Ted Lasso, Doubting Thomas, and Jesus - John 20: 19-31

In the hit TV show, Ted Lasso, Ted is a soccer coach, trying to manage life and all that is being thrown at him. After an assistant coach leaves and seems to burn every relationship, he later attempts to make amends for what he had done. Ted, realizing the man’s efforts, said, “I hope that either all of us or none of us are judged by the actions of our weakest moments, but rather by the strength we show when and if we're given a second chance.”

That is a good way to think of the man who is at the center of our Gospel reading this morning, the reading where Thomas the Disciple gets his nickname – the Doubter. It’s a shame, really. He starts being identified as, “Thomas, one of the twelve, called the Twin” – the NIV calls him Thomas Didymus - but no one ever calls him either.  We call him Doubting Thomas. I don’t think it’s fair to him. After all, we don’t call Peter the Denier because he said he didn’t know Jesus. We don’t call Paul the Persecutor because, before his conversion, he tracked down and killed Christians. But Thomas…he got saddled with the nickname Doubter and it has stuck. Forevermore, he will be known as Doubting Thomas. 

Can you fathom Thomas’ sadness in those days after Jesus’ resurrection? For Mary and Mary, Peter, James and John, the Emmaus disciples the power of the resurrection is starting to be understood, a glow of light shining in the darkness surrounding Jesus’ death. The truth of the Scriptures is beginning to unfold for them. Christ is risen, He is risen indeed – alleluia! But for Thomas, that resurrection evening, it is as if Christ is not risen, as if Christ is not living as He said. Jesus was, at best, mistaken about that third day talk; at worst, a liar who misled the disciples for three years.

Thomas had witnessed Jesus raising Lazarus. But, it’s one thing for a living Jesus to stand outside Lazarus’ grave and summon a dead man back to life; it’s entirely another matter when Jesus is, Himself, the one who is dead and buried.

Thomas is no fool. “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails and place my finger into the mark of the nails and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.” Thomas had heard Jesus’ prophetic words about being crucified at the hands of the chief priests and elders and teachers of the law, and had also heard Jesus say, “and on the third day be raised.” It’s one thing to hear those words; it’s another to see Jesus’ side pierced with the spear and blood and water flow out. Jesus was dead. Thomas cannot believe Jesus’ promise; he won’t believe it; No: dead people don’t come back to life. It doesn’t work that way. He will not believe unless he sees it with his own eyes.

I get that. And, I suspect that many of you do as well.

We speak of a Christian’s faith in two ways. The first is faith that Jesus is my Savior and that He died, rose, ascended and now waits until I see Him in the resurrection. This is faith that believes that promise made to us in our Baptisms. I trust I am forgiven, I believe that I am God's child through Jesus' death and resurrection, and all of His gifts are mine. I know, believe, trust and rely that this is "most certainly true." This is "saving faith."

Then, there is how we live out that saving faith. We call this the sanctified life or the life of faithfulness. This is faithfulness that enables the Christian to pray "give us this day our daily bread," and to be content with enough. This is faithfulness that enables us to look in the mirror and say, “You are already holy and sanctified in the eyes of God.” This is faithfulness that, in the face of a critical medical diagnosis, says, “I believe God will heal me now, or into eternity.” Faithfulness is able to say, without irony, “Thy will be done,” followed by "amen, amen...may it be so." Faithfulness allows the Christian to stand at the grave of a loved one and declare, “I believe in the resurrection and the life of the world to come.”

But that sanctified life of faithfulness is tough, isn’t it? When faith and life intersect, there is often a collision. To say – and mean - “Thy will be done” in the face of financial struggles, or health scares, or strained family life, or unemployment – that’s not so easy.  It is in this aspect of faith, the daily living of faith, where I struggle – some days, struggling mightily.  I understand because I, too, am a Doubting Thomas. I say that with no pride...trust me.

What is it that drives your faithfulness into fear?  We pray “Give us this day our daily bread,” but in reality we want to pray "Give me this day my daily filet mignon and deliver me from any trouble that might disturb my otherwise peaceful day." We say, “God is so good,” when our prayers are answered the way we wish, but when the Lord answers in other ways, we doubt God’s love for us. We are thankful when our bank account sits fat and thick and our retirement accounts look strong, but when those numbers drop, we cry to the heavens.  When pain endures and it just doesn’t get any better, when depression and anxiety linger, when those memories just won’t go away, when our prayers seem to be met with silence, we are left wondering why, those moments of life crashing can make faith start to crack and crumble.  And with these tests coming at us every day, faithfulness gets crowded out sometimes.

