Emmanuel Lutheran Church

Sermon for Trinity 13

Galatians 3:15-22  +  Luke 10:23-37

I saw a post on one of the Las Cruces community groups on Facebook this week. A local man was recounting how he had noticed a young woman, a complete stranger, being followed by a scary-looking man at a gas station, how he kept an eye on the young lady, gave her some advice, followed her to her car and scared the stalker away. It sounds, just a little bit, like the deed of a “good Samaritan,” doesn’t it? Now, did he do the right thing there for that stranger? Absolutely! Should every man offer that kind of assistance to a woman who may be in danger? Absolutely! But the question I’d like you to consider this morning is this: Did that man earn himself a place in heaven because of that good deed? The answer is, absolutely not!

And yet, some people are confused about the parable Jesus told in today’s Gospel. They think that’s exactly what it’s about, that Jesus is commanding people to go around doing good deeds for strangers in order to earn themselves a place in heaven. Nothing could be further from the truth.

You have to read this parable in context, as with all of Scripture. And what is the context of it? Luke tells us. An expert in the Law of Moses was testing Jesus. What must I do to inherit eternal life? It’s a strange question, because you don’t normally “do” anything to “inherit” something. You inherit something based on your relationship to someone, not because you’ve done a good deed. But this expert in the Law was confused, as many people are confused on this point. He was confusing the promises that God had made in the Old Testament to Abraham and his Seed—promises of the free gift of an inheritance—with the laws commanded by God through Moses, laws that had to be kept, that had to be obeyed, where God agreed to do His part if the people of Israel would do theirs.

Jesus asked him, What is written in the Law? How do you read it? Remember, “the Law” refers to the first five books of the Bible, starting with Genesis. Jesus was giving the man the opportunity to cite the promise God made to Abraham and his Seed in the book of Genesis about the inheritance. But instead, the man cited a portion of the law-covenant from Mt. Sinai: You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself. That’s a good summary of the whole moral Law. Complete and utter devotion to God, from the heart, and devotion to one’s neighbor has always been God’s will for mankind. And that will of God was codified and written down at Mt. Sinai, where the people of Israel all agreed: (1) This is what is good and right, and (2) we will do it. All the other laws proclaimed by Moses were examples of putting this law of love into practice.

So, since the expert in the Law wanted to focus on God’s moral commands, and since he believed that keeping those commands was the way to inherit eternal life, Jesus went along with him. You have answered correctly. Do this, and you will live. Love God with your whole heart. Love your neighbor as yourself. That’s your end of the bargain. That’s what you have to “do” to inherit eternal life—if you get it by “doing something.”

But if you do—if you gain eternal life by doing—then there’s always a follow-up question: “And how do I know I’ve done enough?” How do I know if I’ve loved the Lord enough, or if I’ve loved my neighbor as myself enough? You see, the expert in the Law was left in doubt. He understood that his own law, the law he loved so much, only made his hope of eternal life more doubtful. And so he tried to “justify himself.” He asked, “And who is my neighbor?” You see what he was getting at. If he can narrow down the list of people he’s commanded to love as himself, maybe he can at least pretend he’s done it. But if “his neighbor” includes too many other people, he knows he has no chance.

So Jesus answers the man’s question with the parable of the Good Samaritan. A man was beaten and robbed and left for dead on the side of the road. A priest (a servant of the Law) came along and offered no help. A Levite (another servant of the Law) came along and offered no help. But then a Samaritan came by. Samaritans lived in Samaria, north of Jerusalem. They had a little Jewish blood left in them and some Jewish practices and beliefs, mixed with pagan practices and beliefs. The Jews hated them. But this Samaritan came along and, when he saw the injured man, went right over to help him and offered every sort of help you could think of, including caring for his wounds, taking him to an inn, caring for him there, and then paying the innkeeper to keep looking after him while he was away on his journey, adding the commitment to return and pay any additional expenses he might incur.

