Sermon for the Fourth Sunday in Lent

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Jesu Juva

“Who Is Really Blind?”

Text: John 9:1-41; Ephesians 5:8–14

 

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

Who can see? Who is blind? This isn’t just a question for Jesus’ day. Today, this debate rages on as well. Both in the world and in the church.

Consider the economy and inflation. Some say spending more will improve things - how can you not see that? Others say spending more will just make it worse - how can you not see that!

When it comes to abortion, some say it’s healthcare - how can you not see that? But for others, it’s murder - how can you not see that! 

Look at what’s going on with gender. For some, your gender is whatever you think it is, and there are many genders to choose from; gender is of the mind - how can you not see that? But for others, gender is of the body; there is male and female - how can you not see that!

And there’s lots more examples I could cite and you are probably thinking of. And these are important questions. Life questions. People feel and act passionately about these issues. But while important, they are questions that pale in comparison to questions that concern eternal life. So while something like transgenderism is trying to fix my life here and now, and transhumanism - trying to blend man and machine - is trying to somehow overcome death and give my life a future, Jesus has come to do what not these or anything else can do: transfigure us. Not just fix up this life, or extend this life, or save this life, but give us a new life. A new life in Him. A new and glorious life. And so how we see Jesus is a matter of utmost importance.

And so the account we heard today - a story not so much of a man born blind who can now see, but of how we see Jesus. And how Jesus sees us.

For that’s how this story begins: with Jesus seeing. Jesus sees a man who cannot see and could never see; a man blind from birth. You get the feeling this man was invisible to most - they didn’t see him, they just walked right on by him, as we do to a lot of folks. We’re busy, we’re preoccupied. But not Jesus. He sees him. This man matters to Him. Jesus pays attention to him, cares for him.

So once Jesus sees this man, then the disciples do. Oh yeah, this guy. What happened to him, Jesus? And why? Who sinned, this man or his parents?

Jesus’ answer is important. That’s not how God is, tit for tat. That’s how we are. But God is not like us. God has a special plan for this man. I’ve been looking for him, Jesus says, to work this work of God in him. To be the light of the world for him. Not just so he can see the things of this world, but so that he can see Me. See and believe and have eternal life.

But there is a kernel of truth in what the disciples asked - this man was blind because of sin; because of the sin of his parents. Not his mom and dad, but his very first parents, Adam and Eve. That’s why there’s something wrong with him, and that’s why there’s something wrong with us. All of us are born in sin and with sin. It manifests itself in us in different ways, perhaps; but it’s true for all of us. We’re all by nature sinful and unclean. We’re all by nature blind and dead. We all need Jesus. So Jesus comes for us. To see us that we may see Him. 

The man didn’t ask for healing - Jesus just acts. He acts as the Creator. What Adam and Eve ruined and plunged into sin, Jesus restores. So just as He did in the Garden when He formed Adam from the dust of the ground, Jesus uses the dust of the ground to make mud and give this man eyes, as it were, to see. And then tells him: Go, wash in the pool of Siloam. He does, and He sees.

What then ends up happening is that this man who maybe thought he had been rejected by God (which seemed to be the implication of the disciples’ question) and relied on the world to help him, now is rejected by the world and relies on Jesus. He confesses Jesus and worships Jesus for He sees Jesus - not just the man Jesus, but the Son of Man, Son of God, Jesus. A happy ending, we might say.

But one not easily arrived at! For in between, we get this investigation by the Pharisees. They drag the man in, and then his parents, and then the man again. And in all this, there are really just two questions to be answered: Who is this man? And who is Jesus? 

Is this the same man who used to be blind, blind from birth, who used to sit and beg? Some said it was, some said it wasn’t - this man just looked like him. Because it couldn’t be the same man! A man who’s been blind his whole life couldn’t possibly now see. Can’t be. But wrapped up in that question was the bigger question: What if it was the same man? And if it was, then who is Jesus? Is He from God? Is He a prophet?

Well, they know. They know what happened. Everyone’s dancing around it, but they know. His parents won’t say it because they’re afraid of the Jews and getting tossed out of the synagogue. The Pharisees can’t say it because they think Jesus broke their Sabbath rules and they couldn’t condone that. They know, but they deny, they won’t confess. They see, but they’re blind. To which the man-born-blind-but-now-seeing says: Why, this is an amazing thing! How can you not see this? How can you not acknowledge the truth? How can you not see, that is, believe?

The Pharisees then accuse him of being a sinner, that is, one who is blind and cannot see. Which is pretty ironic! The one who couldn’t see but can now see the Pharisees say cannot see! For them, the one who confesses Jesus is blind, and the ones who do not confess Him, they can see.

Which is what our world says today as well. Christians are dumb, stupid, not seeing, blind to what is obvious to all. We need to get on the bandwagon with the world. We’re told that what we say is true is really false, and what we say is false is really true. And we who have been washed in the waters of baptism and given the eyes of faith to see are not welcome in the synagogue of this world, among the learned of this world. You and your faith must stay out of the public square. But then, and now, who is really blind?

