The Gospel For Henny Penny and You - Luke 21: 5-28

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is the Gospel lesson, Luke 21.

This is a Gospel reading where “This is the Gospel of the Lord” makes us want to add a question mark behind “Thanks be to God,” and instead of departing in peace and serving the Lord, it feels like a better idea to hunker down in the safety of our homes. At first glance, this Gospel lesson is overwhelming, leaving us with anything but peace and comfort. In fact, it is very easy to draw parallels to our own time in these words of Jesus.

They say “ignorance is bliss.” It’s almost to the point where you do not want to know what is going on anymore.  Turn on the television, open your favorite news website, flip open the paper, or even scan the magazine rack while you’re standing in line at the grocery store and, unless you’re a defense contractor or a futures investor, the news does not seem to be good.  You name it - politically, economically, socially, geologically, meteorologically it seems there is nothing but bad news. There is government unrest all across the globe from the not-so-cleverly-disguised worldly war in Eastern Europe to the threats made by China and North Korea. In our own country, different groups try to shout down their opponent while spewing their own vile words and vitriolic rhetoric. I have rights, yes I do, you can’t tell me what to do! Politicians act like donkeys and elephants rolling around in verbal manure. From the Carolinas into the Southern Appalachians, they continue to struggle from last summer’s hurricane. Meanwhile, the Carribbean is trying to recover from the worst storm ever recorded. Whether local, state-wide, across the state, the nation, or the world, the news is such that it makes you want to find an ostrich with its head in the sand and ask it to scoot over and make room for you. 

Some time back, Fritz told me that news like was really weighing on him. Literally, these stories were starting to cause him physical problems. He was growing anxious. His stomach hurt. He was losing sleep. I told him while he cannot control what goes on outside of his home, he can control what happens inside it. Turn the TV off. Change the station on the radio. Read the comics instead of the front page. But he needs to know what is all going on, he said. Then, limit the news content, I said. Do it in small bites. There is no rule that says you have to watch the entire news hour, or read the entire paper. It’s not just adults. Kids are anxious about exams, friendships, social media standing, and things happening in the world. A friend told me his teen age daughter started keeping track of the votes taken during the government shutdown and the days that had passed. He told her to stop watching and reading the stories. “But I need to know,” she said. Fine, her parents said, then come watch the news with us it in the living room so we can help you digest this. 

I empathized with this father. It’s easy to look at these things and get wrapped up in the moment, the event, the news, and develop a sense of lost-ness, listlessness, and even hopelessness. Spiritually, it’s the direct result of placing our hopes and trust in these monuments of men - governments, society, the economy, and even the local weather prognostications. It’s the inverse of hope in Christ. If hope in Christ is the exclamation point that declares “this is most certainly true,” when these things become our gods - lower case g – and they fail, like houses built on shifting sand, then hope quickly crumbles as well. And when things fail us, and they always do, it is easy to sound like Henny Penny and proclaim the sky is falling. 

But these are the very reasons these words of Jesus are so necessary today. As the world around us sees all of these things without any hope, without any great reason, Jesus gives us a small glimpse of a promise. It’s interesting in the way He does it. There isn’t a long list of terrors all countered by a list of contra-terror. Instead, Jesus offers a word of promise, a word of sure, certain hope, a bright beacon of light against the darkness that rages around us.

Jesus gives us, and the disciples, a powerful example when he points us to the walls of the Temple. They were massive stones, making up the massive walls of the massive temple. It was one of the wonders of the ancient world, almost on par with the architecture of Greece and Rome. White stone, gold, beautifully polished hardwoods, and jewels all made it a place of wonder. In fact, it was easy to forget it was supposed to be a place of worship, it was so opulent. King Herod the Great had rebuilt it as both a way to appease the Jews which also appeased the Roman Emperor and as a way to show the world of his own socio-political skill, a way of saying “Look what I accomplished.” 

