Rorate Coeli - The Fourth Sunday in Advent (Advent 4)

(Audio)

John 1:19-28; Philippians 4:4-7; Deuteronomy 18:15-19

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

“Who are you?” – That was the question the priests and Levites asked John. It was a legitimate question. Moses had relayed God’s promise to the people of Israel that He would raise up another Prophet like himself. John flatly denied that he was that Prophet, the Messiah, the Christ of God. Then Malachi had prophesied in the closing words of the Old Testament that God would send Elijah the prophet before the coming of the Messiah. John denied that he was Elijah too, though Jesus would later teach His disciples that John was indeed the prophesied Elijah come to prepare the way before Him.

“Who are you?” “By what authority do you preach and baptize if you are neither the Christ nor Elijah the Prophet?” – John replied, “I am a voice” and that’s all. John was a voice sent to cry out in the wilderness “Make straight the way of the Lord.” This was not John’s message, he was just the voice, but this was God’s message, the Word of the Lord, “Prepare the way for the coming of the Lord by repentance and humility. Repent, that your mountainous pride may be leveled and that the valleys of your hopeless despair might be filled, that, when the Lord comes, He might find a straight and level path.” John was a voice, a prophet, a mouthpiece for the Lord sent to prepare His way by preaching repentance and by baptizing, an outward sign of repentance. And John was sent to point the way to the Lord who was at hand saying,“Among you stands one you do not know,” and then, the very next day, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.”

“Among you stands one you do not know.” To think that the prophesied Messiah, the one to whom all patriarchs and prophets pointed, the Son of God become the Son of Man, born of the Virgin and dwelling in the midst of men who had searched the Scriptures and studied the prophecies, who had watched and waited for His coming – to think that the Messiah could come amongst them and not be known by them is amazing and discomforting to say the least. How could this be? How could they be so blind?

The answer is plain enough: sin. From the moment their eyes were opened to know good and evil in the Garden of Eden, through patriarchs, judges, kings, and prophets, men’s hearts became hard, their ears became stopped, and their eyes became dim as the fruits of sin so that hearing they did not hear and seeing they did not see. The prophets were silent for four hundred years before the coming of John the Baptist – four hundred years not unlike the four days Lazareth lay dead in the tomb. The people of the world were spiritually dead, they stinketh. And the dead don’t raise themselves anymore than the earth plows itself; hard soil must be broken and worked just as hardened hearts. Only the powerful Word of God, the Word that once brought everything out of nothing could change the situation of men’s hearts.

Thus, God sent forth Elijah, John the Baptist to prepare the way by preaching repentance, to break up the hardness of men’s hearts that the Word of God could penetrate and begin to grow and bear fruit. But spiritual death and physical death are not the same thing – yet. Men were still quite alive to pursuing men’s ways, thoughts, and deeds. Men had dreamt up their own ideas for what the Messiah would be like and what He would do – men’s ideas, not God’s, men’s values and expectations, not God’s. So, when the Messiah came, men did not recognize Him, for He did not come in the ways and appearance that they expected. Unless men are turned, unless they repent, they cannot see Jesus for who He is, they cannot receive Him, for they reject Him because He doesn’t meet their expectations.

What about you today? Do you see and hear the one who is present, who stands amongst you now with His gifts of forgiveness, life, and salvation? Or do you insist on having it your way, believing that Christ cannot be present unless you feel a certain way, unless we sing your favorite songs, or unless people flock to this church so that we don’t have room to seat them? Who do you think this Jesus is whose birth we are about to celebrate? Is He merely a concept, an icon of Peace and Love that we should emulate? Is He but a wise sage from ancient times who had some good ideas about being kind and charitable toward each other? Is He your spiritual friend and buddy, kind of like Santa Claus for the Church, who’s always looking out for you though you can never see Him or touch Him? Then I will be a voice crying out in your wilderness, “Among you stands one you do not know! – Repent. The Lord is at hand.”