And the danger here is that this aspect of faithfulness impacts our faith in God’s grace for us in Christ. The devil’s no fool – he knows that we are savvy enough that if he were to say to us, “God doesn’t love you,” we would tell him to hit the road. So, he nibbles at the edges – anything to get us to look at ourselves and away from Jesus. He tempts us doubt our worthiness in God’s eyes. He tempts us to think we are unworthy because we don’t have as strong of faith as someone else. He tempts us to think we are failures at Christianity. And when these temptations start to clang in our ears over and over and over, they start to sound as if they ring true. And, like Thomas, we start to alienate ourselves from the other disciples that gather together to form the church. The last temptation, then, is for the Christian, alone and left with his doubts and fears, to teeter on the edge of saying, “And if all of this is true, then the power of the resurrection isn’t enough…not for me at least.”

So, when this Gospel text comes to the forefront every year in the Sunday after Easter, it gives me a moment to stop, pause, and rejoice because Jesus doesn’t leave Doubting Thomas or Doubting Jon, or Doubting [insert your name here] alone with doubt. Jesus rescues and redeems Thomas from a life of doubt to a life of faithfulness.

It’s a week after Easter. The scene from Easter night is repeated: upper room, doors locked, disciples gathered with Thomas present, this time. Again, Jesus appears; again, He declares, “Peace be with you.”

 

Do you understand the power of those four words? We talk about peace; we wish for peace; sometimes we even try to make peace. Peace, at least earthly peace, is fleeting and nebulous. Ask parents with teenagers, or a married couple leaving the counselor’s office, or any patient who walks out of the doctor’s office with the words, “Let’s see what the tests say, first…” still ringing in the ears. Industry and agriculture waits with baited breath as a bloodless war of trade carries on.  Rockets and gunfire continue from the Red Sea to places most of us couldn’t find on a map, unless our sons and daughters are there. Peace: it seems more like a punchline than a reality.

So, when Jesus speaks of peace, it should make us take notice. “Peace be with you.” Jesus’ peace is different. His peace, promised on Maundy Thursday, is completed at the cross. Now, His peace is restorative, reuniting the relationship between God and man which was chewed apart in the Garden of Eden. His peace brings harmony and unity. His peace causes the eternal warfare to end. His peace sooths the troubled heart, calms the worried head, silences fears that run wild. His peace rejuvenates faith where it has grown weary.

So there is no doubt for Thomas, Jesus invites Thomas to touch his hands and place his hand into Jesus side – those were Thomas’ requirements, remember, that unless that could happen he wouldn’t believe. And with words that are both command and invitation, Jesus says, “Stop being unbelieving and be believing.”

Jesus’ peace overcomes Thomas’ doubts.  Seeing Jesus is enough. He doesn’t need to touch Jesus’ body or feel the marks and wounds. Jesus’ peace, the same peace that restored the relationship between God and man, now restores Thomas’ faith. Everything Jesus said about His death and resurrection is true. “My Lord and my God,” Thomas declares as both faithfulness and faith are restored.

Remember Ted’s comment, “I hope that either all of us or none of us are judged by the actions of our weakest moments, but rather by the strength we show when and if we're given a second chance”? That’s called grace. Overflowing with the grace of God in Christ, Thomas was restored to discipleship and by the Holy Spirit empowered for apostleship.

What you probably don’t know is that tradition says that from this point forward, Thomas became the first missionary to what is today Turkey, Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and eventually winding up in northern India.  There, Thomas is celebrated much the same way we celebrate Martin Luther. This is remarkable that a man, who once said he would not believe unless he could see and touch, carried the Gospel to people who could only see with eyes of faith.

The final words of Jesus serve as a dramatic postlude to the Easter narrative, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” You are part of these whom Jesus calls “Blessed,” for you have not yet seen Jesus with your eyes. With Spirit-given faith, you believe the promises of God are fulfilled in this man, named Jesus, who died for you and rose for your eternal salvation. With Spirit-enlivened faithfulness, you live out that life of faith every day in your actions and interactions with others. And, on those days when your faithfulness is shaken, and your faith is weak, Jesus comes to you and says, “Peace.” A remarkable gift, His peace, for it doesn’t change or grow weary. His peace is delivered to you without hesitation or reservation. Stop being unbelieving and be believing. Earned for you at His cross, delivered to you in your baptism, His peace knows no boundaries or limits.

