Sermon for Easter 4: "Dirty Jobs and The Good Shepherd"

 + Easter 4 – April 25, 2021 +

Series B: Acts 4:1-12; 1 John 3:16-24; John 10:11-18

Beautiful Savior Lutheran

Milton, WA

 

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

 

A few years ago there was a show on the Discovery Channel called Dirty Jobs. Every episode, the host, Mike Rowe, would travel around the country getting to know various people and their hard-working jobs that make civilized life possible for the rest of us. 

 

Most of the time these jobs weren’t particularly glamorous or glorious. Poultry farmers. Road kill collectors. Garbage men. And so on.

 

One of the recurring themes of the show was the self-less, humble, sacrificial work ordinary folks would do on behalf of others. 

 

That’s the theme of today’s Gospel reading as well. Jesus’ whole life and work is summarized by that title – the good shepherd. The humble, selfless, self-giving, good shepherd.

 

I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.  He who is a hired hand and not a shepherd, who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them.  He flees because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep.  I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me,  just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep.

 

“I am the good shepherd,” Jesus says. 

 

In the first century, as in the 21^st century, being a shepherd was a dirty job. Nothing glorious or glamorous about it. Just good ole fashioned hard work. The shepherd lived with his sheep. Slept near sheep. Talked to his sheep. They knew his voice like an infant knows the voice of their mother. The sheep know the shepherd. Trust the shepherd. Follow the shepherd. And for all that hard work, shepherds were still considered the lowest of the low in society. 

 

Of all the daily occupations Jesus could have used to reveal his goodness and gracious care why a shepherd? Why not choose something a bit more popular or powerful? No. Instead, our Lord chooses the image of a lowly, selfless shepherd because this is the kind of savior he is. 

 

I am the good shepherd. Jesus is not in it for the paycheck like the hired hand. He’s not the kind of God that reveals his power by glamor, wealth, or fame, but in humility, sacrifice, and selflessness.

 

The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. 

 

Jesus is the good shepherd, not for his own sake. But for yours. Jesus is the good shepherd we need.

 

For, as Isaiah says, all we like sheep have gone astray, each to our own ways. If the image of Jesus as the good shepherd is comforting, it’s also uncomfortable reminder that we are sheep. Not exactly flattering. 

 

Sheep are stubborn, self-centered, high maintenance creatures. Without a shepherd sheep wander. Sheep get lost. Sheep are easy prey for the wolf. We’re no different. Like foolish sheep we wander off in our own sinful, selfish ways. We butt heads with one another, stubbornly insisting on having things our way. 

 

Thankfully we have a good shepherd who is greater than all our sheepish sins. For all the times we are selfish, Jesus the good shepherd is selfless for you. For all the times we demand to get our own way, Jesus the good shepherd goes the way of the cross for you. For all the times we wander and are lost, Jesus the good shepherd lays down his life to rescue you.

 

I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.

 

The image Jesus delivers is a powerful one. In Jesus’ day, it was common for the shepherd to gather his sheep for the night in a pen or a holding area, then lay his body down in the opening. That way, if a wolf or thief would try and come for the sheep, they would have to go through the shepherd to get to his sheep. It’s as if the shepherd is saying to any predator, “sure, you can have my sheep…over my dead body.”

 

Jesus is the good shepherd. Our enemies of sin and death and the devil are no match for our good shepherd. He will not abandon you when the wolf comes prowling. Jesus is the good shepherd who lays down his life for you. He steps into the jaws of death and the grave for you. He lets the hound of hell devour him on the cross. He lays down his life for you his sheep. Jesus is no hired hand. He takes no days off. No breaks. No vacations. Jesus is the good shepherd for you.

 

And in Jesus your good shepherd, you lack nothing. He knows you. Loves you. Cares for you. You belong to him. 

 

Jesus our Good Shepherd leads you beside the still waters of holy baptism where he restores your soul. He daily leads you in the path of righteousness by his holy word. You hear his voice and know him He walks with you and ahead of you into the valley of the shadow of death. By his rod and staff he protects and preserves us. 

 

And today, Jesus the good shepherd prepares his table for you, bread that is his body, a cup that overflows with the goodness and mercy of his blood shed for you. 