So, when the disciples passed through and gawked in awe and amazement at the sights of the magnificent temple, they were stunned when Jesus said the day is coming when those massive, quarried stones - as big as a school bus - would no longer be standing on top of one another. It stopped them in their tracks to think of the improbability - the impossibility - and the size, scope and magnitude of what it would take to make that massive and beautiful structure crumble. It just couldn’t happen. Their question was both sincere curiosity and laced with fear: tell us, when will this be? We need to prepare for such a tragedy and travesty as this. But Jesus wasn’t done. He adds layer to layer of coming loss and tragedy. I can imagine the disciples reeling as He added to the list of coming terror: wars, pestilence – we would call it a plague - earthquake, famine. Even the heavens join in, He continues, with there even being signs from the heavens. Jerusalem, this beautiful city of David, this city of God, it will be surrounded, cut off, and it will fall. Then some of you faithful -  I imagine He looks one-by-one to Peter, James, John, and the rest of His friends – some of you faithful will be hauled before the authorities and put to death and the rest hated because of Me.  

Jesus offers the faithful, glimpses of His remarkable protection even in the midst of this vision of what is to come. So, when He speaks of their persecution, Jesus takes away their trusting in their own clever words and repartee. He says don’t worry about what you will say, the Spirit will fill your mouths with words of wisdom so you might bear testimony of God’s powerful grace. When He speaks of their betrayal and martyrdom, He takes away their strength and ability to bear up under it. Instead, He promises that not a hair of your heads will perish and by your endurance you will gain your lives. And, when He strips away trust in creation’s order, depicting the heavens being rent asunder, or trust in massive buildings that will fail the test of time, Jesus says look to the Creator: straighten up and raise your head, because your redemption is drawing near.

This takes place during Holy Week. Jesus has ridden into Jerusalem, welcomed as the Son of David by the crowds. But, behind the scenes, the Jewish leaders are working to have Him arrested and put to death, turning the crowds against the One whom they welcomed. It’s probably Tuesday or Wednesday. His arrest is hours away and the cross looms large on the horizon. Jesus knows He must suffer and die. He will do so for your salvation. He will stand under the curse of death and die the sinner’s death, taking your place, paying the life-price you owe. He will die, and He will rise to reveal that He has overcome sin, death, and the grave for you. There is nothing, then, in this life – not wars, rumors of wars, pestilence, famine, earthquakes – that can tear you from His strong and saving hand.

This is how faith works. It sees what our eyes cannot see. It grasps hope in the promises of Jesus where all around us we see failing and falling things of this world. This is how the life of faith works. Notice this: Jesus doesn’t tell the disciples, now y’all don’t worry…I’m going to zap you right out of here so you don’t have to experience this. Instead, He promises that in the midst of these things, His Word, His promises will endure and that through faith in Him, they will endure into eternity. Christ does not move us from a world of destruction – snap – to a land of milk and honey. Instead, we are tested and tried with times of suffering so that we grow spiritually wiser and stronger in faith. When everything else is stripped away, we are left with Jesus and His Word. So, we cling all the more tightly to God’s work for us in Christ – even when it comes to us in the midst of trials and tribulations and even in the loss of those things that we hold so dear in this world.

It's easy to fall into the temptation of the disciples, to look to the wrong places and talk about the wrong things. It’s tempting for our mouths to be filled with admiration for all of the things around us and, then, to place our trust and hope in these failing things. Jesus turns our attention to something more beautiful: the work of God in the midst of suffering, and the promises of God that sustain us now and into eternity. And, it’s easy to get caught up in the news cycles. What, with wars and rumors of wars, fires and floods and drought, mass shootings and civil unrest, and paychecks that just don’t last like they did a few months ago, it sometimes feels like the end is near. Luther thought that was true, 500 years ago, that Jesus had to return soon to spare the Church from greater suffering, and he preached as if Jesus was returning by the following Sunday. We don’t know the day or the hour. So, Jesus turns us to what is certain. This may or may not be the end. I know we are closer than ever before. But what we do know for certain is the One who holds us in His nail-pierced hands is forevermore near.