Then Jesus turns to the expert in the Law and asks: Now which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell among the thieves?” And he said, “The one who showed mercy to him.” Mercy, which is nothing but a form of love. Mercy and love were at the heart of all God’s commandments. And so, with one parable, Jesus turned this man’s religion upside down, forcing this expert in the Law to look at what his Law really demanded of him: mercy and love toward everyone he encountered on his earthly journey, not once, not once in a while, but at every single opportunity.

And then Jesus spoke those terrifying words: Go and do likewise. What must you “do” to inherit eternal life? This is what the Law of God demands. If you would be saved by that Law-covenant, by doing your part to obey God’s commands, while God does His part to pay you the wages of eternal life, then you must do as the Good Samaritan did, showing genuine over-the-top mercy at every turn, in every way, with every person, at every opportunity, in every setting. Not just for injured (or endangered) strangers you come across, but for your parents, for your children, your brothers and sisters, your husband or wife, your coworkers, your boss, your friends and acquaintances, your fellow citizens whom you encounter day after day after day—and also for your enemies. Mercy. Self-less love, love that’s just like the kind of love you would have others show to you. And that’s just what God’s Law requires that you do toward your neighbor. We haven’t even touched on all the things you owe to God directly, to fear, love, and trust in Him above all things, to honor His name, to worship Him, and to cherish His Word above all things.

Terrifying, isn’t it? It should be, if you’re honest with yourself. And that’s the point. In fact, that was always the point of the Law, to reveal the sin that already lives inside each of us. As Paul wrote in today’s Epistle, “The Law was added for the sake of transgressions,” that is, that the Israelites and that all people might have God’s will spelled out for them so that they could see just how much they transgress it. Because sin is there in your heart and in your being, whether you can see it or not, whether you help the occasional stranger or not. The Law simply reveals it for what it is.

And then, once you’ve been beaten to a pulp by the Law, once it’s left you for dead on the side of the road, unable to lift a finger to save yourself, along comes this Samaritan—the Son of God, true God and true man, though despised by men. He comes along with the very, genuine, heartfelt mercy and compassion that He demands of us, because He made us originally in His image and wanted us to be like Him. But now, having come as a man, the Lord Jesus shows this mercy, not only as our example, but first and foremost as our Substitute. He gave His life on the cross for us out of mercy, as the payment for our sins. He began to heal us through Holy Baptism, where He forgave us our sins and gave us His Holy Spirit and made us heirs of eternal life—heirs who will inherit eternal life, not by doing the right things, but by believing in the Lord Jesus, who did everything we were supposed to for us, because we couldn’t.

And then, before He ascended to heaven, He put us battered, weak, still-sinful believers into the charge of the “innkeepers,” the ministers whom He has called into His Church, to keep tending to the spiritually wounded, to keep us on the narrow path that leads to life, to spur us on to love and good works, because while we received the forgiveness of our sins in Baptism and live now under God’s grace, we are not yet what we should be, what God is healing us to become: truly good Samaritans whose hearts are as full of mercy for our neighbor as the heart of Jesus Himself was and is.

We call that aspect of healing “sanctification,” the Holy Spirit’s ongoing work of turning believers into the image of Jesus in how we think and in how we live. So the same “go and do likewise” that first was intended to strike terror into the heart of secure sinners becomes, for the believer, our marching orders, to go and be like Jesus. It begins in the heart—hearts that have been renewed and recreated by God’s mercy and grace toward us. And then it extends to our hands and to our whole life. “Go and do likewise.” Go and walk in the footsteps of Christ, with mercy toward your neighbor, toward everyone whom God places next to you on your path through life, until He determines that your time here is done, or until He returns from His “journey,” and He brings you at last into the eternal life that all who persevere in the faith will inherit, not by doing good works under the Old Testament, but by believing in Christ Jesus, who has made us coheirs with Him in the New Testament in His blood. Amen.