Why did John preach? To point to the one who was present, whom men did not know, the Lord who was at hand. Why did John baptize? To point to the one who was present to baptize with the Holy Spirit and to the Lamb of God who was taking away the sins of the world. John is still preparing the way for the coming of the Lord through the preaching of repentance for the forgiveness of sins and through baptism, but these have become vehicles, means for the work of the one who is in our midst, Jesus the Christ. His Word opens the ears of the deaf and the eyes of the blind, releases those in prison in sin and death, and proclaims to the poor in spirit the Good News of redemption. And, John the Baptist still points to the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world as we sing with him and kneel before our Lord who is present amongst us with His body and His blood that we may know Him as He is and live in Him and He in us to the glory of God the Father in His most Holy Spirit.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Christian Funeral for Grace Fredericka Arends

(Audio)

John 10:11-16; 1 John 3:1-3; Isaiah 43:1-3a, 25

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Grace was born in Germany after World War I. She immigrated to the United States by ship along with her father and mother, two sisters, and a brother in 1925; she was two years old. Her mother had relatives who lived in Butler County, Iowa, and that is where the family settled. There she was educated in country schools, did chores on the family farm, and attended church and Sunday School in Clarksville.

Grace lived one hundred two years and nearly seven months. That’s a long, rich life full of a multitude of experience and wisdom by any standard. Grace grew up during the Great Depression, lived through World War II, the assassinations of John F. Kennedy, Martin Luther King Jr., and Bobby Kennedy, the Moon Landing, the Vietnam War, and the dawn of a new century and millennium.

Grace saw and experienced a lot, and she remained Grace throughout it all. She was always kind and gracious. She had her own opinions; you could disagree with her and that would be fine, but it didn’t mean that she wasn’t correct. Faith was very important to Grace and doing what’s right; she had a firm and consistent moral and ethical code, and she would let you know if you were out of bounds. This is wisdom, which is different than knowledge; wisdom comes from experience, and Grace had it in loads. It would be wise to listen to her and learn from her, and many did.

Grace taught Sunday school and confirmation class and sang in the church choir. At home, after she finished cleaning, Grace would sit at the piano and play hymns and the family would sing together. She had Wendell and Anne complete their Sunday school work for the next Sunday and she quizzed them on their catechism memory work. Later in her life, here at St. John, Grace and Wendell attended Divine Services most Sundays and Bible study after church. Their faith and their church came first over other things. In fact, the rose colored paraments you see adorning the altar, the banners, and the vestments I am wearing today were donated by Grace and the Arends family. They are only used on two weeks out of the entire church year, and I am very happy that this week is one of those! Thank you, Grace, for blessing St. John with these beautiful paraments which will serve our congregation and glorify God for decades to come.

Grace was an avid golfer, and quite a good one at that. She hit two holes-in-one in her career. She also enjoyed reading, dancing, bowling, walking, sunrises, sunsets, birds, flowers, music, and the color blue, but her greatest enjoyment was being with her family and friends. Like many who lived through the Great Depression, Grace knew the value of things. She was conservative, and I don’t necessarily mean politically, but you protect and conserve those things that are important to you; it’s just common sense.

“Fear not,” says the LORD, “for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” Those words from Isaiah 43, which are on the banner over there, served to define Grace, her faith, values, and how she lived her life. Through hard times and through good times, for over one hundred years, the LORD kept Grace in His grace, mercy, love, and peace. He kept her in her baptismal grace. He kept her in Jesus. Grace knew and believed this, and it shaped her calm, kind, peaceful, and resolute demeanor.

Blessed are those who live their lives, their entire lives, as God’s children! Grace became God’s child in Holy Baptism shortly after her birth in 1923, and she remained God’s child throughout her long life, and now she is enjoying the peace and joy of being God’s child in a way only hinted at here on earth. “See what kind of the love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.” […] “Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is. And everyone who thus hopes in him purifies himself as he is pure.” Grace lived long enough and through enough to know that life is not always easy and that it is not without its times of tribulation and suffering. Because she was a child of God Grace could face such times with hope and patient endurance. That is why St. Paul could say, “we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”

