Saint Mary Magdalene Sermon

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St. Mary Magdalene   

The Holy Baptism of Henry Walther Sigismund Powers

Jesu Juva

“Holding on for Dear Life!”

Text: John 20:1-2, 10-18; Proverbs 31:10-31

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.

Of all the saints days that we commemorate in the church, Saint Mary Magdalene sounds the most jarring, doesn’t it? Seems the most unusual, the most unlikely, the most out of place, the most . . . well let’s just say it: wrong.

But that’s what makes this day so right! Mary reminds us that we are all unlikely saints. That saint isn’t something we do, but what God does for us, as He did for Mary. That a saint isn’t someone who has taken such a strong hold of God and made himself an exemplary person, someone the world points to and says: good, holy, saintly! A saint is someone God has taken hold of and says: forgiven, free, mine! 

And that makes Mary Magdalene the perfect saint. It’s as if Jesus is the exact opposite of the reading from Proverbs we heard today. He doesn’t look for the most excellent to be His bride, He finds the worst - and makes her excellent. 

I’m mean . . . really . . . think about who God finds and picks. Abraham was an idolater. Jacob was a heel whose life was littered with bad decisions. David was an adulterer and a murderer. Peter put his foot in his mouth so often it’s a wonder he didn’t have “athlete’s tongue.” James and John kept wanting to be the greatest, some of the other disciples seem to have more rocks than brains in their heads, Paul (then Saul) was the church’s enemy number one, and many of those we now call early church fathers were rascals early on. And if you put all those people and all those sins together and mushed them into one person, you’d get . . . no, not Mary Magdalene. Me! And, maybe, I suspect, you, too.

It’s what our Lord does. We saw it again with little Henry this morning. God doesn’t find saints, He makes them. He makes saints out of sinners. He grabs hold of us and says forgiven, free, mine! He cleanses us with water and the Word to be His holy bride. And that’s true no matter who you are. Whether you were born a Jew or a Gentile, on the right side of the tracks or the wrong side of the tracks, even if you were one of the soldiers that brought the hammer down on the nails that pierced His hands and feet - Jesus wants you as His Bride.

And as Mary learned today, not just till death do us part! For death had indeed parted them, but now death had been defeated. 

Now, to be clear, the Bride of Christ is the Church - the whole Church. The world often takes what the Scriptures say and what the Church says and misunderstands it and twists it. And so there are books and movies and articles that claim that Mary Magdalene was Jesus’ wife in an earthly, fleshly sense. But not so. Mary was not Christ’s Bride by flesh, but by faith. As are you and I and the whole Church. Christ has made Himself one flesh with us and has given us all that He is and all that He has. There was no prenup! For God’s love for us never ends. Jesus took all that is ours - our sin, our death, our condemnation; and gave us all that is His - His forgiveness, His life, His Sonship, His kingdom. He took us to be His own, not just for this life, but forever. 

So Mary goes to the tomb that morning feeling every bit the weeping widow. Before Jesus, she had been possessed, held tight in the grasp of seven demons. Her life was - literally! - a living hell. Hell living in her and through her. Until Jesus took hold of her. Until Jesus expelled those seven demons and gave her new life. But now . . . how hell won? Had hell conquered the conquerer and enslaved the one who had set her free? A bloody cross and a sealed tomb loudly shouted Yes! in her heart.

So when Mary got to the tomb and found it empty, that shouting didn’t stop - it just got worse. And the tears more bitter. It wasn’t enough that they took His life, now they had to take His body too? And do what to it? 

Why are you weeping? they asked her. The two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had lain. Maybe through tear-blurred eyes, she couldn’t tell they were angels. 

Why are you weeping? the gardener asked her. Such inane questions to ask outside a tomb! So she doesn’t answer. Just tell me where you put Him, please. 

Mary.

