The Good Shepherd and His Elect

Posted on April 26, 2020 by Rev. Paul Rydecki
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Sermon for Misericordias Domini – Easter 2

1 Peter 2:21-25  +  John 10:11-16

There are two Sundays in the Church Year that, I think, really illustrate the doctrine of election: the 20th Sunday after Trinity, with the Parable of the Wedding Banquet, and today, the 2nd Sunday after Easter. And neither one is a dry, doctrinal discourse. They’re both full of real imagery and practical application. I mean, what could be clearer or more personal than the image of the shepherd tending his sheep?

Now, there are many good images of Jesus as Shepherd. There’s a famous picture of a rugged, short-haired Jesus smiling and carrying a sheep on His shoulders. That’s a good picture. There’s another famous picture of Jesus standing in the middle of a sheepfold, holding His shepherd’s staff—another good picture. There’s the picture in the back of the sanctuary here with Jesus sitting down with a pair of sheep, or maybe lambs in his lap. A great picture. They all illustrate an aspect of what Jesus does for His sheep.

But the best image I can think of is simply the crucifix itself, the image of Jesus hanging from a cross, the image of the dead Shepherd. That’s the image that the Apostle Paul used as a summary of the whole Christian doctrine: We preach Christ crucified. It’s also the aspect of His shepherding that Jesus highlights in today’s Gospel. I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. Notice, He doesn’t say that the shepherd is “willing to” lay down his life for the sheep. He actually does it. Not long after He spoke these words, He actually did it.

He did it “for the sheep.” Who are the sheep? The sheep are the elect, the ones whom God chose in eternity to live with Him for eternity. Whom did He choose? Well, He chose sinners. No one but sinners, and none of them more worthy of salvation than the rest. He chose sinners who were all dead in sins and trespasses, who lived for themselves, who didn’t know God rightly or believe in God rightly. In fact, not just the sheep, but all of humanity is born in that state, and in a real sense, Christ died for all. He paid for the sins of all and wants all men to be saved, He calls out to all men to repent and believe in Him and His sacrifice on the cross and His resurrection from the dead, to believe and be baptized for the forgiveness of sins.

But in a special sense, Christ, the good Shepherd, laid down His life in particular for the sheep, because He didn’t choose all. He chose those for whom He would die, AND whom He would call through the Gospel to repent of their sins and believe in the good Shepherd, AND who would actually believe the Gospel by the powerful working of His Holy Spirit, AND whom He would sanctify in love, AND who would diligently use the Means of Grace that He provides, AND who would wrestle with the flesh and pray for God’s help, AND who would by God’s help persevere in the faith until the end. Those are the ones whom He elected or chose to spend eternity with Him. Those are His sheep. The Gospel invitation goes out to many. But the sheep are the “few” who actually believe it and, at some point in their lives, hear the Gospel and enter into Jesus’ sheepfold, who call Him their shepherd, who call Him Lord, who love Him who first loved us, who will live with Him for all eternity. So it’s with good reason that Jesus says, “I lay down My life for the sheep.”

Then He goes on to contrast the good Shepherd’s determination to lay down his life for the sheep with the hireling’s cowardice and lack of care. The hireling, who is not the shepherd and to whom the sheep do not belong, sees the wolf coming and abandons the sheep and flees. And the wolf catches the sheep and scatters them. The hireling flees, because he is a hireling and does not care about the sheep.

There’s an application here to pastors, of course, who are supposed to shepherd the sheep of the good shepherd in the way of the good shepherd, but who are sometimes found to be no better than hirelings. When their life or livelihood or reputation is in danger, they run away. This applies to those who only preach what people like to hear, so they don’t get accused of being mean or of not being nice. It applies to some who have abandoned all Word & Sacrament ministry to their flocks in the midst of this pandemic. So there is a warning in this Gospel for pastors, and for all Christians to watch out for pastors who show themselves to be hirelings.

