"This Cup Is ... "

"This is My blood ..." Jesus says in the gospels written by Matthew and Mark.

But from Paul we read this very cool (and yet mind-boggling) thing:  "This cup is the new testament in My blood" (Luke 22 and 1 Corinthians 11).

This cup IS ... a ...

word.

Not "this cup contains ...."

Not "my blood is ...."

Any testament or a covenant is a word.

A promise.

This cup is a word.

Where Does Preaching Belong?

In the Lutheran church, preaching comes after the Bible readings and before the Lord's Supper.  We visited a church once where the Lord's Supper comes first, with preaching afterward.  What difference does it make?

If preaching is about converting sinners (over and over and over again), then it belongs prior to the Supper.  I am called to repentance for my sin; Jesus' mercy is lavished upon me; this makes me able to receive His body rightly.

But if the Holy Communion comes first and then preaching, that's because they believe the Supper is to give you the power, the oomph, the motivation, to be Jesus' follower.  And the point of the sermon is to instruct you in your behavior.

So the difference is whether the sermon is seen as comfort or guidance. 

And that ultimately indicates whether we trust in the law or the gospel.

Supperless Sunday

"This is the feast of victory for our God ..."
WHAT is the feast? 
Why are we singing this when the feast is not offered?

"I will take the cup of salvation ...."
But the chalice isn't on the altar today.

"I will pay my vows to the Lord now
in the presence of all His people,
in the courts of the Lord's house,
in the midst of you, o Jerusalem."
I'm still pondering this:  IS the chancel heaven-on-earth when the Lord's Supper is not being celebrated?  When we're in church for prayers and preaching, are the saints and angels in heaven joined with us in the same way that they are joined with us for the Holy Communion?



I like Matins and Vespers and Evening Prayer. 

If there's no Supper, the prayer offices are good. 

So why pray the liturgy that goes with the Supper and then not celebrate the Supper?

Do Your Sins Pile Up?

Some Christians think that we commit sins, and then we go to confession or go to church or go to the Lord's Supper, and [zap] Jesus wipes away our sins.  And then we go about life, oops, here-a-sin, there-a-sin, everywhere-a-sin-sin.  So we're dirtied up, and we have to go to church to be cleaned up again, ... and the cycle repeats itself.

Pastor often tells us, "NO, that's not what it is."  If it were, that would mean our confessing was the thing meriting God's forgiveness.  Also it would be denying original sin, as if there were days (or hours) (or moments) when we could be spiffied-up and sin-free.  Also it would mean we could have no certainty about our salvation because we could never know whether we'd [oops] sin and then die before having a chance to Get It Fixed At Church (or at least in our personal verbal prayers).  Pastor likes to use an example from a M*A*S*H episode, where Frank Burns is jumping back and forth across the threshold of the tent's door, chanting, "I'm in.  I'm out.  I'm in.  I'm out."  Being in God's grace is not like that; it's not like we're covered by His forgiveness, and then are out, and then are back in after the absolution in the Divine Service, and then back out again next time we lose our temper.

Hearing "I forgive you all your sins" does not mean a pile of sins is erased, brought down to zero-level, before we start piling up sins again.  No.  Because of Jesus' blood shed on the cross, God sees utter perfection, holiness, righteousness, purity.  Going to confession or going to the Lord's Supper doesn't change our status in God's eyes.  What absolution does is to reorient our blind eyes from our navel-gazing, and open our eyes to see ourselves as God sees us, as He declares us to be.

Drink of It, ALL of You?

... He gave it to His disciples and said, "Take, eat; this is My body."  ... "Drink of it, all of you ..."

Hey!  He gave it to WHOM?  Those disciples?  The ones who were soon to abandon Him?  The ones who denied Him? 

There's some comfort there!  If Jesus would give Himself to/for those followers who ran away instead of followed, then that means He'll do the same for me -- lousy follower that I am!

Alia's Theology

My 3-yr-old-at-the-time granddaughter drew this picture recently.  It was one of many, including making some letters, drawing a chicken, and some plain old scribbling.  But her mother wanted to get a picture of this one before it was erased for whatever-came-next.