Sermon for Trinity 11

1 Corinthians 15:1-10  +  Luke 18:9-14

Take a moment this morning and consider the priorities in your life. That’s helpful to do, once in a while, because your priorities will determine your decisions and your behavior. The word, priority, by the way, comes from a Latin word that means “to come first, to come before other things.” You could make a list of the things in your life that come before other things. The fact that you’re here today (or watching the service today) would suggest that hearing God’s Word is a priority for you. It obviously came before any of the other things you could be doing at the moment. Surely your family’s happiness and wellbeing is a priority. Hopefully your health makes the list. And serving your neighbor in love, that should be a priority for you, as a Christian. I’m sure you could come up with other things. But what’s at the top of the list? What’s your top priority in life? And a different question, which may or may not have the same answer, what should be your top priority? Well, if there is a God, and if He takes any interest at all in human affairs—and it’s obvious to any thinking person that there is and that He does—then the top priority has to be being right with God; to have His favor, both for this life and for the next. It’s more important than family. More important than health or wealth. More important than life itself.

Now, if it’s true that being right with God should be the top priority, then the most important thing to know is how a person can be right with God. And there are two basic answers to that question, illustrated for us today by Jesus in the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector. How can you have God’s favor? We have the Pharisee’s answer: “Be a good person! Be right with God by doing the right things and avoiding the wrong things!” And we have the tax collector’s answer: “Flee in faith to God’s throne of grace! Be righteous before God by faith in His promised mercy!” You already know which answer is the right answer. But you still need to hear it again from Jesus’ lips, because the Pharisee’s answer—the wrong answer—is the one that your natural heart always wants to go back to.

If even you Christians need to hear Jesus’ answer again, and again and again, then the unbelieving Pharisees certainly needed to hear it. Luke tells us that Jesus told the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector to certain people who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and despised others. That describes very many people in today’s world, too, people who think very highly of themselves, because they think they’ve done some very good things, things that, if there is a God, will certainly put them in good standing with Him.

The Pharisees knew there was a God. They knew many things about Him, true things, the things He had revealed about Himself in the creation as well as the things He had revealed about Himself in the Old Testament Scriptures. They knew His commandments; they knew His Law. One thing they didn’t know—because they passed right over it whenever they came across it in God’s Law—was that God’s Law demands, not only outward obedience, but perfect love for God first, and then for our neighbor, love that comes from the heart and shows itself with the hands and with good deeds. Sins of the heart and a lack of love in the heart are just as damning before God as any evil deed of the hand. The other thing they didn’t know—again, because they passed over it in the Old Testament Scriptures—was that none of their good deeds could erase, or make up for, any of their bad deeds.

And so we have this Pharisee in Jesus’ parable, a man well-respected and honored in the Jewish community, who went up to the Temple in Jerusalem to pray. How would we describe him, based on his behavior in the parable? He’s smug. Proud. Full of himself. And he’s so confident that he’s right with God already, because of how many good things he’s done, that he has no word of praise or thanks for what God has given him, no word of confession, not even a word of supplication, seeking God’s merciful help with anything. On the contrary, we see only a self-congratulatory “thank you” that I am not like other men—extortioners, unrighteous, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week, I give tithes of all that I possess.

Now, he’s an extreme version of a self-righteous person, apparently admitting no flaws in himself whatsoever. There are less extreme versions out there that fall into the same category. There are people who will admit that they aren’t perfect. In fact, they see the very act of admitting they aren’t perfect as one of their praiseworthy virtues! But ask them if they consider themselves good people, and most will answer, yes. Most will point to something good they’ve done, some deed of kindness or obedience, or at least how hard they try to be good. If nothing else, some will hope that, no matter how many bad things they’ve done, God may yet accept them because of some really bright, shiny moment of goodness.

This is how the world sees things. This is how all the religions of the world (except for Christianity) teach people to gain God’s favor, by doing good, by being honorable, by showing “love.” This is how people normally comfort themselves when a loved one dies. “He or she was such a good person. He must be in heaven. She must be with God.”

