Emmanuel Lutheran Church

Sermon for Trinity 14

Jeremiah 17:13-14  +  Galatians 5:16-24  +  Luke 17:11-19

You’ve heard the saying, “Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.” The same might be said for prayer. Be careful what you pray for. You just might get it. And in getting it, you just might get so caught up in the gift that you turn your back on the Giver.

That’s what we see happen in today’s Gospel. We start out with ten lepers. As we learn later, they’re made up of both Jews and at least one Samaritan, all afflicted with the same dreadful infection called leprosy that marred and deformed their bodies and separated them from society and, ceremonially, also from God in that lepers weren’t allowed to approach God’s Temple or take part in any of the rituals of Israel due to their condition of perpetual uncleanness. The laws about lepers were harsh, but God was teaching Israel a lesson through that physical illness called leprosy: the unclean may not approach Him nor have fellowship with His holy people.

Of course, leprosy was an illustration of the fact that all people are, by nature, unclean, born with the natural corruption called original sin which mars and deforms our souls so that we are perpetually unclean. As Jesus said, That which is born of the flesh is flesh. Sinful parents, with a sinful flesh, pass on that sin and uncleanness to their children.

So, if lepers represented all people by nature in our natural uncleanness, who were the “clean” people in Israel, the ones who could approach God in His Temple? They represented the unclean people who have been cleansed by God. In the Old Testament, that cleansing was done through sacrifice and through the sprinkling with the sacred water, as King David prays in Psalm 51, Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

But all that was a shadow of the sacrifice of Christ and Holy Baptism which washes away our sin, and faith which receives the benefits of forgiveness, life and salvation. Now, most people never come to God for this cleansing, but some do. Some seek mercy from Him and He heals them and forgives them their sins through His baptismal washing.

That’s pictured for us in the ten lepers. All ten were unclean, all equally infected. All of them came to Jesus in faith, looking for mercy. They all prayed for healing, and all were healed. They got what they prayed for.

But then what happened? One of them returned to give thanks to God, while the other nine kept right on going. Were there not ten cleansed?, Jesus asked. Were there not any found who returned to give glory to God except this foreigner? No. He was the only one. As for the nine, they took the gift of healing—the answer to their prayer! —and ran, eager to enjoy the gift Jesus had given them. They got what they wanted from Jesus, and then He became nothing more than an afterthought. Forgotten, but surely not entirely forgotten.

This happens all too often with the baptized. Many people come to Jesus in Holy Baptism and receive His cleansing. Then they seek help from Jesus in some earthly trouble. “Jesus, help me to find a spouse!” And He helps them. And then off they go with their spouse, and Jesus is forgotten. “Jesus, help me to find a good job!” And He helps them. And then off they with their job, and Jesus is forgotten.

Never entirely forgotten, of course. People still harbor the notion in their hearts that, sure, even though they’ve given up going to church, even though they’ve given up receiving Jesus’ body and blood in the Sacrament, they still love Him and believe in Him. They give thanks to God in their hearts, after all.

But the nine could have done that, right? The nine healed lepers were surely very thankful to Jesus for healing them. They figured that was enough. But Jesus tells us it wasn’t enough. Were there not any found who returned to give glory to God except this foreigner? Notice, Jesus says, who “returned to give glory to God.” Can’t you give glory to God anywhere? Can’t you give glory to God in your heart? Yes, but, when Jesus walked the earth, He chose to locate Himself where people could actually find Him and interact with Him. Now that He has ascended to the right hand of God, He gives people lots of places around the world where people can actually find Him and interact with Him and give thanks to Him: in His holy Church, where two or three are gathered together in His name, where He has sent a pastor in His name to speak to His people, to reveal their sins, to hear their confession, to absolve them and comfort and encourage and teach them, to offer them the body and blood of Jesus in His holy Sacrament.

I saw a post on Facebook where someone was revealing some of the bad behavior of pastors. And one person replied, “The Lord is my pastor,” that is, my shepherd. In other words, I don’t bother with going to church and listening to a pastor and receiving the ministry of a pastor, because I listen directly to the Lord. It sounds pious. But it isn’t. It’s a rejection of Jesus, to reject those whom He has sent in His name to shepherd His holy people.