To be a child of God is to be a sheep in the Good Shepherd’s flock. Grace was Jesus’ little lamb, and Jesus was her Good Shepherd. “I am the Good Shepherd,” Jesus says, “I know my own and my own know me, […]; and I lay down my life for the sheep.” Jesus, our Good Shepherd, leads us through the valley of the shadow of death that is our lives in this world into our Father’s house where His sheep may safely graze. In the valley we are surrounded by enemies that would tempt us, lead us astray, or destroy us, but we are not alone, for our Shepherd, who has passed this way already, accompanies, leads us, and feeds us in the presence of our enemies. And Jesus has defeated the unholy trinity of sin, death, and Satan for us in His own death and resurrection, so they cannot harm or hold us. “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.” [..] “I, I am he who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins.” This is Grace.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Wednesday in Gaudete (The Third Sunday in Advent)

(Audio)

Advent Songs of Salvation: The Song of Simeon - The Nunc Dimittis

Luke 2:22-32; Titus 2:11-14; Isaiah 52:7-10

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Thus far in this Advent series we have heard from some fairly prominent figures in the Scriptures. We listened to Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist, and to Mary, the mother of our Lord Jesus Christ. Today, however, we hear from someone we know comparatively little about. Simeon was neither a priest nor a prophet, nor anyone of particular renown. All that Scripture tells us is this: he was “righteous and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel,” and “the Holy Spirit was upon him.”

In other words, Simeon was a faithful believer doing what faithful believers are given to do: watching and waiting for the coming of the Lord, hearing and trusting the Word of God, and serving others in his God-given vocation to the glory of God. He was not extraordinary by the world’s standards, but he was faithful. Yet there is one thing that is special - indeed unique - about Simeon: “It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Christ.”

It was that same Holy Spirit who led Simeon into the temple on the very day that Joseph and Mary brought their forty-day-old son to present Him to the Lord and to offer the sacrifice required by the Law of Moses. Scripture does not tell us how old Simeon was, but it is clear that he had been waiting for this day for a long time. And when the moment finally comes, Simeon takes the child into his arms and sings:

“Lord, now You are letting Your servant depart in peace,

according to Your word;

for my eyes have seen Your salvation

that You have prepared in the presence of all peoples,

a light for revelation to the Gentiles,

and for glory to Your people Israel.”

There is no reason to think that Simeon had a death-wish. This is not despair speaking, but faith. Simeon is not longing merely for his own peace, but rejoicing in the salvation of the whole world, now present in this promised child. To be a Christian is to long for Christ’s kingdom and reign, and to wait for them in hope. In that way, Simeon’s posture is our own. We too live between promise and fulfillment, patiently awaiting the second Advent of our Lord Jesus Christ.

We prepare for and observe His coming in many ways. Annually, as we journey through the Church Year from Advent to Christmas and Epiphany, from Lent to Easter, from Pentecost through Trinity, and back again to Advent. Weekly, as we gather for the Divine Service, moving through the workaday world toward the refreshment of Christ’s Word and Sacraments on the Lord’s Day. And daily, as we confess our sins at night, commend ourselves to God’s mercy should we die before we wake, and then rise in the morning to serve Him by serving our neighbor in word and deed, to the glory of His name.

As with the canticles of Mary and Zechariah, Simeon’s song is sung in the past tense. His words are not merely about what God will do someday, but about what God has already done: “My eyes have seen Your salvation.” The promise has been kept. The Christ has come. And in that baby boy resting in Simeon’s arms is the fullness of God’s saving work - the certainty that whatever remains to be fulfilled is as good as done already. This child is God’s salvation for all people, of all times and all places, both Jew and Gentile, just as the prophet Isaiah had foretold: “All the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God.”

We know Simeon’s song best, of course, from its place in the Divine Service. Have you ever stopped to consider why we sing the Nunc Dimittis where we do? We sing it after the distribution, after we have received Christ’s true body and blood in the Lord’s Supper. Only then do we join Simeon and the whole Church in singing, “Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace.” Why? Because like Simeon, we have seen our salvation. More than that, we have received Him. Christ gives Himself into our hands and mouths, just as truly as He once rested in Simeon’s arms.