 

Surely the goodness and mercy of Jesus your good shepherd will follow you, hound you like a sheep dog, all the days of your life. 

 

And you will dwell in the house of the Lord, Jesus your good shepherd, forever. 

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

 

Sermon for Easter 3: "A Hands On Savior"

 + Easter 3 – April 18, 2021 +

Series B: Acts 3:11-21; 1 John 3:1-7; Luke 24:36-49

Beautiful Savior Lutheran

Milton, WA

 

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

 

In an Easter poem, author John Updike once wrote, 

 

Make no mistake: if he rose at all
It was as His body; 
If the cell’s dissolution did not reverse, the molecule reknit,
The amino acids rekindle,
The Church will fall.

 

In his poem, John Updike get at the heart of Jesus’ resurrection and the joy of Easter. That Jesus’ resurrection from the dead – like so many of God’s promises in Scripture – is real, physical, tangible. Jesus rises from the dead, not metaphorically, symbolically, or spiritually. No. Jesus’ resurrection is a real, bodily, physical resurrection. 

 

Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts?  See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me, and see. For a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.”

 

St. Luke, the beloved physician, lays out Jesus words like a medical report. Notice his attention to detail. Earthly, physical, evidential details. Jesus speaks, See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Jesus invites his disciples to look and see. Touch me, and see. For a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.

 

This is not the stuff of fairy tales or legends. This is the stuff of history. Evidence. Facts. Eyewitness testimony. Jesus is revealing for the disciples and for us the physical nature of his resurrection. In Jesus, God takes on a real, human body. In Jesus, God has flesh. Blood. Bones. In Jesus, God has hands and feet. He is no ghost. He is real and he is risen from the dead.  

 

Now, in one respect, this is nothing new. God has always worked this way, using the stuff of his creation to accomplish his word and will. God is a hands on kind of God. Flesh and blood of the Old Testament sacrifices forgave sin. A rainbow in the sky announces God’s covenant with all creation. Smoke, flame, and fire accompany God’s presence with his people. God is always using the stuff of his creation to bless his people. 

 

And yet, in another respect, this is something new. Something completely different. In Jesus, God the Creator becomes one with his creatures. God becomes man. In Jesus, God is tangible. Touchable. Knowable. Seeable. Hearable. A hands on Savior.

 

Jesus invites them to touch Him. Jesus is bone of our bones, flesh of our flesh. That’s why we believe our bodies will rise from the dead and we don’t just go on as “spirits” or “souls,” because Jesus rose bodily from the dead. His tomb is empty. The disciples not only saw Jesus, they touched Him. Flesh and bone.

 

And just to drive the point home, Jesus goes one step further for his disciples and us.

And while they still disbelieved for joy and were marveling, he said to them, “Have you anything here to eat?”  They gave him a piece of broiled fish,  and he took it and ate before them.

 

Is Jesus hungry? Perhaps. But Jesus is showing his disciples that he’s no ghost. He eats the fish and it doesn’t fall to the floor like on Looney Toons. It’s yet another sign of his fleshly, bodily, physical, resurrection.

 

But there’s something else going on here as well. Psalm 74 says: You crushed the heads of Leviathan; you gave him as food for the creatures of the wilderness. Leviathan was the great “sea monster,” the dragon of the sea, the devil. The image is that Leviathan was being served up as an appetizer at the messianic banquet, which is why the Jews always had a course of fish on the Friday evening Sabbath meal, and why Roman Catholics traditionally eat fish on Friday, and why Jesus multiplied bread and fish in the wilderness. 

 

Jesus’ eating fish in the resurrection is a sign that He has conquered Death and the devil who is now served up as a first course. Jesus is the One who swallows Death and devil. “Death is swallowed up in victory.”

 

And this is good news for Jesus’ disciples and for you. Jesus’ physical resurrection signals our own. Because Jesus rose from the dead, so will you. Jesus’ resurrection means your resurrection. Jesus is the first to rise from the dead, but not the last. Jesus’ resurrection, then, means a new creation, a new beginning, a new life for his disciples and for you. Where Jesus has gone, in him, you also go. Through death, into life. A real, bodily, physical resurrection. 