Now, you all know that it isn’t easy to find a shepherd who preaches the whole truth of God’s Word and administers the Sacraments rightly. It’s one thing not to go to church because you haven’t found one that teaches the whole truth. But it’s another thing entirely to imagine that finding a church and going to church regularly isn’t that important. It’s all-important, because that’s where Jesus makes Himself available for those who believe in Him to worship Him and to thank Him for His goodness.

The one foreigner who was healed of his leprosy knew that better than all the rest. Their faith in Jesus lasted only a moment; there’s no such thing as “once believing, always believing,” just as there’s no such thing as “once saved, always saved.” But the faith of the foreigner, the Samaritan, endured. He got what he prayed for and still remembered the Giver. He returned to give thanks to God at the feet of Jesus. And he received a far greater blessing than the healing of his body. Arise, go your way, Jesus said. Your faith has made you well. Your faith has “saved you.”

The others got what they prayed for; they were saved from leprosy. But they forfeit having Jesus as their Savior from sin, as the One whose mercy would save them from wrath on the day of wrath and would see them all the way through this life into an eternal inheritance. The one who returned to give thanks got what he prayed for and more, even the gift of eternal life.

That one who returned, the Samaritan, could truly pray the words of the prophet Jeremiah which you heard in the First Lesson this morning: O LORD, the hope of Israel, All who forsake You shall be ashamed. Jesus was the hope of all ten lepers at first, but the nine who forsook Him will be ashamed at the Last Day. As God warns, “Those who depart from Me Shall be written in the earth”—a poetic way of saying that they will die and be buried and perish eternally. Why? Because they have forsaken the LORD, The fountain of living waters.” People think that having some earthly healing, some earthly comfort, some earthly pleasure is all they need from God. But they fail to recognize that He is the “fountain of living waters,” who hands out those living waters in the preaching of the Gospel, in Baptism, in the Sacrament of the Altar. Again, the Samaritan was the one who truly prayed with the prophet Jeremiah, Heal me, O LORD, and I shall be healed; Save me, and I shall be saved, For You are my praise.

St. Paul urges the Galatian Christians and us in today’s Epistle not to return to the filth from which we were once cleansed, the wicked works of the flesh. Instead, he writes, those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit. There are few who do. But for those few, those happy few, there awaits the greater blessing.

So, you who have been cleansed by Jesus in Holy Baptism, ask the Lord for mercy, in every hardship, in every weakness. Pray to Jesus for any and every good gift. But be careful not to get carried away with the gift so that you walk away from the Giver. Even more than the gift you seek, pray that God would keep you from becoming like the nine in our Gospel who didn’t remain believing, and therefore didn’t return in thanksgiving. Instead, give thanks that Jesus is still here, making Himself available to you to come to Him, to worship Him, to give thanks to Him, and even more importantly, to receive from Him the greater blessing of eternal salvation. Pray with Jeremiah and with the one, Heal me, O LORD, and I shall be healed; Save me, and I shall be saved, For You are my praise. Amen.

Sermon for Trinity 13

Leviticus 18:1-5  +  Galatians 3:15-22  +  Luke 10:23-37

We have before us today in the Gospel a lesson in morality. Now, what is morality? It comes from the Latin word for “custom.” It means to be accustomed to pursuing virtue and fleeing from vice. As for virtue, as St. Augustine once said, “Virtue is nothing but to love that which is lovable.” There are many virtues that God has written right into the fabric of human nature: Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude and Justice have been called the “cardinal virtues.” Add to those Faith, Hope, and Charity, and you have the seven categories of virtue that people have named. But you could also name honesty, integrity, compassion, patience, kindness, fairness, faithfulness, selflessness, diligence, and so on. Those things are lovable. And everyone knows it, including all the religions of the world, both ancient and modern.

That’s why people imagine that Christianity, too, is primarily a path to morality—fixing bad behavior, teaching people how to behave rightly, morally, instilling virtue and removing vice. That’s why practically everyone misinterprets Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan. It is a lesson in morality. But the point of it is far more frightening—and far more comforting!—than anyone would guess.

Our Gospel begins with Jesus overflowing with joy as His disciples told Him of all the people who were hearing and believing His Gospel. Blessed are the eyes which see the things you see; for I tell you that many prophets and kings have desired to see what you see, and have not seen it, and to hear what you hear, and have not heard it. Hmm. This sounds like something out of the ordinary, doesn’t it?, this Gospel that Jesus was preaching. People had been hearing for thousands of years about virtue and morality. God had inscribed it into His holy Law back at the time of Moses, and even the pagans knew about it. What Jesus was preaching was not morality. It was something else.