Having received Christ, we too may depart in peace, from the altar, from this place, and, when the Lord so wills, from this life of sorrow and trial. The peace Simeon sings of is not rooted in circumstance, but in Christ alone.

Simeon’s Nunc Dimittis is therefore a fitting close not only to his life, but also to our Advent waiting. Mary and Zechariah sang in anticipation and dawning fulfillment. Now Simeon sings as fulfillment stands before him. And we sing with him: the promises are kept, the Savior is here, salvation has been seen, and peace is given.

And still, we wait. We depart in peace again and again, week by week, day by day, until that final day when Christ comes in glory. Until then, Simeon’s song becomes our own: sung after supper, at the close of the day, and finally at the end of life itself. For Christ is our peace. Christ is our salvation. Christ is our light.

With Simeon and with the whole Church, we sing: “Lord, now You let Your servant go in peace; for my eyes have seen Your salvation.”

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

The Faith of John the Baptist – A Reflection on Matthew 11:2-3 in the Week of Gaudete, The Third Sunday in Advent

Did John the Baptist doubt that Jesus was the Messiah? Many read Matthew 11:2–3 that way. John is in prison. He is only human. And Scripture itself gives us reason to sympathize. Isaiah promised that when the Messiah came, the blind would see, the deaf would hear, the lame would walk—and captives would be set free (Isaiah 35:5; 61:1). John sits behind bars while the Christ walks free. It is not hard to see why some conclude that John’s question, “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?” must arise from doubt. I understand that reading. I once found it persuasive myself. But I can no longer accept it, at least not in that sense.

Yes, John was human. Yes, John was a sinner. Yes, John surely had doubts about many things. But there is one thing John could not and did not doubt: that Jesus is the Messiah.

John was filled with the Holy Spirit even from his mother’s womb (Luke 1:15). He leapt for joy in Elizabeth’s womb at Mary’s greeting, already in the presence of his Lord (Luke 1:41). John confessed openly that he was not the Christ (John 1:20), and in humility denied even being Elijah (John 1:21) though Jesus Himself declares that John is the promised Elijah (Matthew 11:14; 17:12–13). John said he was unworthy to untie the strap of Jesus’ sandal (John 1:27). He insisted that Jesus must increase while he must decrease (John 3:30). John heard the Father’s voice at Jesus’ baptism saying, “This is my beloved Son with whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17. And what does Jesus say of John? “Among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist” (Matthew 11:11). No one greater, not Abraham, not Moses, not David, not Elijah.

John was a sinner. Surely John wrestled. Surely John suffered. But John did not doubt who Jesus was.

Do you doubt that Jesus is the Messiah? What trial or tribulation would it take to shake that most fundamental confession? John’s imprisonment was not a failure of faith, but the final chapter of his vocation. Even if no messenger had returned to him with words of comfort and fulfillment, John still believed. Weak faith is still faith. Struggling faith is still faith. Even faith that trembles under the weight of suffering is still faith.

John knew his calling. He must decrease. Prison and death were not interruptions of that calling but its fulfillment. And John carried it out in faith, faith in Christ and love for his neighbor. We do not need to imagine John’s doubt in order to make him comforting to us. His faith, steadfast even in chains, already does that beautifully.

Gaudete - The Third Sunday in Advent (Advent 3)

(Audio)

Matthew 11:2-11; 1 Corinthians 4:1-5; Isaiah 40:1-11

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Each Gaudete Sunday, I find myself compelled to restate a truth that is often misunderstood: John the Baptist did not doubt that Jesus was the Messiah, the Son of God.

I know the argument well. John is in prison. He knows his execution is near. He hears reports that Jesus is healing the blind, the lame, the lepers, and the deaf - but John himself remains behind bars. After all, Isaiah prophesied not only healing, but also liberty to the captives. Surely, we are told, John must have wondered: Why not me? And surely, being only human, he must have doubted. It sounds convincing, until we listen carefully to the Scriptures themselves.

