Trinity 16
September 23, 2012
Rev. Todd A. Peperkorn
Holy Cross Lutheran Church
Rocklin, California

The Widow of Nain’s Son (Luke 7)

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and The Lord, Jesus Christ. Our text for today is the Gospel just read from St. Luke chapter seven.

Her only-begotten Son. Dead. Her husband is dead. There are no other relatives in sight. She isn’t even given a name in our text. She is just “a widow”. She has no place, no one to care for her, no family, no future. All she has is the unclean body of her only-begotten son. This funeral procession for her might as well be her funeral procession as well.

What is she feeling? Fear, uncertainty, and above all, dread for what will happen. Her only-begotten son was her only future. The rest left her in the past, in the dust. And so she is vulnerable, unsure of what chaos will come upon her after this funeral procession meets its end outside the city gates.

We all have experienced that chaos at different times. Death, a move, grief over a lost job, a bitter divorce that has left you gasping for breath. This chaos makes us uncertain of our place, unsure of why we’re here and where we fit into the whole scheme of things.

I can remember that walk, the procession to the grave. I remember it when my mother died seven years ago. The numbness, the fear, the uncertainty. My guess is that many of you know that gut-wrenching movement.

So here she is, and low and behold, there is more chaos on the way. Or so it seems. The procession of death meets head-on with another procession. This procession, unbeknownst to her, this procession is headed by The Lord of Life, who orders all things by the Word of His mouth. It looks like chaos, a traffic nightmare gone awry, but when she hears the words of our Lord, everything changes.

Jesus draws near to the gate, and behold, there is this procession of death. In an instant He takes it all in: the widow, the son, the crowd, the fear and chaos. He sees all of this and then our text has one of those great, richest of all possible Gospel words. He has compassion on her. Literally, it means that his heart or gut aches for her. He sees this insanity of her life, all of the fear and worry and anxiety and uncertainty, He sees it all, and He is moved to help her.

God, you see, is always moving. He is never satisfied to sit back and watch us from afar. He sees the chaos, the insanity and fear of our lives, He sees all of it, and He is constantly moved to compassion. For you, for you, all for you.

So Jesus says to this woman, “Do not weep.” Really it’s more like “Don’t weep anymore.” At first glance, this sounds rather mean. Don’t weep, she might say. My only son is dead and I might as well be dead with him! Why do you say to me don’t weep. Please.

But then Jesus does something even more crazy. He touches the funeral bier. This bier was kind of like a big stretcher, where the body is held up on the shoulders by several men. Jesus touches the bier and everyone stands still.

For us, we don’t quite get this. We might look at touching a dead thing as kind of gross, but not that it would have anything to do with anything else. You’d wash your hands afterward, that’s probably it. In Jesus’ day, however, to touch something that was dead made you unclean. It means you couldn’t enter into the Temple for seven days. These men were actually making a sacrifice by carrying the widow’s only son to his grave.

And yet, here comes Jesus walking up and touching this bier like He owns the place! But our Lord has that way about Him sometimes, doesn’t He. He can walk into the messiest chaos of our lives and bring peace. There is no trouble too great for Him. There is no mess too, well, messy for Him. Even our sin and shame. Even death itself. He comes right up to it and He is not afraid. He wasn’t afraid then, and He isn’t afraid for you either. In He comes to your life, messiness and all.

Then Jesus says these words to the dead one, “Young man, I say to you, arise!” He doesn’t say, “Get up when you have enough faith.” He doesn’t say, “After you’ve cleaned up your life, get up and we’ll make a plan for your best life now.” Jesus’ word brings what He commands. And His gracious command here is very simple, live

“Get up!” He says. His gracious Word brings with it life, and healing, forgiveness, salvation, and cleansing. All in a word and the touch of our Lord.

Do you hear it? The closer this procession of life came to the woman and her son, the crazier it looked. But the crazy had to get closer so that she could hear the Word of Jesus, the word of life and hope for a fallen and messed up world.

It is in these times of chaos in our lives that God is at work for you. When things are darkest, when the insanity and uncertainty and the messedupedness is at its very peak, so that you can’t seem to take any more, THAT is the time to hush your mouth and open your ears. For God is coming to you, lowly and gently, with His Word of life and forgiveness. Take, eat, take drink. I forgive you. Our Lord enters into you with His very body and blood, cleansing you and giving you life.