And then we see the Good Shepherd at work. The Creator, who is also the Good Shepherd. The one who at the beginning of this story saw the one who could not see, now finds the one who can see and so was rejected, tossed out, and left alone. Jesus finds him and cares for him, catechizes him and reveals Himself to him. Before, the blind man only heard His voice; now he sees Him in the flesh, and worships Him.

And so will you. The one you now hear, His voice speaking to you in your Baptism, speaking to you His Absolution, speaking to you His Gospel, and speaking and giving to you His Body and Blood, you will one day see with your eyes, when the transfiguration begun in your baptism is brought to completion in your resurrection. That is the future that awaits you. You who have been born in utter sin, but the Lord saw you and rescued you and made you His own. Your sins forgiven, your life restored, and your future assured. 

That reality is hidden in this world of sin and death. But it is reality nonetheless. Jesus has changed you and given you eyes of faith to see and believe. Your identity is no longer person born in utter sin, but baptized child of God. That’s who you are. Or as St. Paul put it in the Epistle today, For at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. That is, once you were dead in your trespasses and sins, but now you are alive in Jesus. Once you were blind, but now you can see. Once you had no future, but now you have a glorious future. 

So, Paul says, live like it! Walk as children of light. 

That man-once-blind, everyone could see he was different. They tried to deny it was the same man, but they knew it was. Do you think he lived differently from that day forward? Not only because he could now see, but because he saw Jesus and now knew his Saviour? Nothing would, could, be the same for him now.

And that’s true for you, too. Maybe you look exactly the same before and after Baptism. Maybe you look exactly the same before and after Absolution. Maybe you look exactly the same before and after receiving the Body and Blood of Jesus in His Supper. But are you the same? Or are you different? How could you not be different? 

So wouldn’t it be great if people noticed that. If they looked at you and said, is that the same person? It is, but it isn’t. You’re the same, but at the same time different. You’re still a child of man, but you’re also now a child of God. And you can see. You can see the truth, and live that truth. Not what the world says is truth, but what really is. And for that, you may get tossed out, rejected, mocked, even crucified. But through it all, your Good Shepherd is with you. The One who created all things, was born in a manger, showed His glory in His Transfiguration, and then hung on a cross. All the same God, all for you. So that you who were created by Him, be born again in Him, transfigured to be like Him, and then die and rise to a new and eternal life with Him. 

Because that’s what matters most of all. There are a lot of questions about life in our world today - how to have it, how to keep it, how to improve it, what it is, what it means. And those are important questions. But none more important than to see Jesus and His life as the source of your life. The man in the story we heard today was blind for a number of years, maybe a lot of years! But his Saviour came for him and he would see forever. And you, too. For your Saviour has come for you. You may be invisible to the world, but not to Him. He sees you. Come see, hear, taste, touch, confess, and worship Him, now. And then, on the Last Day, as we just sang, 

And then from death awaken me, That these mine eyes with joy may see,

O Son of God, Thy glorious face, My Savior and my fount of grace.

Lord Jesus Christ, my prayer attend, my prayer attend,

And I - a man born blind - will praise The without end (LSB #708, v. 3).

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

Lent 3 Midweek Vespers Meditation

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Jesu Juva

“Truth and Consequences”

 

In the Name of Jesus. Amen.

Truth and consequences. Not the game show that was on television when I was a wee lad, but the fact that when you tell the truth, there are often consequences. That’s what we heard in the Passion reading tonight.

But before getting to that, think about the fact that we don’t have to be taught how not to tell the truth; that is, to lie. Children figure that out early on. That when there are consequences to telling the truth, the way to get out of those consequences is to not tell the truth; that is, to lie. And sometimes it works. Not always, but if we can get out at least some consequences with our lies, then why not? And as we grow older, it continues. Maybe increases. And then maybe we don’t just lie to get out of consequences (like cheating on your taxes to pay less), but to get something I want (like lying on your resume). But it’s no surprise that if satan is the father of lies (as Jesus calls him, John 8), then injected with the poison of sin, lies become part of our vocabulary, what we sinful human beings do, too.

First up in the reading tonight were those false witnesses against Jesus. Were they lying to get what they wanted - maybe their 15 minutes of fame? Or were they lying because they had been paid to do so, so the Jewish leaders could get what they wanted - Jesus convicted of breaking their law. Or were they just repeating what they had heard, what everyone was saying, not knowing it was false? Whatever the reasons, whatever the cause, it wasn’t working. Their evidence did not agree, and according to the Law of Moses, you couldn’t convict without the uniform testimony of two or three witnesses.

But Jesus tells the truth. Though He knows there will be consequences for it; but He is willing to suffer the consequences. This is why He came, God in the flesh. To be life in the midst of a world of death. To be love in the midst of a world of hate. To be truth in the midst of a world of lies. So He will not lie. For while speaking the truth would have consequences for Himself, lying would have far greater consequences for the world, namely, it would mean the victory of satan. In the wilderness, satan tried to get Jesus to confirm who He was through signs and miracles. Here, satan wants Jesus to deny who He is, to save Himself. Jesus sees through it all, and simply speaks the truth. Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed? I am. Jesus is the great I AM; God in the flesh. He will not, can not, deny that. And contrary to what the high priest said, to speak that was not death-deserving blasphemy, but the life-giving truth.

The consequences then immediately start. The guards blindfold Him and strike Him and mock Him as they drag Him away. 