But primarily this text isn’t a warning. It’s a contrast. A contrast between the hireling who abandons the flock because he doesn’t care about them, and Jesus the good shepherd, who cares with His very life, with His whole life, with His whole heart, with every drop of His blood, because He knows that His death will not be in vain. He knows the ones who, throughout time, will believe in Him and remain in Him.

I know My sheep, Jesus says. That takes us back to eternity again and to God’s election of those sheep in eternity. He didn’t get to know you after spending some time with you. He didn’t even get to know you after you were born. He’s known His sheep from eternity. He has always known which ones would be brought to faith in Him and which ones would stubbornly resist the Gospel.

And just as He knows who His sheep are, He knows also what each one of them needs in order to be brought safely through this life. He knows what kind of family you need, whether you need a spouse and when. He knows what opportunities you need and what crosses you need to bear. He knows what personality traits you need in yourself and in those around you. He knows, and He provides, like the shepherd who makes his sheep to lie down in green pastures, and leads them beside the still waters.

And I am known by My own, Jesus says. The elect, the sheep, are the ones who know Him, who trust in Him, who hear His word and don’t think it sounds crazy, or even if it sounds crazy, they still believe it. You know the one who laid down His life for you, and you know Him who rose from the dead. You know Him who sits at the right hand of God, and so, even though you may be troubled by the things happening around you, you know you don’t have to fear as the world fears or despair as the world despairs, because you know Jesus.

And I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also, and they will hear my voice; and there will be one flock and one shepherd.

Here we step one last time into eternity. The Lord Jesus looked out in time and saw His sheep in the world, wherever and whenever they were, almost exclusively in Israel for a while, and then far beyond the sheepfold of Israel to the Gentiles throughout the world who would believe in Him, and He said, “The Gospel must be preached here, so My sheep can hear! And over here! And over here! I need a pastor here to baptize. I need a pastor here to preach. I need a pastor here to warn and to correct and to comfort and to forgive and to teach. I need a pastor here to feed My sheep with My body and blood. And I need a gathering of My sheep here to support one another and to support the work of the ministry. And here. And here. And here.”

Preaching seems so futile much of the time. Faithful churches are shrinking to a handful here, a handful there. Our country has become increasingly godless and faithless, and I think we’re seeing just how faithless now, as panic and fear have spilled over into our daily life, as hatred of those who are not afraid has blossomed, and as even Christians have turned away from God toward science, toward their precautions, toward their “staying at home” as the solution to the pandemic. And very few are dealing with the root cause of viruses and illnesses and death, which is their own sin and this world’s curse, which will never be lifted, and this world’s destruction, which will not be delayed. Only faith in Christ saves. Only God truly rules over the world. And only in the Christian Church is there safety from the curse and from the destruction that’s coming. No one, it seems, wants to hear about that anymore. Hardly anyone seems to know Jesus or want to know Him anymore. The world’s tolerance of the preaching of Christ is waning.

So if, because of the world’s hatred of Jesus and therefore of Christians, we have to suffer here on earth for a while and feel the world’s hatred and experience the world’s rejection, so be it, For to this you were called, Peter writes, because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that you should follow in his steps. But the Church doesn’t exist by the world’s authority or because of the world’s tolerance. The Church exists, in spite of the world’s hatred and rarely with the world’s tolerance. The Church exists, because our good Shepherd laid down His life for us and rose from the dead and sent out His Gospel to be preached, in order to gather His sheep, just a few here, just a few there. And if death itself couldn’t stop Jesus from shepherding His flock, then nothing will be able to stop Him from gathering His flock until the very last day, when He will guide His sheep, His elect, whom He has known and chosen from eternity, into the house of the Lord, where they will dwell with Him forever. Amen.

