinned” – usually in the form of an off-color joke – since they were near you, or they decide they’re going to play “gotcha” and ask you some question like, “So, preacher, just how many angels can dance on the head of a needle,” or “If God is all powerful, can he create a rock so big he can’t lift it?” The answer to both questions, by the way, is God doesn’t engage in foolishness and waste the time He created.

But every now and then, that person has a serious question to ask: tell me about God; does God really forgive sinners; what does it mean that God is merciful; if the church is for sinners, why is it so hypocritical; if God is love, why did He kill His own son? Good questions, hard questions, questions of the soul that I’m happy to try to answer no matter where I am. Often I ask my own question – why do you ask? Maybe they had a really negative experience at a church, or a pastor once publicly berated them, or they were shamed so terribly by well intended parents or teachers, “You better tell God just how sorry you are, and don’t come out of your room until you are. Or, perhaps worst of all, “God’s going to remember that for a long, long time.”  

“How do you see God?” That’s an important question that I ask. A person’s view of God gives me a lot of information. Some see God as a stern and demanding disciplinarian, always with the old “Uncle Sam” frown and scolding look in his face. Others see God as something akin to Santa Claus, he gives you what you want when you want it, as long as you’re a good boy and girl. Others see God as a fickle being, depending on his mood. Others see God as angry, disappointed, and always ready to punish at the drop of a sin-stained hat.

Sometimes I invert the question to, “How does God see you?” That is often an eye-opener, too, as people start to open up and drag the skeletons out of the closet with sins clicking and clacking, guilt moaning and groaning, shame squeaking and creaking, and fear making the teeth rattle and eyes twitch back and forth. Here, I hear words like failure, broken, mess, stained, guilty as charged.

And, when I hear words like these, descriptions like these, and they come from the mouth of a Christian whom Jesus died to redeem, a soul that believes Christ is their Lord and Savior, in that moment I see a soul that is burdened by the weight of sin, guilt, and shame; a conscience that is turned in on itself and away from the good news of Jesus; and a person whom satan is lying to with everything he’s got.

The Christian conscience is the voice in the head and it is to be like an umpire, but instead of calling balls and strikes, it allows you to see yourself as a baptized, forgiven child of God and makes decisions and determinations based on that fact. And, the Christian conscience also serves as a reminder that you are always and still a baptized, forgiven child of God even when you make decisions that, in hindsight, weren’t the best of choice to make.  

There is nothing – nothing – that makes the devil more exited than when a Christian starts to doubt God’s grace for them in Christ Jesus. If he can twist the Christian conscience into believing that they have finally stepped over the line, that they have outstripped God’s grace, that the seventy times seven literally applies to them and they just hit seventy times seven plus one, that there is doubt that Jesus can, indeed, forgive. When it gets really bad, the inner voice actually becomes the voice of the devil, using his words of judgement, damnation, and hatred. Through it all, satan does his happy dance and it is ugly. It’s ugly because he’s rejoicing that someone is in danger of joining him into damnable eternity.

To be sure, their conscience was right – they truly were sinners, very well qualified, at that – who had fallen quite far short of the glory of God. That’s all they could see. They were seeing the truth of God’s Law that does, indeed, demand holiness and show how far we come from that mark. But that’s all they could see. They were missing something, a part of the picture that was hidden in the fog of satan’s lies and twisting of the truth.

What they were missing was God’s righteousness. His righteousness is not anger at the sinner, but rather a declaration that the sinner is now declared righteous. It’s a divine acquittal writ large – not just “not guilty,” but declared holy and restored.

Long promised throughout the Old Testament, both foretold in words of the prophets and foreshadowed in the actions of God in His people, God’s righteousness is a gracious and undeserved gift given to His people. God gives it freely out of His love; He gives it out of His own righteousness. He gives it in the propitiation of His Son, Jesus.

