April 25, Fruit Trees, And the End of Time

My Dad died today. 

Well, not today-today. Today was the 22nd anniversary of his death. 

I didn’t realize it; I forgot. Last night I stayed with my Mom en route to a pastor a conference in Dallas. This morning I decided to take the back roads to the Interstate. I drove right past the cemetery, realized it, and quickly decided to turn around, go back and have a moment, thinking, remembering, and lamenting the time we didn’t have together, the stories we didn’t get to share, the advice he never got to pass down, and that he didn’t meet his second, third and fourth grandchildren. 

His stone is in the back row - wonderful irony since he insisted on sitting in the second row in front of the pulpit on Sunday mornings, and spent his whole adult life in front of a classroom full of kids as a teacher - and the first column closest to the north boundary. It's dark reddish brown granite with MEYER highlighted in white. On the right is Mom's name and birthdate, the space for date of death patiently waiting to be recorded. On the left is Dad, Walter A. Meyer - October 2, 1943 - April 25, 2000. Media vita in morte sumus, the ancient liturgy sang. Yes, in the midst of life we are in death, yet below both names is a single line filled with promise and Christian hope: I know that my Redeemer lives. 

The church owns approximately 10 acres, as I recall, with the largest parts being (formerly) pastureland, the school and church buildings, a soccer field, and the cemetery – in reverse order of size. Come to think of it, the cemetery may be at least as large if not larger than the soccer field. After all, it holds over 125 years of membership within it’s boundaries, thirteen decades of the histories of the saints of God who called the hill of Zion their church home. The Populus Zion, the cemetery of Zionst Euangelische Luteraner Kirche, the church triumphant in loci, now residents who never complain about the weeds or dried up flowers, but whose bodies rest in blissful slumber even as their souls celebrate the beginning of eternity (how can eternity have a beginning? Yes.) with Jesus. 

My Dad is there. Well, his body is, anyway, beneath several feet of granite chips on top of caliche and dirt stacked on top of his vault. Know what’s cool? When Jesus returns, He’s going to void the 100-year leak proof guarantee on that vault when He raises the bodies of the faithful, just as He did for Lazarus, just as He Himself did, this promising the same to all others who die in faith of Him as Savior. Christ, the first fruits. If He’s first, others will follow. Dad will follow. 

Earlier, I said the church owns this large hunk of property. We used to live there, in one of three houses: a parsonage (next to the church), another teacherage, and our house next to the soccer field (it was a softball field then) which was between our house and the cemetery. You could see the cemetery from our house. Now, the house is gone. The driveway remains, as does the garage. Seeing this from the cemetery parking lot, I drove to the old house location, parked the car, and tried to place where things were in 2000. 

I got my bearings, and as I looked around, I recognized five special things: a pecan tree, an oak tree, a hackberry tree, and off to the side of the garage what I thought was a peach tree. I helped Dad plant each of those back when I was a kid in elementary school or high school. The hackberry tree was planted in the front yard when my brother was maybe 4 or 5 – Mom has a picture of me “planting” him in the hole we dug. I remember I cut my finger badly, trying to prune a “sucker” off the pecan tree in the back yard with my pocket knife, not realizing the blade was upside down and driving the blade into my finger tip. It was planted near the septic drain line and caused fits with the roots growing into the tile, but he refused to get rid of the tree. We dug out the tile and replaced it with a hunk of PVC and rubber “boot.” I assume the statute of limitations had passed on any violations that may have caused. And the peach tree was watered by lugging water 5 gallons at a time. 

If you counted, that’s four. I said there were 5 things. The 5th is the stump of a giant box elder tree that I climbed when I was a kid. I remember it as huge, but having seen pine trees in East Texas, and growing up myself, it probably wasn't that huge. I guess it died. These things happen. It was felled, cut down about 6 feet off the ground, leaving an impressively tall stump that was then carved into a cross. A shoot will come forth from the stump…

Tonight I’m at a pastor a retreat called Doxology, a respite retreat for clergy who fought the good fight of faith during the pandemic. I fared better than many, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. Physically, well, let’s just say my belt had to be adjusted for COVID. In our evening prayer, the pastor reminded us of something attributed to Martin Luther. When asked “what would you do if you knew tomorrow was your last day in earth,” his answer was, “Plant a tree.”