 

 

"The Stone Cries Out: He is not here! He is risen as He said!" - Luke 24: 1-12

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

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

“On the first day of the week, at early day, they went to the tomb, taking the spices they had prepared. And they found the stone rolled away from the tomb…”

I have stood in cemeteries from Houston, Texas to Howells, Nebraska, from Missouri to Massachusetts. Some, like the Texas State cemetery in Austin are filled with military heroes and dignitaries, men like Stephen F. Austin and women like Ann Richards who have stood tall in our states’ history. Outside of Boston, Mass, I saw tombstones that read like a who’s-who of early American literature, carved with names like Hawthorne, Emerson and Whitman. I’ve seen cemeteries with monolithic markers that are dozens of feet tall, proclaiming in death one’s seeming importance in life, a sharp contrast to the county pauper’s cemetery fifteen miles away where people, sadly unclaimed and unknown like lost baggage, are buried and forgotten in death as they were while living. Then there are small cemeteries, just a plot of land carved out of a wheatfield on the top of a hillside, only known to those who have family there. If my grandparents, my mom’s folks, weren’t buried at the old St. John Lutheran Cemetery near Howells, Nebraska, I wouldn’t know it even existed.

“Cemetery” comes into English from Greek, koimeterion, meaning “resting place.” Although it is used also for public graveyards, the word, itself, is a powerful confession of what we as Christians confess in the Creed, “I believe in the resurrection of the body and the life of the world to come.” The grave, and the cemetery that contains the graves, is only a resting place because when Jesus returns in glory, the resurrection promise that began this day some 2000 years ago will come to its consummation and fulfillment.

At the head, that is the top, of the gravesite, there usually stands a marker. They vary, of course. If you watch old westerns, the marker was often a simple cross made from scraps of wood or branches found nearby. Some markers are tall obelisks; others, flat, almost flush to the ground. While some are cement, brass, or even wrought iron, I suspect most often, we connect these markers with stone, like granite. The stone markers, also called the headstone, tell the name of the deceased, along with a date of birth and a date of death, the in-between dash a silent and all-too-brief abbreviation of the life lived. It is up to the reader to interpret, to read, what is inscribed on the stone to tell the story of the one in the grave.  That makes sense because the stone, itself, is silent, of course. Stones can’t speak.

But, in the history of the world, there was one stone that spoke volumes.

Good Friday evening, shortly after Jesus breathed his last, His body was removed from the cross, quickly wrapped, and buried in the new, unused tomb of Joseph of Arimathea. It was an ironic move: the Jews were afraid of disobeying Sabbath Law, allowing the bodies to remain on the cross (dying was work, and one couldn’t work on the Sabbath), but perfectly willing to overlook the 5^th Commandment they had broken in condemning an innocent man to death. A large stone was placed in front of Jesus’ tomb. While the stone was probably imposing enough to keep animals and riffraff from grave-robbing, this stone had an even more important role. It was no ordinary Man within the grave that it was guarding. This Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews, had proclaimed a resurrection three days hence. That was part of the accusation leveled against Him at trial. So, to do due diligence and to make sure that no one would steal Jesus body, as the Jewish leaders feared, Pilate ordered a guard to keep miscreants and pesky body-snatching disciples at bay. The stone, and the grave, needed to be secure, so Pilate also placed his seal on the stone. Don’t think seal, as in spackle and caulk you put around your windows and doorframes to keep moisture and bugs out. Think symbol – a pool of hot wax into which a signet ring or stamp was pressed, marking something as being under Roman protection, an ancient equivalent to the Official Seal of the State combined with yellow “Police Line – Do Not Cross” tape. Although the stone remained mute, that seal stood as a declaration of whose it was, Pilate’s, and the power and authority that his office conveyed.

Once it was in place, from Friday at twilight thru the wee hours of Sunday, the stone was silent, it – along with it’s grave – paying homage to the One therein.

Then, something changed. “On the first day of the week, at early dawn,” Luke says, the Lord of Life, God in Flesh, with the sign of Jonah fulfilled, Jesus awakened from His three-day rest. With His Sabbath complete, an angel – perhaps the very same that ministered to Jesus three years earlier after facing satan’s temptation - rolled the stone away from the tomb and Jesus, alive and resurrected, strode forth from His borrowed burial chamber.