 

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Peace, joy, and life by believing

Posted on April 19, 2020 by Rev. Paul Rydecki
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Sermon for Quasimodogeniti – Easter 1

1 John 5:4-10  +  John 20:19-31

Today is really just Easter, Part 2. For that matter, every Sunday church service is celebrated in honor of Easter Sunday and because of Easter Sunday. But today’s Gospel specifically picks up where last week’s Gospel left off, on Easter Sunday. And in coming back to hear it, you’re doing what St. Peter encourages Christians to do in today’s Introit, which we omitted earlier: As newborn babes, crave the pure spiritual milk, so that you may grow by it, if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good. That pure spiritual milk is the Word of God. And we have tasted that the Lord is good. So here we are, ready to feed on His word again, as newborn babes.

The Easter story picks up on the evening of Easter Sunday. The believing women had seen Jesus alive that morning and reported it to the disciples, but most of them didn’t believe the women. He had appeared to those two disciples on the road to Emmaus and spoke with them, and as soon as they recognized Him, He disappeared from Emmaus and then suddenly reappeared in the middle of the room where 10 of the remaining 11 apostles were gathered, with the doors shut for fear of the Jews.

Now, I have seen some comparisons between the disciples being stuck together in that room for fear of the Jews and people being stuck at home for fear of coronavirus. But there’s really no comparison at all. The disciples were afraid of being targeted and crucified by the same people who had, just two days earlier, targeted and crucified their Lord. Worse than that, they were afraid that everything they had believed about God, about Jesus, about their own future had been for nothing, had been a lie. Theirs was a fear of utter disappointment in the one in whom they had believed, who, they thought, was still dead; fear that, not God, but a godless government was controlling their lives, able to do to them whatever they wanted, just as they had done with Jesus.

Or so they thought. As we know, the godless government of the Jews and of the Romans was only able to do as much as God had permitted them to do in order to carry out His own plan of salvation. And, as we know, the one in whom the disciples had believed wasn’t still dead, as He proved to them right then and there.

Jesus came and stood in the midst of them and said, “Peace be with you!” 20 And as he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. And the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Their fear, their disappointment, and their sadness were erased in an instant and replaced with peace and with joy. Why? What had changed in that moment? Nothing but what they believed. Jesus hadn’t changed. His resurrection hadn’t changed. His word hadn’t changed. Their sins hadn’t changed. The hatred of the Jews and the danger of being put to death hadn’t changed. Only their faith changed. They went from disbelieving Jesus’ resurrection, and thus disbelieving that Jesus could be their Mediator with God, to believing the resurrection, and thus believing that Jesus would still save them from sin, death, and the devil. And with that faith came peace and joy.

But Jesus hadn’t just appeared to them to prove that He was alive. He had a very important mission for them: Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As my Father has sent me, so I also send you.” 22 And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. 23 If you forgive the sins of any, their sins are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” This is, in part, a repetition of the promise of Pentecost, the promise Jesus had made just three nights earlier on Maundy Thursday, where John records that He spoke to them at length about the coming of the Holy Spirit. As Jesus breathes on them and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit,” He’s showing them that, as the one who was crucified and has now conquered death, He will also fulfill His promise to send the Holy Spirit.

And in the process of that, He also sends them, even as He has been sent by the Father. It’s a sending that involves authority—the authority to do the very thing Jesus had done throughout His ministry: to forgive sins to the penitent; and to retain the sins of the impenitent. In other words, those who are sent by Jesus will go out as His ambassadors, doing His work, speaking in His name, reconciling sinners to God, and, in the case of those who refuse to believe, holding their sins against them.

But one of the remaining eleven disciples wasn’t there to meet Jesus or to hear His commission. Thomas was absent. He came back after Jesus had left, and none of the excitement of his fellow disciples, none of their peace and joy could rub off on him, because he still didn’t believe. Unless I see the nail prints in his hands, and put my finger into the nail prints, and place my hand into his side, I will not believe. Thomas made his fellow apostles out to be either delusional or outright liars. All ten of them! Worse, it was Jesus who had promised to rise on the third day. Thomas refused to believe Jesus, and so he was still filled with fear, disappointment, sorrow, and, apparently, a touch of anger and resentment. How wretched it is to live a life of disbelieving Jesus’ word, of disbelieving Jesus’ resurrection!