But not everyone grasped that, even at that time. That lawyer stood up, a man well-trained in the Law of Moses. He had spent his life studying the moral law that Moses had laid down. What new thing could Jesus possibly be teaching, when perfect morality had already been set down in the Law?

Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life? And Jesus replied, “What is written in the law? What is your reading of it?” So he answered and said, “ ‘You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind,’ and ‘your neighbor as yourself.’ ” And He said to him, “You have answered rightly; do this and you will live.”

See, nothing new there! Just do what the Law has always told you to do. Love the LORD with all your heart, and love your neighbor as yourself. That is the perfect summary of morality, and the Ten Commandments outline some of the details of what that is supposed to look like in practice.

Just do what the law has always told you to do. Be the moral person God commands you to be. Do the moral things God commands you to do. And avoid all vice and immorality.

That’s easier said than done, and the lawyer knew it. He was at least that honest. Maybe there’s a way around the command? A way to soften it a little? Maybe if I just focus on my family, I can be the good, selfless, honorable person the law demands that I be? But he, wanting to justify himself, said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

The parable of the Good Samaritan is Jesus’ extended answer to that question. Kind of a, here, let Me show you what morality looks like when it comes to your fellow man.

A man was robbed, beaten, and left for dead by some obviously immoral bandits. They’re obviously lawbreakers. But that wasn’t Jesus’ point. A priest came by and became a neighbor—someone close by—and should have behaved like a moral neighbor should, should have had compassion and helped the poor man, but didn’t. That was immoral on his part. A Levite, someone who also served in the Temple of God, came by and did the same thing. More immorality. Then along came the Samaritan, a half-breed between Jew and Gentile—people who normally hated the Jews, who hated them right back. But not this one. No hatred. Only care, compassion, commitment to helping. He goes above and beyond. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine; and he set him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. On the next day, when he departed, he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said to him, ‘Take care of him; and whatever more you spend, when I come again, I will repay you.

You hear this story, and I’d say the vast majority of people in the world would say, that Samaritan was truly a good man. He did the moral thing. And our hearts grows warm for a moment and a smile spreads across our face as we ponder his kindness. “Isn’t it wonderful that there are such people in this world?”

That is, until we realize what the parable was for. It was to answer the lawyer’s first question. “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus’ response is, “Go and do likewise.” Really? This is the answer to the question? I have to be that person? And not just on one occasion, and not just toward my family and friends and loved ones, but every time I come across a person who needs my help? And not begrudgingly, but honestly and earnestly, with that kind of love?

That’s not who I am, even on my best day. I get frustrated with my own family members, with the people I love more than anyone else on earth. Don’t you? I find that, sometimes, it’s the people close to me with whom I grow frustrated, impatient, who are bothering me, whom I don’t always want to help, and sometimes don’t help.

Now, maybe you do a better job than I do at leading a moral life. Some people are kinder than others, fairer than others, more honest than others. Some people go down to the soup kitchen to lend a hand. That’s great work.

But it won’t save you. Before God’s Law, even the best of you, the best of us, are not good people, are not moral people. And for as much as we’d like to think that Christianity is here to make us into more moral people, it isn’t. It’s here, first of all, to show you that you can’t be moral enough to inherit eternal life. That’s the frightening lesson of the Good Samaritan. It’s really a terrifying story.

So, devastated—hopefully! —by Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan, which is really nothing but an explanation of the Law of Moses, we turn to Jesus’ other message, that “new” teaching that was drawing masses of people into the kingdom of heaven, which the eyes of Jesus’ disciples were blessed to see and their ears were blessed to hear.

Eternal life is not sold for a price; God’s favor is not earned by your virtuous behavior. Pursuing virtue will not get you one step closer to heaven, and if all you have to show for yourself is a long record of immorality, there is still hope.

Because, even though the Law of God has cut you down to shreds, and the teachers of the Law—the priests and Levites and moral teachers of all kinds—have left you for dead, a Good Samaritan has come along, true God and true Man, the Lord Jesus Christ. He should rightfully hate you, but He doesn’t. He saw you in your misery and took pity on you. He gave His own life on the cross for your immorality and purchased eternal life for you with His blood. And now He has come along and washed your wounds in Holy Baptism and has entrusted you to the ongoing care of His holy Church, which is not here to turn you into the kind of moral person who deserves God’s favor, but which is here to keep tending to your immorality with the forgiveness of sins until Christ returns. As we have said often, the Christian Church is not a resort for the healthy, but a hospital for the sick.