When you see folks around you wringing their hands, acting like Henny Penny, lamenting that the sky is falling, that they have lost all hope, speak of Jesus. Tell them where your hope rests. Then, straighten up, stand firm, raise your heads, and have faith in Jesus because your redemption, won for you at the cross, is drawing nigh.

Resurrection Questions for Jesus - Luke 20:27-40

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 Luke 20.

If you’re not careful, you can let a lot of things get in the way of the message of Jesus.

You’ve had questions like this before, I suspect. Someone comes up to you and asks a rather innocent and fun question: “God is all-powerful, right?” You wisely and correctly nod your head. “So, He can do anything, right?” Your nose twitches a little bit, suggesting that this conversation is starting to take a turn. Still, it seems rather innocuous, so you agree: Yes, God can do anything. A greasy smile spreads across the face of the suddenly not-so-innocent questioner: “So, if God is all powerful and He can do anything, can He make a rock so big He cannot lift it?” It's a classic misdirect, trying to draw you into the argument about the perceived inconsistency of God.

The basic problem is the premise itself is incorrect. There are some things God cannot do. For example, He cannot lie. He cannot do unholy things. He cannot be unholy. He cannot be unfaithful to His promises.

But, if you want a simple answer to the question, it’s this: God does not waste time or energy on such foolish things as appeasing the simple minds of men filled with idle curiosity.

The Sadducees were coming to Jesus with such a trivial question. It seems the question is about marriage. A brother married a woman and died. According to Deuteronomy 25:5, if a man dies before he has a son, it is the responsibility of his brother to marry the woman. It was called “Levitical marriage,” the idea being that the brother acts as a surrogate husband, sort of, to sire a son so that there will be an heir to carry on his brother’s name, “so his name shall not be blotted out of Isarel,” Moses wrote (v. 6). They take this Law and create an unlikely scenario: a man dies without leaving a son. Each of his six brothers, then, marries the widow, all who die. So, whose husband will she be in the resurrection - # 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, or 7? It sounds like a question about marriage and relationships after death – ridiculous, to be sure, but it does present an interesting ethical question, doesn’t it, almost as interesting as who she should be buried next to when she dies?

You notice, I said “it seems the question is about marriage.” The Sadducees are doing a misdirect. It wasn’t about marriage at all. It was about resurrection. For the Sadducees, the discussion about the resurrection – specifically whether there would be such a thing or not – was a core value. By way of explanation, the Sadducees and the Pharisees were the two political parties in the Jewish faith at the time of Jesus. The Pharisees were more theologians; they held that the entire Scripture (the Law, the Prophets and the Writings) was God’s Word, that angels existed, and that there would be a resurrection some day. The Sadducees were more political; they only held the Torah, the first five book of the Old Testament were God’s Word, and they denied anything spiritual, including the resurrection. That last point is key: they denied the resurrection. (This is a terrible play on their name, but if you need a way to keep them separate, just remember that because the Sadducees denied the resurrection, they were “sad you see.”). So the question about marriage after the resurrection was misdirect: they wanted to corner Jesus about life-after-death, not which “I do” counts more.

Jesus, of course, knows exactly what they are wanting to do. Jesus doesn’t waste time with foolishness. He cuts to the heart, the issue behind the façade. Marriage in this lifetime is an image of Christ and His bride the church, but it is a relationship for this lifetime. We even say it in the marriage rite: “Til death do us part.” Unless Jesus returns first, marriage begins with “I do,” and it ends with the last breath of the dying spouse. Marriage is God’s gift, the building block of society, the foundation of the home and family, the closest and most intimate of all relationships in this lifetime. But, in the resurrection, Jesus says, they “neither marry nor are given in marriage.”

Jesus does say, “they [that is, the faithful who die] are like the angels,” and I suspect that causes a lot of confusion. Jesus doesn’t mean we become angels. Angels are a different part of creation. People are people – even in the resurrection – and angels are angels. Just as apple trees do not become frogs, people do not become angels when we die. What Jesus means is that, like the angels, we rise never to die again. Don’t get worked up about the angel part. Know this: we will rise so that our whole life now, with all its toils and troubles will somehow be raised up and re-created, if you will, in Christ.