But Jesus, in His mercy, didn’t leave Thomas in that state for long. He gave him a week, and then returned on the following Sunday, with Thomas present. Peace be with you! And then straight to Thomas. Put your finger here and see my hands; and put your hand here and place it into my side, and do not be unbelieving any longer, but believing. And Thomas must have felt kind of stupid, ashamed for disbelieving his fellow apostles, ashamed for disbelieving the word of his Lord and his God. But Jesus didn’t come to condemn. He came inviting Thomas to believe in Him. And Thomas answered in faith, My Lord and my God!

And Jesus said to him, Thomas, because you have seen me, you have believed. Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet have believed. That’s you and I, isn’t it? We haven’t seen. We haven’t seen Jesus, alive or dead or risen from the dead. What have we seen? We’ve seen Bibles and the eyewitness testimony they record. We’ve seen the Church as Christians continue to gather in faith around God’s Word. We’ve seen the Church still calling ministers in the name of Christ and we’ve seen ministers still carrying out Christ’s command to preach, to forgive the penitent and to not forgive the impenitent. We’ve seen baptismal waters, and bread and wine being consecrated and distributed and received at Jesus’ command. All of this is the testimony of the Holy Spirit: the testimony that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God.

You are part of that testimony. No matter how much the devil tries to distract you, no matter how much the world hates you, no matter how much your sinful flesh struggles against you and weakens you at time, you have stubbornly, defiantly refused to give in to the lie that Jesus is dead. The Holy Spirit has led you to believe that Jesus lives and reigns, not just for the universe out there, but for you right here. And as you confess Christ, you become part of His testimony to the world that the darkness cannot put out the light of Christ, that the devil has not won, that sin cannot condemn believers in Christ, that our God is trustworthy, and that His love is worth knowing, worth sharing, worth declaring before the world, because salvation is found in no one else but in the Lord Jesus Christ.

May the message of Easter, and faith in that message, continue to fill you with peace and with joy in place of fear and sadness, and with life in place of death, even as John tells us that he wrote his Gospel for this singular purpose, that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that, by believing, you may have life in his name. Amen.

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Today is no day for pretending

Posted on April 12, 2020 by Rev. Paul Rydecki
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Sermon for the Feast of the Resurrection of Our Lord

1 Corinthians 5:6-8  +  Mark 16:1-8

Over the years, I’ve asked you on occasion, at the beginning of a sermon, “What are you doing here this morning?” to get you thinking about the purpose of our gathering and about the things you believe that brought you here. That question seems especially appropriate today, doesn’t it? What are you doing here? Didn’t you get the memo last night? Didn’t you get the emergency message yesterday on your phone or on the radio? “Severe threat alert: COVID-19 update: Gatherings not safe, even at church. STAY HOME!” No one promised you you couldn’t catch a virus if you came, for as unlikely as it may be. No one gave you a 100% guarantee of safety from the coronavirus—or from a heart attack, or from cancer, or a car accident, or certainly from death. On the contrary, the safety of Christians is being threatened in many parts of the country, not nearly as much from the virus as from the government’s reaction to it. Many of your neighbors and your fellow countrymen are not just laughing at you right now, as they usually do, for your silly, backward, “unscientific” beliefs. They’re condemning you. They’re threatening you. They’re even wishing death upon you. I’ve seen the comments made by some. “Anybody who goes to an Easter service is an idiot. I hope they get sick and die.”

The devil is trying so hard, isn’t he? He’s so desperate to cancel Easter. Oh, he knows he can’t actually erase what happened on Easter Sunday; he can’t undo his own defeat. But he is trying so hard to keep the resurrection of Christ from being proclaimed from pulpits, trying so hard to keep non-believers from hearing, trying so hard to keep Christians from gathering together and praying together and from receiving the body and blood of the risen Christ from the hand of His called and ordained ministers. And to a large extent, to a global extent, he’s been successful. But not entirely. Never entirely. And you and I are blessed by God beyond measure to be among the few who are gathered today, truly gathered, to celebrate, to “make famous” the Lord’s resurrection.