The Good Shepherd calls His sheep by name. And the sheep know His voice (John 10:4-5). Nothing further is needed. Mary now knows who this gardener is - the divine gardener! The one who planted Eden. The one who planted the people of Israel in the Promised Land. The one who had taken her, a dried up, dead, hell-bound plant, and given her new life. He had taken hold of her, now she would take hold of Him, and never let go. 

No Mary. Not by flesh, but by faith. Jesus isn’t done. He must ascend. Not to leave His Bride, but to prepare a place for her. So, He says to Mary: Do not cling to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’

Yes, by faith, joined to the Bridegroom, we have a new Father. And we have a new Spirit. For Jesus ascends not just to prepare a place for us, for His Bride, but also to send His Spirit. And that is better, He says (John 16:7). Better for us as we await the time when He will come and take home His Bride, the Church. When not just He, but all the dead, are raised. And the marriage feast of the Lamb, which will have no end, begins (Revelation 19:7, 9).

So no, Mary. It is still not your taking hold of Christ. He who took you will continue to hold you through His Spirit. 

And again, that is exactly what we saw again this morning, as Jesus took hold of Henry through water and the Word, forgave his sins, set him free from death and hell, and said mine! Like with Mary, the unclean spirit was forced to depart, and Henry was given a new Spirit, a holy one; and with it, the gift of faith. Jesus has withheld nothing from Henry. All that’s Henry’s is His, and all that’s His is now Henry’s. And so Henry has a new Father, a heavenly one. A new brother and Saviour. And a new Spirit. He is part of the Bride of Christ, the Church. By faith, all this is His. Another sinner has been made a saint.

Though, like us, Henry will still be the sinner. He’ll pick on his brothers, aggravate his parents, fail to do what his heavenly Father asks him to do, and sometimes just be plain ornery and rebellious. Like the rest of us. He’ll need forgiveness for the rest of his life. The daily washing that all saints need. And the feeding, too, of His Lord. The bread of life, the Body and Blood of His Saviour. He’ll need that, too. And get it. For the Lord who has taken hold of him today will not let him go, but will continue to care for him and keep him. And discipline him when necessary. But all in love. That Henry not cling to the things of this world, but only by faith to His risen Saviour.

So today, Henry takes his place with Mary Magdalene and the rest of us strange and unlikely saints. And also like Mary, the Lord will use him as His blessing to others. Mary proclaimed the resurrection to the disciples. How will He use Henry? Maybe in a similar way, maybe in a way none of us today can imagine. But just as Mary’s life and all of our lives have taken twists and turns that were unimaginable, so too Henry. And though there will be both weeping and joy, the Lord will be holding on to Henry through it all. Henry may not know it; he’ll maybe even doubt it. But Jesus made a promise today to Henry. He said: forgiven, free, mine! And He meant it. And that’s a promise to cling to! All of us.

So July 22. The day we commemorate Saint Mary Magdalene. The day that has changed Henry’s life. And so how appropriate to sing:

My song is love unknown, - unfathomable!

My Savior’s love to me,

Love to the loveless shown That they might lovely be.

Oh, who am I That for my sake

My Lord should take Frail flesh and die? (LSB #430 v. 1)

But He did!

Thanks be to God!

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

Pentecost 8 Sermon

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Jesu Juva

“A King, A Voice, and A Kingdom”

Text: Mark 6:14-29; Amos 7:7-15; Ephesians 1:3-14

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.

He was in prison. He could not escape. The bonds were too strong. He had been put there by an evil tyrant. How long had it been? Too long, certainly.

Until one day he lost his head. Too much alcohol and too much lust and too much pride - too much fun times - made him speak words he would later regret. Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it to you, he boldly vowed. Up to half my kingdom.

King Herod, you see, was in prison. A prisoner to his desires. A prisoner to his power. A prisoner to fear. A prisoner to guilt. These things held him down, held him back. He could not do what he wanted to do. And so he was tormented. He wanted to hear John, but he didn’t want to hear John. He wanted to release John, but he didn’t want to release John. He was greatly perplexed. At himself, at the battle going on within him. And he knew no way of escape.