Surely in Temples Made with Hands...

I used to love "Built on the Rock the Church Doth Stand."  It has some great lines and a good, strong tune. 

But when I began to understand that Jesus really truly IS there in the Divine Service -- there in His word -- there in the Supper -- there in the preaching -- there in the absolving -- I began to be troubled by

Surely in temples made with hands
God the most high is not dwelling.
High above earth His temple stands,
all earthly temples excelling.

But He is dwelling here, in this building, in this nave, in this chancel, on this altar.  He is!

When I crabbed about that line to Pastor Wiest, he told me to "take it up with Paul" because it's exactly what the apostle said when he was preaching in Athens, at Mars Hill.  Well, just go and hog-tie me, Pastor Wiest!  Darn it, how can I argue with the apostle who was inspired by God to say it?

But it still bothered me.

So after church today we looked at the Greek.  And now it makes a little more sense.  All through John -- especially where Jesus talks about abiding in the word, and abiding in the Spirit, and abiding in Him, and His abiding in us -- it's a different word.  It's not the same kind of "dwell."  So often "dwelling" is "living" or "abiding" or "remaining."  But at Mars Hill, when Paul said that God does not "dwell" in earthly temples, it's more like God isn't housed in earthly temples, like, y'know, "contained."  

Well, now, that makes loads more sense. 

He does abide here in our churches.  He does remain there.  He does dwell with us there.  But He's not limited there; He's not locked up there.

So now I'm wondering what impression the song gives other people.  Maybe I'm the only one.  Maybe everybody else thinks it's a no-brainer that God is everywhere and yet at the same time is specially located in the holy place of our churches.

Discerning the Lord's Body

Pastor Stuckwisch writes about the importance of discerning the Lord's body and blood in the Sacrament.  In the article, he points out things that pastors can do (beyond what they say) to help the parishioners understand that this cup and this bread IS Jesus' blood and His body.

I remember the friend who told me that some in his congregation complained that he elevated the host at the Pax Domini, and that he knelt at the altar.  "Pastor," they said with a little bit of derision, "you act like it's really Jesus there."

Ummm...

How does a person respond to that?  "Exactly"?

This Is Serious Stuff

So, is fussiness a bad thing?  I've often noticed the particular care my pastor takes with the items on the altar after communion.  He sets the vessels in just the right place.  He makes sure the veil is neat and straight and the corners are folded just so. 

Some people might find that to be too picky.  But it sends a message (although I'm pretty sure that's not why he does it).  It sends a message that these things matter.  That this is serious stuff.  That this is not to be rushed through.  That something precious and important is happening here.

An article in Touchstone (hat tip: Rick Stuckwisch) illustrated the difference between the pastor and the soldiers at a military funeral.  The pastor was a little casual.  The soldiers were precise in executing their military rites. 

At the late service on Good Friday, the final distribution hymn ended a big fat minute or two (or three?) before Pastor was done at the altar.  Silence.  We waited.  We watched.  The silence continued.  He was taking his usual pains with making sure everything was just so.  More silence.

Earlier in the evening, we'd heard the Passion According to St John.  At the very end of the story, Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus wrapped Jesus' body in linen and laid Him in the tomb.  And there was Pastor, ever-so-carefully draping the linen over the vessels where Jesus' body and blood had been minutes before. 

I was not the only one who had to brush away a tear.

Did it matter?  Would Jesus have been any less there, any less forgiving, had Pastor been hastier and more casual?  No. 

But it still matters.
The careful attention-to-detail confesses something about what's happening there, in that place, at that time, through that bread and that wine.  It confesses something about what that bread and wine IS.

And what do we confess when we hurry through and are okay with sloppiness?

Not the Slave, But the Son

The Lord told Abraham, "[Eliezer] shall not be your heir, but one who will come from your own body shall be your heir"  (Genesis 15:4).

Sunday's [1-year] epistle was "This is He who came by water and blood -- Jesus Christ; not only by water, but by water and blood" (1 John 5), and a week ago John swore that blood and water came out when the soldier pierced Jesus' side (John 19).  The Church is created from the water and blood which come from Jesus' side. 