 

This is what John is getting at when he writes, Beloved, we are God's children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears^[a] we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is. 

 

What we will be – our own bodily resurrection – has not yet appeared. But Jesus’ resurrection is the guarantee – the proof and promise - that it will. Jesus rose from the dead. And one day, so will you.

Once again, Jesus is a hands on kind of Savior. He gets his hands dirty in the muck and mud of sinful humanity. He nails his hands and feet to the cross to save you. Those are the same hands he shows to his disciples here in Luke 24. And the same hands – the same crucified, risen, and ascended body – that comes to us with all of his physical, tangible, touchable, taste-able promises. Word, water, body and blood. 

 

This is how Jesus works for his disciples and for you. Jesus takes the stuff of his creation and uses it to bless you. Jesus takes water, like the water that flowed from his side on the cross, to join you to make you a new creation. Jesus takes his body and blood, broken in death, and puts it into the bread and wine of the Lord’s Supper to forgive you. Jesus uses ordinary words deliver his peace, presence, and promise. 

 

Real. Physical. Tangible. Just like our Lord’s resurrection for you. 

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

 

Sermon for Easter 2: "From Fear to Joy"

 + Easter 2 – April 11, 2021 +

Series B: Acts 4:32-35; 1 John 1:1-2:2; John 20:19-31

Beautiful Savior Lutheran

Milton, WA

 

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

 

Have you ever been too afraid to go outside? So afraid that you find yourself hiding behind locked doors with the shades pulled and curtains drawn? So afraid you want to hide? Don’t take phone calls. Don’t answer the door. Don’t engage the world.

 

I’m guessing that’s not what any of us were up to last Easter Sunday. Maybe we had some family over, gathered for an Easter dinner, or took an afternoon nap.

 

But this was not the case for the disciples that first Easter Sunday. On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors being locked where the disciples were for fear of the Jews.

 

One of the most remarkable reactions to the resurrection of Jesus is fear. In Mark, the women who went to the tomb early that Sunday morning and heard the news of the resurrection from the angel ran away in fear and told no one. In John, the disciples are hiding in the upper room, probably the same upper room where four days before Jesus had told them not to fear. The doors were locked tight. The disciples were cowering together in fear.

 

When you stop to think about it, it makes sense. The rumors were already thick as fog. The tomb was empty. The guards were bribed and disappeared. Mary Magdalene has seen Him, touched Him. Every street corner was buzzing in whispered tones about how the tomb of Jesus was empty. His grave clothes mysteriously folded neatly. The religious authorities were probably conducting a frantic door to door search. They had crucified Jesus. They were aware of His predictions. They would stop at nothing to squelch this rumor now. And so the disciples were afraid. Huddled together like frightened cats, and locked the doors.

 

Their fear is also understandable in that they knew that dead men don’t ordinarily rise. Maybe they feared the worst, that the religious leaders or the Romans had taken the body of Jesus and were now going to come after them. Or maybe they didn’t know what to think. 

 

In any event, they were afraid. They could hide from the Jews and the Romans and attempt to hide their fears from one another, but they could not hide from Jesus. 

 

Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples were glad when they saw the Lord. 

 

Even before Jesus opens his mouth, Jesus shows his love for his disciples and for all. Jesus joined them in their fears. Jesus stood in their presence knowing full well that their hearts were racing, their minds swirling, their fears overwhelming. He does not require them to pull themselves together before he enters the room. He doesn’t tell them to get a grip. Jesus joins them in their fear.

 

Martin Luther once said that Christ dwells only among sinners. This is good news for the disciples. Good news for us. Christ did not come to save perfect, unfearful people who have it all together. No he came to save the lost, the least, the hurting, the broken, the fearful. 

It’s not hard to sympathize with the disciples. We see their fear and understand. We put ourselves in their sandals. If we had been there in that upper room we’d have been huddled right next to them too. 