Jesus gave the son back to his mother. God restores what is broken, binds up what is wounded, and gives healing and hope to all of us. For we are all widows in a way. We are all lost without the gentle touch and word from our Lord. And you are now restored into fellowship with Him, where life and healing and hope are all wrapped up in Him with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven. The procession is here. It is the procession of death to life. And you are in this heavenly journey. So come, join in with widows and orphans and sinners all. Come and be at peace, for Christ our Lord has touched your grave in Holy Baptism, and calls to you even now. Come, and live. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

And now the peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in true faith to life everlasting. Amen.

Todd A. Peperkorn, STM

Holy Cross Lutheran Church

Trinity 13 (September 2, 2012)

Luke 10:23-37 – The Good Samaritan

TITLE: “The Good Samaritan”

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from the Lord Jesus. Amen. Our text for this morning is from Luke 10, with focus on the words, 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.

Sometimes it is hard to recognize the blessings of the Christian faith and union with Christ in the Lord’s Supper. Jesus points this out to His disciples when he said blessed are the eyes which see the things you see. People the world over long for what we have by faith in Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of sins. But sometimes the greatest gifts may be right in front of us, and we ignore them.

This is what Jesus is talking about in the parable of the Good Samaritan. A rich lawyer comes to Jesus and asks Him a great Law question: Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life? What do I have to do to get to heaven? At first glance, I suppose that this seems like a pretty good question, but let’s look at it a little closer.

Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life? Christ our Lord has an eternity of blessings to give, and this man wants to do something to inherit eternal life. He couldn’t recognize the gift of God’s grace right in front of Him in the person of Jesus Christ. He was much happier to fight, to work, to struggle, to do whatever he felt he could do in order to get the prize.

But this, my friends, is the way of the world from Adam and Eve. The world cannot accept the grace and mercy of God. It cannot believe that God just gives His mercy and love freely, without compulsion. It couldn’t bear it, and so seeks to come up with another way, another method of gaining heaven. Works, energy, effort, the harder your pray, the more acts of charity you do, the more stuff you do, well, that must be a sign of God’s favor.

So Jesus asks the man another question, What is written in the law? What is your reading of it? Jesus is asking the man what he recites every day as a faithful Jew. And so this man, in good fashion, responds with the summary of the Law, 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.

Jesus, though, responds with the Law and says, do this and you will live. But this lawyer is not satisfied with Jesus answer, and because the man wants to justify himself, he wants to make himself right with God, he asks Jesus a question, And who is my neighbor? He is thinking in the way of the Law. The way of the Law asks, what is the least amount that I can do and still get into heaven? That’s how we work, too, isn’t it? How many times must I go to church in order to fulfill my duty? Once a week? Once a month? Once a year? But that question betrays the fact that we don’t understand the Gospel. We think like this young lawyer, and we aren’t interested in what God has done for me. We only want to know what I have to do.

So to demonstrate how helpless we all are under sin Jesus tells the story of the Good Samaritan. A certain man went from Jerusalem down to Jericho and fell among thieves. He is stripped, beaten and left for dead. A priest sees him and goes on the other side, and so does a Levite, another keeper of the Law. The impression you get from the text is that these so-called pious men had more important things to do. The priest had to do his duty in the Temple, the Levite had to keep up with his duties for God as well. They didn’t have time for this man who fell on hard times.

But another man came along the road. He was a Samaritan, a outsider and not a part of the chosen people. But he saw this man left for dead and had compassion on him. This Samaritan, this outcast then helps the man, binds up his wounds, pours oil and wine on them, sets him on his own animal, and took him to an inn to care for him. Then this Samaritan says to the innkeeper, Take care of him; and whatever more you spend, when I come again, I will repay you.

In other words, whatever it takes. Whatever it takes to make this man well. Whatever the cost, it doesn’t matter. I’ll pay the cost. I have bound up his wounds, I have given him healing oil and wine, I have put him on my own animal, my own flesh, as it were. There is no cost too great. I will pay it.

So where are you in the story? We all want to see ourselves as the Good Samaritan, but in fact, in this parable you are the man set upon by thieves. You are helpless, naked, wounded, penniless and left for dead. You can do nothing to save yourself. There is nothing you can do, nothing you can say, no Law you can keep or think you can keep that will make any difference. You might as well be dead without Christ.

But Christ reaches down to you. He takes on your flesh and blood. He became one of us so that we might become like Him. He reaches out his hand, pours the baptismal oil on your wounds and gives you the wine which is His own blood. And He brings you to a safe place, the Inn which is His Church. And He says to the Innkeeper, whatever it takes, I will pay it. There is no cost too great for Jesus to save you! There is nothing He would not do. There is no pain he would not undergo, there is no hurt he will not take. He will take it all into Himself. All for you.