John was filled with the Holy Spirit even from his mother’s womb, leaping for joy at the sound of Mary’s greeting in the presence of his Lord. John heard the Father’s voice at Jesus’ baptism: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” He saw the Holy Spirit descend upon Jesus and remain with Him. John confessed plainly that he was not the Christ, not Elijah in his own right, not the Prophet, but the voice crying in the wilderness: “Prepare the way of the LORD.” He declared himself unworthy even to loosen the straps of Jesus’ sandals. He rejoiced that he must decrease and that Jesus must increase.

Taken together, the witness of Scripture does not portray a man wavering in faith, but one who believed more clearly and confessed more boldly than anyone else of his time.

So why, then, does John send his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?” The answer is simple, and deeply comforting. John sends them not for his own sake, but for theirs. And for yours. As St. John later writes, these things are written “that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in His name.”

John’s question creates the moment for Jesus to reveal Himself, not with speculation, but with fulfillment. “Go and tell John what you hear and see,” Jesus says. “The blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them.” This is not a vague appeal to goodwill. It is a direct echo of Isaiah’s promises. Jesus is saying, Look at the Scriptures, and now look at Me.

And yet, someone may object: Not all the blind see. Not all the deaf hear. Not all the imprisoned go free. Not all the dead are raised. And what good, after all, is preaching to the poor? But here Jesus teaches us how to understand His works rightly. Physical healings are signs, real and merciful signs, but signs of something greater still: the forgiveness of sins and the restoration of fallen humanity. When Jesus forgave the paralyzed man, the Pharisees objected: Only God can forgive sins. They were right, and that was precisely the point. So Jesus asked them, “Which is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise and walk’?” Whether the outward sign is given now or withheld, the deeper gift remains. All who trust in Christ will be healed, restored, and made whole in the resurrection of the body on the Last Day. Christ’s Word does not merely describe reality, it creates it. He is the Word made flesh, and His promises never fail.

There is more here still. Jesus’ works also reveal spiritual healing. There is spiritual blindness and deafness, spiritual lameness and death, spiritual poverty. And that is why Jesus concludes with these words: “Blessed is the one who is not offended by me.” Those words draw our attention to the Beatitudes. Blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are those who mourn. Blessed are the meek. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake. These are not blessings because suffering is good in itself. They are blessings because suffering strips away false comforts and leaves room for the true one. The spiritually blind are given eyes to see Christ. The spiritually deaf hear His Gospel. The spiritually dead are raised to life by faith. And the spiritually poor, those who have nothing of their own to offer God, are made rich beyond measure in Christ.

John sent his disciples so that they might see and hear these things for themselves. And once they had gone, Jesus turned to the crowd and spoke of John, not to glorify the man, but to reveal how God works through humble means.

“What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed shaken by the wind?” John was no vacillating teacher, swayed by opinion or pressure. He preached repentance plainly and without compromise.

“A man dressed in soft clothing?” No, John was free from the lure of comfort, wealth, and power. And because he was free from those things, he was free to speak the truth, even when it cost him everything.

“What then did you go out to see? A prophet?” Yes, and more than a prophet. John was the promised messenger, the Elijah who would prepare the way of the Lord. Of him Jesus says, “Among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist.”

And yet, even here, John points beyond himself. “The one who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.” That One is Jesus Himself.

Though He was without sin, God made Him to be sin for you. Though He was with God and was God from the beginning, He humbled Himself, taking on flesh, becoming obedient unto death, even death on a cross. And for this reason God raised Him and exalted Him, giving Him the Name above every name, that at the Name of Jesus every knee should bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.

John’s vocation was to prepare the way, to make disciples for Jesus by preaching repentance and administering baptism. And in the end, even from prison, John completed his task by sending his disciples away from himself and to Christ. He decreased. Jesus increased.

And so it is still. John’s ministry of comfort continues wherever Christ’s Word is preached and His Sacraments are given. Pastors, like John, are servants and stewards of the mysteries of God, not masters, but messengers—preparing the way for Christ to come to His people with forgiveness, life, and salvation. “Comfort, comfort my people,” says your God. Not the comfort of soft clothing or easy days, but the comfort of sins forgiven, death defeated, and Christ present with His suffering people.