So, here’s what that means for that poor woman in the Sadducees story: because God is in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, making good out of all things in the death of His Son, then that poor hypothetical woman with her seven hypothetical brothers for husbands will rise up on resurrection morning to a whole real, actual, factual life worked out for actual good by the real, actual, factual cross and death of Jesus that reconciles all things to God. And the hypothetical question of “Whose wife will she be” will be becomes one, big non-starter in the marriage supper of the Lamb in His kingdom where the only marriage that counts is the marriage of Christ and His Church.

Remember, the Sadducees only trust the Torah, so Jesus goes back to the work of Moses. You heard it in this morning’s Old Testament lesson. Moses records God saying that He is “the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.”  Present tense reality – not past tense. Its as if God is saying, I am the God of the living, not the dead. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob – they are as alive to me as I am to them.

Why is this so important to us, to the church militant, in the year 2025? Why is this debate between Jesus and the Sadducees over resurrection and marriage worth talking about, worth you listening to, this Sunday morning?

The resurrection is never mere hollow discussion, a mere curiosity, a topic of scholarly debate, and a one-off phrase that we solemnly murmur each week about “the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting.” Likewise, it’s not just a future event. The resurrection is our very livelihood right now. You are already raised in Christ in your baptism. Your old Adam and old Eve drowned, dying with Christ; your new Adam and new Eve were raised with Christ. You are already raised. That means everything you are now and everything you will be, where you are now and where you will be are all connected to Christ’s death and resurrection.

I know…we have questions about what the resurrection will be like. Truthfully, most of the answers we do not know yet. We wonder about things like what will our bodies be like, what will our “lives” be like, what age will we be, what we be like? Will we know our loved ones, and if so, how? Long-married and newlyweds share the same question: what about my husband, what about my wife? Parents want to know about their children. Even the language about “new heavens and new earth” raises questions.  Without being flippant, the answers to those questions are important to us but they are questions of curiosity. Ask them, play with them a little bit, but don’t obsess over them. You’ll know soon enough – and you’ll know firsthand. Until then, you have work to do in your vocation as husband and wife, mother and father, son and daughter, neighbor and child of God. In that vocation, you are guided by who you are, the resurrected people of God. As such, you know this: sin, death and the grave are already conquered, but this side of heaven, this side of the eternal resurrection, death remains the great enemy of this life. The resurrection, that great day when Jesus returns bringing the complete consummation of Easter, the resurrection will be the death of death.

And, in what sounds to be like a game of words, that end will actually be the beginning of the beginning. Christ is the firstfruits, remember, and we follow after Him. His resurrection becomes ours. It is the prelude to the eternal fullness and joy of the full presence of the Lamb and God who sits on the throne.

If the Sadducees had believed Jesus, they wouldn’t have looked for ways to trap him in his own words and ensnare him with hypothetical questions about some fictitious women married to seven brothers. Instead, they would have asked how they might be found worthy to attain the age to come and the resurrection of the righteous. They might have repented of their actual lives that fell far short of the glory of God rather than construct hypothetical lives to see what Jesus would say.

If anyone is in Christ, and you are in Christ through baptismal faith, you are already a new creation. The old has gone, as far as God and faith are concerned. The new has already come. Now you are a new creature in Christ. Soon you will be a new creature in yourself, with a body fit for eternity, as surely as Jesus is risen from the dead and lives and reigns to all eternity.

In the end, there will be no questions, hypothetical or otherwise. Only Amens and Alleluias.