On the other hand, there’s the tax collector of Jesus’ parable, respected by no one, referred to as a “good person” by no one, including himself. His career was synonymous with extortion and thuggery, not to mention the regular betrayal of their countrymen in service to the Romans. How would we describe him, based on his behavior in Jesus’ parable? The tax collector, standing at a distance, would not so much as lift up his eyes toward heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God be merciful to me, a sinner.’ He’s humble. Contrite. Sorrowful over his sins. He knows he doesn’t deserve even to look up toward heaven. He offers God no list of accomplishments, no excuses. Instead, he seeks something from God. He seeks God’s mercy. And he uses a special word for mercy in Greek. “Be favorable to me! Be propitious to me! Be merciful! Be gracious!”

Now, that word is related to the Temple itself. Within the innermost part of the first Temple—Solomon’s Temple—was the ark of the covenant, and the lid of it was called in Greek the Propitiation Place, or the Mercy Seat, or the Throne of Grace. It’s where the blood of atonement was sprinkled once a year by the high priest. It’s where God promised that He would be present with His people and would be gracious toward His people who sought Him there, because of the blood of atonement. But after Solomon’s Temple was destroyed, there was no longer an ark of the covenant in the Temple. It’s as if God no longer wanted His Throne of Grace to be enclosed in the Temple, as if He wanted Israel to start seeking it somewhere else.

Sure enough, the Apostle Paul, in Romans 3, refers to Christ Jesus Himself as the Propitiation Place or the Throne of Grace. He was the true ark of the covenant. His blood shed on the cross truly made atonement for the sins of all. And now all who flee to Christ as the Throne of Grace, all who seek God’s favor through faith in Him, receive God’s forgiveness. Or in other words, they are justified before God, they are right with Him, they have His favor.

This is truly the top priority, that which should be “first and foremost” in your life, what comes before everything else. As Paul also said in today’s Epistle: For I delivered to you first and foremost that which I also received, that…you have to be a good person? No, that’s not what he said. That you have to make atonement for your sins? No. That…what? What was first and foremost? That Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures. That’s first and foremost. That’s the most important thing, fleeing to Him in faith as the Throne of Grace, as the one who died for our sins and rose again.

That’s what the tax collector did by seeking mercy from God in the temple where He had promised to be merciful. That was his answer to the question, How can I be right with God? Not by finding righteousness within himself, but by seeking it by faith, as a gracious gift promised by a merciful God. And so Jesus shocked the self-righteous Pharisees with His conclusion: I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but whoever humbles himself will be exalted. The Pharisee who tried to be righteous by himself failed, while the tax collector was counted righteous by God, through faith.

The same was true of the Apostle Paul. He had a sordid past, not as a thief or tax collector, but as a self-righteous Pharisee, as a religious fanatic, as a persecutor of Christians, until he learned that what the Prophet Isaiah had written hundreds of years earlier was true: All our righteousnesses are like filthy rags. As Paul wrote to the Philippians, Whatever things were gain to me, these I have counted a loss for Christ. Indeed, I count all things a loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having my own righteousness, which is from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which is from God by faith.

And so the apostle humbled himself. You hear it in today’s Epistle: For I am the least of the apostles. I am not even fit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But in humbling himself, there was finally room for God to exalt him. As he says, But by the grace of God I am what I am.

But notice this about the Gospel: It teaches us what our top priority must be, to be justified through faith in Christ. But the Gospel then gives us other priorities that flow down from the top one. Those who are righteous by faith are then called to be righteous in their deeds, in their works, to care for our families, to keep God’s commandments. The difference is, we’re no longer working to earn the favor of God. We’re working to serve the God who has already favored us in giving His Son into death for our sins, and in justifying us by faith in His Son, so that even the righteous things we now do are really being done in us by Him, as Paul also concludes about all his hard work as an apostle: yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me.

Of the two answers we’ve considered today to the question, how can I be right with God?, Jesus reveals clearly what the Christian answer is: only by fleeing in faith to Christ, the true Throne of Grace, for mercy and forgiveness. Let that be your top priority! And then arrange all your other priorities around it. Trust in the mercy God has promised you in Christ Jesus! Flee to Him in faith! And you will not only go down to your house justified; you will also have everything you need to get through all the trials of this life and to lead a good, honorable, godly life of humble obedience to the God who has justified you by faith. Amen.