So rejoice; Gaudete! The Lord is at hand. He comes to you in His Word. He comes to you in His body and blood. He comes to strengthen you for every trial endured because of Him. And blessed are you who are not offended by Him.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Wednesday in Populus Zion (The Second Sunday in Advent)

(Audio)

Advent Songs of Salvation: The Song of Zechariah - The Benedictus

Luke 1:57-80; 1 Peter 2:9-12; Malachi 4:1-6

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Both Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth were of the priestly line of Aaron. Luke tells us that they were “righteous before God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and statutes of the Lord.” Yet for all their faithfulness, “they had no child, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were advanced in years.” Zechariah, serving in the division of Abijah, had his turn to minister in the temple. As he entered the holy place at the hour of incense, an angel of the Lord appeared to him. Gabriel announced an answer to long–spoken prayers: Elizabeth would conceive and bear a son, and he was to be named John — “God is gracious.”

Gabriel described John’s calling: “He will be great before the Lord… and he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God… to make ready for the Lord a people prepared.” Zechariah’s hesitation - “How shall I know this? For I am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years” - is understandable. Yet Gabriel’s reply is firm: “I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God… and because you did not believe my words… you will be silent.” When Zechariah came out of the temple unable to speak, the people sensed he had seen a vision. His silence endured until the child was born, and only at John’s circumcision — when Zechariah faithfully wrote, “His name shall be John”— was his tongue loosed. Filled with the Holy Spirit, he burst forth in the Benedictus.

“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has visited and redeemed his people.” Benedictus - “Blessed” - is the first word of Zechariah’s song, but it is also the theme of his whole confession. He blesses the Lord for His gracious visitation and redemption, not merely as a future hope, but as an already–set-in-motion reality. The prophets had long proclaimed this coming day. Malachi, the last of them, warned of the day of the Lord, a day of burning judgment against sin, idolatry, and apostasy. He also promised a messenger who would prepare the way, a new Elijah who would turn hearts and call the people back to the Lord. John the Baptist is that promised forerunner, and the Benedictus recognizes that the dawn of God’s saving work has begun to break.

The song looks backward and forward at the same time. It recalls the promises made to Abraham and David, “as He spoke by the mouth of His holy prophets from of old.” It also looks ahead to the impending birth of the Christ. Promise and fulfillment converge in Jesus. Israel had many earthly enemies, but the deeper enemies are sin, death, and the devil. Zechariah’s song focuses on deliverance from these foes. God’s salvation flows from “the tender mercy of our God,” His deep, inward compassion revealed in Christ, “the Sunrise from on high” who comes to scatter the darkness.

John’s ministry, then, is bounded by this light: “you… will go before the Lord to prepare His ways, to give knowledge of salvation to His people in the forgiveness of their sins.” John preaches repentance and baptism, preparing hearts to receive the Lord’s mercy. The church continues the same ministry still: proclaiming the Law that exposes our sin, and the Gospel that forgives it for Jesus’ sake.

The Benedictus is, in many ways, Advent in miniature. It proclaims that God “has visited” His people, past, present, and future. He has visited us in the Incarnation. He visits us now through His Word and Sacraments. He will visit us again in glory when Christ returns. John and Jesus thus stand as the hinge between the Testaments. In them the long–awaited promises of the Old Covenant meet the fulfillment of the New.

This brings us to Peter’s words: “You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for His own possession… that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light.” What Zechariah sang about - light breaking into darkness, mercy overcoming sin - is now the church’s lived reality. Through Christ, God has visited and redeemed His people, and He continues to shape us into a people who “keep [our] conduct honorable” so that others may see His light in our lives.

Zechariah’s song bridges old and new, silence and praise, anticipation and fulfillment. And the God who kept His promises in Christ still gives us His light, His mercy, and His peace. In this Advent season, the church takes up Zechariah’s song as her own:

Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for He has visited and redeemed His people.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Populus Zion - The Second Sunday in Advent (Advent 2)

Luke 21:25-36; Romans 15:4-13; Malachi 4:1-6

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

The day is coming. No matter which day you have in mind, that much is true. The day of the final exam arrives. The day of surgery arrives. Christmas Day arrives. Tax Day arrives. The day of our death will arrive. In the same way, the day of Jesus’ return will arrive. Whatever the day may be, it will come, and you already know it will come. Ignoring it does no good. The wise course is to be prepared, to watch and wait for its arrival. To be caught unprepared ought to be a terrible thought, especially when there is no reason for that to happen.