I guess that’s what Dad was doing all those years ago. No one knows the day or the hour of our death. We live each day by faith. So, Dad planted trees. It was good to see them still standing, doing reasonably well without someone caring for them by lugging watering buckets and dragging hoses. Maybe some day I’ll stop in the fall and get a couple pecans and peaches and try to grow my own tree from these that Dad planted. 

And, if my son asks why I’m being such an old, romantic fart and planting a tree at a place we don’t own, either, I know my answer. 

I’ll say, “Well, son, we have to plant a tree because the world might end tomorrow. It’s what your Grandpa did. Maybe some day you can plant a tree with your son and tell him about your crazy old man, too.”

Peace Be With You, Dear Reader: John 20:19-31

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

“Peace be with you.” What a wonderful gift of Christ to His church. Do we really understand what it is that He gives with His peace?

I mean, peace is something we yearn for, desire, hope for and pray for in our homes, in our community, in our nation, and across the world. Sadly, peace is often a punchline. In the movie Miss Congeniality, beauty pageant contestants were asked what they wanted more than anything. The screen flashed, picture by picture, of each woman saying the same thing: “World peace” and each time, the audience went crazy with applause. I remember seeing a T-shirt years ago that had a picture of a peas being poured into a blender and it read, “What I really want is whirled peas.”

Often, we think of peace as the absence of warfare, struggle, and inter-personal conflict. That’s defining peace from the negative: it’s not this. To a degree, that is true but not fully so. For example, at the 38^th Parallel in Korea, there is no fighting, but both the North and the South Korean armies stand ready to fight at a moment’s notice. I would hardly call that peace. That’s more like a 50-year timeout, just waiting for the whistle to blow.

Instead, think of peace from the positive. Instead of what peace is not, think of what peace is. Peace, true peace, is restoration, unification, renewal of what had been separated, broken, and torn asunder. Peace says that past wrongs are put aside, hard words are silenced, and hearts – once hardened – are softened with compassion, mercy and grace. Peace isn’t pretending that these things didn’t happen. Rather, true peace acknowledges the sins that led to separation and conflict in the first place, but then in peace, choosing to no longer act upon what happened in the past. In a word, peace is forgiveness put into action.

Put yourself into the sandals of the Eleven – well, the Ten, since Thomas was absent the first time Jesus appears. They were terrified of the Jewish leaders, yes, but even more than that they faced their guilt and shame for the events of the last 72 hours. Imagine yourself as Peter, who denied Jesus; James or John, who fell asleep when Jesus asked them to pray; Andrew, or Bartholemew, or Matthew who all bugged out and ran when the soldiers arrived. They failed Him when He needed them most. I’m sure they thought Jesus had to be disappointed and angry Jesus with them! They lacked peace among themselves, peace within themselves, and peace with Jesus.

Jesus’ word delivers that which it says. When Jesus suddenly appears and speaks, “Peace be with you,” Jesus is doing two things: first and foremost, He is speaking the peace of forgiveness into the hearts of the disciples, saying, in effect, I died for all of these things which you did against me and to each other. I died to restore your relationship with Me and with the Father. Be at peace; be forgiven. The second thing, is by appearing through locked doors, He demonstrates nothing can stop His Word from delivering Good News to hurting souls and consciences. As the Word in flesh can penetrate through doors and walls, so the Word spoken penetrates even into hearts and minds locked in fear, guilt and shame.

Jesus repeats Himself: “Peace be with you.” Once was enough, but He repeats Himself make sure the disciples are understanding, hearing, and believing that He is truly alive, resurrected and physically present among them, and that He is announcing forgiveness to them, that peace – restoration – has been earned through His death on the cross and announced in His resurrection.

But peace isn’t just for them. Early in His ministry, Jesus called the men to discipleship. He called them “Fishers of men.” Instead of fish-mongers, they will be peace-mongers: delivers of peace. “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you withhold forgiveness from any, it is withheld.” In proclaiming Christ’s death for the world, the disciples proclaim the forgiveness of sins to repentant, believing hearts. With forgiveness is peace, restoration between God and Man, between Man and God.

This is the beginning of the Church, defining what it is that the Church will do. From generation to generation, the Jesus-given, apostolic-delivered proclamation of peace and forgiveness has been passed down. People say, “what makes the church is the fellowship.” True, but that could be said of the Red Hat Society, political parties, or the Lions Club. What separates the church is the proclamation of peace between God and Man, the forgiveness of sins in the name of Jesus Christ. And, this then impacts relationships as well. With peace restored vertically, with sins against God forgiven fully and freely, the Church forgives horizontally as well. Sins committed by brothers and sisters in Christ against each other are seen through the lens of the cross. As Christ forgives me, so I forgive you. Peace is restored.