Propitiation – we don’t use that word. In the Old Testament, sacrifices were made on a daily basis. The great annual sacrifice was made on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. On that day, the High Priest would enter the Holy of Holies, a basin of sacrificial blood in hand. He would pour the blood out on the lid of the ark of the covenant. That lid was called the mercy seat. God would receive the animal’s blood in exchange for the sins of the people. That act was called propitiation – a redeeming act of God, receiving the innocent death of one for the sake of the guilty. It was a foreshadowing of Jesus’ own death. No longer hidden behind the curtain of the temple, Jesus’ death outside the city gates was for all to see. Even Satan himself witnessed the event of Jesus shedding His blood, surrendering His life, the Innocent for the guilty, the righteous for the unrighteous.

The Old Testament priest did something else with that blood – he would sprinkle it over the people. It was a visual mark that the animal’s life was traded for them and they were marked with its blood. They were redeemed and made righteous. You, too, have been marked with Christ’s blood. In baptism, the holiness of Christ covers your sins. God declares you righteous in Christ. By God’s grace, through faith, your conscience enables you to see yourself as God sees you: forgiven, whole and holy. And, when you see yourself as righteous in the eyes of God, you are set free from satan’s lies that you are anything else.

Earlier, I said the vocation of the ministry is an interesting one. Our calling is to comfort the afflicted with the good news of Jesus. Sometimes, we even get to do this for ourselves. 

The novelist Shusaku Endo tells the story of a Portuguese Roman Catholic priest sent to Japan in the mid-1600s. Ancient, feudal Japan was not friendly to Christians and when these priests were discovered, they along with their flocks were arrested. While the members of the church were tortured, the priests were forced to listen to their cries and prayers for help. The Japanese official offered a deal: if the priest would apostacize by stepping on a wood and brass relief carving of Jesus, the people would be freed from their torture. Endo writes:

The priest raises his foot. In it he feels a dull, heavy pain… He will now trample on what he has considered the most beautiful thing in his life, on what he has believed most pure, on whaat is filled with the ideals and the dreams of man.  How his foot aches! …The priest placed his foot on the [carving]. Dawn broke. And far in the distance, a cock crowed.

Later, when the disgraced priest had been returned to his residence of house arrest, one Christin man who escaped the Japanese soldiers snuck to the priest’s window and whispered, “Please hear my confession…please, give me absolution for my sins.” The priest reflects. “I, too, stood on the sacred image. For a moment, this foot was on His face. It was on the face of the man who had been ever in my thoughts, on the face that was before me in the mountains, in my wanderings, in prison…on the face of him whom I have always longed to love. Even now that face is looking at me with eyes of pity from the plaque rubbed flat by many feet.” As the priest imagines the feet touching the carving of Jesus, in his mind’s eye the feet change…they no longer are the feet of the Christians who stepped on the plaque; they are the nail-marked feet of Jesus. In that moment, Endo writes, “the priest could not understand the tremendous onrush of joy that came over him at that moment.”

That story is why the Reformation is of such great importance: seeing ourselves only through the lens of Jesus’ death and resurrection and hearing the voice of God declaring us righteous, not by what we do or don’t do, but through faith in Jesus.

 

 

 

Render to God That Which is God's: Matthew 22:15-22

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is the Gospel reading from Matthew 22.

In sixteen days, you will go to the polls and cast your ballot for the President of the United States down to local city and county officials. In seventeen days, I’m afraid, the mudslinging will amp to new heights as one side claims a victorious mandate while the other side casts aspersions on the victor, and neither party wins nor concedes with grace. I pray that I am wrong, but there is nothing that I’ve seen thus far to make me believe that Wednesday, November 4 will usher in peace, harmony and happiness across the aisle, let alone across main street America.