In Abraham, we see some truths about Jesus.  The one who came from Jesus' own body shall be His heir.

Again Given Us Grace to Receive This Sacrament

Surely you couldn't take things for granted as much as I do.  Surely not.

The post-communion prayer we've used recently speaks of "grace to receive the holy body and precious blood" of Jesus.

Think about that.  Grace to receive.  Think about how many different things that means.

There are grape vines growing, wheat growing, and people who can make that produce into wine and bread.  The weather has been good enough.  There are people who tend the vines, people who drive the combines, and people who have the skill to turn grapes into wine without letting it become vinegary.  It's all by God's grace.

We have cars and gasoline.  We have a ride to church so that we can receive Christ's body.  That ride (or our ability to walk to church) is a gift of God's grace.

Our church building is still there.  It hasn't been blown away in a tornado, burned in a fire, or been bombed by terrorists.  Those things happen to Christian churches sometimes.  But as we are in church, praying this post-communion collect, we still have that physical place.  And a pastor.  That's only by God's grace.

The liturgy has been preserved to us.  The preaching of the Gospel continues to go forth.  That's not anything we can pat ourselves on the back for.  That's due to God's grace.

Attacks on Christian freedom notwithstanding, we are still free to assemble weekly or daily for preaching and prayers and the Sacraments.  There's no suspicion that when we pull around the corner into the church driveway, we'll find armed guards there, rounding us up for prison, torture, or execution.  That's due to God's grace.

For those of us who are in churches where the Lord's Supper is celebrated at least once a week, we rejoice in the frequency of this gift.  There are churches, even among us, where the Sacrament is offered only once or twice a month.  There are churches in other denominations where it is offered a few times a year.  But for us, Sunday after Sunday, the Lord has been gracious to give us Himself to eat and to drink for the forgiveness of our sins.

But more than anything else, He has graciously preserved us in the faith.  That's not something I do.  It's not something you do.  And it's certainly not chance.  We still believe in Him; we still desire Him; we still long to come to the Supper.  That too is a miracle of God's grace.

Thy Blood My Royal Robe Shall Be

In the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve hid. They sinned. They hid. God came. He called to them. They said they were hiding because they were naked and ashamed.

Gerhardt wrote:
Thy blood my royal robe shall be,
my joy beyond all measure.
When I appear before Thy throne,
Thy righteousness shall be my crown.
With these I need not hide me. (TLH 142:6)

Adam and Eve didn't really confess to God so much as they blamed somebody else. Nevertheless, our God, who is full of compassion, killed a lamb. Blood was shed. God made the lamb's skin into a garment, a robe, to cover their shame. And they didn't have to keep hiding.

"Drink of it all of you; this cup is the new testament in My blood which is shed for you for the forgiveness of sins."  "Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness my beauty are, my glorious dress." With these I need not hide me.

When Your Conscience Troubles You

Luther, on the Lord's Supper:

You've sinned here.  And you've sinned there.  When you want to be free from your trouble, then go to the Sacrament.  Say, "Although I have sinned, this body has not sinned.  This body is without guilt.  This body is offered for me, and this blood is shed for me for the remission of sins.  This I believe, and as a token of it I will receive the Sacrament."  When you do this, your sins are taken away and can cause you no more distress.  For who can then do any harm to you? 



Sermons, volume 2, published by Baker, page 229, paraphrased

Chapel This Morning

Today's story is from Exodus 24. The Lord calls Moses, Joshua, Nadab, Abihu, and the seventy elders up on the mountain.

The Israelites had heard the word of the Lord. They promised to cling to the commands He gave (the commandments and the feasts). Moses sacrificed the burnt offerings and the peace offerings. Half the blood was sprinkled on the altar. The rest of the blood was sprinkled on the people: "This is the blood of the covenant which the Lord has made with you according to all these words."

Turns out that the people didn't do what they promised. They didn't cling to God's word. They didn't obey. They went their own way. (Surprised?)