 

With the disciples, we have a common enemy of fear. Consider how over this past year doctors have reported an increase in treatment and medications for anxiety and depression. And it’s not just the pandemic. It’s fear of many things. Fear of uncertainty. Of the economy, politics, rights, and freedoms. Sometimes our fears are more personal. Fear of letting others down. Fear of shame or guilt. Fear of mistakes we’ve made. Sins we’ve committed.

 

But again, notice what Jesus says and does. He does not rebuke the disciples for their fear. He doesn’t shake his finger in disappointment. 

 

Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples were glad when they saw the Lord. 

 

Jesus comes to his disciples. Jesus speaks to his disciples. It is Jesus’ presence. Jesus’ word. Jesus’ peace. That’s what calms the disciples fears. 

 

It is Jesus’ word and promise that brings his disciples from fear to joy. And this is the way it has been throughout Jesus’ life. Mary and Joseph’s first reaction when they are visited by an angel is fear. But the angel’s message quickly turns fear to joy. So too, the shepherds, gripped with fear as they watched their flocks by night, are quickly moved from fear to joy by the angelic announcement of good news that “unto you is born this day a savior.” 

 

At Jesus’ resurrection, no coincidence, the women are moved from fear to joy as the angel proclaims, “You seek Jesus of Nazareth, the Crucified One. He is not here; he is risen. Just as he told you.”

 

And again here in the upper room that first Easter evening, it was Jesus’ presence, his peace, his word that brought the disciples from fear to joy. 

 

The same is true for you this Easter season. Jesus brings us from joy to fear in his death and resurrection. Does that mean that we will no longer feel afraid of various things in life? No, but that our fears do not win the day. That as great as our fears may be, the peace and joy Jesus gives us in his death and resurrection is far greater. 

 

No matter what our fears are, Jesus joins us in the midst of our fears, just as he did his disciples. Jesus speaks his peace to you. 

 

Jesus is present with you and for you, here, at his table, in his body and blood, in his word of promise. Jesus dwells with you and in you in your baptism. 

 

Jesus speaks his peace to you and declares all your sins are forgiven. No matter how big of a monster our fears appear to be, Jesus’ death and resurrection have slain the dragon, defeated the grave, and destroyed the last enemy of death. For his disciples. For you. 

 

In Jesus’ dying and rising, you are brought from the shifting sands of uncertainty to the solid ground of Jesus’ certain promises, from death to life, and from fear to joy. 

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

 

Sermon for Easter Sunday: "Just As He Told You"

 + The Resurrection of Our Lord – April 4, 2021 +

Series B: Isaiah 25:6-9; 1 Corinthians 15:1-11; Mark 16:1-8

Beautiful Savior Lutheran

Milton, WA

 

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

 

We live in a world full of predictions. Meteorologists try to predict tomorrow’s weather. Sports fans try to predict the perfect NCAA tournament bracket. Economists try to predict the ups and downs of financial markets. And so on. You may run out of toilet paper, but there’s no shortage on predictions.

 

The problem with predictions, as you’ve probably noticed, is that events rarely go as predicted. The expected snowpocalypse barely covers the grass. Your NCAA bracket is busted in the opening round of play. One day the markets rage like a bull, the next they’re hibernating like a bear. Occasionally, of course, predictions come true just as a blind squirrel occasionally finds a nut, as the saying goes. 

 

Generally speaking, though, most predictions fall flat.

 

Today, however, we celebrate one very important exception to that rule. Jesus’ own death and resurrection.

 

Throughout the Gospel of Mark – three times on three separate occasions – Jesus predicts the seemingly impossible – to rise from the dead – and then he does it. 

The Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death and deliver him over to the Gentiles.  And they will mock him and spit on him, and flog him and kill him. And after three days he will rise.”

 

But of course, this was not what was on the minds of Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome as they walked to Jesus’ tomb, early in the morning on that first Easter. To their knowledge, Jesus’ body was still in the tomb. Their teacher and messiah was still dead. So they came prepared. They brought the burial spices to anoint Jesus’ body. And they wondered, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance of the tomb?”

 

But as it turns out, things did not go as they predicted. Looking up, they saw that the stone had been rolled back—it was very large. And entering the tomb, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, dressed in a white robe, and they were alarmed.