First, I want you to know that, in the strict sense of the word, God does not care if it is Trump or Biden at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave, if the donkeys or the elephants have the majority in Congress, whether Judge Barrett is or is not confirmed. The beautiful irony is that God both establishes and uses governments and authorities– even those that refuse to recognize and honor Him, and whether they like it or not! – for His purpose. Regardless the relative foolishness or intelligence of the American voter and politician, God will use whomever is elected for His purpose. He is God; I assure you, He is in control.  He does care how government is run, that it governs fairly, in justice, for good order, with eyes toward the weakest and most feeble. He cares that citizens show love, mercy and compassion to each other in word and action. It concerns Him greatly when people’s reputations and good names are destroyed for the sake of expediency and when governments become corrupt and those First Article, daily bread gifts cannot be delivered.  These can be demonstrated from the Scriptures.

It is timely that this morning’s Gospel and Old Testament lessons both seem to speak to God’s First Article gift of government. A few weeks ago, we heard St. Paul speak of this in Romans 13 – I encourage you to re-read Romans 13 this afternoon; it, too, is most apropos for these days ahead. Today, Isaiah prophecies that years later, God will make the wicked, heathen King Cyrus of Assyria be His instrument for the good of His people. Jesus also lends His Divine words that we know so well, “Render to Caesar that which is Caesar’s and to God that which is God’s.” Given the givens, it seems like it’s a perfect recipe for a sermon on stewardship of our American citizenship, giving thanks to God for our government officials, even though they are less than perfect, and celebrating the freedom we have as Christians in America.

Or not.

For centuries, Jesus statement, “Render to Caesar that which is Caesar’s and to God that which is God’s” has been used to define and explain a church doctrine of separation of church and state.  Even Luther used it in that sense, developing what we refer to as “the theology of the two kingdoms.” He called God working in time through civil government the “Left hand kingdom,” and God’s working into eternity through the church the “Right hand kingdom.” He also argued that the Roman Empire should keep it’s nose out of the Church while at the same time affirming God gives the gift of government for the purpose of establishing good order so the church can function in society.

But this is not the intent of Jesus’ words against the Pharisees and Herodians. This phrase is not really about the government, per se. It’s not about giving ten percent to the Lord and fifteen percent to Uncle Sam. It’s not about separation of church and state. It’s funny, if you stop and think about it. We focus on the “Render to Caesar,” part of this. In so doing, we forget the latter part. Jesus’ focus isn’t on Caesar; the focus is on God and paying to God that which is His.

Remember, we’re reading Jesus’ interactions with the Pharisees and Herodians. The last few Sundays, you’ve followed along as every day of Holy Week the tension ratcheted up another notch as the Jewish leaders realized Jesus was speaking of their unfaithfulness, their loss of the blessing of God, their failure to be good and faithful servants, all leading to the mighty crescendo of Maundy Thursday. You heard how they falsely flattered Jesus, gave hollow complements they themselves did not believe about His truth and His teaching. Their purpose, I believe, was to lull Jesus into a false sense of congeniality and sociability, so that He might slip up in the proverbial question of the legality of taxes. If Jesus said, yes, pay the tax, the Pharisees would jump on Him for supporting a government opposed to Israel; if He said no, do not pay the tax, the Herodians could accuse Jesus of anarchy and insurrection. It seemed Jesus was painted into the proverbial corner.

Jesus’ answer, “Render to Caesar that which is Caesar’s and to God that which is God’s,” is really a non-answer regarding taxes. Jesus is not placing Caesar on one side of the spectrum and God on the other, then asking people to decide whether your dollar goes to one place or the other. To put Caesar on the same plane as God is a ridiculous impossibility. Caesar does not own anything that does not first and foremost belong to and come from God. But Rome certainly tried. If you were to look at a denarius, the coin of the realm at the time of Jesus, it would have been struck with Caesar’s profile and a Latin inscription that, translated, reads “Caesar Augustus, Son of a god, Father of the Country.” The coin demonstrates the idolatry of Caesar, claiming godly authority and power. No - all things belong to God – not Caesar - whether in this world or the life of the world to come.