So that you know this, Christ establishes the Office of the Keys, or the gift of absolution. The Church usually does this in two ways: generally, in public worship, and privately, between a troubled soul and the pastor. The general absolution spoken here, in unison in public worship, is true and it is complete – all, not some, all sins are declared forgiven. On Ash Wednesday and Maundy Thursday, in the liturgy even included the phrase, “Be at peace, your sins are forgiven.”

But sometimes, there are sins that are particularly troubling, where the conscience is cut so deeply that it needs to bear its soul and unburden itself. That was Thomas’ problem. His sin was doubt – not lack of faith, not denial like Judas, but doubt. He simply could not believe Jesus was alive. For Thomas, there would be no peace until he saw Jesus for himself. The words, “We have seen the Lord,” meant nothing to him. He needed to see Jesus with skin on and then to touch that nail-and-spear marked skin. Thomas needed personal, private absolution. Without him seeing and touching, Thomas could not be at peace. Jesus delivers: “Peace be with you.” It’s as if He says to Thomas, “Even you, you of little faith, you are restored. So, having been restored, stop disbelieving and believe.”

Private absolution attaches God’s Word of grace to a pastor’s skin and voice. I know a generation or two ago, this was seen as too “Roman Catholic,” with visions of dark confessional booths and admonitions about holy water, penance, and praying multiple Hail Mary’s like you have seen on Blue Bloods. No – private absolution is catholic, in that it is universal. It’s not my work or word. It is God at work through His Word first spoken in your baptism which connects you to the cross, delivering Christ’s death and resurrection to you. While I will urge prayer, I don’t prescribe penance. And, as far as confessional booths, I have heard confession in my office, in the sanctuary, in nursing home and hospital rooms, and even at a gas pump – yes, literally, one Sunday morning Pump #3 at the Valero gas station on FM2100 in Crosby served as the place where sins were heard and absolved.

Occasionally, people ask me what the favorite part of my job is as pastor. It’s not the one-day-a-week work schedule, or the clergy pass at Golden Corall, or playing golf all week. It’s speaking personally the words of absolution to a frightened, hurting soul that is absent peace and declaring to them that their sin – whatever it is that is, in their mind, so great and grievous – has been fully and completely paid for by Christ at the cross, that it is no longer held against them by God, and that they now have peace with God through Christ Jesus. In my ordination and installation vows, I promised to never disclose what is said to me in confession. You want to know what’s funny? I can hardly remember the confessions, the sins that have been done. What I remember are the faces – the faces of children of God that moments earlier had been twisted under the burden of their sins but then released to joy under the freedom of the name of Jesus and the peace He gives. If I can serve you with this gift, it is my true privilege and I repeat – what is confessed in repentance cannot be repeated.

Then, the question is asked, what is my least favorite part of the job. It’s not the meetings, or writing the newsletter article that seems to come faster each month. It’s not the calls to the emergency room or the visits to the funeral home. It’s having to say to a child of God that what they are doing, how they are living, their manner of behavior, is outside of the boundaries God gives for Christian living and that if this continues, if there is no contrition and repentance – no changing – then this, this I cannot forgive. This, Christ does not forgive because it’s not seen a sin that needs to be repented and forgiven. That’s the hardest thing I have to do. I remember these faces, too, albeit for much different reasons, and I pray for these souls, that somehow the Lord shakes them, crushes their stubborn hearts with His Word, and leads them to repentance lest they die into eternity. Yes – it is that serious.

Sins are serious. They are serious as death. I say this not to shock, but to be crystal clear: sins are serious as hell. That’s what sin deserves. And, that’s why Jesus died – so that our sins are no longer eternally damning. His death, for you, is serious business. So also are the gifts of forgiveness, and grace, and mercy. They are serious…seriously joyful, for in forgiveness there is life and salvation, beginning now and continuing into eternity. In all of this, there is peace – restoration – between you and God.

In the Divine Service, after the prayers and before the offering, we take a moment to pass, or share, the peace. Too often this is seen as a holy howdy, the church equivalent to a fist bump and a high five. In the early church, the kiss of peace was shared between Christians who had sinned against each other in the days past. Before Sunday, they sought each other out. There was confession – I am sorry I sinned against you by doing this thing. There was absolution – As Christ has forgiven you, so do I, and I will no longer hold it against you. In the Divine Service, in sharing the kiss of peace, it was both a pledge to each other as well as a sign to the congregation that their relationship was restored.