 

Who wouldn’t be. Their minds racing with questions. Overwhelmed with uncertainty. Swirling with alarm and fear. It’s all rather unpredictable. And yet, it happened.

 

 “Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, the Crucified One. He is risen! He is not
here. See the place where they laid Him. But go, tell His disciples—and Peter—that He is going before you into Galilee; there you will see Him….just as He told you.”

 

Although the women were afraid, the young man reminded them they had no reason to fear. And neither do you. Do not fear your sin. Do not fear your guilt or shame. Do not fear your doubt, despair, disease, or death. Do not fear the grave. Do not fear even the devil himself. For Jesus has conquered, overcome, and rose victoriously for you.

 

Jesus predicts the seemingly impossible – his death and resurrection – and it happens just as he said. This is simply the way it is with Jesus. What Jesus says happens.

 

Jesus predicts that the two disciples he sends into the village ahead of him will find a donkey for the Palm Sunday procession, and that someone will object to them taking it…and it happens.

Jesus predicts that the two disciples he sends to prepare the Passover will meet a man carrying a water jar, and that they will follow this man to an upper room for the Passover…and it happens. 

Jesus predicts that he will be betrayed by one of his own disciples… and it happens.

Jesus predicts that the disciples will deny him, fall away, and be scattered like sheep, and that even Peter would deny him three times before the rooster crows… and it happens.

Jesus predicts that the Scribes and Pharisees will condemn him to death… and it happens.

Jesus predicts that he will be delivered over to the Gentiles and they will mock him, spit upon him, and scourge him… and it happens.

Jesus predicts three times in Mark’s Gospel that he will be crucified… and it happens.

And today, the joyous exclamation point. Jesus predicts that he’ll rise again from the dead on the 3^rd day…and, indeed it happened. Christ is risen! Easter is the greatest prediction in all of history. Because it truly happened. 

 

Jesus’ prediction is also His promise to you. Remember the young man’s words to the women at the tomb. “Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, the Crucified One. He is risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid Him. But go, tell His disciples—and Peter—that He is going before you into Galilee; there you will see Him….just as He told you.”

 

Our predictions may not always come to pass. But Jesus’ word. Jesus’ prediction. Jesus’ promise. Always comes true. When life – as it often does – teeter totters in unpredictability, you live in the joy of this sure and certain promise of Jesus’ cross and his empty tomb. No amount of unpredictable things can ever take Jesus’ death and resurrection away from you. And no matter how unpredictable tomorrow is, this much is certain. Christ is risen. For you. And one day, Christ will return to raise you from your graves as well – as he predicted. As he promised. Just as he told you. 

 

For Jesus is the crucified one for you…just as he told you. 

 

Christ is risen for you and Death is swallowed up in victory…just as he told you.

 

Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, the Crucified One. He is risen! Just as he told you!

Alleluia! Christ is risen. He is risen indeed. Alleluia. Just as he told you!

 

A blessed Easter to each of you…

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon for Good Friday: “Christ, the Firstborn, is Sacrificed”

 + Good Friday – April 2, 2021 +

Exodus 12:21-32

Beautiful Savior Lutheran

Milton, WA

 

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

 

There’s a Jewish legend that says when darkness came after Adam’s first day in the world, that he wept through the night over the death of the sun. Ever since Adam’s fall, and Abel’s murder, has a single night passed when someone somewhere hasn’t wept over the death of someone else?

 

Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes in the morning, sings the psalmist. But we know that isn’t always the case, at least not in this life. There’s a reason we call this fallen world the veil of tears.

 

In days of the Exodus the night was often full of tears as well. Israel, lamenting their slavery and bondage in Egypt. And then Egypt, weeping and wailing over the death of the firstborn. The last of the 10 plagues God poured out upon Egypt. That night echoed with a great cry in Egypt, for there was not a house where someone was not dead.

 

Forever after that night, God claimed every Israelite firstborn as his own special child. They belonged to him. The Levites – the priests and sons of Aaron – represented these firstborn. These sons who labored in and around the tabernacle, who cared for the holy things of the Lord, who daily watched as doves, pigeons, sheep and goats, bulls and cows shed their blood and were burned on the altar – the Levites were the firstborn of Israel.