Peter, meanwhile, is facing his own truth and consequences moment. Would he confess the truth or would he lie? This was the moment of truth. He had just hours before this boldly and defiantly told Jesus that Even if I must die with you, I will not deny you! (Matthew 26:35). But Jesus knew he would, and told Peter that he would. And now was the moment. While Jesus was inside, truthfully answering the question: Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed? Peter is outside, lying: I do not know the man.

Did he hesitate? Did he pause? Or did he speak quickly? The first one, the first denial, the first lie, was probably the hardest. The rest came easier. One lie leads to another, the heart hardens and the tongue gets used to it. Until the rooster crows. The rooster crows the truth - that day has broken, but it’s really Peter’s heart that breaks. Not that it wasn’t broken before - broken by sin. It was. But now it is revealed. Peter’s sin, fear, weakness, cowardess, all laid bare.

Peter feared the consequences. But what would they have been? Would he have gotten arrested and locked up with Jesus? Maybe. Would he have been mocked, made fun of? That seems more likely. But I recently heard someone wonder . . . what if the people in the courtyard who asked Peter about Jesus just wanted to hear more about Him? What was Jesus really like? Did He really do all those signs? Where did He get His knowledge from? If so, then like Jesus, Peter telling the truth would have consequences for himself, but his lying had consequences for others - maybe robbing them of a chance to hear and believe.

It is said of scandals in Washington that while what is done may be bad, the cover-up is worse. For us, perhaps we could say that the consequences we fear might be bad, but the lying makes it worse.

And then, of all people, Judas speaks truth. I have sinned. I have betrayed innocent blood. To which the chief priests and elders deny the truth by saying, What is that to us? That is your affair. No, that was the priests’ affair. To offer sacrifices for sin. To lead the sinner to forgiveness. That’s the truth they were to speak, but would not. And the consequence for that was a despairing sinner left in his sin. The consequence for that was Judas’ life.

What are you afraid of? What are you ashamed of? What are you trying to get or get out of? In the world there are so many untruths, half-truths, twisted truths, and outright lies that it’s often hard to know the truth. And a lie told often enough becomes the truth for many. And the consequences of this is the world as we see it and know it. A world that is a mess and a cesspool of sin and death. And the lies that live in our hearts and minds and too often so easily roll off our tongues reveal the same in us. 

So it’s time to tell the truth. Lent is a time to tell the truth. To confess the reality of my sin, the depth of my depravity. To tell the truth and repent. And to hear that wonderful truth spoken back to us: I forgive you all your sins. The truth of Jesus. The truth of the cross. The truth that our great High Priest does not leave despairing sinners in their sin, but is faithful, and has provided forgiveness, leads us to that forgiveness, and speaks to us that forgiveness. For the truth is that Jesus suffered the consequences for your sins - all of them! - and died that you may live. Live in His forgiveness, live His life, live knowing that you cannot lie to God and that you don’t need to. For as lie begets lie, so does truth beget truth. The truth of our sin is met with the truth of His forgiveness. You can lie and deny your sin, but the consequence of that is not life but death. Better is the truth. And while repenting of your sin may feel like dying, it is in reality the way of life. For the way of life is death and resurrection. First Jesus’, and then yours. Dying to sin and rising to a new life. Dying to the lie that you can somehow find and do life yourself, and rising to the life Jesus has for you. A new life. An eternal life.

So Lent is about life. Jesus is life. The truth leads us to life. So it’s time to tell the truth. For your life, the life of the Church, and the life of the world. 

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

Sermon for the Third Sunday in Lent

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Jesu Juva

“A Good and Faithful Bridegroom”

Text: John 4:5-30, 39-42; Romans 5:1-8; Exodus 17:1-7

 

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

I wonder what this woman’s story was?

Oh, we heard some of it. She had been married five times, and the man she now had, she was now with, was not her husband. 

How quickly, I think, we gloss over that fact. In our day and age, we’re used to it. Divorce and remarriage are the norm now. Living together outside of marriage is expected now; is prudent, even, we’re told. There are apps for your phone to help you cheat on your spouse. This is all the “new normal.” 

But think of what this “new normal” has done. Pre-nuptual agreements just in case your “I do” becomes “I don’t.” Children growing up without a father or mother, or caught in a tug-o-war between their father and mother. Poverty often results when a two-income household suddenly becomes a one-income household. There is hurt and pain when spouses who were one flesh are ripped apart, and families destroyed. This is bad enough when it happens here or there, but when whole communities are affected, now its schools and neighborhoods in decline, and it becomes a self-perpetuating downward spiral.

That’s our situation, but it wasn’t yet like that in Samaria, in Jesus’ day. So this woman was marked, she was notorious. For you don’t come to draw water, which is quite heavy, at the sixth hour, high noon, in the heat of the day, unless you have to. So not only had she been used and abused by men, but was scorned and shunned by the women as well. 

I wonder what her story was? What had happened with those five previous men? They could have all died and so her many remarriages legitimate, but that’s unlikely. And even if they had, imagine the emotional toll that would have taken on her. But she wouldn’t have been shunned for that. More likely, then, is that she had endured multiple divorces. And so for whatever reasons, five times she was told to go away. Five times she was told she was not good enough. Five times she was rejected. And now this sixth man didn’t even bother with marriage. And she endured it. The pain, the shame, the uncertainty and insecurity. 