And, in that moment, the stone spoke volumes.

Go back with me one week’s time to Palm Sunday. Jesus entered Jerusalem, the people welcoming Him as the King. They misunderstood what that Kingship would look like, but their welcome was boisterous, to say the least, crying out, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” The Pharisees, growing more and more jealous at every wave of a palm branch, snarled at Jesus that He should silence the people. Jesus’ answer was, “I tell you, even if these people were silent, the stones would cry out.”

A week later, Sunday morning, Resurrection morn, while people still slept and while the women went toward the tomb, the stone having been rolled away from the entrance, cried out a message of resurrection hope, joy, and life. It had plenty to say.

·       The stone declared that the Lord of Heaven and Earth, the God of Creation, was alive.

·       The stone proclaimed that the grave, long considered the “final resting place of the dead,” no longer had the final say.

·       The stone announced that death would no longer be the end, that the long-awaited and hoped-for resurrection that even Job yearned for, would take place.

·       The stone revealed that all the promises of God had come to its completion in the life, death, and now the resurrection of Jesus, the Christ.

·       The stone spoke clearly that Jesus’ declaration, “It is finished” on Good Friday was not merely a final, sad ending to a man’s life; rather, stone’s revelation of the empty grave openly demonstrated the Father accepted Jesus as the perfect sacrifice, that the will of the Father was complete, that Jesus’ death was sufficient for the sins of the entire world, and that the redemption price was completely paid.

·       The stone showed that the peace – wholeness and restoration with the Father – was restored. 

·       The stone, stamped with Pilate’s seal, displayed whose held authority it beheld: not the words or seals of man, but the word and power of God.

·       The stone cries out with joy that the resurrection is real, Jesus is alive, and that in Him, there is life the endures even beyond the lifetime of the stone.

·       The stone speaks for the One who is our Rock, our fortress, our refuge and strength.

It is most fitting that the stone tells the Easter narrative because Jesus had previously compared Himself to the stone that the builders had rejected. The resurrected Christ is the keystone, the capstone, the cornerstone upon which the church rests, proclaiming the resurrection message of forgiveness by God’s grace through faith in the One who died and rose, and is now living and reigning at the right hand of God.

Today, you proclaim the message of the stone as you come to the Lord’s table. In the Old Testament, Israel, wandering through the wilderness, “were baptized into Moses in the cloud and in the sea, and all ate the same spiritual food, and all drank the same spiritual drink. For they drank from the spiritual Rock that followed them, and the Rock was Christ,” (1 Cor. 10:2-5). Today, this very Rock, Christ Himself, is present in the bread you eat and the wine you drink, a meal that both forgives and strengthened you in your own journey in life and faith until your own resurrection.

Make no mistake: the Cross is, in fact, the power of God for those who are being saved – not the stone. But the stone does bear witness to the power of the cross and the power of salvation. That stone, rolled away from the grave on that Resurrection morning, would cause many to stumble, denying its message, seeking to bury the stone and its message back into the earth, never to be heard again. Even this morning, there are those who doubt, despise, and disbelieve the truth that Jesus is the Resurrection and the Life. The day will come when that stone will fall on those who deny Jesus. In the resurrection of all flesh, the stone will bear silent witness of their denial of the resurrection. Instead of being a marker of faith, that stone will become a marker of death that endures.

But for those who rejoice at the death and resurrection of Jesus, and who believe and trust the message of the stone, He is not here as He said, for us every tombstone becomes a descendant of that resurrection stone, sharing the same message that the grave is only a koimeterion, a resting place, of the faithful as they await their own resurrection moment into eternity with Jesus. That is why I don’t just say, “Christ is risen.” We have His promise, already, now, present-day: We are risen as well, the resurrection a present-day gift and promise through the death and resurrection of Christ, our Lord.

The stone proclaims it.
And, so do you.  

Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed!
We are risen! We are risen, indeed. Alleluia!

"Therefore!" Passion (Palm) Sunday - Phil 2: 8-11; Luke 23: 1-56

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. From Philippians 2: 8-11 -

⁸ And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. ⁹ Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, ¹⁰ so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, ¹¹ and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

The contrast is sharp today. We began with celebration as the people welcomed Jesus with a victor’s celebration, “Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!”  Palm branches wave, coats are placed on the ground to soften the donkey’s footfalls, and the energy is palpable in the crowds. It’s a royal welcome for the perceived King of Israel, one worthy of standing in the footsteps of King David centuries earlier.