In the name of Jesus,
Amen

 

 

 

Blessed All Saints Day - Matthew 5: 4; Revelation 7: 9-17

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

“You have turned my mourning into dancing for me; You have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, That my soul may sing praise to You and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to You forever…” Psalm 30: 11-12

Blessed All Saints Day to you all. A distinctly Christian day, I am glad this is one that hasn’t been stripped from us by the secular world. Christmas and Easter have been corrupted by secularism. Secularism gets close to All Saints with Halloween and, to a degree, Dia de los Muertos, but even there, they miss the message. All Saints Day belongs to the Church. That is fitting because the Saints belong to Jesus - all of them, all of us - the saints, the people of God, living and dead, made holy by God’s declaration of justification through faith in Christ. Last week was red - the color of blood, the color of battle, to remember the battle for the free Gospel and the freedom of the Gospel. This week, the liturgical color is white, the color of holiness, the color of the saints. This is how God sees us through Jesus, holy, precious, and redeemed. It’s the picture from Revelation, the innumerable saints of God who are washed white in the blood of the lamb.  

All of the saints, both living and asleep in Christ, all who are waiting or who waited faithfully for Christ’s return, all the saints belong to Jesus.  

https://tinyurl.com/bde95et5

But I do have to admit it is an odd festival day. It doesn’t have lights and decorations like Christmas, or the same joie de vivre of Easter. It’s odd, too, in it being a generic day for all saints. While many saints canonized in either the Western or Eastern tradition have a day set apart particularly for them, the early church wanted a day to remember all the faithful men and women, all saints of God, even the unknown, who died confessing Christ as Lord. So, while St. Andrew will always have November 30 as his day of commemoration – Advent always begins on the Sunday closest to his day. April 25 will always be the Feast of St. Mark; for me, it’s the day my Dad died.  My Dad, Saint Walt of Walburg, will never have his own day. Neither will you or your loved ones. Thus, All Saints Day allows the church a time to remember and thank God for the innumerable faithful who have gone before us. We remember their lives of faithful love and service to friends and neighbors and the Church. We consider them as models of Christian living and we strive to model that in our own sanctified lives as children of God.  

Thus, while we thank God for our loved ones, All Saints Day often feels less joyful than the great festival days because of the memories and the recollection of our loss. There are no two ways around it: losing a loved one hurts.  If that’s you today, especially if those tears are shed in memory of a father or mother, a son or a daughter, a husband or a wife, or a dear, close friend; or even if you are saddened by the thought of someone who died alone and anonymous known only to God, whether a battleground in Ukraine or an abortion clinic on some city corner, it’s OK. Jesus Himself wept while He stood outside the tomb of His dear friend Lazarus. This is Jesus, who only moments before, when talking to Lazarus’ sister, Martha, declared Himself the resurrection and the life and that those who believe in Him, though they die, yet they shall live; Jesus, who deliberately delayed after getting the message of Lazarus imminent dying; Jesus, who was there with the Father and the Spirit when Adam received his first breath and will soon draw His own final breath, this same Jesus stood outside the tomb and wept. Real tears, real sadness, real sorrow because death robbed Lazarus of life.  

If Jesus can weep, then it is perfectly fair to weep today. It is appropriate to have a flurry of emotions today: sadness for those not with us, joy for the gifts of God in Christ, hope for what is to come. Tears flow freely for all these reasons and more. 

I have to admit, All Saints Day is probably my second favorite church day, sandwiched between Easter and Christmas. The Scripture texts set the stage. In his first Epistle, St. John tells us that we are all children of God - not just called His children, but we are His. You are adopted into sonship and daughtership. He surrendered His only-begotten Son to pay the adoption price. Paid in full, completely through the merits of Jesus, God sees you as little Christs, Christian. The Revelation - it’s truly a wonderful book, so misunderstood by so many. They think it’s a roadmap filled with secret truths to deduce and hidden messages to try to get you to the end, sort-of the BIble’s version of Candyland. It’s not. It’s the Revelation, the revealing, a glimpse of what eternity will be like in the resurrection of all flesh, as God sits on His throne, and the Lamb, Jesus Christ. And then there’s the Church.  The word used in the Greek New Testament for “church” literally means “the called-out ones.” John says that the Church is called out from everywhere - all peoples, tribes, nations, languages, backgrounds, family histories and genealogies. They’re in white - there it is again - waiving palm branches. Palm Sunday is reversed: Jesus isn’t entering in humility to die, surrounded by misunderstanding people waiving palm branches; this time, He enters in resplendent glory surrounded by those who rejoice that sin, satan and death are destroyed and they no longer need to fear, or weep, or mourn, or shed tears because those they love are suffering and dying. Revelation paints this magnificent picture of what awaits us on that great and glorious Easter of Easters when Jesus returns and renews creation. 