So, if “Render to Caesar that which is Caesar’s and to God that which is God’s” isn’t about the separation of church and state, or taxation, or even God working through the government, then what is Jesus speaking about? 

To pay to God what belongs to God is to behold Jesus as the Christ, the Son of God who has come into the world to redeem the world. To pay to God what is God’s is to follow Christ, who is God enfleshed. To pay to God what is God’s is to follow His Son in obedient, faithful discipleship. In a word, “pay to God” means repentance. The Jewish leaders and the Herodians missed it – they were too busy trying to trap Jesus to receive Him as Messiah. I submit that we often miss, or at least forget, who Jesus is because we are too busy seeing the government as our god. 

Repent – pay to God – for overpaying to Caesar. I don’t mean taxes. Repent of making the government out to be equal – or, even at times, greater - than God and His Word. Honor and respect the government and our officials, yes; but repent for seeing the government as the answer to all of man’s problems and of seeing a candidate as a savior. Repent of the abuses of government that we tolerate for the sake of expediency. Repent of tolerating political foolishness for our economic benefit. Repent of misusing power and authority, particularly over and against the poorest, the weakest, and the neediest members of our society. Lest you think I speak only of those who are in a political office, this applies to each of us. If you have spoken ill of candidates or their supporters, shared social media posts of one party in derogatory terms, gossiped and spun what “those” people represent, then you repent.  Repent of the politicizing and polarizing language where we brand and label, slander and defame simply to prove our point and win a war of words. Repent of seeing elections merely as how to gain the most benefit instead of how a vote can help preserve and protect the life and wellbeing of my neighbor, particularly the least in the Kingdom who, you remember, are actually the greatest. Repent of mistaking the power of man as the authority of God.

Give to God what is God’s. The Pharisees, the Herodians didn’t see that God was breaking into human history. The Kingdom of God had come and was about to be revealed with Christ reigning from His throne of the cross.

Jesus had asked for a coin, remember, and asked whose likeness and name was on it. Now, turn the question. Where has God put His name? On His Son, “This is my Son, in whom I am well pleased.” Where has God placed His likeness? “If you have seen me, you have seen the Father,” Jesus said. You see God in the person of Jesus, Immanuel, God made flesh to dwell among us. You see God’s mercy at the cross, where the innocent Son of God dies in your stead. There, God used Pilate – a corrupt instrument of the Left-hand kingdom of God – to record His inscription: “Jesus of Nazareth: King of the Jews.” You see God’s grace at the open tomb, where Christ rises, conquering the grave.

God does these things, not only in Christ, but also in you. In your baptism, you are clothed with Christ – your new Adam, your new Eve is in the image of Christ, so closely connected to Jesus that you are baptized in His name and given His name, Christian. So you never forget the blessings and promises of God, chiefly the forgiveness of your sins by grace through faith in Christ Jesus, God continues to place His inscription to you in His Word, and gives you the church to share that Word of faith, hope and love with you and the world.  

In sixteen days, your fellow Americans will render unto Caesar. Cast your ballot, and then live in peace and harmony praying, “Thy will be done.” In sixteen days, and seventeen days, and today and tomorrow, and every day of your life, return to the Lord in repentance, and in faith see Jesus. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

We're Looking Forward to the Feast! - Isaiah 25:6-9

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

I can’t speak of other Christian denominations, but Lutheran funerals seem to consist of three parts. The first part is the funeral service that takes place in the sanctuary or the funeral home chapel as the bereaved gather for reading of Scripture, preaching, hymns and prayers all the while thanking God for the gift of the loved one who has fallen asleep in Christ. It’s a proclamation of Christ Jesus, pointing the bereaved to the Lord of Life, Who alone is able to make sense of death and loss. The hymns, the Scriptures, the sermon all pointed to Christ’s own death and resurrection as the answer to death’s question, the confident hope against death’s confusion, the victory against what seems to be only loss. The pastor, hopefully, led you from Christ’s cross to His grave and spoke of both as being empty. Christ the victor over sin, death and the grave; Christ, the firstborn from the dead. And, your loved one, having been baptized into Christ, the dear Christian has already died and have been raised with Christ. This is what is confessed every week in the Creeds: we believe in the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting.