Of course, if you’re not a student, finals week doesn’t bother you. If you’re healthy, you don’t think much about surgery. Christmas Day feels different depending on whether your home is full of young children or long past that season. But Tax Day catches up with most of us, and death and judgment catch up with all of us, young or old, rich or poor, whatever our background.

“The day is coming,” says Malachi, “burning like an oven.” On that day “all the arrogant and all evildoers” will be set ablaze, “so that it will leave them neither root nor branch.” Yet there is a distinction. “For you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall.” The Day of Judgment is terror for those who reject the Lord, but it is joy for those who fear His name.

“Leaping like calves from the stall." What a vivid picture of relief and freedom. After being confined for too long, imagine the sheer joy of being turned loose: running, jumping, spinning, simply because you can. That is the Lord’s promise for His people. The Day of Judgment is not a day of dread for the baptized. It is a day to look forward to, a day to anticipate with joy, a day for which we prepare in hope.

But again, there is a distinction. Not only will the arrogant and evildoers be reduced to stubble, but “they shall be ashes under the soles of your feet.” The baptized, the faithful, will judge with Christ and reign with Christ in His kingdom. We do not desire anyone’s destruction, yet we rejoice in the Lord’s righteous judgment when it comes. And He delays that judgment so that all might hear, repent, and receive the same mercy He has shown you. “Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and awesome day of the LORD comes.” His work will be to turn hearts, to reconcile the wandering, to call to repentance, to prepare for Christ.

That promised Elijah was John the Baptist. He called all to repentance for the forgiveness of sins. His baptism was real; it bestowed forgiveness. Yet it was still preparatory, pointing toward the baptism Christ Himself would fulfill, a baptism into His perfect obedience, righteousness, death, and life. John’s baptism was the intention to “go and sin no more,” to turn from wickedness and walk in the Lord’s ways, because the Lord was coming.

Malachi instructs Israel on how to live as they awaited Christ’s first coming: “Remember the law of my servant Moses.” Keep the commandments. And Paul speaks to those awaiting Christ’s second coming: “Whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.”

We all witness the signs that Christ says will precede His return: “There will be signs in sun and moon and stars,” and on earth “distress of nations… people fainting with fear and with foreboding of what is coming on the world.” Many will dread these things because the earthly things they trusted will collapse. But those who trust in the Lord are told something different: “Straighten up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” The turmoil of the world is not the end for you; it is the passing away of what must pass away before the revealing of the sons of God and the Bride of Christ.

Still, Jesus warns His people: “Watch yourselves lest your hearts be weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and cares of this life,” so that the day “come upon you suddenly like a trap.” One might ask how such a thing could happen; after all, you are here in the Lord’s house, where you are constantly exhorted to remain watchful and prepared. Yet this gathering itself shows the Lord’s mercy. The church’s chief purpose is not what we offer God, but what God gives us, His Word and His Sacraments for our strength and protection. To receive these gifts is to receive Christ Himself. The highest worship is faith receiving what the Lord gives.

Your strength is not in yourselves, nor in the world’s power, wealth, or stability. Your strength is in the gifts of Christ. Only the Holy Spirit, working through these means of grace, can keep your faith alive and ready for the Lord’s appearing.

St. Paul gives the final word: “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.”

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Wednesday in Ad Te Levavi (The First Sunday in Advent)

(Audio)

Advent Songs of Salvation: Mary's Song - The Magnificat

Luke 1:46-55; Galatians 4:4-7; 1 Samuel 2:1-10

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

A woman named Hannah was barren and had no son. Each year she traveled with her husband Elkanah to the house of the LORD in Shiloh, and each year she poured out her heart before the LORD, pleading that He would grant her a child. In her desperation she vowed that if the LORD gave her a son, she would dedicate him wholly to the LORD’s service under a Nazirite vow.

