(This sermon draws on the theme of our midweek Lenten services this year as we followed the Gospel of St. John leading up to Holy Week: The Hour Is Coming for the Son of Man to Be Glorified)
On the night before He laid down His life, Jesus prayed, And now, O Father, glorify Me together with Yourself, with the glory which I had with You before the world was.
How hollow those words must have rung in the ears of Jesus’ disciples as the events of Thursday and Friday unfolded. If ever a prayer seemed to have gone unanswered, this was it. Where was this eternal glory that Jesus had shared with the Father since before the world was, since before the Word was made flesh? Humbled and crucified and lying dead in a tomb.
Or so Mary Magdalene thought. In truth, Jesus had passed over from death to life. In reality, He had suffered for sin once for all, defeating sin, hell, Satan, and death. He had been dead, but now was alive forever and ever, never to die again. He had been shown with power to be the Son of God by His resurrection from the dead, and so was glorified in His resurrection.
But still not glorified in how He appeared. Mary didn’t recognize Him at first on that first day of the week—she certainly didn’t see anything spectacular about His appearance, as Peter, James and John had seen at His transfiguration.
But then Jesus called her by name, and she beheld the glory of the Risen One, not in how He appeared, but in the fact that He appeared at all, in the reality that He who was crucified, died and was buried, now stood before her living and breathing. She beheld His glory in the truth of His life.
Jesus said to Mary, “Do not cling to Me, for I have not yet ascended to My Father; but go to My brethren and say to them, ‘I am ascending to My Father and your Father, and to My God and your God.’ ”
Jesus would receive more glory still; He would fully enter into His glory again when He would ascend into heaven and sit at the right hand of God and fully share again in the glory He had with the Father since before the world was. That had to happen. Mary wasn’t allowed to cling to Jesus’ risen body to try to hold Him down on earth and keep Him here in this visible way.
But what Mary was given, what Jesus’ disciples were given, what you and I and all Christians have been given, from this very moment until the end of time, is the right to be called Jesus’ brethren—His brothers, the right to call God “our Father” and “our God.” Here’s how St. John had put it way back at the beginning of his Gospel:
He came to His own, and His own did not receive Him. But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name: who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.
The risen Christ has called each of you by name, too, when through the minister who baptized you, He spoke your name and brought you to faith in Christ crucified and risen, and adopted you, too, as God’s child. Now you claim His death as your death. Now His life is your life, and you will share forever in the glory of the only-begotten Son of God. And the words with which St. John began His Gospel have new meaning for you who have heard and believed the words of Jesus’ suffering, death and resurrection: And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. Amen.
Isaiah 50:6-9 + Isaiah 52:13-53:12 + John 18:1-19:42
Today, the Good Friday Gospel holds up to our faces those graphic, bloody, deathly images of Jesus, and we are confronted with the question, “Is this really the one in whom you believe?” So many people have this vague image of Jesus in their heads, they don’t really have a clue what it means to believe in Him. But Good Friday doesn’t allow anyone to fudge on their faith. Christians stake their very lives, their eternal existence, their health and their wealth and their future—and the future of their children—on this confession: “I believe in Jesus Christ.” And of all days, Good Friday fleshes out that confession for us.
It’s summarized in the Second Article of the Apostles’ Creed:
I believe in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary. What does this mean? I believe that Jesus Christ, true God, begotten of the Father from eternity, and also true man, born of the virgin Mary, is my Lord.
At Christmas we recall this amazing truth, that the baby conceived and born of the Virgin Mary, was every bit as human as you and I, but that He is also every bit as divine as God, the Father Almighty. True man and true God. When you consider that truth in the context of Christmas, it’s wonderful; it brings a smile to your face. True man and true God, lying in a manger…It’s an awesome reality.
When you consider that truth in the context of Good Friday, true man and true God being spit upon, punched, slapped, flogged, and mocked – true man who cringed at every blow, true God who suffered like this at the hand of His creatures, true man and true God hanging on a cross…it’s an awesome, but awful reality.
And what did it all accomplish?
He has redeemed me, a lost and condemned creature, purchased and won me from all sins, from death and from the power of the devil, not with gold or silver, but with his holy, precious blood and with his innocent suffering and death.