I think you know what that’s like, a bit. When your desires have made you do something you later regretted. When you spoke and then wished you could take those words back. When your fear made you do what you really didn’t want to do. When a guilty conscience gives you no peace. Those are the bonds of sin, imprisoning you. John was in a prison, but Herod was the real prisoner. For sometimes the chains and prisons you cannot see are the worst of all.

As I read these words about Herod I thought about another king, one who lived a long time before Herod. A king who did not utter Herod’s rash promise, but to whom such a promise was spoken. A young man named Solomon, who had just been made king of Israel. God appeared to him in a dream and said: Ask what I shall give you (1 Kings 3:5). Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it to you.

Solomon asked for a hearing heart (1 Kings 3:9). He did not ask for a long life, or riches, or the head of his enemy on a platter. But for a heart to hear God’s Word. A heart to hear properly. To heart discern the Word of God from all the other voices that assault our ears and our hearts. A heart that would not be imprisoned or ruled by guilt, fear, lust, or pride. A heart that could hear God’s Word and keep it, treasure it.

A hearing heart is what Herod needed. He heard John gladly. He liked to listen to John. But there were other voices, too. Others voices that poured down upon Herod. Like the voice of his brother’s wife Herodias, whom he had taken to be his own. Her words flooded his ears and mind, too, causing him to put John in prison in the first place. There was the voice of his wife’s daughter, which caused him to give the wretched beheading order. And then, too, the voice of his own pride, which caused him to not want to disappoint his guests or break an oath that never should have been made. Sometimes the problem isn’t hearing God’s Word, but picking it out from all the other voices vying for our hearts and devotion.

I think you also know what that’s like, a bit. For how many voices do you hear everyday? From the left, from the right. From friends, from foes. From television and radio, movies and the internet. From those we should listen to, and those we probably should not. And God’s Word in all that? Tough to hear sometimes. A hearing heart is what we need, too.

Maybe we could say that Herod was half of the way there, or maybe a third. For the Third Commandment tells us to not despise preaching and God’s Word, but to hold it sacred, and gladly hear and learn it. Herod held God’s preacher in prison and gladly heard it, we are told, but never learned it. Never applied it to his heart and life. Never quite let it have its way with him.

Like the people who lived at the time of the prophet Amos, who we heard from today. Like John the Baptist with King Herod, Amos tried to get his king and his people to turn from their false gods - but they pushed the Word of God away. Literally. They told Amos, God’s preacher, to go back to where he came from, and take his words with him. They didn’t like what he had to say. And again, maybe you know what that’s like, a bit, too. Maybe you don’t always like what God has to say. Or you hear God’s Word grudgingly, not gladly. Or you don’t want to hear, because other voices are pulling you in another direction. 

Hearing God’s Word, learning it, applying it, believing it, submitting to it . . . it isn’t easy. Because it means confessing that I’m not the king. It means confessing that I am a sinner. It means admitting that maybe I don’t know all I think I know. That maybe the way I’ve ordered my life isn’t right at all. That I need to hear something to set me free from the palace of my own desires, defenses, and demands that I have built around myself - that turned out to be not a palace, but a prison.

Yes Herod, you are the prisoner king. And the one you imprisoned is free. You set him free when you beheaded him, but he was free even before that. For he had a freedom that neither threats, fears, nor bars could hold - the freedom of Christ. The freedom of a Saviour. The freedom of the forgiveness of sins, the covering of shame, and of a life that not even death can end. So John was fearless. Whether in the Jordan or in a prison cell. What can man do to you when you know the Lamb of God?

The Lamb of God who was offered not up to half, but all the kingdoms of the world. Remember that? It was satan who uttered that offer to Jesus in the wilderness (Matthew 4:8-9). But as Jesus would later teach: what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul (Mark 8:36)? Jesus knew there was one kingdom greater than all the kingdoms of this world combined, and one that would outlast them all. The kingdom of God, the kingdom of the Word, the kingdom that Jesus had come to win - not for Himself; it was already His! But for you and me. For us languishing in our prisons of sin and death.