But, behind the scenes, the fix is in. The Jewish leaders are conspiring to kill both Jesus and Lazarus, who is physical evidence to Jesus’ Divine power and Godly authority. Biding their time, the Pharisees decided to wait until later in the week, putting their evil plan on hold to avoid a riot. By the end of the Gospel reading, Luke has lead us away from the celebratory entrance to see their murderous plans come to fruition. Jesus is convicted by Pilate who is swayed by the shouts and cries of the people – likely the same ones who just days earlier welcomed Him. “Hosannas” are replaced with “Crucify!”  He’s taken out to be put to death.  Finally, over and against the Father’s silence, Jesus commends His Spirit to His Father.

In all that, perhaps the most stark and defining sentence is this: “So Pilate decided that their demand should be granted. He released the man who had been thrown into prison for insurrection and murder, for whom they asked, but he delivered Jesus over to their will.”

Jesus, the wholly innocent Son of God, is traded for the completely guilty insurrectionist and murder. The innocent is sentences as if He were guilty; the guilty is set free as if he were innocent.

There is a word for this: redeemed. To redeem is to buy back. The guilty man’s life is redeemed by Jesus’ innocent life.

At the risk of overly humanizing this event, I wonder what the formerly-guilty-but-now-freed man thought as he walked away? Was he throwing the first-century equivalent of high fives to his fellow cronies and rebels? Or, did he leave Pilate’s palace a changed man? Did he look back in wonder at the One who took his place? Did He see Jesus for who He was, the Innocently condemned man? Did he leave Pilate’s home asking questions about who this Jesus was? Did he come to faith in Jesus, seeing that Jesus didn’t only take his place on the cross for a physical death, but for an eternal death as well? For that matter, what of Jesus? Did Jesus look at the now-redeemed man with longing in His own face, knowing what He was about to face? Wash His face filled with love, compassion and mercy for this man? Was Jesus reserved with willing submission to the corrupt authorities to redeem this one who, thought guilty, is still loved by God?

Obviously, I don’t have answers to those questions, and if we were to go too far down that rabbit hole, we would miss the point: both at Pilate’s home and then at the cross, Jesus takes the place of a convicted man who sinned both against God and his neighbor.

But Jesus doesn’t just take the place of that murderous insurrectionist. In that unnamed man with whom Jesus trades places, see yourself. Jesus took your place under the Father’s wrath – not just the temporal wrath of the government, but the eternal wrath of the Father against sin. Jesus takes the place of every man, woman and child, suffering what our sins deserve. That is what Paul means when he writes “He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” He takes your place to redeem you. Your guilty verdict, your punishment, your death, your separation from God caused by your sins, your cross – they all become His. He takes them from you; He takes the place of you under God’s perfect, holy wrath. Jesus is the perfect substitute for you.

“Therefore” – that’s an important word. It indicates that because one thing happened, another can take place: because of this, then that can happen. God’s plan of salvation had been in place for millennia, since Adam and Eve’s forbidden bites. It was foreshadowed in Abram’s willingness to sacrifice his son. It was foretold in the Passover as blood was painted over the doorposts of the Israelites and the angel of death passed over those homes. It was anticipated in the countless animal sacrifices, repeated over and over for the sins of the people of God. It was prophetically spoken through the mouths of holy men of God and in the holy offices of prophets, priests and kings. When Jesus entered Jerusalem that holy Sunday, people were expecting might and strength and glory, revolution and referendum. What God provided was one, final and perfect sacrifice in His Son. Jesus entered Jerusalem as the obedient Son of God. He would be crowned – with thorns. He would be called king – mocked as such by Romans and Jews, who both denied His heavenly Kingship. His throne would be a cross.

Therefore - remember, therefore: because of this, because He went the way of the Father’s will for the salvation of the world – therefore, God has exalted Him and given Him the name above every name: Jesus Christ, Lord, Son of God, Savior of the World.