So let’s solidify this morning what it is that we believe and confess about today, because this is no day for pretending to believe, just as it’s no day for pretending that Jesus is dead.

We believe that Jesus rose from the dead, bodily, on the third day after the Passover on which He was crucified. And that belief is based on facts. You know, someone tried to convince me recently that Easter is really a pagan festival, a myth that Christians borrowed—stole really—from pagans. It’s really about hunting eggs and chasing bunnies, doncha know? But the truth of Easter predates all those pagan beliefs, because Easter is tied to the Passover itself, which is over 3,500 years old. The connection made by the Holy Spirit in Scripture between the Passover and Christ’s death and resurrection couldn’t be more obvious or more beautiful: The blood of the lamb covering the houses of the Israelites and keeping them safe from destruction.

Shortly after that first Passover, Moses gave the Israelites the rituals of the Day of Atonement, when more animal blood was to be spilled. But one ritual on that day stands out: the selection of two goats, one that would be slaughtered, but another—the scapegoat—that would bear the sins of the people and live. What a beautiful picture of the coming Christ, who would die for sins and bear them away, and yet would also live.

A thousand years before the Easter of Christ’s resurrection, David announced it in Psalm 22. And in Psalm 16 he says, “Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoices; My flesh also will rest in hope. For You will not leave my soul in the grave, nor will You allow Your Holy One to see corruption.” 700 years before Christ’s death and resurrection, Isaiah announced them both in chapter 53 of his book.

Then we come to the eyewitness reports. The faithful women who were there when Jesus died, who were there when He was buried, were also the first ones to see the empty tomb. They saw the stone rolled away from the entrance, and the angel told them why: He is risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid Him. The women were the first to see the empty tomb, but they wouldn’t be the last. Most of Judea would eventually see it. Then the women saw Jesus on the same day. Then Peter saw Him. Then 2 more disciples on their way to Emmaus. Then 9 more of the apostles saw Him. Soon Thomas saw Him. Then more than 500 others. Then Stephen the martyr. Then the Apostle Paul. The written testimony of the apostles has survived now for nearly 2,000 years. And do we think the apostles really believed what they wrote and what they preached? Well, almost all of them sealed their eyewitness testimony with their own blood, willing to die because they had seen their Savior’s victory over death with their own eyes, making them confident that He would be there to raise them from the dead, too.

Those are facts, rooted in history. For all these reasons, Christians have believed Christ’s resurrection for nearly 2,000 years. So this is certainly no time for us to start pretending that He’s dead.

But what would be just as bad as that, or maybe even worse, is to pretend to believe that Christ rose from the dead, or to believe that it doesn’t really have any impact on your earthly life. Oh, but it does. It impacts everything, if you actually believe it. Who you are, what you say, what you do, what else you believe, how you see the world, how you face disease and death, and what happens to you when you die. It all flows from what you believe about Christ’s resurrection, so today is no day for pretending to believe.

What was the purpose of Jesus’ death and resurrection?

Why did He die? We believe that Jesus was delivered to death for our sins, as Paul writes in Romans 4. That He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities. The chastisement for our peace was upon him; and by his wounds we are healed. We believe that God made Christ, who knew no sin, to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him. We believe that Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law, having become a curse for us (for it is written, “Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree”).

Why did He rise again? We believe that He rose because He said He would, and He never lies. He rose because He was innocent. He rose because He is God. He rose because death no longer has dominion over Him. He rose because He had conquered the devil. He rose because His Father was pleased with Him and His sacrifice. He rose for our justification, that is, so that He might stand as our Advocate before the Father, as our Intercessor at God’s right hand, as the one Mediator between God and men, so that God might have a valid basis for justifying and forgiving all who appeal in faith to that Mediator.