And that was all in addition to being a Samaritan and being treated by the Jews - who lived both to the north of you in Galilee, and to the south of you in Judea - that you weren’t any better than a dog. In fact, so filthy were you that the Jews would rather travel additional miles around your country than go through your country. 

That’s her story, or some of it, at least. Maybe you can relate. To being rejected, being told you’re not good enough, being used and abused, or scorned and shunned. I suspect there’s some of that - that uncertainty and insecurity - in all of us. Though we try to hide it. We don’t want anyone to know. We come to church, dress nice, put a smile on, and try to look like we have it altogether . . . because what if they knew? What if they knew how bad, how hurting, how much guilt and shame I have? I don’t want them to know. I don’t want anyone to know. Because if they did . . . if they did . . .

So imagine what must have felt like a knife plunging into the gut of this woman when Jesus says to her, Go, call your husband, and come here. She tells Him the truth - I have no husband - but it’s not the whole truth. She’s just like us. She doesn’t want anyone to know. But Jesus does. Knows her whole past, in fact. And what’s going through her mind? Here we go again. More pain, more hurt, more rejection. This chance encounter, though unusual, for Jews usually weren’t in those parts and if they were wouldn’t start up conversations with Samaritans. This chance encounter, which had started out so nicely, so unexpectedly normal, in this woman’s life where there was very little normal . . . was now just more of the same. Why did He have to say that?

So okay, Mr. Prophet - because He must be a prophet to know all about her like this - okay Mr. Prophet, what am I supposed to do now? Did you just come up here to shame me? Tell me, what am I supposed to do. You [Jews] say that in Jerusalem is the place where people ought to worship. Meaning: Jerusalem is the place of forgiveness, because that’s what worship is, that’s why we come - to receive forgiveness. You Jews say that in Jerusalem is the place where I have to worship, but I can’t! You don’t want me in your country, and you won’t let me in your Temple. So what am I supposed to do, huh? You tell me. You know my sin, you point out my sin, your dredge up my sin, why? Did you come just to toy with me and my shame? I got enough of that already! So what am I supposed to do? And I imagine you could see the tears welling up in her eyes. It’s almost too much.

This is exactly what the Law does, or is supposed to do - bring us to the point of hopelessness. Bring us to say to Jesus: What do you want me to do? I’m a dirty, rotten sinner and there’s nothing I can do about it! You know it, I know it, maybe I can hide it from others, but . . . this stinks! The world stinks, I stink, the hurts and pains stink, the shame stinks, people are judgmental, and the harder I try the worse it all seems to get! So what do you want me to do, God? What do you want me to do?

And if there are tears welling up in your eyes, good. 

Up to this point, the woman was intrigued by Jesus and His talk of living water, which she didn’t understand, but it sure sounded good! Then she was convicted by Jesus who knew all her sin and shame and filth. Now she can be saved by Jesus because she has no where else to go. She can’t hide, she can’t explain, she can’t pretend. It’s all out there. Now what? She needs a Saviour. She needs a Messiah, a Christ. The Jews wouldn’t do it, she couldn’t do it, the men she had and the man she now has can’t do it . . . there’s only one who can. There’s only one hope to which she clings, and it’s a small one for someone like her and in her predicament. And Jesus says to her, “I who speak to you am he.” What you need, I’m the one who’s going to do it. 

And this woman, who just a moment before felt so hopeless, must now have felt like she just won the lottery! Are you kidding me? Here? Now? Me? The Messiah? But who else could it be? Who else would treat her like a normal person? And . . . could she say it or think it, because it had been so long . . . someone who would, could, actually love her again?

We don’t have a well, but we have a Font. We don’t have a well, but we have a Pulpit. We don’t have a well, but we have an Altar. Where Jesus comes for you. Where Jesus comes and says: I know who you are. I know all you have done and how much you mess up. But now says: You are my beloved child in Holy Baptism. Who says: I forgive you all your sins in Holy Absolution. Who says: This is My Body, This is My Blood in the Holy Supper. Who says: I who speak to you am he - your Saviour, the promised one. Who came not just to speak to you, but to back up those words with actions - to go to the cross and die for you. Nobody would have died for this Samaritan woman - in fact, they all wished she was dead! They didn’t want her around or have to deal with her. But Jesus? This is how Paul put it, as we heard in the Epistle:

For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, - still sinners - Christ died for us.

And you know why? Because that’s what bridegrooms do for their brides, what husbands do for their wives - or, at least, are supposed to. Paul said that in Ephesians. So Jesus, the heavenly Bridegroom, does that for His Bride, the Church - lays down His life. Not because of who we are - we’re filthy, stinking, and unclean. But because of who He is - the lover of mankind.

So this episode takes place at Jacob’s well. Because Jacob’s father Isaac, his wife was found at a well. And Jacob first met his wife Rachel at a well. And Jesus takes us to be His own not at a well, but at the Font, where there is living water - water which is alive because of His Word and Spirit. So that forgiven and loved by Him, we never be thirsty forever. Never thirsting for life in this world of death. Never thirsting for love in this world of sin and hate. Never thirsting for hope is this world that is circling the drain. Because Jesus has spoken to us and is still speaking to us words of forgiveness, life, and hope. 