This is the “foolishness of the cross.” This is the stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, that Christ Jesus did not come to teach virtue, but to be the One who will save the wicked through faith in His virtue.

Now, that doesn’t mean you should remain immoral people or that you shouldn’t pursue virtue. God’s will for you hasn’t changed. He still commands moral behavior of His dear Christians, as outlined in the Ten Commandments, and He still condemns immorality. And He does command you to “Go and do likewise,” to do as the Samaritan did. But His will is not to save you by your obedience. His will is to save those who have been condemned by His Law by calling you to repent and trust in Christ Jesus. And His promise is to forgive you your sins through faith in His promise of free salvation.

This is what made the eyes and ears of Jesus’ disciples blessed. This was what St. Paul was explaining in today’s Epistle. The Law of Moses came after the free promise was made to Abraham. And that promise, formally sealed in the covenant God made with Abraham and His Seed, which is Christ, cannot be changed or annulled by the Law. Salvation is through faith alone. It has always been that way.

So, no, Christianity is not primarily a path to morality or a means to an end of virtuous behavior. If Christ Jesus is, before all else, a teacher of morality, then He is essentially no different than any other religious leader who ever lived and you might as well follow one of them. No, Christianity is far different from any other religion, and Christ is far different than every other teacher. Give thanks to God that He sent this truly Good Samaritan to show you mercy and charity in your wretched state of immorality. And with confidence in the free forgiveness of sins that is yours through faith in Christ Jesus, let the healing of your behavior and your morals also begin and continue until God Himself perfects it in eternal life. Amen.

Sermon for Trinity 11

2 Samuel 22:21-29  +  1 Corinthians 15:1-10  +  Luke 18:9-14

Our Scripture lessons today take us from the heights of Pharisaical pride down to the deepest depths of humility, and then back up again to a righteousness that remains rooted in humility.

Jesus concludes our Gospel with these words: Everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted. To exalt is to lift up. To humble is to lower down. Humility is an attitude of the heart, an attitude that shows itself in a person’s demeanor, a person’s speech, and a person’s actions. Humbling, Jesus says, is going to happen to everyone, one way or another. Everyone is going to be humbled and brought down low. The only question is, who’s going to do it? Will you lower yourself down, or will God do it?

Now, there are different kinds of humility, but only two that are approved by God. The first kind is for those who really are higher than others in some way. They’re higher in office. They’re stronger, smarter, better at something, richer, nobler, more important somehow. Humility doesn’t mean denying those things. To pretend that everyone is equal in gifts and abilities and responsibilities is to deny reality. Humility means that, in spite of their higher position or their greater accomplishments, those who are higher don’t look down condescendingly on those who are lower. They don’t brag about themselves. They don’t demand better treatment. In fact, they gladly serve the people who are in the lowest place. This is the humility of Jesus Himself, who, though He is higher than all creation, humbled Himself all the way down to suffering and dying on the cross in order to serve sinners. That’s a humility we Christians are called upon to imitate, and Jesus’ parable of the ambitious wedding guest highlights that kind of humility.

But today’s Gospel highlights the other kind of humility. This kind of humility is for sinners of all kinds, and especially for those who have been fooling themselves into thinking they’re higher, better, or more important than others, when, in reality, they aren’t, because all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. As it is written: “There is none righteous, no, not one; There is none who understands; There is none who seeks after God. They have all turned aside; They have together become unprofitable; There is none who does good, no, not one.” “Their throat is an open tomb; With their tongues they have practiced deceit”; “The poison of asps is under their lips”; “Whose mouth is full of cursing and bitterness.” “Their feet are swift to shed blood; Destruction and misery are in their ways; And the way of peace they have not known.” “There is no fear of God before their eyes.”

That’s how God sees the human race according to the strict judgment of His holy Law. Those words apply to the Pharisee as well as the tax collector. The only difference is, the tax collector knows it, and it weighs heavily on him, as it should.