What’s more, He rose so that He could continue to give gifts to men, His own ambassadors, ministers to administer His Word and Sacraments, so that you might be reconciled to God. He rose so that where two or three are gathered together in His name, He could be there in the midst of them. He rose so that He could keep teaching you through His Word. He rose so that He could send His Gospel to you, so that He could baptize you through His ministers, feed you through His ministers, give you His body and blood through His ministers’ hands.

What’s more, He rose so that He could hear your prayers and reign over this whole world as King, so that every knee should bow at the mention of His name, until he comes again in glory for the resurrection of all flesh, for judgment against those who deny Him, and for ushering His believers into everlasting life.

That’s what Scripture says. That’s what we confess. That’s what we believe. And if we believe it, let’s live accordingly. Having been justified by faith, we have peace with God. So live as those who have peace with God. There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. So live as those who are no longer condemned. By God’s will we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all. So live as those who have been sanctified—made holy—by the blood of Christ. God raised Him from the dead and seated Him at His right hand in the heavenly places, far above all principality and power and might and dominion, and every name that is named, not only in this age but also in that which is to come. And He put all things under His feet, and gave Him to be head over all things to the church, which is His body, the fullness of Him who fills all in all. So live as those who believe that all things—all things—have been placed under Christ’s feet. Fear? Despair? Guilt? Cowardice? There’s no need for any of it, because Jesus lives. And we believe that He lives, for us.

No, we are not here today pretending that God is real, pretending that He hears and helps, pretending that Jesus conquered sin and death and the devil for us. Today is no day for pretending. It’s a day for believing. It’s a day for confessing. And it’s a day for rejoicing. Amen.

 

 

 

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The only way it makes any sense

Posted on April 10, 2020 by Rev. Paul Rydecki
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Sermon for Good Friday

Isaiah 52:13-53:12  +  John 18:1-19:42

Nothing about Good Friday really makes very much sense. Everything is turned upside down, starting in the Garden of Gethsemane. Jesus, the sinless man, Jesus the strongest man, spiritually, who has ever lived, prays earnestly for strength, while the disciples, who were weak and in great spiritual danger, were too sleepy to bother to watch and pray.

Jesus, the Son of God, who led the children of Israel out of the slavery of Egypt, is sold into slavery by one of His own disciples.

Jesus, who was being falsely accused and unlawfully arrested, stops Peter from using his sword any further and heals the ear of the servant who came out to arrest Him.

Jesus, who has more than twelve legions of angels at his disposal, chooses not to use them to prevent His arrest.

Jesus, who has every right, before God and man, to go free, chooses instead to suffer.

Jesus, who speaks only the truth, is struck on the face for speaking the truth.

Jesus, who speaks only the truth, tells Peter that he’ll deny his Lord three times that night, and Peter thinks His Lord is lying.

Peter, who has seen Jesus still storms and heal diseases and cast out demons; Peter, who has walked on water at Jesus’ word; Peter, who has confessed Jesus to be the Christ, the Son of the living God; Peter, who has sworn to die before denying Jesus, is so frightened by a servant girl that he swears he has never met his God.

Jesus, who rules over kings and governors, allows the Roman governor to wield authority over Him.

Jesus, the Helper of all, is rejected by His own people, while Barabbas, the criminal, is chosen instead.

Jesus, the only truly innocent man who has ever lived, is condemned to death by the people of God, by the priests of God, and by the secular government instituted by God.

Jesus, the King of the universe, is crowned with thorns and mocked as a false king.

Jesus, the King of the Jews, is crucified for being the King of the Jews.

Jesus, who can choose at any time to end His suffering and come down from the cross, chooses instead to stay on it and suffer to the end.

Jesus, the Light of the world, suffers in utter darkness.

Jesus, who gives living water to all who ask, is given vinegar for His final drink.