St. Paul said it this way, But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8). You have done nothing to earn God’s favor and love. Like the man along the road, you are just lying there, dead in trespasses and sins. But God reaches down and holds onto you and gives you His very life. He died so that you might live.

Whatever it takes, I will pay it. Jesus does not measure how much it will take to save you. He doesn’t say, “Ok, you can sin so much and after that you’re on your own.” No. He has paid the price in full with His death and resurrection. For those two go together. As He said in the parable, when I return. Jesus is coming back. He has paid the price, and He is returning to take us home.

So no matter how great your sin, no matter how bad you are or think you are, it isn’t too great for the God who saves us by His blood. As we heard in Hosea 6, “Come, let us return to the LORD; for he has torn us, that he may heal us; he has struck us down, and he will bind us up. After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will raise us up, that we may live before him” (Hosea 6:1–3 ESV). We may not always understand God’s ways, but one thing is certain: you can look at His cross and know that He loves you, and that He will never leave you nor forsake you. This is the God who does wonders, the God who binds you up and gives you His very flesh and blood so that you might live.

God’s love for you goes deeper than death itself. He is the Good Samaritan; He is the one who seeks you out when you are in the depths. He is the one who can heal you, when nothing else makes sense, when no one else cares, when you are all alone. He will never leave you nor forsake you.

In the name of the Father and of the † Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

The peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in true faith, unto life everlasting. Amen.

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen. Our text for this morning is the Gospel just read from St. Mark chapter 7. We focus on the words of the text, “He has done all things well.”

Every parent knows that the path to teaching their children obedience is through listening. A child cannot learn what their place is, what they are to do and not do, without learning how to listen. “Listen with your eyes,” my mother told me when I was young. What she meant was, Listen with your whole body. Don’t say you are listening when really you are a thousand miles away.

Yet listening is a lost art, isn’t it? Everyone once in a while, you’ll see someone described as a good conversationalist. What that really means is that they are a good listener, and that they are good at asking questions to keep the conversation going. But for the most part, listening is harder and harder to do. Listening becomes a chore when we want to do other things. Listening becomes a bother when the other person annoys us. Who wants to listen?

And yet, when we are in need, when we are hurting or alone, there are few things on earth more comforting than a good friend who is willing to simply listen to what is going on. Listening, perhaps more than about anything else, is a sign that you are important to the listener, and that they are ready to stop everything to hear what you have to say.
So here we have a man with a dreadful problem, both physically and spiritually. He cannot hear, and he cannot speak. In Jesus’ day, he would have been called a deaf/mute. Today we would probably say he was differently abled or something like that. Either way, the man is in a terrible way. He cannot hear, and he cannot speak.

One can only imagine the physical problems and inconveniences that this must have meant for him. The world was a closed book, for the most part. At the time, deafness was a sign of not only physical problem, but of a spiritual problem as well. To be deaf means you cannot hear the Word of God. Now today, we would kind of scoff at that. We have American Sign Language, and lots of ways of trying to beat the system and make the deaf to hear. But even today, with all of our advances in medical science, we lose our hearing. How many here have hearing aids, or know someone who does? My guess is that everyone here falls into that category.

So the man cannot hear anything, but especially he cannot hear the Word of God. This is the great sadness of our text. The man is cast out, seen as unclean or unworthy to be in God’s presence. What kind of sin did he commit, to have such a terrible curse leveled upon him? Those were the questions asked behind his back.

Truth be told, we are often quite deaf to hearing God’s Word as well. For us it is by choice, though, not by illness. How many family bibles lay packed away in a box or gathering dust on a mantel somewhere? How often do you pray for each other by name, read the Scriptures together as a family, or simply listen to what our Lord has to speak to you? Sadly, hearing the Word of God is rarely a priority in our lives. We have more important voices to hear. How can I listen to Jesus when there’s a Kardashian or a Rush or an O’Reilly, or Ellen or Oprah or someone else oh so much more interesting and entertaining? How can I hear God where there’s so much more out there that seems relevant and even important?

But Jesus knows your weaknesses and mine. He knows that even if we have ears to hear, we forget how to use them. And if we cannot hear God’s Word day after day, how can we be expected to declare His praises? How can you proclaim His victory over sin and death when our Lord’s promises to you and your family remain a closed book, so that you are deaf to hear and therefore dumb to speak His praises? Repent.