So here is our living water in the wilderness of this world because here is the Rock, Jesus, who pours out this water for us. His hands and feet were pierced with nails and His side struck with a spear so that His water and blood wash and refresh us always. That His forgiveness and salvation be always here for us. And they are. It may have been a chance encounter for that Samaritan woman at the well that day (or not!), but here, there is nothing left to chance. Here is the sure and certain Word of God and all his promises for you. For all of us who see in this Samaritan woman a picture of ourselves.

And who, then, like this Samaritan woman, leave this place and tell others: Come and see. Come and hear. Because you’re going to hear something amazing! You’re going to hear something you’re not going to hear in other places! You’re going to hear the truth - how wretched you are, how sinful you are, how unworthy you are. But then this, too: how much Jesus has done for you and has for you, here. Come and see. Come and hear. Come and be washed. Come, take and eat. But come! Because when this Samaritan woman did, she found what she had been so longing for: that bridegroom who would not let her down, would not let her go, and would love her to the end. 

So who are you? What have you done? What do you need? Come. He’s here for you, too.

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

Lent 2 Midweek Vespers Meditation

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Jesu Juva

“One Man. Alone.”

 

In the Name of Jesus. Amen.

They would all be offended and scattered. The Shepherd would be one man. Alone.

Peter thought he could be one faithful man. Even if all the others deny you, I never will, he said. But he would. He could not be what he wanted to be.

Peter, James, and John would all fall asleep. Jesus would pray, one man. Alone.

He alone would drink the cup His Father gave Him. He alone could.

Judas was one man, but not really. He came with a detachment and officers from the chief priests and Pharisees. He could not be one man. Alone.

Jesus was one man against the power arrayed against Him. One man from whom a simple spoken word conquered all the might of man. Until He gave Himself into their hands. To fulfill the word that of those you gave me I have lost none. He would not lose even one man.

Peter again tried to be one faithful man, not this time with his words but with his sword. But in drawing the sword he was not being one man, alone, but acting as all men do. 

Then the disciples fled, every one of them, as prophesied. Leaving Jesus one man. Alone.

A certain young man followed along, but ran away, leaving Jesus one man. Alone.

So Caiaphas had it right, more right than he knew - that it would be expedient that one man - one man, alone - should die for the people. But not just expedient, more than that: God’s will. That Jesus should die for us. One man. Alone.

And that one man is enough. That one man who is more than just one man, but the one and only Son of God in human flesh. One man for all, that all men might be saved in Him, in the one man. Alone.

Alone is one of the great words of the Reformation. By grace alone, by faith alone, by Scripture alone, by Christ alone. But all of those alones, grounded in this one man, alone, on the cross. God’s grace by Christ alone, our faith from and in Christ alone, and Christ revealed to us by Scripture alone. Everything that came before this flowing to the cross, and everything that comes after flowing from it. This is the turning point not just for Jesus, and not just for Scripture, but for all of history. Many might deny that today, but it’s true nonetheless.

Tonight we see all the weakness of men, and the strength of the one, of Jesus. Peter talks a good game, but can’t back it up. Peter, James, and John succumb to the tiredness of their bodies. The weakness in Judas was his greed, of the chief priests and Pharisees their hatred and fear. Peter is weak a third time, the weakness of relying on the power of the sword when the word of Jesus is far more powerful. The word of Jesus that can call down from heaven twelve legions of angels. And Annas and Caiaphas show just how weak people in power truly are. 

And in all that you probably heard yourself. For we are the weak ones, too. We talk a good game, but when it comes time to stand up for Jesus, to confess Jesus in the face of persecution, opposition, or oppression, do we? Or does fear get the better of us? Tiredness is commonplace in our busy and getting-ever-busier world. How often do greed, hatred, or fear make us do what we ordinarily wouldn’t do, exerting their strength over us. Do we rely on things of worldly strength rather than God’s all-powerful word? And if you have to keep worrying about your power, are you really powerful or weak? Even a strong steel beam becomes weak when corrupted and corroded over time, like what the corruption and corrosion of sin has done to us.

But over against all the weakness of men is the strength of the one man, alone, Jesus. The one strong enough to stand alone. The one strong enough to pray. The one strong enough to believe His Father’s will is good. The one strong enough to cause all the might of men to fall down to the ground like drunken dominos, and the one strong enough not to, but allow Himself to be arrested. The one strong enough to love and heal His enemy and not hate him. The one strong enough to die for all people, for all the world, for you. For as we will hear later this Lenten season, He is the one strong enough to forgive.

Tonight we see all the weakness of men, and the strength of the one, of Jesus. It doesn’t look that way, of course. Jesus looked weak and men looked strong. But the same word of Jesus which could call down from heaven twelve legions of angels calls us to repent. And for the same reason. Jesus would not save Himself and calls us to repent that we might be saved.

For that’s the other thing going on in the story tonight - people trying to save themselves. Trying to save their pride, trying to save their position and power, trying to save their bank account, trying to save their lives. But they’re going about it all wrong. For as Jesus said, he who saves his life will lose it, but he who loses his life and instead relies on Christ, will save it.