That’s the kingdom John was trying to tell Herod about. That’s the kingdom John wanted Herod to have - an eternal one, not the one he had that was passing away. And so John preached to him, and wanted more than anything else to say those precious words of God to Herod - the words of God’s forgiveness. But sadly, those words John never got to say to him. When Herod lost his head, John lost his. And his voice was silenced.

But the voice of Jesus is not. For even though Jesus bowed His head in death, three days later His voice was heard again. His voice proclaiming forgiveness and peace. Proclaiming that the prisons of sin, death, and hell have been opened and us prisoners set free. Free to live no longer in fear and guilt and shame, no longer slaves to our desires, and no longer having to be king. For you have a better king than yourself. One much more kind and merciful and loving and forgiving than you are even to yourself. A king who died for you and rose for you and is coming back for you. A king who washes you, forgives you, and feeds you. A king who is generous and gracious and faithful.

And His Word continues to be proclaimed, His voice still heard today. For He speaks through those He sends, telling them: He who hears you, hears me (Luke 10:16). So when you hear I baptize you, when you hear I forgive you all your sins, when you hear This is My Body, This is My Blood, when you hear This is the Gospel of the Lord, it all really is. It is the King speaking to you and being your king. To sanctify you. To holy you. With His Good Friday-ly forgiveness and His Easter-ly life. Because this King doesn’t demand from you, but gives to you and sets you free to do the same. Not to demand, but to give and serve and love.

For He has given you not up to half His kingdom, but all of it. That as a child of God, that be your inheritance. That’s the reality Paul was talking about in his letter to the Ephesians that we heard today. He talked about our glorious and eternal inheritance, with words like every spiritual blessing . . . riches of grace lavished upon us . . . and the Holy Spirit as our guarantee. Our guarantee, for, as I’m sure is no surprise to you, we’re not there yet. But the kingdom is yours. Now. It’s your inheritance, signed, sealed, and delivered. And as we wait for it to come in its fullness, we are not alone. The Holy Spirit is with us and Christ comes to us.

So as John preached at the Jordan and preached to Herod: repent and believe the Gospel. Believe that you are a baptized child of God. Believe that even in the tough times, Jesus is with you; Jesus is for you. Believe that the forgiveness of your Saviour is greater than the guilt of your sin. And believe that on the Last Day, John’s body will be raised just as your body will be raised, and he will be headless no more, but perfect. For in Christ, we are the champions.

And believe this too: that though beheaded, John is still preaching. Now, to you. For when Herod’s sword went down, John’s voice went up, and joined the angels and archangels and all the company of heaven, singing Holy, Holy, Holy! We’ll join that song today. We’ll join John today. And we’ll hear him. Still preaching the holy one. Still pointing sinners to their Saviour. Still testifying that take they our life, goods, fame, child, and wife, they yet have nothing won, the kingdom our remaineth (LSB #656 v. 4).

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

Pentecost 7 / Confirmation Sermon

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Confirmation of Susan Marcelli

Jesu Juva

“An Astonishing, Giving God”

Text: Mark 6:1-13; Ezekiel 2:1-5; 2 Corinthians 12:1-10

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.

Jesus went home. Traveling about the towns and villages of Galilee, it was inevitable that He would come to His hometown, too. But maybe there was more to it than that. Maybe the friendships from His youth and the memories of His neighbors made Him want to go back.

So Jesus goes home. And as usual, He goes to Church on the Sabbath. And also, as usual, He is given the opportunity to teach. Those who heard Him were astonished, at first. No one ever said the things He said. No one ever taught the way He did. But then, upon further review, upon reflection, their astonishment turned into offense. Actually, the Greek word used there is stronger than that - they were scandalized by Him.