Jesus, however, would cling to the words of the Father. He would obey it all. He would hold it sacred, and gladly hear and learn it. He would be the new Israel who actually kept the promise to follow the Lord. And then He would be the sacrifice and the peace offering. His blood would be poured out on the altar. His blood would be on the people (Mt 27:25). His word would guarantee: "This cup is the new covenant in my blood which is shed for you."

We couldn't keep the old covenant, the one from Exodus 24. But He makes a new covenant. And He keeps it even though we don't deserve it.

The Parable of the Leaven

In Matthew 13, Jesus says, "The kingdom of heaven is like leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal till it was all leavened."

Does anybody else find it very sweet that, in this parable, we have Jesus making bread?

Transubstantiation

Lutherans have been told that transubstantiation is bad bad bad. That's what the Catholics believe, right? On occasion, when I have mentioned bread and wine "changing into" the body and blood of Christ when joined with the Words of our Lord, I have been scolded by Lutherans. "We don't believe it changes into Jesus' body and blood," they say. "That's what Catholics believe."

I don't understand. It wasn't Jesus' body and blood. Now it is. Something changed. What's so wretched about saying "changes into"?

I have been told by some folks that Lutherans believe in consubstantiation. Other folks have said that Lutherans do not believe in consubstantiation. That one puzzled me too. We often use the prepositions "in, with, and under." "Con" means "with." So what's so wretched about that term?

Well, there's been a lot of talk about these matters during Bible classes the last couple of months. And here's what I've learned:

"Consubstantiation" has too much of a location sense to it. It's almost like saying Jesus' body is with the bread, like Bob and Joe go to the hardware store with each other. But Bob isn't Joe, and Joe isn't Bob. So "consubstantiation" isn't a good term, because the bread is Jesus' body.

So what's the deal with transubstantiation? We Lutherans do not argue with the Roman Catholics about the bread really being Jesus' body; we agree. The disagreement we have with Rome is that they don't really quite think the bread is still there; they think it just appears to be bread but is really Jesus' body. Not a huge error -- certainly not like the error which sets aside Jesus' word "This is My body" and considers the bread to be mere bread which symbolizes Jesus' body. But why do they think the bread is no longer there?

It sounds like it's just too much closeness. Too much of God condescending to us. Too much dirtying Himself with mere atoms and molecules. How could God be bread? How humiliating that would be for Him!

But if we believe that He made matter and called it good, ...

if we believe that He took on human flesh and joined Himself to our race, incarnated in the womb of the virgin so that He might be our brother and save us, ...

if we believe that He doesn't want to maintain distance between Himself and His creatures, ...

then we believe that our God's joy and delight is to be joined to us! He does not want to keep His distance! He doesn't have to change the bread so that it is no longer bread but is only His body. He chooses to come in this very concrete [even fleshy] way.

The problem with Rome's transubstantiation is NOT that they think too highly of what that bread is, or what is in that chalice. The problem, rather, is the subtle little separation: Christ's body and Christ's blood couldn't possibly be so intimately joined with the bread and wine.

But He is! And He is joined to my flesh. And your flesh. Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I will say 'rejoice'!

Oh, Christian heart,
whoe'er thou art,
be of good cheer and let no sorrow move thee.
For God's own Child in mercy mild
joins thee to Him --
how greatly God must love thee!! (TLH 81:4)

Maundy Thursday Vines

In the synoptic gospels, at the Words of Institution on Maundy Thursday, Jesus talks about not drinking of the fruit of the vine again until He drinks it new in the kingdom of God.

John doesn't record the Words of Institution. But he does record Jesus' words on Maundy Thursday: "I am the true vine; my Father is the vine-dresser. I am the vine; you are the branches. He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit, for without Me you can do nothing."

Do you suppose they're connected?

The Way Out of Temptation

The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not the communion of the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not the communion of the body of Christ? (1 Cor 10:16)

This is our Bible verse for the week, and it is connected to our focus on the Lord's Supper for the next few weeks. In the context of yesterday's [three-year series] epistle which follows shortly after this passage, it has a lot to say about closed communion.