 

But where were they on this day of days we call Good Friday? Where were the Levites on the day their vocation was being fulfilled by the Great High Priest himself? Where were they who represented the firstborn of Israel, while the firstborn of earth and heaven, the only begotten Son of God, shed his innocent blood on the altar of the cross? 

 

For Good Friday is the day when all of the Old Testament sacrifices and work of the priests stands fulfilled. No longer in the temple. No longer in the sheep, goats, or bulls. Not upon that altar, but upon Golgotha. In the blood of the Lamb of God. In the sacrifice of the true firstborn. In Jesus, the Savior of us all.

 

With ten plagues the Lord had attacked Egypt in the time of the exodus. Water to blood, a blitzkrieg of bugs, disease, thunder, hail. And the ninth attack, when Moses stretched out his hands towards the heavens, a sea of darkness flooded and covered Egypt. A darkness so thick, so black, so intense, you could feel it. Not for one, nor two, but three days God kept the sun at bay. Then after those three days came the zenith of those plagues, the death of Egypt’s firstborn sons.

 

That darkness and death was also a shadow of what was to come. Because for you, to ransom you, O captive Israel, one greater than Moses stretched out his hands towards heaven, to have them nailed to the wood of the cross for you. There he hangs on the tree of death to bear for you the fruit of life. There he hangs, suspended between God and man, making peace between him and you by the blood of his cross.

 

And along with his death comes the darkness, from the sixth to the ninth hour, a darkness fell over the whole land not for one, nor two, but three hours. The Father, who lifts up his face to enlighten us, hid his countenance from his firstborn Son. 

Why? We wonder. Because God made him who knew no sin to be sin for us. Because Jesus has come to be the firstborn of men for us. Firstborn for Cain the murderer. Aaron the idolater. David the adulterer. Jesus came for us born in sin. Whoever you are and whatever you’ve done or left undone – Jesus has become you and it. Jesus has taken your place, as did the Levites of old, to offer a better sacrifice that closes the book on the temple, altar, all of it. The firstborn is dead. For you. Killed by the judgment of God in your stead. In Jesus all the plagues are over and you are free.

 

You are free. For the Father has sent his firstborn Son into the world, not to kill, but to be killed. Not to judge but to be judged for you. Not to condemn, but to suffer condemnation for us. 

 

On Good Friday, weeping did tarry for the night. And the next as well. Three days in fact. Until joy came to the women who came to the tomb on Easter morning. 

 

For how could the grave hold the Lord of life? It could not. It cannot. It has not. Jesus lives. And when God raised Christ, he destroyed the last enemy. And Christ is the head of his body, the Church, the beginning, the firstborn of all creation and the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might have first place. 

 

But he is the firstborn, not the only-born, for in him you, too, call God “Father.” 

 

When Mary gave birth to her firstborn Son, she wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger. And this Son, all grown up, now wraps you, his adopted siblings, in the swaddling clothes of his flesh and blood, joining you to his own crucifixion and resurrection. All that is his, is now yours. Everything he has done, he has done for you. 

 

In the exodus he accomplished in Jerusalem, you are his beneficiary. He leads you to Mt. Zion and to the city of the living God. To the heavenly Jerusalem, to the assembly of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, to God, the judge of all, and to the spirits of the righteous men made perfect.

 

Jesus leads you to himself, the mediator of the new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.

 

A blessed Good Friday to each of you…

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

 

Sermon for Maundy Thursday: “The New and Better Passover Meal of Meals”

+ Maundy Thursday – April 1, 2021 +

Exodus 12:1-14

Beautiful Savior Lutheran

Milton, WA

 

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

 

Sometimes a meal is more than a meal. Sometimes the meal takes on a life of its own. On their wedding day, the bride and groom don’t place a bite of that pretty cake in each other’s mouths just for the fun of it. The final meal of a death-row inmate is more than a chance for him to die without hunger pains. And whether you like the dark or light meat or don’t even care for turkey you’ve probably cooked or at least eaten it for Thanksgiving. Eating is often about far more than eating.