So, what did He say? What offended so? What caused such scandal? Did Jesus use the wrong pronoun for some people? Were the words He used heard as micro-aggressions - words that shamed or disrespected some of the people who were there? Was He not being politically correct? Perhaps a new hashtag began trending in Galilee that day: #notJesus.

So what was it? Well, it seems that His teaching that day was the same as so many other times He taught in synagogues. He took the assigned passage that was read from the Old Testament that day and applied it to Himself, teaching that the Old Testament Scriptures were fulfilled in Him. That they all talked about Him. That they all pointed to Him. And so the people, at first astonished, then begin to say: Wait a second! Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon? And are not his sisters here with us? We know Him. He’s nothing special. We don’t know where He got this wisdom or power, but He can’t be who He says He is! He’s one of us! He can’t put himself over us! #notJesus

Well, in a way, they were right. Jesus had not come to put Himself over them. The Son of God had not come down from heaven to put Himself over them. He already was! The reason He came down from heaven - in fulfillment of the Scriptures - was to put Himself under them. To serve them. To lift them up. To give to them. To help them. To lay down His life for them. And so by rejecting Him, and rejecting all that, the people of Jesus’ hometown robbed themselves - of His service, of the good He came to bring. For Mark tells us that He could do no mighty work there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and healed them. Only a few believed. So sadly, only a few received His gifts.

And now it was Jesus’ turn to be astonished. He marveled because of their unbelief. 

Then the disciples, who witnessed all this, are sent out by Him. Jesus gives them His gifts to give, but they will be rejected, too. Not all will receive them or receive the gifts, the service, the help, the life Jesus has come to bring, and gave His disciples to give.

But this is not new. They rejected Ezekiel too. And many of the prophets before him. For as we heard in the Old Testament reading, God told Ezekiel, I send you to the people of Israel, to nations of rebels, who have rebelled against me. . . . The descendants also are impudent and stubborn . . . The descendants that lived at the time of Ezekiel. The descendants that lived that day in Galilee. And the descendants that still are around today. For even today, Jesus is a cause of offense, scandal, and rejection.

So really, the amazing thing is that Jesus is there, is here, at all. That God is still trying! Still causing His Word to be preached, still giving His gifts, still caring and providing for people - even those who do not believe in Him. If it were us . . . we, I’m sure, would have given up a long time ago! Our patience and forgiveness can only take so much. But God continues to love.

So what is it today? What is it today that causes some to be offended, scandalized, at the God who only wants to come and give His gifts? 

Well, there’s many reasons, I’m sure. But perhaps one reason is our belief in equality - that everyone should be treated equally. And perhaps at some times and in some ways that is important and true. But not always. Because love doesn’t treat everyone the same. Love takes into account who a person is and what a person needs and acts accordingly. Parents know this. You don’t treat your children all the same because they’re not all the same. They have different needs, have different personalities, respond in different ways. And since you love them, you act accordingly. 

Now, the children may not understand that! That’s not fair! is the cry every parent has heard. And that’s right. It’s not fair, equal. It’s love.

Well so, too, with God. Take, for example, what we heard in the Epistle today. One man, Paul tells us, was caught up to the third heaven (whatever that means); given a glimpse of paradise. But what did Paul get? Did he get caught up? Did he get such a vision? No. A thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, Paul says. Not fair! right? But it’s what Paul needed. And it’s what that man needed. So it wasn’t fair, but it was good. It was love.

So what has God given you? What has God not given to you? Are you offended, scandalized, mad? Or could this be good? Just in ways that you, as a child of God, do not yet know or understand? A reason to marvel and give thanks to God for His love.

Or maybe today the offense is the scandal of particularity - that Jesus is the Saviour of the world. That all religions are not the same, not all just different paths up the same mountain. Because what the Scriptures tell us is that while all the others are trying to climb up to God, some way, some how . . . the Son of God came down to us. To serve us. To help us. To give to us. To lift us up. No other God died for you. No other God laid in the tomb for you. No other God rose from the dead for you. Only one. Only Jesus. And for this we should not be offended, scandalized, but marvel and give thanks for such love . . . for the God who comes to us, and gives and gives and gives.