It was part of God’s plan before the world was made to redeem and reconcile the human race that would rebel against God and ruin itself with sin, as God knew full well in His foreknowledge. There was only one way to do it, only one way “redeem” or to “buy back” the world of lost and condemned creatures from our well-deserved condemnation. God and Man had to unite in the Person of Jesus, the Christ. The Son of God had to assume into His divine nature—a nature inherited from His Father from eternity—a human nature inherited from His mother Mary some 2,015 years ago. It’s what made Him a perfect Mediator between God and man; it’s what gave Him blood to shed and made His blood holy and precious; it’s what gave His blood the cleansing power to cover the sins of the world. Anything less than true Man, and man has no Substitutionary sacrifice. Anything less than true God, and His sacrifice is not enough. But as true God and true Man, His sacrifice is enough to turn God’s wrath away from our sins; it’s enough to turn God’s wrath away from every sinner. This truth remains unchanged for all eternity: Jesus Christ, true God and true Man, suffered and died for the sins of the world. No one living can ever say, “Jesus didn’t die for me.” With His suffering and death He has merited—He has earned righteousness, forgiveness, and eternal life for all men, so that if the whole world were to believe in Jesus, then the whole world would be justified. So unbelievers, those who have never been and never will be justified by the blood of Christ through faith, have only themselves to blame. Because Jesus died for all. And in the Gospel, God holds out the sufferings and death of Christ to all men, and truly wants all men to be saved through faith in the holy, precious blood of Christ—even those who betrayed Him, even those who stood at His cross and mocked, even you and me.
Why? Why would He do it? Why would the Son of God submit Himself to suffering and death for a world of sinners who had already sided with Satan? Why would He shed His blood to redeem a world that would still reject Him by the billions, even after hearing of His loving sacrifice, so that the majority of men will never enter the kingdom of God? Why?!?
All this He did that I should be His own, and live under Him in His kingdom, and serve Him in everlasting righteousness, innocence and blessedness, just as He has risen from death and lives and rules eternally.
You see, it’s not as if Jesus is disappointed by the results of His sacrifice, as if His sacrifice would only be worth it if enough people were saved by faith in Him. Jesus, true God and true Man, knew full well that His sacrifice made for all would only end up saving a remnant, a precious few who would receive Him in faith, who would hear of His death and rely on Him for life. All this He did that you should be His own. You are the reason why Jesus came into the world and suffered under Pontius Pilate and stayed on the cross until He breathed His last, so that He could call you His, and you could call Him your God. If you are hearing this Gospel, then know for certain that it is meant for you.
Jesus had you in view when He volunteered for this suicide mission—all for you, so that you might belong to Him now and no longer to the devil, so that you might live now in fullness of life, a life that is no longer lived in fear of God’s wrath, a life that will never be snuffed out by death. All this He did for you, so that you may no longer live as a slave to sin, but as a servant of the Most High God, free now to offer your bodies as living sacrifices to Him whose dying sacrifice purchased a place in heaven for you, and whose resurrection from the dead guarantees His ability to raise you as well, and to rule over all things so that you may spend a blessed eternity with Him.
“I believe in Jesus Christ.” So Christians have confessed for millennia in the Apostles’ Creed. So you confess and stake your very life on it, because today of all days, you know who He is and what He has done, and why He did it all. He did it all for you, and He’d do it again a hundred times if He had to. But He doesn’t. Because by one sacrifice He has made perfect forever those who are being made holy—that’s you, who believe in Jesus Christ. “Is this really the one in whom you believe?” Today of all days, we answer with a resounding, “Yes!” Amen.
Exodus 12:1-14 + 1 Corinthians 11:23-32 + Passion History (preparations for Passover through Gethsemane prayers)
Jesus’ hour had finally come. This was the hour, this was the day, this was the Passover feast that every other Passover feast had been pointing to for almost 1,500 years. This was the Passover feast to end all Passover feasts, because all the rest were fulfilled in this one, and at this one, Jesus would institute a new one, a better one, a permanent one. This First Day of the feast of Unleavened Bread when, as Mark and Luke specifically tell us, they killed the Passover Lamb—this Thursday evening was the beginning of Jesus’ Passover as the Lamb of God, marked for slaughter from before the world’s foundations were laid. His hour had finally come.
But before stepping out into “His hour,” before stepping out into the dark night with His disciples to face the agony and the loneliness of Gethsemane and the approach of the betrayer and all the torture and injustice of the next 18 hours, Jesus had a final gift to bestow on His disciples, and on us, through them. The New Testament Gift…on the same night in which He was betrayed.