In our culture, we don’t kiss (to be clear: I’m talking about a kiss on the cheek) as they do in other cultures. But, we do shake hands. Treat the passing, the sharing, of the peace with that level of Christian sanctity. Think for a minute: is there someone with whom you need to restore peace, in your home, your work, the church? Who do you need to seek out this week and humbly ask for forgiveness so that peace can be restored? The flip side is if someone comes to you this week, humbly asking for your grace, how will you respond? Humbly, with forgiveness and, perhaps, even asking for his or her grace also for the hard feelings you may have harbored? Will you work to restore peace between you so that next Sunday, you can see each other as forgiven by Christ and with peace in your heart? Will there be restoration through Christ?

I pray so. I pray that if there is peace among us. And, I pray that we follow in the footsteps of the apostles in being peace-mongers among those with whom we live, work, play, and dwell.

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

Easter Testimony Points to Jesus - Luke 24:1-12

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is Luke 24:1-12

Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!
We are risen! We are 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 the third morning. It was the first day of the week. The sabbath’s rest in the tomb was complete. This was resurrection day. The one whom they were seeking 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 said on Maundy Thursday. As John the Baptist said of himself years earlier, 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!

Why is the empty tomb such a big deal? Why is Easter so important? Why is the resurrection such a thing that Christians, for 2000 years, have been willing to die rather than deny Christ’s resurrection and the promise of their own?

This is a hand-carved crucifix from Frankenmuth, Michigan. I did not make this; it was a gift. As Lutherans, we are sometimes uncomfortable with crucifixes. Some see it as too Roman Catholic.  Yes, it is catholic – lower case C - because it belongs to the whole Christian church, not just one denomination.

You’ll sometimes hear someone say that the empty cross is the symbol of Christ’s resurrection. No, not really. The cross would have been empty even if Christ was still in the tomb! The cross and the crucifix are the traditional symbols of Jesus’ death for us. And, anyone can die on a cross. Remember - two thieves died with Him – their death didn’t save anyone. But, when God becomes flesh in the person of Christ, when He adorns Himself with the image of our flesh and dies on the Cross, that saves us from our sins! The crucifix is a visual reminder of the graphic nature of what Christ did for us. It’s a reminder, as St. Paul will later say in his letter to Corinth, “We preach Christ and Him crucified.” The presence of the corpus is the reminder that Christ died, He was crucified, for our salvation. This is Christ and Him crucified for us! It’s in my office to remind me of that: if I don’t preach Christ crucified, I’m wasting your time.

This was left for me by a man named Godfrey after he died. He was nearly blind by the time I met him, only able to read the largest of large print on good days. He would come to the Lord’s Table to receive the Lord’s Supper, and tears would be streaming down his cheeks. They would stop as He received Christ’s gifts for Him hidden beneath in bread and wine. As the blessing was said, he would raise his face toward my voice and he would smile, a big, goofy Walter Matthau-like grin and tears would again form in his eyes.  One day, visiting with him in his living room, I asked why he cries every Sunday when receiving the Sacrament. “Pastor,” he said, “you know how St. Paul called himself ‘chief among sinners’? He was an amateur! He had nothing on me. Yet, Jesus invites me to eat with Him at His table? My tears are because I’m so unworthy. Some Sundays, I’m afraid there will be a voice that says, ‘Take and eat…but not you, Godfrey…not you.’ But, every Sunday, I come to the Table and I kneel and every Sunday Jesus says, “This is my body and my blood for you. Take and eat.” And I do, trusting the word and promise of Jesus because in that moment, Christ is for me – who else can stand against me? And my tears become tears of joy because I am forgiven. Me…Christ forgives me.”

The empty grave is the evidence that God accepted His Son as the payment for sinners like Godfrey, and the Centurion, and the thief, and you, and even me. And it stands as a promise that we too, when Christ returns, will have our own resurrection day into eternity.

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!
We are risen! We are risen, indeed! Alleluia!