After the benediction is spoken, the casket and remains are escorted to the hearse and transported to the cemetery for the second part, the burial, where the body, created by God, redeemed by Christ, sanctified by the Holy Spirit, is laid to rest until the resurrection of all flesh. This commendation of the body, the burial, puts into practice what was preached. The one who died, Christ died for him; the one who is buried, she is buried with Christ. We lay the body to rest – temporary rest – for that body, a fallen and sinful human being redeemed in the blood of Jesus, will also be raised in Christ.  And, in the resurrection of all flesh, that body will be raised whole and holy. The baptismal blessing will be consummated: Sin will have been buried with the body but not raised. The new Adam and the new Eve will be restored to new life with Christ into eternity. Christ, the first-fruits – yes! But those who die in faith will likewise be raised. Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! We are risen! We are risen indeed, Alleluia!

Do you ever wonder what is the resurrection going to look like? Too often, we hear descriptions like this: “I bet Grandpa is fishing, catching the biggest catfish he’s ever seen.” “You just know Grannie is whipping up a pie for St. Peter this afternoon.”  “He’s one under par on every hole.” “She’s floating in the clouds with the angels.” Respectfully, none of those are Biblical. At best they are sappy and sentimental; at worst, they are a complete misunderstanding and total displacement of what the joy of eternity with Christ is.

When you want, when you need a glimpse of what the resurrection will be like, look to Isaiah. He gives us a heavenly picture, a Godly promise of what the feast of victory will look like.

God’s people of old needed a glimpse, a picture, a shadow of God’s mercy to cling to in their world of death and chaos. The chapter previous, Chapter 24, is strong and it is stern as God describes the consequences that He will deliver upon Israel for their unfaithfulness. It’s as dire and dark of any Word of the Lord. It begins, “Behold, the Lord will empty the earth and make it desolate, and He will twist its surface and scatter its inhabitants,” (v1). Layer upon layer, the words and sentences build, describing curse upon curse as the Lord makes clear of His wrath at the people’s sins. “A curse devours the earth, and its inhabitants suffer for their guilt…the wine mourns, the vine languishes, all the merry-hearted sigh,” (v. 6a, 7). If that’s all Isaiah said, it would be a terrible situation for people trapped in their a hopeless, hapless situation of their own doing. How could – how would! – their God save them from the doings of their own damning fault?

In the midst of death and decay, God’s people need that picture, that shadow, that glimpse of God’s graciousness and His mercy. Those destroyed cities and conquered nations? God will use them as a foundation for what is to come. “On this mountain, the Lord of hosts will” act (v. 6). In glowing, brilliant contrast to the darkness of the previous verses, God speaks of what is to come for His beloved. The remnant will celebrate with feasting, food, wine, and rejoicing. He will not abandon but will rescue and save a remnant of the faithful. God’s promises, made to previous generations, to Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and David, will endure. It’s the description of a victory celebration. All of God’s enemies, and all the enemies of God’s people – including death – will be destroyed.

The act of rescue will not happen on a mountain, but a short, stubby hillside called Golgatha outside the city of David. No food will be offered to the dying Man, and Jesus will be given only sour wine vinegar to drink. The Son cries against the reproach of His Father: My God, My God, why have you forsaken me? Tears will flow as His friends and even His own mother hears His final words.  Death seems to swallow Jesus as He breathes His last.