But, we’re not there yet. Now, we’re still on this side of heaven. And we want to see Jesus. Ralph got it. He had been battling cancer for at least a decade. I don’t remember where it started, but by the end, it was everywhere. He had fought the fight, mentally, physically, spiritually. And, he was tired. Someone had given him a little hand-held wood cross, for those difficult days when he needed a physical reminder that even if He was too weak to cling to Jesus, Jesus clung to Him with His entire life. He was dying. His wife called me; it was late. If you can come, Ralph would appreciate it…and so would I. So, with a lump in my throat, I drove to Ralph and Ethel’s house, was greeted by the family, and then was ushered into his room. Ethel said, I’ll let you two talk and she shut off the monitor. He had his cross in his hand. He said, “I’m tired, Pastor. I’m so tired. I just want to touch His robe.” I prayed the commendation of the dying. “Now may God the Father, who created you; may God the Son who redeemed you with His blood, and may God the Holy Spirit who sanctified you in the waters of Holy Baptism, bless and keep you until the day of the resurrection of all flesh.” And, with me, he said “Amen.” St. Ralph of Sheldon died a few short hours later, confident in the promise of Jesus that there will be a day when he won’t need to touch Jesus’ robe any longer. 

That night, though, that night was heavy with mourning for Ethel and her kids and grandkids and great-grandkids. And me. Oh, they knew those promises of God in Christ and they were clinging to them with empty-yet-full hands, empty of anything they had to offer, but filled with faith in Jesus. When everything is stripped away, there is Jesus and they were hanging onto Him. 

That’s what it means when Jesus says, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” He was speaking prophetically, early in His ministry, but already pointing ahead to the purpose for which He came. The comfort is in the death and resurrection of Jesus because His resurrection guarantees our own resurrection. For the church, this side of heaven, we have that promise of a day of comfort that will be complete when Jesus returns. You know this: you will say it in just a moment. “I look for the resurrection of the body and the life of the world to come.”  But, I want you to notice, Jesus doesn’t scold: shame on those who mourn, for you should know better; there is no need to mourn because your feelings aren’t valid. No, He says, Blessed are those who mourn. 

So, today, if you mourn the death of fellow saints of God, mourn in faith knowing that they are already experiencing the peace of God which truly passes all understanding. Their body is at rest but their soul is already experiencing the beginning of the fulness of eternity. Jesus calls it “being asleep.” That’s a good way to think of it.  Mourn in hope - remember, hope with a capitol H that is Jesus - in the sure and certain hope that you, too, will have your resurrection day. Mourn and give thanks to God for those whom you love who have died in the faith that they shared with you. Mourn knowing you will see them again. 

When we conclude this morning’s service, the last verses of the hymn will sing of that day. The hymn is titled in English, "For All The Saints," but I prefer the Latin: Sine Nomine, "Without Number." As you sing it, envision what that day will be like - the saints, without number, surrounding the throne of the Lamb. Sing it loud, sing it bold – I don’t care if you can’t carry a tune in a bucket, today, belt it out. It’s our confession, it’s our hope, it’s Christ’s promise put to music. And, if like me, the tears get in the way and your throat gets tight and you can’t sing, it’s OK. Every year, it gets harder for me to finish the hymn as I remember those whom I have buried and transferred from the church militant to the church triumphant. And I remember those whom I love who have fallen asleep in Jesus. But, even as I wipe the tears from my eyes, I see what is to come. 

But, lo, there breaks a yet more glorious day:
The saints triumphant rise in bright array;
Thye King of Glory passes on His way,
Alleluia, Alleluia.

And, on that day, we will fully receive the fullness of the Beatitude as our mourning becomes dancing. Amen.