 

A Palm Sunday Parade - John 12: 20-43

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

Think of the second sentence of the Apostle’s Creed for a minute. Jesus "was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried." In six brief phrases, the Creed moves from birth to death with very little mention of the life that He lived. Have you wondered why that is so, why the Creed doesn’t say at least something of the life that Jesus lived, His works of compassion and His words of truth? There is a reason for this: in moving directly from Jesus' birth to His Passion, the Creed is making a point. The Creed is pointing to the fact that the Son of God who was conceived by the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary came to suffer and to die.

The events that we are observing this week are not the sad conclusion to an otherwise triumphant and well-lived life. Rather they are at the very heart of who Jesus is and what He came to do in order to reconcile the world to God. It is no small matter that Jesus comes into the holy city of Jerusalem to suffer and die as the Passover Lamb whose blood brings redemption for this sinful world. Ponder well all that takes place this week, for the Son of God did it all for you and for your salvation.

Jesus comes to Jerusalem at the head of a parade. "Everybody loves a parade," goes the old saying. But the Romans did not love this parade. In fact, this parade looked more like the start of a riot. With nervousness the Roman troops looked on as the crowds chanted something another about a King of Israel coming on a donkey's colt. What could this mean? Was this man Jesus a political revolutionary who would stir Jerusalem, swollen with pilgrims in town to celebrate the annual Passover, to revolution? Would His presence ignite with the ancient memories of Egypt's oppression of Israel that were remembered at Passover time to inflame rebellion? Roman soldiers watched in vain for their would-be insurrection. Jesus is not that kind of king.

The Jewish religious leaders did not love this parade. They had already learned that Jesus was not their kind of Messiah. He was not a teacher of Israel who could be controlled. They were threatened by His rising popularity and they concluded that if He were allowed to go on doing the things He did and saying the things that He said, their religion would be ruined. No wonder that they stood by as the parade passes and said to themselves: “You see that you are accomplishing nothing. Look, the whole world has gone out after Him!”

Neither did Satan love this parade. In fact, this is a parade that Satan had tried to prevent. He had offered Jesus another way some three years earlier as he tempted Jesus to embrace the kingdoms of this world by simply bowing down and worshiping him. The cross would mean suffering and shame for Jesus, but for Satan it would spell his own eternal defeat. No wonder that Satan, speaking through Simon Peter, had rebuked Jesus as Jesus spoke of how He must go to Jerusalem to suffer, die, and, on the third day, rise again. Satan hated the sight of this parade as the King of Kings and Lord of Lords made His way in humility to the place of sacrifice.

But Jesus loves this parade. He isn't fooled by the shouts of "Hosanna!" He knows that they will be short-lived. He knows that before the week is over another cry will come from the fickle lips of the people: “Crucify Him! Crucify Him! Let His blood be upon us and our children.” He knows that even His own disciples will forsake and deny Him, and one of them will even betray Him. He knows that we for whom He died care little for His cross and suffering, even knowing what it means for our salvation. Jesus loves this parade—not because of the momentary popularity that it gives Him, but because this parade culminates in the cross. That is why He came into the world. That is why He, in fulfillment of Zechariah's prophetic word, mounted that donkey and rode into Jerusalem as the King going to His throne, as a bridegroom going to His bride. For the joy that was set before Him, He endured the cross, scorning its shame.

We spend so much our lives trying to avoid suffering. The world even tells us that it is a good thing to destroy the life of one who suffers if the suffering cannot be controlled or ended in any other way. To those who think that the supreme good in life is to avoid pain, the Suffering Servant, our Lord Jesus Christ, is an embarrassment, and His cross a foolish scandal. If the cross is the highlight of the parade and the foolishly suffering Jesus is the grand marshal, the world wants nothing to do with him.

But Jesus did not detach Himself from the suffering. He did not avoid Jerusalem. Jesus took the path to Calvary. He walked the way of the cross. Even when He was abandoned and deserted, betrayed and denied, He held to the work that was His alone to do. He drained the cup of suffering. When the parade was over and cheering crowds were silent and the palm branches wilted in dust, the Lamb of God kept walking. During Holy Week He goes from this triumphant entry to the upper room and Gethsemane's garden, and from there to the judgment hall and the cross. He goes there, driven by the passion to have you with Him for all eternity. The pain that He endures is real and raw. The death He dies is dark and cold. He does it all for you. It is no small thing that God allows Himself to be sacrified on a cross.