 

On their last night in Egypt, during their final hours of slavery, the Israelites partook of a meal that was far more than a meal. A simple menu, really, but nothing was served up by accident. Nothing was chosen for it’s nutritional value or flavor. In fact, one part of the Passover was chosen precisely because of its bad taste. The bitter herbs because the Egyptians had embittered their lives in slavery.

 

Unleavened bread was also part of the meal – unleavened because Pharaoh would release them from bondage before the sun rose, before the yeast had time to raise the dough. It was the bread of affliction and haste, for Israel would leave Egypt in haste before fickle Pharaoh changed his mind. It was a holy fast food of sorts. Israel had to eat and run.

 

The bitter herbs were for remembrance, and the unleavened bread foreshadowed their upcoming hasty exit from Egypt. So too, the main course, the roasted flesh of the sacrificial lamb: that meat also heralded something else, something that was a gift for both the present and the future, the now and the not yet. 

 

The now of the roasted meat was the tangible sign that an innocent victim had been killed in their place just a few hours ago. The angelic destroyer who was passing through the land that night would pass over their homes, sparing the firstborn sons. And above and beside the entrance of the homes of faithful Israelites was painted the blood of the Passover lambs. On the night of the Passover, as Israel tasted the meat, they knew that their sons would not taste death.

 

But this main course proclaimed a message that went well beyond that night as well. The whole meal – bitter herbs, unleavened bread, and roasted lamb – was an edible prophecy. Like the prophets who foretold the coming Messiah, this meal was a foretelling that Israel could sink their teeth into. A promise that was a foretaste of the feast to come. To a new and better Passover in Jesus’ body and blood.

 

This meal is definitely more than a meal – an eating that is about far more than eating and drinking that is about far more than drinking. It is a table where the things of earth are lifted up to the things of heaven and the things of heaven are brought down to the things of earth. God comes down into the Egypt of our captivity, not to kill his enemies, but to place into our mouths his own body and blood, given into death to save his enemies, to save us.

 

It may look rather ordinary and plain, just like the original Passover, but this bread and wine are the food of the new and better Passover. Bread. Wine. Nothing a food critic would write a 5-star dining review about on Yelp. 

 

This is how our Lord often works, his great works of salvation are disguised in simplicity and humility. 

 

Take, eat, this simple bread is his body. It is the body of the Lamb that was not passed over, but passed under the knife. Or, rather, passed under the court of the Sanhedrin, passed under the sentence of Pilate, passed under the whips of the soldiers, passed under the sneers of the crowd, passed under the beams of his cross, passed under all the evil this world could heap upon him. For he also passed under the verdict of his Father, which declared this innocent one guilty for our crimes that we, the guilty ones, might go free. 

 

Take, eat, this is the body of God’s own Son, the Lamb. Take, eat, open your mouth and do not be afraid. Taste and see that the Lamb is good, good enough for you and the whole world, so good that in eating his body you become the good that he is. In this meal, you are what you eat.

 

Take, drink, this simple wine is his blood. It is the lifeblood of the Lamb who gave his life for you. He gave it from the alpha of his life to the omega. He gave it as an eight-day old infant, as he shed his blood under the law for you. He gave it in Gethsemane, as he prayed, “Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me, nevertheless not my will but yours be done” – as he sweat drops of blood. Christ gave his lifeblood when the whips ripped open his flesh, when the thorns pierced his brow, when the nails bore through his hands and feet, and finally when the soldier’s spear broke through the dam of his flesh, unleashing water and blood that fills the font and chalice with Jesus’ life.

 

Take, drink, this is Jesus’ blood. Paint it not on your doorposts or lintel, but on your lips, on your tongue, on your heart, and on your soul, for this blood is the armor of the Almighty, shielding every inch of you from destruction that will overtake this world when the angels carry out God’s judgment. They will pass over you for you have passed under the bleeding side of the Passover Lamb of God.

 

Take, drink, for this is the cup of your salvation, the blood of the Lamb given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.

 

Here, dear brothers and sisters in Christ, is a meal that takes on a life of its own, or, rather, that takes on the life of our Lord Jesus Christ. And in taking this meal into yourself, you take on his life as your own, passing from death to life everlasting.

 

A blessed Maundy Thursday to each of you…

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.