We speak of Maundy Thursday every Sunday, and sometimes in between. “Our Lord Jesus Christ, on the same night in which He was betrayed, took bread…” Every celebration of the Sacrament of the Altar brings us back to Maundy Thursday and places us with Jesus and His disciples in that upper room, at that Passover celebration where Jesus took over for the lamb.
At the first Passover, it was the blood of lambs and goats that the Israelites used to paint the doorframes of their houses so that the destroying angel would see and pass over. And by means of that great deliverance, God effectively removed the chains on the enslaved children of Israel and broke open the prison doors that kept them from leaving Egypt. Since then, every Passover every year was a reminder of that deliverance. But it was more than that. It was also a participation in that deliverance, because every Passover celebration for the Israelites outside of Egypt was a celebration of the freedom from slavery that they were now enjoying, freedom that was purchased with the blood of the first Passover lambs.
But on the night in which He was betrayed, Jesus took over for the lamb. Because there is a slavery for mankind that is much worse than the slavery of Israel in Egypt. It’s a slavery we got ourselves into by our sins against God’s commandments. It’s a slavery we pass down to our children as they inherit the ugliness of our natural self-love and distrust of God. It’s a slavery in which most of mankind still lives, and there’s nothing any of us can do to work our way out of it. Our works can’t make things right with God. The blood of a lamb can’t make things right with God. Even our own death can’t make things right with God. Only the life-blood, only the death of the sinless Son of God could redeem us from this slavery.
But even before He would spill His blood, Jesus would give His blood to His disciples in order to mark the doors of their hearts, and even before His body would be tortured and killed, He would give it to His disciples to feed them with the Bread of Life, with the medicine of eternal life, as our Confessions call it.
What is the Sacrament of the Altar? My catechism students can tell you word for word: It is the true body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, under the bread and wine, instituted by Christ Himself for us Christians to eat and to drink.
How can it be that Jesus gave His disciples His body and blood when He was sitting right there with them? How can He give it now to us? I don’t know. He is God. He does as He pleases. And more importantly, He does as He says. This is My Body; This is My blood. Surely He who brought out the sun, the moon and the stars with a word can perform this miracle with His Word, too.
On the same night in which He was betrayed, Jesus took this Passover meal and changed it into something “new,” into a lasting gift to His Church on earth by means of which He would hand out the forgiveness of sins He would finish earning on the cross. And from that first Maundy Thursday night until the end of time, Jesus’ disciples have been and will be taking bread and wine, blessing them with Jesus’ own words, and distributing them to Christians for the forgiveness of sins, for the building up of faith, and for strengthening Christians against fear, doubt and temptation. Now it’s the meal that celebrates the spilling of the blood of Christ to redeem sinners from sin, death and the devil. Now it’s the meal in which God allows us to commune with Christ, not in some spiritual or metaphorical sense, but to come together with the real body and blood of the real Jesus—the price of our redemption, to come together with Him so that all of our wretchedness becomes His and all of His righteousness becomes ours.
Jesus calls this gift His blood of the “new covenant,” or a better word in English, the new “testament.” The Old Testament, first made with Abraham, sealed with the blood of circumcision, then ratified at Sinai and filled with the blood of animals, had reached its divinely appointed end on Maundy Thursday. Jesus, the Son of Man, the Son of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the Son of David, was the heir of the Old Testament. But the heir was about to die! So He left for His believers a New Testament, in which He bequeaths to us everything He has, even His own righteousness as a blanket to cover our sins so that when God sees us, all He sees is His Son. All He sees when He looks at a believer in Christ is someone who has already suffered for all sins, because you have Christ wrapped around you, who suffered for all sins so you don’t have to suffer for any sin. All He sees when He looks at a believer in Christ is someone who is perfectly righteous and obedient even to death on a cross, because Jesus was obedient even to death on a cross, so you don’t need any righteousness of your own to stand before Him.
The cup that Jesus drank on the night in which He was betrayed was a bitter cup of agony, the bitter cup of God’s wrath and punishment against all sinners. But because Jesus willingly took that cup and drank it for us, the cup that He gives us in the Sacrament of the Altar has no bitterness left in it, only the sweet communion in the blood of Christ, and the pleasant promise of life after death.