Jesus, who gave man his spirit in the beginning, gave up His own spirit after all was finished.

Jesus, who never sinned, received the wages of sin, which is death.

Jesus, who was followed secretly by Nicodemus and Joseph while He lived, is attended openly by Nicodemus and Joseph after He dies.

Jesus, who called Lazarus out of his tomb, is now buried in a tomb of His own (at least, until the third day).

What a strange, bizarre day this is, Good Friday! The only way it makes any sense is if we pay attention to Jesus’ final words recorded by John, who was standing there at the foot of the cross. “It is finished!” That means that, throughout all of it, Jesus was doing something, working to accomplish something. All the inconsistencies, all the contradictions, all the things He willingly allowed Himself to be put through were the final touches, the finishing pieces of that tremendous work we call the atonement. This is what it took to make atonement for the sins of the Jews, and for the sins of the Gentiles, for the sins of those who hated Him, and for the sins of those who loved Him imperfectly, for your sins and mine. Atonement was made. The price of reconciliation between God and sinners was paid by Christ alone, from start to finish.

All that Jesus suffered, all that He willingly endured only makes sense if the love of God for man was truly that great, if God was truly determined to save the human race, to pay a price that high, to bear a burden that heavy—the iniquities of us all laid on Him, on Jesus. It only makes sense if He truly wanted it preached, wanted it proclaimed throughout the world until the end of time: the death of Jesus Christ, our Lord. His death in place of yours. His condemnation for your justification. His blood for your forgiveness. That’s the key to understanding Good Friday: the love of God, the price He was willing to pay, His desire to have it preached, His desire to have it believed and confessed, His desire to have the sacrifice of Christ applied to sinners through Holy Baptism, through preaching, through the Sacrament of His true body and blood, and through faith created by His Holy Spirit.

The senseless, foolish, irrational, undeserved love of God for sinners is what we celebrate today. It’s what has brought us out of hiding, as it were, which also makes no sense to many. But to us, it makes perfect sense, to gather confidently as Christians, to hear again the seemingly senseless Good Friday Gospel, to believe what God wants us to believe about the forgiveness He earned for us there, and gives to us here in Word and Sacrament, to confess Him before the world, to proclaim His death until He comes, and above all, to thank Him for His loving sacrifice and for the eternal life that He has given us, which no man, which no devil, which no disease or death can ever remove. None of it makes any sense. And yet, to us, thank God, it does. Amen.

 

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A death to be remembered

Posted on April 9, 2020 by Rev. Paul Rydecki
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Sermon for Maundy Thursday

1 Corinthians 11:23-32  +  John 13:1-15

This evening, the world is bracing for more death. The world is living in fear of more death. The world is trying to convince Christians that even we need to abandon spiritual concerns for the moment and focus on earthly concerns, earthly wisdom, earthly solutions. It’s as if the world were crying out, “Fine if you want to pretend that your God is real. Fine if you want to delude yourselves into believing that He hears your prayers or intervenes to save. But now, now it’s time to stop pretending for a while—for as long as we tell you you must. Now it’s time to live in the real world and listen to our experts. Stop pretending that your God can help you. Stop pretending that there is anything more important than preventing a COVID19 death.”

Dear Christians, at this time, when the world is fixated on preventing one kind of death at all costs, we turn away from the world in defiance and turn in faith to Jesus, who was fixated on enduring one kind of death at all costs. At this time, when the world is doing all in its power to run away from death, we are gathered together—especially today and tomorrow—to remember death: the death of Jesus Christ, our Lord.

The preparations for Jesus’ death took place in eternity, on God’s part. But on man’s part, they took place on Maundy Thursday as Jesus’ disciples followed their Master’s directions to find that upper room where they met to celebrate the Old Testament Passover one last time.