But death cannot stomach the power of Jesus. In His resurrection, as the great fish spat up Jonah, death and the grave gives up a living, breathing Jesus from the tomb. Jesus swallows up death! It’s no small thing that on Easter evening, after His resurrection, Jesus’ appearances are connected with food. When He appears, resurrected and whole, to the disciples in the locked, upper room, He asks for food. When He appears to the disciples on the shoreline, He provides fish. When He appears to the Emmaus disciples, He breaks bread, blesses wine. Food gives life; Jesus is the bread of life; Jesus gives life. And, in the resurrection, you will sit at a mountain-top table with He who is the Lord of Life. Death destroyed, tears dried, reproach replaced with holiness and peace. Ah, this is the feast of victory for our God, Alleluia!

Christ’s resurrection stands as a promise of the resurrection of the faithful, a reunion festival and feast the likes of which we can only begin to imagine. You look forward to this feast. To sit at table with Jesus, and Isaiah, and all the faithful who have gone before you. If you want to know what this feast looks like, Christ gives you a foretaste of it, Sunday after Sunday, to encourage you and sustain your faith. A bite of bread and a sip of wine doesn’t seem like much of a feast, but to this humble meal Jesus attaches His blessing: Take and eat; this is my body. Take and drink; this is my blood. And, with sins forgiven, your eyes of faith look towards that blessed day of resurrection.

Earlier, I said that there are three parts to the Lutheran funeral. You, perhaps, have noticed I spoke of the first and second parts, the funeral and the burial, but not the third. The third part is when the family and friends return to the church to gather for food and fellowship, to visit, laugh and cry.

There is something resurrection-worthy in the feast known as the funeral luncheon. I’ve been to probably forty or fifty post-funeral luncheons. While they are all somewhat different, they are all somewhat the same: the ladies of the church gather in the kitchen over what’s been brought and they will all wonder if there will be enough. They put out plates of ham and friend chicken, several casseroles, a meatloaf, maybe a brisket, sausage, potatoes – mashed or scalloped, potato and macaroni salad, trays of sandwiches, several different vegetables, and bread, all spread out over three or four folding tables. Desserts will occupy their own table. It smells like a Luby’s cafeteria, with the scent of coffee joining in the background. The ladies give directions, the pastor prays the meal blessing, and plates get loaded and chairs squeak while the conversations begin. There will be comments about how good this is, needing to get the recipe for that, wondering who made what was in the blue bowl, and a warning that the cobbler was almost gone, better get it now.

You, too, have been to many of these meals. You have brought food, you have visited, you have consoled, you have set up and taken down tables and chairs, you have promised to call. It’s what the Body of Christ does – it gathers together to support one another when one is weak, to console one another when one grieves, to encourage one another when hope is needed, to love one another when it seems all is lost.

And, for many of us, we have also been the family whose loved one was laid to rest and who is being honored and remembered at the meal prepared for us and our family. We have been the guests of honor, so to speak, not serving but being served. In the midst of loss and sadness and pain, there is something comforting in that hour or two, gathering with friends and family around food. Even if it’s only for a short time, the sadness is dulled, the hurt isn’t quite so strong, the pain is lessened, and there is an inkling of joy. This is the body of Christ in action, as other Christians bear your grief with you, walking along side you, sitting next to you, speaking a word of Christ-centered hope with a smile and, yes, with a tear.

But, gradually, one by one, and couple by couple, the crowd slowly breaks up to go home. The feast is winding down. There are handshakes and hugs with the bereaved, comments about how we need to get together for celebrations, not just funerals, and promises to call soon. The leftovers are packaged, divvied up, and sent home. With a final wiping of the counter, the ladies give thanks to God for a modern version of feeding five thousand with a few loaves and a few fish. As lights go off and the doors close, the air conditioning spools down, a chair creaks with relief, and the building again waits in near silence.

The building might be silent, the meal may have ended, we may have gone back to our separate homes, but the song of the church goes on, in faith and in the sure and certain hope that we shall soon see Isaiah’s feast of victory that knows no end. “For the Lamb who was slain has begun His reign, alleluia.”