But what I'm noticing is what comes prior to the verse-of-the-week. Earlier in the chapter we hear about the Israelites' idolatry, and how their unbelief resulted in sexual immorality, sassing the prophet, complaining, and tempting Christ. And then Paul says, "Hey, there's a reason I'm telling you this, so that you can watch out for yourselves and your own sinful nature."

No temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will also make the way of escape, that you may be able to bear it.

And then what does he say? He says to "flee temptation" and starts right in on talking about the Holy Communion.

Like as if it's the "way of escape." Like as if it would set our faith aright. Like as if that true faith and that connectedness to Christ's holy body and the Church would result in behavior consistent with right faith, so that we might behave rightly right alongside believing rightly.

Let the Little Children Come to Me

Lauri writes about her 3-yr-old's desire to commune. Joy too writes of her toddler's distress over not being communed. All my children have been communing now for four years. I am stubbornly sticking my head in the sand and refusing to acknowledge the fact that my grand-daughter is not communing; I'm trying desperately to convince myself that I don't know she's excluded from the altar. [Fingers in my ears. La lala la lala lala la. Not gonna open my eyes to the fact. Blindfold on! La lala la la la la....]

What is a parent to DO when they have no answer for a child as to why he cannot eat Jesus' body and blood??? And my gut-level reaction is to say, "Don't let him know about it in the first place." If we do not teach them the sixth chief part of the catechism, they won't learn it, and thus won't know what they're missing. If we don't talk about the Lord's Supper at home, and how we long for it, and what a treasure it is, the kids won't learn. Oh sure, they'll still know that this is something we do every Sunday and they will deduce that it's important. But the less we talk about it, the less we teach them of their sin and their need for forgiveness, the less we let them know about our own deep desire for Sunday to come so that we may be joined yet again with Jesus' body, the less the children will be taunted by their exclusion.

And then I thought,
WHAT AM I THINKING?
The solution is to hide God's word and His blessing from them? The solution is to avoid parts of the catechism? The solution is to refrain from teaching certain hymns?





I'm not going to discuss infant communion or age of first communion right now. But here's the question: Why has this become such a huge issue for parents in recent years?

We didn't used to have toddlers holding out their hands, begging the pastor. We didn't used to ache over this denial of Jesus to our little ones. We didn't used to care. Why do we care now?

And I think....
the answer has to do with ...

what we're teaching now,
what we believe about the Supper now.




We used to commune once a month. Now it's every Sunday (or hopefully more frequently). The children see that this is something we do every week. It must be important.

We used to have children begin learning the catechism in 7th grade. They didn't start learning when they were only 1 or 2 that "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" and that "in the Sacrament, forgiveness of sins, life, and salvation are given us."

Sunday School used to be about Bible history and learning to be nice to our friends and telling other people about Jesus. Now our children are learning that the Bible is not just history stories, but also stories about how we have failed and how our God rescued us and continues to give of Himself to us who are not worthy. We are teaching our children about their baptism and about the Lord's Supper in a way that we didn't several decades ago.

The pastors are preaching more now than in years past about the Sacraments, connecting the Gospel reading to what Christ gives at the Table. The pastors wish to incite in their parishioners a yearning for the Supper.

And you know? Those little urchins LISTEN. They hear what we're teaching them. They hear the hymns and liturgy. They hear the catechism. And they believe it. And they long for that Supper which Jesus has provided for His lambs.

What else would be expect the children to do?

So we have only three choices. We can put off teaching them. Or we can take Jesus' words to heart: "feed My lambs." Or we can continue to weep over the fact that we are tongue-tied when our wee ones ask why they cannot commune.

Catechesis and First Communion

Because the article was dated in May, some of you may have missed Pr Stuckwisch's post about "early" first communion and ongoing catechesis and what is necessary for proper reception of the Lord's Supper. It's long and thoughtful, so don't bop over there to merely skim the piece. But it's excellent. I appreciated especially what he said about the pastor's hard (and continuing!) work to teach when he takes seriously the task of lifelong catechesis.