Over these next three days we will continue to follow our Savior on His Passover journey, to the cross, to the grave, and to Easter victory. But tonight, and every Lord’s Day, Jesus invites us Christians, not just to watch, but to participate in His Passover journey to the cross, to the grave, and to Easter victory. Here in His body, here in the New Testament in His blood, given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins. Amen.
Zechariah 9:9-10 + Philippians 2:5-11 + Matthew 21:1-9
Palm Sunday is a day of great gladness for us in the Church. We wave our palm branches; we walk in our procession; we hear the Palm Sunday Gospel and we sing our hymns of praise that mimic the song of praise sung to Jesus by the people of Jerusalem long ago. It’s a day of great gladness for us, not because we don’t know what happened later on during that Holy Week, but because we do.
And more importantly, Jesus knew what would happen. Palm Sunday would be a really pathetic celebration otherwise. Poor Jesus! There He goes riding into Jerusalem to the praises of the crowds—but where would all these worshipers be on Friday? Poor Jesus! There He goes, thinking that Jerusalem actually loves Him, thinking that the holy city will be loyal to Him. Poor Jesus! If only He knew…
But that’s just it. He did know. He knew everything that would happen to Him during Holy Week, every gory detail, with the knowledge of the Son of God, with the infallible prophecies of the Sacred Scriptures. He knew about the donkeys, where they would be, and about their owner, how he would readily give them up for the Lord’s service. He knew how this ride would go, how the crowds would receive Him. And what He must do. He knew the humiliation that awaited Him, and the encounters with His enemies and the conflicts with the Jewish leaders and the betrayal by His friend and the abandonment of all His friends and how the Jews would call out “Crucify!” He knew and still went through with it, still rode into Jerusalem happy to meet His people, happy to be greeted by His people. Jesus was greatly humbled during Holy Week, absolutely and completely humiliated. But no man and no devil brought Jesus down. We see it already today in our Gospel. Christ chooses the lowest. Therefore we sing, Hosanna in the Highest!
There they are—Jesus and His disciples at the Mount of Olives, just across the valley from the city of Jerusalem, high up on a hill. It’s time for the Passover. They have to be in Jerusalem for the feast. But they can’t just walk up to the gates, not this time. There is a prophecy that needs to be fulfilled, written by the Prophet Zechariah. The Christ, the true Son of David, the King of Israel had to come into Jerusalem, Mt. Zion, riding on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey. He had never entered Jerusalem that way before, as far as we know, but then, Jesus knew that this time was different. This is the time when He comes “just and having salvation, lowly and riding on a donkey.” This is the time when He comes, not just with His usual lowliness—Jesus was never pretentious, never wealthy, never politically powerful—, but this time He comes to lower Himself as low as a man can go, to be stripped of every bit of dignity, stripped of all His friends, stripped of His reputation, stripped of His legal rights, stripped of His safety, stripped of His life. Jesus was brought so low that not a single man or woman on earth can ever claim to be lower than Jesus became. But while you or I may be brought low by other people or by God Himself against our will, while you or I may be tricked into being humiliated or walk unknowingly into a trap, Jesus does this amazing thing of choosing to be made low.
He didn’t have to. As Paul said in the Epistle, “Being in the form of God, He did not consider it robbery to be equal with God.” In other words, for you or me to want to be equal with God or treated like God or to walk around like we are God—that would be robbery, trying to take something that doesn’t belong to us, trying to forcibly remove God from His throne. God is high. We are low. That’s the way it is.
But the Son of God had every right to be treated like God, and yet He chose lowliness instead. He had the right to remain outside of His creation, to remain “unincarnate.” But that was too high for Jesus. He chose to be incarnate of the Holy Spirit and the virgin Mary and to be made man. Then, He had the right, as the God-Man, to be worshiped and honored by His whole creation, to wealth and riches and glory and fame. But that was too high for Jesus. He chose to live instead as a poor man, with no house or home or luxury. Then, He still had the right to be treated justly and fairly by society; He had the right to be loved by His neighbor, even as He loved His neighbor perfectly; He had the right, under God’s Law, to live forever and never die. But even that was too high for Jesus. He chose the lowest.