There was a death to be remembered in that very Passover meal: the death of the Passover lamb at the time of Moses. The firstborn of the Israelites were saved from death, not because the Israelites were more worthy, but because they took refuge under the blood of the lamb, smeared on the doorframes of their houses. And as they hid inside those houses covered in the blood of the lamb, they escaped the destruction that happened all around them. It was the lamb’s death, and its application to their homes, that saved them.

So, too, it would be the death of the Lamb of God, the Lord Jesus, that would save any and every sinner to whom it was applied, through Baptism and through faith. That’s why Jesus and His disciples celebrated one last Old Testament Passover, in order to make the connection and the transition to Jesus’ own sacrifice later that day (remember, it was already evening, so it was already Friday according to the Jewish reckoning).

Something else was to be remembered that night. After the Old Testament ritual part of the supper was finished, Jesus got up and performed that foot-washing we heard about in the Gospel this evening. You see, not only were they to remember His death later that day, but the deep, sacrificial love that led Him to that death for them, the deep humility of their Master that led Him to lower Himself to the form of a servant, to serve them, to wash their feet. Just their feet. They had already bathed in Baptism and believed in Him, and so they were already clean (except for Judas, who didn’t believe), that is, they were already forgiven and in good standing with God. But they still needed the humble, gentle cleansing of their weaknesses and their daily sins. They needed to remember that, if Jesus was willing to forgive their daily sins, they—we! —must also be willing to put up with and to forgive the weaknesses and missteps of our fellow Christians, with all the humility and with all the gentleness of the one we call our Master and our Lord.

After the foot washing, Jesus and His disciples sat down for another supper. The Old Testament ritual was to be carried out quickly, with their sandals on their feet and their staffs in their hands; the purpose wasn’t to fill up on food, but to make the connection to the Passover in Egypt. But then followed a more relaxed meal. It was after that second supper that Jesus instituted yet another meal, a new Meal, a new Supper, not the Old Testament Passover, not a regular meal, but a special meal by which we are to remember Him and His death.

St. Paul described the institution of that meal in this evening’s Epistle. It includes bread. But in Jesus’ Meal, the bread is more than bread. It’s the true body of Christ which was given on the cross later that same day as the tangible payment for the world’s sins. In the Supper, that body is “broken.” Notice, it wasn’t broken on the cross. In fact, they were careful not to break a single one of Jesus’ bones, according to the prophecy of the Passover lamb. But in the Supper, the body is “broken,” that is, handed out and distributed to those who receive it one by one.

This new Supper also includes wine. But in Jesus’ Meal, the wine is more than wine. It’s the true blood of Christ, also called the blood of the New Testament or the New Testament in His blood. The same blood that was shed on the cross later that day, that poured forth from Christ’s dead body, together with water, as we’ll hear tomorrow in St. John’s account. Blood that was shed on purpose, by design, to be the one-time, actual payment for the world’s sins. That blood is applied again to each one who receives it in the Lord’s Supper for the forgiveness of sins.

So, you see, in the new Supper, there is an emphasis on death. It’s all about the atoning death of Jesus, the Lamb of God, who is the propitiation for our sins, and not only for ours, but for the sins of the world. It’s all about the application of His death to the members of His Church. That’s why it’s foolishness for Roman priests to be out there celebrating the Mass all alone, as some are doing right now, with no other communicants present; it does no one any good if they don’t receive it. That’s why coming together to receive it is so important.

And, as St. Paul writes, it’s all about doing this in remembrance of Jesus, especially the remembrance of His death. Not just remembering it for ourselves, but as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes. That’s another reason why coming together to celebrate this Sacrament is so important, because it’s a proclamation of death—not a private, but a public proclamation of the Lord’s death, on the cross, for the sins of the world, that all may know about it, that it really happened as the Bible says it did, and that there are still Christians who believe in Him. The Son of God truly came and truly died, in order to give us life. And we, His Christian people, do still believe in that Lord Jesus, that He died for our sins, that His sacrifice is the source of our life, and therefore His death is a death to be remembered forever. Amen.

 

 

 

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