But maybe we - we here today - have even more cause to marvel and be astonished. We who are baptized. We who are here every, or nearly every, week. We who have received the Lord’s gifts, and yet . . . continue to sin. Fail to pray. Rebel against our parents. Neglect His Word. Live during the week as if nothing had happened here. Who fear, love, and trust lots of things each week more than God. I wonder if Ezekiel could tell us apart from the people he was sent to way back then? We like to think we’re different . . . but are we?

And yet every week, our Lord comes home, here, with His gifts. Every week, Jesus comes home, here, to His house, and teaches us. He has fulfilled all the Scriptures. He has provided all that we need. And He serves us. He calls us to repentance, yes, which is never pleasant, but it’s in love; so that we will know our need. Not so that we be offended, but so that we joyfully receive His gifts in faith. For if He didn’t give them, we wouldn’t have them. If He didn’t give them, we couldn’t have them.

That’s what Susan - who is being confirmed today - has learned as she learned the catechism. She learned who she is, and she learned who God is. She learned that she is unable to keep the Law, but that Jesus came and fulfilled it for her. She learned that Jesus served her by taking all her sin and unrighteousness and death, and gave her His forgiveness, perfection, and life. She learned that there is nothing in her that made Jesus do this for her, it is all His love - for her and for all people. And she learned of the gifts that are here for her - the gifts that God will never stop giving - the life and promises of her baptism, the renewing absolution spoken upon her, the Word of His Gospel, and the very Body and Blood that redeemed her, given her to eat and to drink, that she be strengthened with His life and forgiveness. And while it is humbling to have your self-esteem crushed as you hear the Law and see your sin and death, it is pure joy to then hear and receive the forgiveness and life of Jesus, and His love for us that will never end.

And so like Joanna last week, Susan is going to confess her faith in this astonishing, gracious, giving, loving, serving God. The God who came to her in her baptism, and is still coming to her here. And won’t stop. Though there may be times when she is stubborn and rebellious. Though there may be times when she prays for God to remove a few thorns from her life, but He does not. Though there may be times when she questions God and how He is working and serving and loving. Though there may be times she takes her Lord for granted. As she joins us at the Lord’s Table today, she joins us in all that, too. Because all of us who come to the Lord’s Table today do those things, for we are needy, fallen, stubborn, rebellious, questioning, weak sinners. Today, Susan says: that’s me. And today her Saviour says: it’s me. I forgive you. Take, eat, and drink.

And we who hear that should marvel - and rejoice! - at our God, at such gifts. For us.

The hymn we’re going to sing at the end of the service today describes this well. I chose it for today because it is Conference Hymn for the conference the youth and I will be at this week, and I wanted to share it with all of you. I don’t think we’ve ever sung it before, and at first blush, it might not seem to fit with the readings for today. But it really does. Because it describes well our astonishing, giving God, who comes to us living In the Shattered Bliss of Eden (LSB #572), to supply our need, give us hope, forgive our sins, restore our life, and not just restore Eden, but even better - to prepare a new paradise for us, and prepare us for it.

That’s what Jesus wanted for the folks in His hometown. And while they, at first, were offended by Him, scandalized by Him, and rejected Him, perhaps they, like Jesus’ family, later believed. And so we pray for all people, and for ourselves. That our Lord would bring all to faith in Him, and keep us strong in this faith - in our gracious, loving, giving God. That He continue to call us to repentance. That He not be fair but loving. And that He come to this house, today, and grace us with His amazing gifts. So that when we go home, when Jesus calls us home, either through death or when He comes again, He who was not welcomed in His hometown will welcome us to His.

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

Pentecost 6 / Confirmation Sermon

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Jesu Juva

“Three Daughters”

Text: Mark 5:21-43 (Lamentations 3:22-33)

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.