You confess this, along with Paul, perhaps with that unknown murder with whom Jesus traded places, and certainly with the thief on the cross who pleaded Jesus remember him in paradise. You join the centuries of Christians who rejoice in God the Father’s gift of sending His Son to redeem the world. As Christ submitted Himself to the Father’s will through His death on the cross, we submit to Christ’s Lordship. Called by the Spirit through the Gospel, united in the body of Christ in the Christian Church, we kneel at the Table today, joining with saints in heaven and on earth, confessing the body and blood of Christ is truly present in this meal, for you, for the repentant, for the one who recognizes the gravity of their sins, for the one who knows the fullness of Christ’s love and death, trusting this forgiveness is for you.

This week is the culmination of salvation history. Thursday night, we remember both His maundatum, His commandment, to love one another as He loved us, and His New Covenant in His Flesh and Blood. We call Friday “Good Friday.” It hardly seems “good” to us. Good is derived from the Old English for “God.” It is God’s Friday. God’s means of rescuing and redeeming creation coming to its crescendo of fulfillment with His surrendering His only-begotten Son to be our Savior. Saturday, Sabbath Day, was traditionally a day of rest that Jesus sanctifies with His rest in the grave. And then Sunday, Resurrection Day, the Sign of Jonah is fulfilled and the Temple of Jesus’ body is restored.

That’s to come. Today, we are still on this side of the cross – the place where Jesus died for you.

Amen.

This Wasn't For You...But Now It Is. Luke 20: 9-20

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

This morning’s Gospel lesson, the parable of the wicked tenants, is strange because it has no direct teaching for us on this 5^th Sunday of Lent, 2025.

Jesus was speaking to the Jewish leaders of Israel, using the parable as a subversive, allegorical way of talking to them, wanting to warn them of the danger that they were in unless they repent and turn to Him in faith as their Savior.

Jesus is using an old image from Isaiah 5:7, “The vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel, and the people of Judah are His pleasant planting.” Knowing that, then the interpretation of the parable is easy and straightforward, direct and immediate for His audience.

               The landowner is God the Father.

The vineyard is the people of Israel.

The three servants represent the prophets called by God to proclaim, “Thus saith the Lord.”

The tenants are the leaders of Israel – Pharisees, Sadducees, priests.

The son, of course, is Jesus, the Son of God.

The story is likewise easy to interpret. The leaders of Israel were entrusted with stewarding, that is caring for, the people of Israel while God patiently waited for Israel’s repentant return to Him. Instead of leading Israel in faithful watching and waiting for God’s deliverance through the Messiah-to-come, for centuries, they determined to take the power, authority, and glory for themselves. When confronted by prophets who proclaimed God’s Word, they were dismissed, abused, and even killed.

The parable, though, is more than just a historical spin on Israel’s history. It is a prophetic description of what is already happening behind closed doors. The rising conflict in the story that begins when the landowner sends His son to collect the harvest, is a subversive way for Jesus to tell the Pharisees, Sadducees, and others that He knows full well what they are planning to do to Him in the days ahead which will culminate in His own death.

We’re still a week from our celebration of Palm Sunday, but this reading takes place probably Tuesday or Wednesday of Holy Week. In Luke’s narrative, Jesus had already entered Jerusalem to the crowd’s shouts, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” The jealousy was already verbally expressed by the pharisees, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples.” Jesus rebuked them instead: “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out.” By the time the parable is told, the conspiracy is in; Judas’ betrayal is secured. They are only waiting for the last piece, the kiss of betrayal.

They are so invested in the plot to kill Jesus that they don’t even realize that they miss that the parable is about them and that they are, in fact, the villains in the parable. Their reaction, “Surely not!” to the vineyard owner’s violent response is all the more sad and ironic.

You know how the parable’s story arc is replaced by the events of Holy Week. You know Jesus will be conspired against, arrested, and brought before those very same people who listened and misunderstood the parable. They will wrongly condemn Him to death as a heretic when He was speaking the truth, that He is the Son of God in the flesh and that He would die and rise on the third day. They will crucify him, taking Jesus outside the vineyard walls of the city of Jerusalem. They will kill him so that they can have what they think they deserve and they can retain their power and positions of wealth and honor.

So, with this about the Jewish leaders, the people of Israel, and the plot to kill Jesus, like I said, the parable has no direct meaning for us. You did not act to kill the prophets. You did not conspire to murder Jesus. You are not the people of Israel who are waiting for Messiah to come. You are the 21^st century church for whom Jesus entered Jerusalem to rescue, redeem and save. You see the parable for what it is: a prophetic description of the prelude to Jesus’ passion.