We processed in this morning with our palms. Procession is a fancy parade. This morning we will participate in another parade, as we come forward to receive forgiveness and life and salvation in the body and blood of Christ. And Satan does not love this parade, either. He has made this a parade of pain and suffering because he does not want you to get to the end of it. But the body and blood of Jesus strengthens you to continue on this journey, enduring that pain and suffering, so that you will not perish, but have eternal life. It is no small thing that the same God who went the way of the cross still comes to you today. He does not come to show you the way out of suffering or a way around suffering, but the way through it. It is the way of His cross and resurrection. It is the way of His Gospel. It is the way of His body and blood given you to eat and drink from this altar. “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!” In the name of the Father and of the Son (+) and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

 

 

A Vineyard, A Stone, and a Savior - Luke 20:9-19

This parable should make you uncomfortable.

It did 2000 years ago when Jesus told it to people who gathered around Him in the Temple. They were listening to Him preach and teach just a couple days after the triumphal celebratory entry of Palm Sunday. It’s the kind of reading that when I say, “This is the Gospel of the Lord,” you aren’t sure if the correct response is “Thanks be to God” or “May it not be so.” That was the reaction of those people in the Temple.  It very likely is yours as well because it leaves us with an uneasy feeling.

It should make you uncomfortable that the master seems to have such disregard for his servants. To send one servant to collect the master’s share as landlord was a standard business practice – it makes sense. But when he was beaten and sent away without the share, and then the master sent a second, who is shamed, and then a third, who is badly wounded, that is dereliction of duty as master. It’s irresponsible. He can claim ignorance for the first servant, but he is fully and knowingly liable for the injuries of the second and then the third servant, all who go at his order.

It should make you uncomfortable that the master decides to send his son. What makes him think that the tenants will respect the son any more than they did the three servants who represented the master? If they treated his servants that way, getting progressively more violent, then why did he risk his son’s life? For that matter, why send a fourth representative at all? The tenants have shown complete disregard for him as the landowner and for human life – call the authorities, fill out the proper paperwork, and let them deal with the unruly and unthankful thieves and abusers.

It should make you uncomfortable that the tenants think that if they kill the son, they will inherit the property. Inheritance goes to family, to kin, not to tenants – and especially not when the master is still alive. The likelihood of their being the beneficiary – in particular, after murdering the son – is for all intents and purposes, zero, yet that is the rationale for their murderous plot. Kill the son and then we will be our own boss and we won’t have to deal with the master and his rules any longer. I suspect part of their misguided thought is the knowledge that the master is far away and, presumably, a long time from returning. During that time, maybe he will die, or maybe his anger will lessen, or if nothing else, they can figure out a way to escape, at least with all of the year’s crop instead of having to share it.

It should make you uncomfortable that the master, when he hears that his son has been taken out of the vineyard and murdered in cruel, cold blood, he comes with a vengeance to destroy the tenants and give the vineyard to others.

Remember, parables are told to give us insight into the kingdom of God, to tell us something of the work of God in heaven and on earth, and to help us understand God’s plan of salvation for us in Christ Jesus. While there is sometimes a bit of unresolved tension – as there was last week, leaving us wondering about the older brother’s repentance and change of heart – there is usually a very strong undercurrent of grace, mercy and favor. Again, last week, the prodigal returns home and is welcomed back by a father whom he wished dead.

It doesn’t take much to figure out what this parable is about. Connecting the dots, the landowner master is God the Father. The servants are Old Testament prophets whom he repeatedly sent, even though they were mistreated and killed. The tenants represent the Jewish leaders, specifically, the leaders who have turned away from the promises of God to be fulfilled in Messiah. The vineyard represents God’s people who are to served and tended by the leaders. The son is, of course, God’s only Son, Jesus Christ who comes bearing the Father’s name. The parable foretells the rejection of Jesus by the Jewish leaders, just as they rejected the prophets. Even the son’s death-place is noteworthy, in the parable, outside the vineyard; in real life, outside the city walls. It’s a simple story to demonstrate that rejecting the Messiah, rejecting Jesus, has terrible consequences – specifically for the chief priests, scribes, and elders who stood nearby grumbling while Jesus told the parable.

But in this parable, there is no celebration of a lamb returned to the fold, no rejoicing because a misplaced coin is safely tucked into a purse. Instead, it speaks of destruction. We are not used to reading of God’s wrath and anger at sin and man’s sinfulness, justified though it may be, and we see the folly of rejecting God, His Word, His prophets, and His Son, and we see the wicked inclination of man’s heart with greed, theft, coveting and murder.