His little girl was dying. He didn’t know what to do. He would do anything for her - anything! But what could he do? Death had her in its clutches. He never felt so helpless. He had been so overjoyed when she was born. He had watched her grow. She was twelve years old now, just becoming a young woman. But no matter how old she got, she would always be his little girl. 

So when he hears the news . . . that Jesus just got off the boat that just came ashore, he didn’t hesitate. For he had heard. How Jesus healed. People who were demon-possessed, who had fevers and leprosy, who had withered and useless limbs - it didn’t matter what it was. Jesus gave them healing and life. So it must be for him, for his daughter. He would go to Jesus. He didn’t want to leave his daughter’s side, but this was his only hope. He would fight through the crowd with all the desperation and determination that only a father could have. He would fight for his daughter’s life. There wasn’t much time . . .

Well, he did it. He got through. He had gotten to Jesus, and Jesus was coming with him. He was anxious at first, but with each step they took, he had more and more hope . . . he allowed himself to start to think of the future again . . . of his daughter getting married . . . of grandchildren . . .

So when Jesus suddenly stopped . . . no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! Who touched me? Who touched me? Probably 50 people touched you Jesus! Maybe more. Who cares? C’mon!  . . .  But Jesus cared. He could see it in His face. He could hear it in His voice. And he knew Jesus wasn’t going anywhere until He got an answer. And that hope he just started having again . . . well, the monster of fear and anxiety had returned. 

It was a woman. She had been bleeding for twelve years - the same amount of time that his daughter had been alive. He felt for her. But still, Jesus, remember? Death? Let’s go! 

But it didn’t matter. For just as he heard Jesus speaking, he heard another familiar voice. One of his servants. In fact, they both said the word “daughter” at the same time! Daughter . . . Your daughter . . . has made you well . . . is dead.

He froze. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. He felt the life rushing out of him. He had done everything he could; he had fought so hard . . .

But then Jesus looked at him and said, Do not fear, only believe. And Jesus started going again. And now it was like Jesus was saying: Your little girl, death, remember? Let’s go!

So he did. Through the fog of grief, confusion, numbness, and fear. 

They got to his house. How long had it taken? He didn’t know. But long enough that the mourners had gathered. He heard the wailing when they got close. The wailing pounding deeper and deeper the nail of grief that was stabbing through his heart. And then laughter . . . but not happy laughter; disbelieving, mocking laughter. Jesus had said she was just sleeping. Oh that it were so! 

And then it was quiet. It was just he and his wife and Jesus and some of Jesus’ disciples in the room. And with the same voice that He spoke to that woman on the road, Jesus spoke to his daughter: Talitha cumi. Little girl, arise. And she did. There would not be just one, but two daughters, given life this day.

After they ate, after the mourners had left rejoicing, after Jesus and His disciples had left, after all the hubbub had died down, I’m sure Jairus told his daughter what had happened. How sick she had been . . . how worried to death he was . . . the hope he had in Jesus . . . his crushing grief at hearing the words of his servant . . . how his fight for her ended, but how Jesus would not stop. That He kept fighting. And He won. Even over death itself . . .

Jairus didn’t know it then, but that’s not the last time he would hear of Jesus conquering even death itself . . .  Some people laughed that same mocking laugh when they got word that Jesus’ tomb was empty and that some were saying that Jesus rose from the dead . . . but not Jairus. Death took his little girl, but Jesus kept fighting. They put Jesus on a cross, but He kept fighting. They laid Him in a tomb, but He won. He arose. What Jesus had done that day for him, He had come to do for all people. 