So this Lenten season bids us, as we sang, to Go to Dark Gethsemane (LSB #436), and to Go to Dark Calvary, too. To see our Saviour, to hear our Saviour, to see and hear the one man, alone. The one who is strong to save. 

And this Lenten season bids us to go to the Font, to go to the Altar, and to go to the Table, and see and hear and taste our Saviour. To hear the forgiveness of our sins and to taste and see that the Lord is good. For this one man, alone, is good. And has come to make us good.

And so we have hope. And we begin to fear, love, and trust in God above all things. We begin to rely on His Name, not ours. We begin to treasure and keep His Word in our hearts. And we begin to love our neighbor - not because of who our neighbor is, but because of who we are. In Jesus. Because He took our weakness and gave us His strength. And gave us Himself to dwell in us. That we never be alone. No matter who you are or where you are, as a baptized child of God, you never go alone, for the strong one dwells in you and you in Him. So we confess, not run. We pray, not sleep. And we love, not strike. Because we are not one man, one woman, alone. We are one in Him, and so never alone.

Never alone. Which sounds pretty good.

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

Sermon for the Second Sunday in Lent

LISTEN

Jesu Juva

“Unmasking Jesus”

Text: John 3:1-17

 

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

Have you ever been in a conversation where you’re just not communicating? You’re trying! You’re talking about the same thing, you’re using the same words, and yet, somehow, you’re not connecting. You’re talking past each other.

That’s what’s happening with Jesus and Nicodemus in the account we heard today. Except they’re not talking past each other like this [hands moving past each other horizontally], they’re talking past each other like this [hands moving past each other vertically]. 

For, you see, and as we heard, Nicodemus was a Pharisee. And the Pharisees were all about the Law - studying and knowing the Law, keeping and explaining the Law, and doing all the Law. They were dedicated and sincere and wanted to please God - not working on the Sabbath, paying a tithe of everything, memorizing Scripture, and more. And they were admired for it. People looked up to them. They were the good guys! Except their thinking wasn’t quite right. For they thought that keeping the Law and doing all the right things would make them good, and good with God. For the Pharisees, it was all about what they did. 

And many people think that way still today. That all religion, whether it be Christianity or something else, is all about being good - whatever good means. It’s about what we do.

But notice that’s not how Jesus talks. So, Nicodemus comes to Jesus one night and this is what he wants to learn. He wants to learn what more he could be doing, or doing better, to reach the kingdom of God. He calls Jesus Rabbi, an honorable title, someone he can learn from. He says, you are a teacher come from God - we all know that - for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with him. Nicodemus isn’t stupid. And yet, he can’t understand what Jesus tells him. Because Nicodemus is thinking this way [hand moving up] while Jesus is speaking this way [hand moving down]. So what Nicodemus needs what we all need: not just facts or information or a checklist of what to do or do better - what Nicodemus needs, and what we all need, is a new way of thinking. Not an us doing for God way of thinking, but a God doing for us way of thinking.

So that’s what Jesus does with His words that we heard today. And He does it three times, in three ways, with three examples: with birth, with the wind, and with the bronze serpent episode from the Old Testament.

So first, with birth. Jesus says: you cannot see, you cannot enter the kingdom of God unless you are born again, (or born from above, that could also be translated); born of water and the Spirit. But the key word here is born. And the thing about being born is that you had nothing to do with it. You don’t choose your parents, you didn’t choose to be conceived, and, in fact, when it came time for you to be born and come out of your mother and into the world, you didn’t want to do that! You wanted to stay in your nice cozy place but your Mom pushed you out! Being born is something that happens to you, not something that you can do.

Now, Nicodemus doesn’t get it, because he’s thinking this [hand moving up], right? So, befuddled, he blabbers something about climbing back up inside your mother. So Jesus tells him: No, Nicodemus. This isn’t a physical rebirth, but a spiritual one. Just as you were born physically, so you need to be born spiritually. You need a new life that comes only from above, only by water and the Spirit. You need a new life that comes not from you moving up but by God coming down.

We’re not told if Nicodemus said anything in response to that. But the next words are from Jesus, who says: Do not marvel . . . So I imagine Nicodemus just sitting there with his mouth open! He’s expecting Jesus to tell him what more he needs to do and Jesus is telling him the complete opposite. He doesn’t get it.

So Jesus goes to His second example: the wind. Everybody knows about the wind. You can see it, you can feel it, but you can’t cause it or control it. I’d like to! If I could, I’d stop the wind from blowing my neighbor’s leaves into my yard in the Fall! And wouldn’t it be nice to be able to stop tornados and hurricanes. But like the wind, spiritual life and the work of the Spirit don’t happen because of what we do; the kingdom of God and the work of the Spirit are not our work. The Spirit comes down to us and works when and where He wills, not when and where we will. We’re not the doers, we’re not the ones in control, He is. Again, it’s all about God coming to us, not us going to God.

Poor Nicodemus! He’s used to being the teacher but he’s the one getting schooled! At this point, all he can utter is simple What? How? . . . How can these things be?