Jesus told the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector to those who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others. That’s the opposite of humility. That’s what it means to exalt yourself, to deny the reality of your sin and your utter neediness before God, and then, thinking you’re better than your neighbor, to look down on him and despise him. We call it a “self-righteous” attitude. And it damns people to hell.

So Jesus painted the picture of the self-righteous Pharisee to shame the self-righteous, to lead the self-righteous to humble themselves before it’s too late, before God Himself does it. There stands the Pharisee in the temple, daring to brag to God about how righteous he is, daring to remind God how much more righteous he is than that sinful tax collector over there.

And then there’s the tax collector, standing off in a corner, penitent, beating his breast, confessing his sins, seeking nothing from God but mercy.

From man’s perspective, the Pharisee has every reason to brag, and the tax collector has every reason to be ashamed. But here Jesus reveals God’s perspective: Both men are sinners. But only one of them—the tax collector who humbled himself before God—goes home justified, forgiven by God and declared to be righteous in His sight. He humbled himself, and so God exalted him, whereas the Pharisee who exalted himself is humbled by God. And if God humbles you, who is left to lift you up?

So proud self-righteousness is condemned by Jesus, and humility is praised, the humility of recognizing that, before God, we really are all the same when it comes to our sinfulness and need for His mercy. One may commit more sins than another outwardly. But it’s like the difference between a person who is dying of internal injuries vs. a person who is dying of both internal and external injuries. There’s no real difference, is there?

Now, recognizing that you are just as unrighteous as everyone else is the beginning of humility, but it isn’t yet righteousness. True righteousness also includes the humility of not trying to save yourself; of trusting in God to do it all, of crying out to Him for charity, for mercy, for grace. But you can’t do that without a promise of charity, a promise of mercy, a promise of grace. And you have that promise in the true Temple of God, at the real altar of sacrifice—the altar of the cross of Christ. There God has heaped up all the sins of every sinner and punished Christ for them. And here in the Gospel you have God’s promise that all who humble themselves, that is, all who lower themselves to acknowledge their sins and who look to Christ for mercy, will surely find it.

The tax collector found it. He went down to his house justified, exalted to the status of a righteous man before God, and so will you, if you humble yourselves. That’s not a one-time humbling. It’s the daily repentance that characterizes the Christian life.

But then, humility doesn’t mean staying in a corner somewhere, doing nothing but beating your breast in sorrow. God exalts the humble, first with justification. Then, with opportunities to put righteousness into practice, to serve and to excel.

What great things can be accomplished by such people whose righteousness is rooted in humility! Look at King David! From his slaying of Goliath, to his victories over the Philistines, to his uniting of the tribes of Israel, to his plans for building the Temple, He accomplished great things for the kingdom of God. And, when it came to his dealings with Saul and with his enemies, he could truly say, as you heard in the First Lesson today, I was also blameless before Him, and I kept myself from my iniquity. Now, this David of 2 Samuel 22 is the same David of 2 Samuel 11 who slept with Bathsheba and murdered her husband! It’s the same David who confessed in Psalm 51, For I acknowledge my transgressions, and my sin is always before me.  Against You, You only, have I sinned, and done this evil in Your sight. David the sinner humbled himself before God, and God exalted him. He forgave him, and then David, in humility and in forgiveness, went forth to serve God, not trusting in himself, but trusting in the One who had exalted Him.

The Apostle Paul did the same thing. He was a murderer, a persecutor of the church. But Jesus warned him to humble himself, and he did, and he was forgiven. And as he remarked in our Epistle today, by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace toward me was not in vain; but I labored more abundantly than they all, yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me. Once God had exalted him in forgiveness, God also exalted him by giving him ways to serve, and Paul went forth from then on, to serve God with his whole life, recognizing his own hard work and his achievements, and yet always in humility, giving God all the glory for it.

This is what righteousness rooted in humility looks like—first the tax collector, who comes before God with nothing but a confession of his sin and a cry for mercy. Then the righteousness of God’s free justification and forgiveness for the sake of Christ. Then the righteousness of the forgiven sinner serving God and doing good to his neighbor, because now you see your neighbor, no longer as someone who is beneath you, but as someone who is right down there in the depths of sin with you, who is just as sinful and deserving of God’s condemnation as you are. Now you see your neighbor, not as someone to despise, but as someone to love, as someone to serve, even as Christ loved you and came, not to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many. May we all humble ourselves in this way! Then God will be the One, not to humble us, but to lift us up in due time. Amen.