When Eli the priest observed her lips moving without sound, he assumed drunkenness and rebuked her. But Hannah answered with quiet dignity: “No, my lord, I am a woman troubled in spirit… I have been pouring out my soul before the LORD… out of my great anxiety and vexation.” And the LORD remembered Hannah. In time she conceived and bore a son, Samuel. True to her vow, once the boy was weaned she brought him to Eli and said: “For this child I prayed, and the LORD has granted me my petition… therefore I have lent him to the LORD; as long as he lives, he is lent to the LORD.”

Then Hannah prayed, “My heart exults in the LORD; my horn is exalted in the LORD… for I rejoice in Your salvation. There is none holy like the LORD.” Her song is one of joy, humility, and a deep recognition of God’s saving work.

It should sound familiar. For Hannah’s song becomes the pattern and the foreshadowing of another woman’s song, Mary, the Mother of Our Lord. When Gabriel’s Word brought about the conception of Christ, Mary hurried to the hill country to visit her kinswoman Elizabeth, herself miraculously pregnant in old age. At Mary’s greeting, the child in Elizabeth’s womb leapt for joy, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. And Mary said: “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for He has looked on the humble estate of His servant.”

The similarities between these two faithful women are striking, but the differences are even more revealing of God’s mercy. Hannah was barren because “the LORD had closed her womb.” Mary was a virgin, not yet married, who had never known a man. Both conceive through the miraculous working of God - Hannah in answer to prayer, Mary by the performative Word of God spoken through an angel. Both respond not with pride but with humble, joyful faith. Hannah exults in the LORD who lifts her up; Mary magnifies the LORD who has regarded her lowliness.

Both songs proclaim the same pattern of divine action, what Luther calls the great reversal. Hannah sings of the LORD who breaks the bows of the mighty but strengthens the feeble, who feeds the hungry but leaves the full empty, who raises the poor from the dust and seats them among princes. Mary echoes the same truth: “He has scattered the proud… brought down the mighty… exalted those of humble estate… filled the hungry with good things, and the rich He has sent away empty.”

This is the way of God. He works through weakness, barrenness, lowliness, and humility. He brings His saving purposes to completion through those the world would overlook. And now the pattern reaches its fulfillment in Mary’s Son, the promised Seed of Abraham through whom all nations are blessed, the One in whom Hannah’s hope and Mary’s praise converge.

Central to Mary’s song is her humility and her confession of need: “my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.” Here is no immaculate woman without sin, but a sinner redeemed by the very Child she bears. As Luther notes, “Mary does not glory in her virginity… but only in God’s gracious regard.” Mary becomes the model of the believer: one who receives God’s Word, trusts His promise, and rejoices in His mercy.

Notice also the tense of her verbs: “He has shown strength… He has filled the hungry… He has helped His servant Israel.” Mary speaks of God’s saving acts as though they are already accomplished, even though the Child through whom they are accomplished is still hidden within her womb. This is the language of faith. As Paul writes, “In the fullness of time, God sent forth His Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those under the law.” What God has begun, He will bring to completion. The Magnificat is therefore an Advent hymn: rejoicing in what God has already done in Christ and longing for the day when He will reveal its fullness.

Mary also stands as a type of the Church. She bears Christ and sings His praise; so too the Church carries Christ in Word and Sacrament and magnifies the Lord whenever Christ is present among us. Hannah’s barrenness mirrors our own spiritual barrenness, our inability to produce righteousness or hope from ourselves. Mary’s virginity mirrors the sheer grace of God’s salvation, which comes not from human will or effort but as pure gift, from outside ourselves. The Church joins Mary in confessing that all the blessings of salvation come by God’s gracious initiative, not by our own power.

And so with Mary we continue to sing: “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.” For the Child she bore, crucified, risen, and soon to return, is the One who fills the hungry, lifts up the lowly, and redeems those who sit in darkness. He is the One who turns our barrenness into fruitfulness, our emptiness into fullness, our lowliness into glory.

In this season of Advent, may the song of Hannah and the song of Mary become our song as well: a song of humility, faith, and joy in the God who keeps His promises and exalts the lowly in His Son.

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.