He chose it, because He knew what His people needed, and what you and I need, too. Better than we do. We think we need an earthly king, someone to make this world a happier place, a kinder and gentler place with more justice and less crime. We think we need a Jesus who will praise us and make us feel good and tell us what a good job we’re doing of living according to His commandments, how, unlike some people, we are really holding up our end of the divine bargain. We think we need some nice gentle words of affirmation, to tell us that, even though we’re not perfect, we’re not really so bad after all and that God loves us because He sees that deep down we’re really decent people.
But that’s not what God finds when He examines any human being according to the holiness of His law. He doesn’t find good people. He finds sinners who fall short of His glory, not sometimes, not here and there, but everywhere and all the time.
What we really need is for God to humble Himself. What we really need is a King who is willing to go to battle for us all by Himself. What we really need is for God to lower Himself all the way down to our human level, to subject Himself to hatred, to become a servant, a slave, so that the slaves can go free. What we really need is for God to become obedient in our place, obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.
But Jesus knew that. It’s why He told His disciples to go fetch Him that donkey and her colt, so that He could ride into Jerusalem and meet His sinful people there, and finish what He had started at His conception and His birth, to finish His obedience in our place, to finish earning the forgiveness of sins and righteousness for the whole world of sinners, to finish lowering Himself, for us.
As we sang in the hymn, “Yea, Father, yea, most willingly I’ll bear what Thou commandest; My will conforms to Thy decree, I do what Thou demandest.”
It’s the news of the willingness and the kindness and compassion of Jesus, our humble King; the news of His purposeful decision to ride into Jerusalem on a donkey and to choose the lowest place for us that makes you believe in Him, that brings you to faith in Him. And it’s through faith in Him that God forgives you your sins and gives you all the good things that Jesus earned for us all. Without faith in Jesus, a person is on his own and will find out what God’s wrath feels like. With faith in Jesus, there is no more wrath—only mercy and grace and eternal life.
Here in the Gospel, we witness Jesus choosing the lowest, and as this Gospel kindles faith in us, we want to join the crowds in their song, “Hosanna in the Highest!”
Again we see the mercy and kindness of Jesus in accepting that worship from these people. Just as He knew what He would face over the next few days, He knew that these people’s faith was weak and frail and faltering and fickle, that for some of them, it wouldn’t last the week. But for the moment, it’s still faith. It’s still trust in Jesus and a clinging to Jesus as the Savior. Jesus doesn’t choose the highest ranking, most important people in this world. He chooses the lowest, and so Jesus welcomed the songs and the worship of this lowly crowd who believed in Him, and refused to silence them when the Pharisees complained.
Now what exactly does faith offer to Jesus? Is it like, “Here I am. I give you my heart, Jesus!” Whenever someone talks about giving their heart to Jesus, I always ask, “What would He want with that dirty old thing?” Faith isn’t “giving your heart to Jesus” or “giving your life to Jesus” or giving anything to Jesus. Faith is receiving things from Jesus. What did the people sing to Him? Hosanna! Save us now! Blessed is He who comes…Hosanna in the highest!” You see, their song is not a song of giving, but a song of longing to receive salvation and help from Jesus, the blessed One. Faith is the confession of the heart that Jesus Christ is Lord, and to look to Him for every good thing, and faith receives every good thing from Him, like the crowds of Jerusalem did, with thanksgiving!
You remember the Greek word for “thanksgiving”? Eucharist! It’s no coincidence that we sing the song of Palm Sunday before every Eucharist, before every Holy Communion. Hosanna! Blessed is He…Hosanna in the highest! Because in the Holy Supper we gather, not to “give” our works to Jesus but to give thanks for His works and His benefits being given to us in His body and blood. This is the worship of faith, to trust in Him, to call on His name alone for salvation, to come to Him to receive His gifts. We sing to Him, “Hosanna in the highest!” because He chose the lowest in giving His body and blood into death, and even now He chooses to give us the highest possible gifts in the lowest possible form, in a meal that looks lowly, but in reality, like Jesus, it isn’t lowly at all.
It isn’t lowly, because Jesus isn’t lowly anymore. You heard the Apostle Paul speak of His exaltation in the Epistle. That God has now exalted Him to the highest place and given Him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. This is one whose name you confess and sing today. This is the one whose lowliness you praise, and whose humility you are called to imitate every day.
Today is a day of great gladness in the Church as we acknowledge the tender mercies of our humble King. Christ chooses the lowest. So let us join our song to the song of the daughter of Zion. Hosanna in the highest! Amen.