Those very leaders whom the parable was about, they stood nearby listening. While Jesus told some parables to confuse those who did not believe, this one was told plainly and bluntly without any hidden meaning. They understood plainly that this parable was about them, directed against them, describing their failure as stewards of God’s people and God’s wrath and pending judgement against them.

God had been incredibly patient with ancient Israel and her leaders, sending prophet after prophet, warning of His judgement against their unfaithfulness. When one prophet was tortured or killed, He sent another. Job security was not high on the list of reasons to become a prophet. He did it out of His loving faithfulness to His people, not wanting any to see condemnation. Again and again, prophet after prophet, He sent His spokesmen to proclaim, Thus saith the Lord, calling them to repentance, to change from their sinful ways of the world and pleading with them to return to the Lord their God. He is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. Finally, in the fulness of time, He sent His Son into the Vineyard of Israel. Surely, they will respect the Son. But they don’t. They reject His Messiahship, His Divine Sonship, and His Davidic Throne. They reject His promises, His grace, and His words. They reject His invitation to repent and to live under His grace and mercy. While the people, the sinners, tax collectors and prostitutes all receive Jesus Words with open ears – the leaders refuse, seeing that very thing as proof of their claim: no Messiah would do such a thing and stoop so low. They deny Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God.

Jesus doubles down, warning that He is the rejected stone who is now the cornerstone of all of the promises of God. That was almost too much. They were ready to take the son out of the vineyard right then and kill him. The only thing that stopped the elders and leaders from fulfilling the parable at that moment was that they feared the people who were still listening.

Jesus was against them – for their unbelief, their disbelief, their failure to remain faithful, and for leading others astray.

So, that leaves one question. Where are you in the parable? Jesus says the landowner will take the vineyard from the unfaithful and give it to others. In His death and resurrection, Jesus gives the kingdom to you. Now, be careful how you see this. The vineyard, the kingdom, is a gift of grace, not something earned. He is against the world, against anyone who will not accept His forgiveness of the world by grace through faith alone. He brings His gavel of judgement down on the folly of self-justifying, self-aggrandizing, and self-advancing. Don’t think you’re better than the Jewish leaders or the Israelites of old. Resist the temptation to demand your worth and instead, humble yourself as the one whom Jesus gives gifts to out of His love.

There are only two options when dealing with Jesus as the cornerstone of salvation. You either fall, broken, upon Christ in repentance and faith, to be lifted up as new beings, part of the church of God, the living stones of Christ who is the very Temple of God; or, remaining in unbelief and denial of Jesus as Savior causes the stony wrath of God to come crashing and crushing down in judgement.

We are coming to the climax of Lent. Next Sunday is Palm Sunday, or in the newer parlance, Sunday of the Passion. We’ll begin the service in the Education Building with palm branches, joining the ancient Jerusalem congregation in singing our Hosannahs and processing into the sanctuary. We’ll then hear the narrative of Jesus’ passion as he dies for the sins of the world on the cross.

The cross – that’s still the great stumbling stone. Some stumble over the fact that Jesus was the Savior, tripping even further that His is the only name that saves. Some stumble over the truth that God’s Word cannot be changed, not by political winds, conventional wisdom, or cultural changes. Some stumble that grace is truly that simple – not easy; Jesus’ death was not easy – but it is simple. Some slip and slide on the reality that they can’t save themselves, or that they need saving at all. Some stumble so far and fast that they, like the leaders in Jerusalem, see Jesus as the ultimate threat and want nothing more than to rid the world of Jesus, His name, and His followers.

But for the church, the cross is the power of God and the salvation of those who believe. On Good Friday, on God’s Friday, we’ll rejoice that Jesus died for you, for me, even for those who rejected Him. Our rejoicing will be muted, after all, our salvation cost His life. But, in His death, it is finished and we no longer fear death, sin, or satan.

“The stone the builders rejected will become the capstone.” It’s funny: Pilate will order a stone placed in front of Jesus’ tomb. He’ll place his seal, his stamp, on it so that no one can disturb it. The idea was that on Sunday, with the stone still standing and untouched, it would demonstrate the fraud that Jesus was. Instead, the stone was rolled away as a dead man was raised to life and the gates to the vineyard, the Kingdom, were thrown open. 

I began by saying this parable should make you uncomfortable. Take comfort in this: A stone cannot keep Jesus, the capstone of the world’s salvation, hidden.