Which leads Jesus to His third example: the bronze serpent. This is a story Nicodemus would have known well, perhaps even taught to others. That when the people of Israel were getting what they deserved, being bitten by fiery serpents for grumbling against God and accusing Him of wronging them (when it was really them sinning against God all along!), God - in His mercy - provided a way out for them: the bronze serpent on a pole. But it wasn’t really the image that did anything (how could it?) - but God attached His Word and promise to that image, that whoever was bitten and looked at that image, would live. They could try to save themselves, by what they could do, but life comes only from God and where He puts it. What He does. 

And I think Nicodemus would have agreed with that. I kind of picture him nodding his head when Jesus is talking about the bronze serpent - he gets that. So that’s when Jesus tells him what that really means . . . Jesus pulls the mask off the bronze serpent.

Now, I’ve never see this TV show - maybe you have - but I’ve seen ads for it: The Masked Singer. Have you seen it? From what I can tell, there’s a celebrity in a costume with a mask on. They sing, and the contestants have to try to figure out who it is. I don’t know if they ever get it right - but the ads always show them as being surprised. That’s what Jesus does now, here, for Nicodemus. He pulls the mask off the serpent and says: this is really a picture of how God will save the world. It is the Son of Man, it is God’s own Son who will be lifted up on a pole of sorts, on the cross, that whoever believes in Him, whoever looks to Him there in faith, will not perish but have eternal life. You can try to save yourself, by what you do, but eternal life comes only from God and where He puts it. What He does.

So that bronze serpent was a little salvation, a little saving. The Son of God would come to do the big salvation, the big saving, of the whole world. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Saved by what God does. Saved by the God who comes down to us. 

For the truth is that we’ve all been bitten. The fiery serpent has sunk his teeth into us and injected us with the poison of sin and death. But God, in His mercy, has provided us a way out of death to life. And it’s 100% Him. His doing. All you can do is die. And that’s what we do, right? We sin and mess up. We hurt and get hurt. We kill friendships, marriages, families, some kill babies, old people they don’t want around anymore, and even themselves. Wars kill, drugs kill, drunk drivers kills. We want to live, but we look around and all we see is death. Which is what God said in the beginning, to Adam and Eve, of that one tree: the day you eat of it, you will surely die (Genesis 2:17). They did eat of it, and we’ve been dying ever since.

But that same day that death came into the world - which is what we did, trying to [hand moving up] be like God and become God - that same day life also came back into the world, because God came. He came to Adam and Eve. They didn’t go to Him, they ran away from Him, in fact, as we heard last week. But He came to them [hand moving down], and gave them His Word and promise to give them life again. To provide a way. It wouldn’t easy, for them or for Him. It would involve death. Death to defeat death. But He would do it. For them. 

And part of this struggle would be to overcome the poison of sin that has been injected into us, the poison that keeps making us think we can do it. Or that we must do something. I think this is what the words of the Collect of the Day were talking about. First we said that of ourselves we have no strength. We can’t do what need to be done. We don’t have it in us. So, we went on, By Your mighty power - YOUR mighty power, not ours - defend us from all adversities that may happen to the body and - and here’s the key phrase - all evil thoughts that may assault and hurt the soul. And what are those? Thoughts of anger and hatred, impure thoughts, sure. But the chief evil thought that assaults and hurts the soul is that the kingdom of God, that religion, that spirituality, is somehow what we do. That’s an evil thought that assaults and hurts the soul because it takes our focus OFF what God has done and is doing for us, and puts our attention on what we are doing.

Now, as with all false teaching, there’s a kernel of truth here. We do good works. We do live new lives. Or at least, we should. But they are derivative. That is, they are secondary. That is, what God does comes first and can never be forgotten or taken for granted. Before we can live a new life we have to receive that new life. Before we can ascend, the Son of God must descend to us.

And He has. Which is what this season of Lent is all about. Not what we do for God, but what He has done for us. Not our love for God, but that God so loved the world. Not that we clean ourselves up, but that He has washed us in Baptism and given us that new birth of water and the Spirit. Not that we feed ourselves and become strong, but that He feeds us with Jesus’ Body and Blood and we receive His strength. Pull the mask off Baptism and Communion and that’s what’s there - Jesus and His life and salvation. God for you. God coming to you. Of ourselves we have no strength, but here, with these, of Him, in Him, we have His strength. And we have His life. Which is a life that death can no longer end. Even though we will die, yet shall we live (John 11:25). 

We need a season like Lent to re-orient us again, to be like Nicodemus and listen to Jesus again. To focus us again on God for us, God coming to us, God giving us life and new life. To repent of the thoughts that have made their homes in our minds again, that by being good we can somehow make God love us more, when God has already so loved the world that He gave His only Son! He can’t love you more than He already does. So He came for you and died for you and rose for you, and now comes for you to work that in you. That you be one of the whoever - the whoever who believe in him and do not perish (from your snake bite) but have eternal life. 

How can these things be? Nicodemus asked. Maybe you have the same question. Especially, how can it be that God loves me? After all I’ve done, after all I’ve messed up, after all my sin and all that I still do wrong and fail to do right! How can this be? When we fix our eyes on ourselves, we’ll question and doubt because of our sin, and rightly so. But that’s why Lent calls us to fix our eyes on Jesus (Gradual). And while we still may not know how this can be, we’ll know that it is. Because when we fix our eyes on Jesus, we see that love, we see His life, and what could we say that but thanks be to God!