Yes, our Lord knows our weaknesses, and the weakness of this man in front of us in our text. The deaf man’s friends beg for Jesus to help, and He does. He takes the man aside from the crowd. This isn’t a show or a game to be displayed. He takes the man aside and then does something that to our eyes and ears seems, well, it seems pretty weird. Jesus takes His fingers and puts them in the mans ears, and then He spits and puts the spittle on the man’s tongue.

I think that the technical term for that is “ewwww.” But this is actually quite important. When Jesus comes to help this man, Jesus is willing to get dirty. He communicates that He knows what’s wrong by pointing to the ears and the mouth.
When our Lord goes into something, He goes all in. He doesn’t commit until it is inconvenient. He doesn’t waver or wonder if He can get this done. No, He simply goes in. He goes in, and He sighs.

You have to admit, that doesn’t sound like really divine behavior. Sighing? We could translate it as groaning. It’s a little word, but in that word, all of Jesus humanity comes out. He sees this hurt, broken sinner, and He aches for him. Just as He aches for you in your brokenness and need.

It is easy to get to that point where you wonder if God is that deaf/mute. It is easy to feel with the Psalmist:

“To you, O LORD, I call; my rock, be not deaf to me, lest, if you be silent to me, I become like those who go down to the pit.” (Psalms 28:1 ESV)

God is not silent. He hears your cries, and He speaks His Word to you. To the deaf/mute He said, “Ephphatha,” which means, “Be opened.” To you He says the same thing. Be opened. He opens your heart to hear His Word. He opens you up so that you may receive His Word of blessing and forgiveness. He does all things well, and what He does for you is give you the greatest of all treasures: He gives you hope.

In ancient times that word, “Ephphatha,” was actually a part of our baptism rite. I don’t think parents would like me sticking my fingers into the ears or on the tongues of their children, but there is something to be said for the practice. God promises His grace and peace. He opens you up, scoops out the gunk of our lives, and fills you with Him. Sing His praises with the saints old and new. Come to the table of Grace, because His Word has invited you to partake of His great salvation.

Come and rejoice! He has done all things well. And He has done it all, for you.

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

And now the peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in true faith, to life everlasting. Amen.

Todd A. Peperkorn, STM

Holy Cross Lutheran Church

Rocklin, CA

Trinity 11 (August 19, 2012)

Luke 18:9-14 The Pharisee and the Publican

TITLE: “The Mercy of God”

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ.  Amen.  Our text for this morning is from the Gospel lesson just read, with focus on these words, And the tax collector, standing afar off, would not so much as raise his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me a sinner!’

I remember quite vividly about this time last year buying a car.  Well, we actually did it twice, but that’s a different story.  One thing that’s for sure if you are buying a car, or a house, or groceries, is that you get to learn all about the great American pastime of standing in line.  We Americans have kind of developed standing in line to a fine art form.  We approach it a little differently than many others.   The English consider standing in line, or queing as they would call it, a moral obligation and their personal lot in life.  If you’re English, then to stand quietly in line is what you do best.  If you’re French, you generally don’t believe in lines at all.  It’s probably the Germans who really excel at line standing more than anyone else.  But we Americans work very hard to pretend that standing in line is anything but standing in line.  We talk on the phone while standing in line.  We read magazines.  We shop even while we’re waiting to buy something else.  I wrote part of this sermon while standing in line. 

But the bottom line for us is that standing in line means that you are at someone else’s beck and call.  It means you must wait.  It means that someone else is in control of your time and that they’re probably going to take control of your money pretty soon.  This is why one of the greatest social faux paus of all time is to cut in line.  Starting at kindergarten and even earlier, we all learn that you never, never cut in line.  And possibly the only thing more personally embarrassing than getting caught cutting in line is to learn that you are actually in the wrong line.  An hour at the DMV, wasted because you were in the commercial line instead of the personal line.  It can happen.  Trust me.

We have in the story of the Pharisee and the Publican a story about queing, or waiting in line.  The Pharisee, of course, is the line cutter.  He moves right to the front of the line.  He plops all of his credentials down on God’s desk.  He looks around at all of the other sinners standing in line for God’s mercy, and he says, “I thank God that I am not like other line standers, — extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this tax collector.  I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I possess.”  It is as if he were to jump right to the front of the line and say look at me!  I am worthy of everything that you have to give to me.  I do not sin like these poor saps waiting in line for your mercy.  In fact, I don’t need to be in line at all.  I thank you, God, for me and for all of my great works that I do.