And He has. Because, well, there’s another twelve-year-old daughter who Jesus raised from death. She’s actually here today. Her father isn’t one of the rulers of the synagogue, but a pastor. This little girl was born dead in sin - the sin passed down to her by her father! Some people laugh at that statement - that disbelieving, mocking kind of laugh - because she looked quite alive when she was born. But spiritually she was not. But that father brought her to Jesus, that He might touch her and raise her to life. And He did. Through water and the Word, through Holy Baptism, Jesus said to her, Talitha cumi. Little girl, arise. And she did. It wasn’t as dramatic as it was that day in Jairus’ house, but it was the same problem, the same Jesus, the same fight, the same gift. 

And now, that father told his daughter what happened to her. Taught her about Jesus. And, as Jesus told Jairus, he is going to give her [now] something to eat. The Body and Blood of Jesus, who would not stop fighting for her. The Body and Blood of Jesus which died for her and rose for her, to give her life. Life now and life forever.

And so Joanna learned about sin and death. The sin and death she inherited from her father, and the sin and death the Commandments show her. The sins she does the evidence of the sin and death she needs rescuing from. The sin and death she confesses with us at the beginning of the Divine Service here every week, where Jesus comes to this house to raise all of us to life with His forgiveness.

And she learned who Jesus is - this man who is God enfleshed, God incarnate, come to fight for us and for all people. A fight to the finish; a fight to the death. And that just like with Jairus, just when all looked hopeless and lost, just when it looked as if death had won, Jesus won. He rose from death so that all of us who die might rise too. With Him. And be sons of His Father in Him, and with His Spirit in us. That yes, it’s true! God wants sinners as His children and to live with Him forever.

And so Joanna also learned to talk to our Father - our Father who provides for all our needs, and to whom we pray for every need of every person, and know that we are heard. That our Father is always doing what is best for us . . . even when our bleeding lasts twelve years . . . even when hope seems to turn to hopelessness . . . even when our loved ones are taken from us. Do not fear, only believe, Jesus says to us still today.

And then there was that day when Jesus said Talitha cumi to Joanna - October 30, 2005. She learned about that day, too, when she was baptized in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. And now her Father is going to give her something to eat. She learned what that is too: that just as God’s words are not just words but words that are living and powerful, and that just as God’s water is not just water but water that raises from the dead and gives life, so too this food she is going to receive is not just bread and wine, but that under this bread and wine God is going to feed her with the Body and Blood of His Son. The Son that created her, the Son that died for her, the Son that rose for her, the Son that raised her, the Son that baptized her, the Son that cares for her, the Son that forgives her, is now the Son that will give her Himself to eat and drink - to keep and sustain her in her new life. His food for His life in His daughter. And today she says AMEN to that.

But not just Joanna. Today we remember all this, too. The same problem, the same Jesus, the same fight, the same gift, for us. That learning the catechism isn’t just about learning facts, but learning Jesus. And learning how Jesus comes to us still today, here, in this house, in the Divine Service. Touching, raising, forgiving, giving hope and life. And that this is for all people - of every age, nationality, ethnicity; no matter what sins beset us and that we struggle with; no matter how others see us and perceive us. Jesus is here to touch us with His love and forgiveness, His hope and life. All that we need.

For as we heard from the book of Lamentations earlier:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;

his mercies never come to an end;

they are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness.

“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,

“therefore I will hope in him.”

Now, usually, I think, we hear lamentations during catechism instruction, not at the end of it! At the end is rejoicing! But what wonderful words, here. Wonderful words spoken by Jeremiah in the midst of trial, trouble, and tribulation. Words of faith. For Jesus is with us exactly in the midst of those times, as He was with Jairus. And therefore they are not hopeless times. There are never hopeless times with Jesus. And so whatever you are going through, whatever struggles, you have a faithful God with you.

And you know, every catechism class is different. Different students, different questions, different dynamics. And different memories. I think Joanna will remember hers because of what happened in the middle of it - when a falling tree interrupted our class and delayed things a bit. But, as she learned, it was the tree that didn’t fall, and the one who hung on it, that made the difference. I hope she’ll remember that tree more than the one that fell, and remember the Word of God she heard today - this word of not two, but three daughters. All given life, all given healing, all given Jesus. 

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