It does not have direct meaning, but it does still have a word of application for us, and with it comes both a word of warning and a word of blessing. See the landowner as God the Father; the Son as Jesus; but, now, see the vineyard as the church – a pictograph of Jesus’ words, “I am the vine, you are the branches,” if you will; and see the villains as satan and his minions who want nothing more than to consume and destroy the vineyard.

In the parable, why did the landowner send his son? It wasn’t to save the servants who had been abused. The son was sent to redeem the master’s vineyard and the vineyard’s harvest. It’s the master’s vineyard, his harvest, his fruit, that needs to be rescued and redeemed, to be made the master’s again. Jesus comes to rescue and redeem the vineyard from the evil tenants; Jesus comes to redeem and rescue the church from satan, to make it the master’s again. Jesus comes to redeem and rescue God’s church.

We use the word church in a lot of different ways. You probably said this morning, “We’re going to church.” That can mean either going to worship and receive the gifts of God, or it can mean the church building, as in “the red-brick church next to the school.” We can speak of the congregation, Zion, or even the church body, the Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod. We can even speak of all Christian churches that proclaims Christ and Him crucified make up the Christian church on earth, and the saints who have gone before us and are at peace with Jesus awaiting the resurrection of all flesh make up the church in heaven. There is the church in heaven (sometimes called the church triumphant) and on earth (the church militant), all of which is God’s. It is His Church.  Think Church with a Capitol C.

Years ago, the congregation that I served was squabbling about something and it was quickly dividing into two groups: “us” and “them.” I wrote a newsletter article about this sinful, divisive mindset, saying instead that it is “our” church. A very wise churchman, his name was Al, politely corrected me, and I’ve never forgotten this. He said, “Pastor – I understood what you were trying to say and do by calling it ‘ours,’ but don’t ever forget whose Church it really is: it’s God’s Church.”

It’s God’s Church. It is ours only in the sense that we are connected to it. We do not own it; we do not possess it. To be clear, I am not speaking in an earthly, legal sense – yes, I understand that there is Zion Lutheran Church, Inc., with a title to land and a business license for the State of Texas and a Federal Tax ID number, and there is LCMS, Inc. In that sense, but only in that sense, dare we speak of this as “ours.” Remember: Jesus doesn’t redeem Zion, Inc. He doesn’t redeem the property addressed at 12183 FM 236. He doesn’t redeem our articles of incorporation. He redeems His Church: the holy Christian Church, the communion of saints, as we say in the Creed.

In every other sense, in the only way that truly matters, it is God’s Church. That’s important to remember. If we dare think the Church belongs to us, that it is ours, that it is our possession that we can do with it as we please, we mistake our place in the story. We’re the vineyard, remember? A field, a vineyard, is incapable of caring for itself. You’ve seen enough land tracs around here that have been left to its own: it is soon overwhelmed, overgrown, and overcome by weeds and weesatch, thistles and thorns, useful for nothing. The land must be redeemed, reclaimed, restored by the owner.

So the landowner does just that. God does that to His vineyard. God does that for His Church. It’s quite remarkable, isn’t it? The field already belongs to the Master, the Church already belongs to God, yet He redeems it, He buys it back, to restore it to Himself. He does it by sending His Son.

He redeems the vineyard, the Church, for a purpose: to produce spiritual fruit. As a vineyard that has been redeemed through the crucified Christ, we live the crucified life as well, with our Spirit-infused, Baptized life crucifying our sinful desires. The fruit of Christ’s spirit dwells within us, and we show that fruit in loving our neighbors as Christ loved us, sacrificing ourselves for the wellbeing of others, and setting aside selfish wants and desires out of care and concern for those around us. Filled with Christ’s Spirit, we produce spiritual fruit: love, joy and peace filling our mind and heart to be Christ-like ; patience, kindness and goodness impacting our relationships with our neighbors; faithfulness, gentleness and self-control guiding our lives as God’s people. Filled with His Spirit, the Church, God’s vineyard, produces fruit for the world around us to receive, drawing them to the Vineyard as well.

I began this sermon saying the parable has no direct teaching for us as New Testament Christians, but it does have application for us.  It reminds us of who we are, the Church of God, and whose we are, God’s. He doesn’t redeem His Vineyard so it lays fallow. He fills us with His Spirit so that we produce spiritual fruit to share with those around us, demonstrations of God’s love for us and the rest of the world.

In Jesus’ name. Amen.