Not only was the Pharisee a line cutter, but he was in the wrong line entirely.  He went to church.  He was in the mercy and forgiveness line, but he wanted neither mercy nor forgiveness.  In fact, he didn’t want or need God at all.  He came to church without God and he left the same way he came.

But don’t be so quick to condemn this Pharisee, for we have all fallen into these same traps.  How many of us give 10% of our earnings to the Lord?  Now it is easy to point out now that they had good works which don’t matter.  We have faith, that is what matters.  This is the favorite way of speaking for lazy Lutherans like you and I.  We can easily look at others in the community, even other churches that do more good, and response by saying, “Ah, that is true, but we have justification.  We have the Gospel.  We don’t need good works.”  We thank God that we are not like Roman Catholics who pray to Mary, or like Episcopalians who muddle up the Gospel, or Methodists who give to some hopeless cause, or the Assemblies of God church, where you turn in your tax forms with your memberships.  We rightly divide Law and Gospel, and therefore we are worthy to judge everyone else’s faith and righteousness.  

Dear Christians, when we condemn the Pharisees, we must always begin with THIS Pharisee right here.  This Pharisee is always the hardest one of all to recognize, for when you are so busy judging other people, making sure you are farther up in the line, you do not look at yourself, and judge yourself according to the Word of God.

But even that is not the worst kind of Phariseeism.  The worst kind is taking the Law of God and using it to delude yourself into thinking that because you keep the external rules, now you are good and right, and God therefore must agree with your own good opinion of yourself.  With such a mindset, you are far away from God, because you have used the Law of God, not to show you your sin, but to create a barrier, a wedge between you and God’s mercy.  If God’s Law is used for self-justification, then we are missing God’s purpose entirely.  Repent.

There was another sinner in line who recognized he was in the presence of the holy, personal, living God.  He knew he was in God’s presence, and he was afraid.  He didn’t know the right words.  He barely made it into the line in church at all, he was so afraid.  That line was for the people who had God under control, that line was for those who had tamed God into doing their bidding.  But not for the sinner.  He would not so much as lift up his eyes to heaven, but cried out simply, God, be merciful to me, a sinner.  This man was in the right line.  He came seeking mercy, because he knew he did not have it in himself.  And you know what?  God gave it to him.

Here is the point, dear friends in Christ.  The true realization of sin does not come when you measure yourself against other people and their works.  The true realization of sin comes when you recognize that you are in the presence of the holy God.  When you stand before God with every secret laid bare, every sin open and known, then you are in the presence of God.  Then you are no longer pretending of Pharisizing by using other people.  When you are alone with your sin, and you stand before God with nothing in your hand, when you recognize that you have no rights, that God owes you nothing, then there is a place for mercy.  You cannot work out a deal with God.  There is no payment plan.  There is no deceiving Him.  You either enter his presence on the merits of your own so-called works, or you go there and plead for mercy.

The Pharisee claimed his rights.  He didn’t need God.  He spoke for God and he gave the verdict.  He declared himself righteous.  Therefore he went down to his own house without God, just as he went up to the Temple.  But the Publican had not such pretenses.  He knew all his rights were forfeited.  He knew God could do anything He wanted.  He was a sinner and needed God, and he could only stand on the mercy of God.  He went to the temple for God’s mercy and he got it.  He went home justified.  He went home with God, for he had been in the right line, marked “For sinners only.”

You see dear friends, God did not condemn the Pharisee because of his good works, nor did he commend the Publican for his sin.  The point is faith.  The Pharisee did not need God and so thought to do everything himself.  The Publican surrendered every claim.  He knew that everything rested on the mercy of God.  And mercy is only possible when you have given up every pretense of your own self-worth and self-righteousness.  As one pastor from years ago put it, “Where there is not God’s mercy, there is only hell.”

God’s mercy, dear friends, goes deeper than you can possibly imagine.  He showed this love to you by sending His Son to die on the cross, so that you would receive mercy.  So repent of your self-righteousness and Phariseeism.  Trust that the God of mercy loves you with an everlasting love, that He sent His Son Jesus to die for you.  Come to His Altar of Mercy so that He may give you what you need more than anything in the world.  Come to His altar so that you may go home justified.  Get in line.  “Remember that in the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem the entrance door is small and low.  It is only possible to get in on your knees.”

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

The peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in true faith, unto life everlasting.  Amen.

With apologies to and in honor of Dr. Normal Nagel, Graduate Professor of Systematic Theology at Concordia Seminary, St. Louis.