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

Lent 1 Midweek Vespers Meditation

LISTEN

Jesu Juva

“What Will You Give Me?”

 

In the Name of Jesus. Amen.

What will you give me?

That just might be the question of our age. What’s in it for me? What will I get out of this? What we do not have we want, and when we have we want more. This question cares not about the giver, only what is given. To me. For me. This is a question born of selfishness, of self-centeredness. This is what sin has done to us. Curved us in on ourselves. 

This is a question that never would have been asked in Eden. Not only because God had given them everything, but because as children of God, they knew there was someone giving to them and taking care of them. They didn’t have to worry about themselves - someone else was doing that. So they were free to worry about others, and care for them, and give to them. The focus was on the who, not the what. On God, on others. That’s what mattered.

Until satan put the focus on the what, and everything changed. Now the who was me. Giving to others became giving to me. What will you give me? 

This is, of course, the question Judas asked. What will you give me to betray him to you? The who didn’t matter to Judas; the what did. The Jewish leaders and Judas agreed on the price for Jesus: thirty pieces of silver. I wonder how long the negotiation went on, if Judas wanted more, if they wanted to pay less. That’s how those things usually go. But that thirty was the price is no surprise - the prophet Zechariah (chapter 11) had written that some 550 years earlier. 

So Judas got what he wanted. And while he fulfilled the prophecy of Zechariah, he also fulfilled the words of Jesus, who said: For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul (Matthew 16:26)? For when the focus becomes the what and not the who, no longer do others not matter, neither do you. For later, when Judas later regretted what he had done and tried to give the money back, the priests didn’t care a whit about him - their what was their power and position, and who Judas was, or what he needed, was of little importance to them. They got what they wanted. 

How different Jesus. For Jesus’ reality is not the sinful reality we inhabit, but of Eden. And if What will you give me? would never have been asked in Eden, never would it be asked by Jesus. He doesn’t want from you, He wants you. He doesn’t want from you, He wants only to give to you. 

And so, ironically, the same night that Judas would betray - or hand over - Jesus’ Body and Blood to the Jewish leaders, Jesus would also hand over His Body and Blood - to His disciples. His Body given for them on the cross is first given to them in the Supper. His Blood shed for them is first given to them. Jesus gives Himself to them. It is who to who, as the focus should be. And with that, receiving Jesus, they receive everything with Him - His forgiveness, His life, and His kingdom. 

With Judas, What will you give me? resulted in him losing everything.

With Jesus, What does He give me? results in me gaining everything.

The disciples don’t get that, of course. Not yet anyway. Their thinking is like our thinking, is post-Eden thinking, and so talk of a kingdom launches them into an argument about which of them is the greatest. What they will get. So in response to this, what they get is Jesus on His hands and knees, serving them, washing their feet. That is Eden thinking, Eden living. Who, not what. Who, even if that meant doing this lowliest of low tasks. 

And then Jesus tells them this is what they will be doing, too. They will love one another as He has loved them. They will focus on the who, not the what. And how they will love is by doing the new commandment He gives them. A new commandment, not the old ones. The Gospel commandment He gave them to teach, to preach, to baptize, to absolve, to feed. And, He says, by this all men will know that you are my disciples, because they will be doing as He does, thinking as He does, and loving as He does. They, and the Church, will be all about the who, not the what. Which is putting things back to the way things were; back to the way things should be.

Our challenge this Lenten season is to think this way. This way of thinking so different from how our world thinks, from how we’ve been trained to think. But while challenging, not impossible. For nothing is impossible with God and His Spirit. And we see this with the disciples. There is a great change in them after they receive the Spirit, as they go out and do what Jesus commanded them, as they go out and give Jesus. Not perfectly, of course. But as Jesus and His Spirit live in them and work in them. 

And in you. For while you were not there that night, Jesus has washed you in the waters of baptism and in the cleansing of absolution. Jesus has fed you with His Body and Blood. Jesus has served you and taught you and given you Himself and His kingdom. We need not ask Him What will you give me? for He has given us everything - not the everything of this world - that’s post-Eden thinking! - but the everything of the world to come. The everything of Eden. The everything for life everlasting. 

Which is what you want, really. For Jesus could give you the everything of this world, and with Judas you could lose everything. Or Jesus could give you the everything of the world to come, and with Him you gain everything. That’s what Jesus has done, and He bids us think that way. A new way. 

So tonight we heard of the way of man and the ways of God. We heard of the giving of betrayal and the giving of the Supper. We heard of the desire for greatness and the serving of footwashing. We heard of selfishness and self-giving. We heard the way things were, the way things are, and the way things are again in Jesus. And in Lent, repenting of who we are and do, and receiving who Jesus is and has, we are restored, forgiven, and changed.

So while in His Passion, Jesus told His disciples, Where I am going you cannot come, for He had to go to the cross alone. But when He comes again in glory, then will come true what He then said: Where I am going you cannot follow me now, but afterwards you will follow me. We will follow Him through death and the grave to life everlasting. 

So What will you give me?

That is what He has come to give you.

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