THE CRADLE AND THE CROSS

Luke 2:25-35

I love the Christmas lights although some go overboard with lavish, non-stop displays.  On the news last week was the man near Portland who lived next door to someone who had done just that.  He could not compete and so he had a neon sign made that said simply "ditto," with an arrow pointing at his neighbor's display.  I like the music of Christmas too, and the emphasis on rejoicing.  But we now are before the communion table that reminds us there is pain involved in this season.  It reminds us that Jesus was born to die. It reminds us that the cradle in a stable is joined by the cross on a hill as symbols that summarize who Jesus was and why he came.  They can never be separated.

We realize this when we read all of Luke's account of Jesus birth and infancy.  In the first two chapters of Luke we see the beauty in the story of Jesus' birth -- Mary's song, his birth in a manger, angels singing, and shepherds praising.  But then Luke tells us a story that foreshadows the pain and suffering of the cross, not just for Jesus, but also for his mother, Mary.  Shortly after Jesus was born Mary and Joseph took him to the temple to "present him to the Lord," since the law stated that every first born male belonged to the Lord.  There they came across an old man named Simeon who had been told by the Holy Spirit that he would not die until he saw the Lord's Messiah.  I can imagine him slightly bent with age, a staff in one hand, long white beard, perhaps with some spittle dripping, but with sharp, piercing eyes.  He startled many a mother as he suddenly confronted her and lifted a corner of the blanket to look see her child.  When he saw Jesus Simeon took him in his arms, raised his eyes to heaven and declared, "my eyes have seen Your salvation."  But when he handed Jesus back to Mary he said, This baby is appointed for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and for a sign to be opposed -- and a sword will pierce even your own soul." 

John Killinger, pastor and professor of preaching, tells how those words were driven into his soul.  He and his family were in Spain, in a museum, standing before one of the great Spanish crucifixion scenes.  The painting, like so many Spanish works of art, was dark and brooding, unlike the sunlit plains of Spain.  Christ hung on the cross.  In the lower foreground a woman knelt.  "Who is that?" asked their six year old.  "That's Mary, Jesus' mother," we explained.  He was quiet for a second or two and then he said, very solemnly, "that must have hurted her."  Since then, Killinger says, "I have not been able to read Simeon's words to Mary, 'a sword will pierce through your own soul also' without remembering that observation" (Fundamentals of Preaching, 121). 

Luke has hardly finished telling the story of Jesus' birth in a stable than he elicits the image of a cross on a hill and the pain and suffering it brought to Mary.  Jesus was born to die.  The cradle and the cross cannot be separated.

At the communion table, as we remember how Jesus suffered on our behalf, may we also remember Mary, and many others, even today, who know him as friend, as teacher, and as Lord who also suffer and who, in some way enter into the pain of the cross.

CONFESSION OF SIN -- EXAMINE YOURSELF

In the upper room when Jesus instituted the Lord's Supper, one of the things he said was, This cup is the new covenant in my blood, poured out for the forgiveness of sins."  Apparently, God took sin very seriously -- enough to sacrifice his Son.  Jesus took it seriously enough to willingly shed his blood in order for us to be forgiven.

When we come to the table, how seriously do we take sin?  I would hope that we are not like the Corinthian Christians.  From chapter one through the book Paul describes a church with a lot of problems caused by sinful action.  One bore directly on the Lord's Supper.  Some were causing divisions in the church by their selfish and sectarian attitudes and actions.  At one point Paul said to them, By sinning against others ... you sin against Christ.  In those days the Lord's Supper was observed in connection with a meal.  But some were being left out of the meal.  The most needy among them, the have-nots, were being ignored by the affluent ones.  Some were stuffed and others were starving.

Consequently, in 1 Corinthians 11:27-28 he wrote: Whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner, shall be guilty of the body and the blood of the Lord.  But let a man examine himself, and so let him eat of the bread and drink of the cup.


We need to be clear on what he meant.  He was not saying that you must get rid of all sin in your life before coming to commune.  That is impossible.  He is talking about self examination, about being honest with ourselves, about acknowledging our sins.  He is talking about coming in the spirit of repentance.

As the church grew and spread throughout the Mediterranean area in the first century, leaders sensed the need for specific instruction and procedures for observing the Lord's Supper, for baptism and other aspects of church life.  To make the connection between sin and forgiveness and the Lord's Supper they began to include a recognition of sin in their worship service.  One of the earliest documents to provide this information is called The Didache, or Teaching of the Twelve Apostles.  It provided guidance for observing the Lord's Supper, including prayers that can be said for the cup and the bread.  One of the things it says is this:  on the Lord's day assemble and break bread and give thanks, having first confessed your sins that your sacrifice may be pure.


As the years went by the confession of sin became a regular element in the order of worship.  At least from the 11th century on it was customary to have a corporate confession of sin prior to communion.  To this day many churches include this in their worship as a way to help people examine themselves, acknowledge their sin, and come to the table in a spirit of repentance.

While exploring this subject on the internet I came across one site that included many confessions that are used in worship today.  One caught my attention because we had just spent a profitable class on the Sermon on the Mount.  It makes use of the Beatitudes as a responsive confessional prayer.

L/   Blessed Jesus, you offered us all your blessings when you announced, blessed are the poor in spirit.
R/   but we have been rich in pride.
L/   Blessed are those who mourn
R/   But we have not known much sorrow for our sin.
L/   Blessed are the meek --
R/   But we are a stiff-necked people.
L/   Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness --
R/   But we are filled to the full with other things.
L/   Blessed are the merciful -- 
R/   But we are harsh and impatient.
L/   Blessed are the pure in heart --
R/   But we have not sought reconciliation.
L/   Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness -- 
R/  But our lives do not challenge the world.
L/   Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me --
R/   But we have hardly made it known that we are yours.
L/   Your law is holy and your benedictions are perfect, but they are both too great for us.  You alone are blessed.  Thank you, Lord, for your tender mercies, your loving kindness, and your gracious forgiveness which we celebrate at this table.  Amen.

ON THE DAY HE DIED

The great designer, architect and innovator Buckminster Fuller once marveled at the workings of a tiny piece at the edge of the runner of a great steamship, like the Queen Mary, called the trimtab. "Just moving the little trimtab builds a low pressure that pulls the rudder around. Takes almost no effort at all," he said. "The little individual can be a trimtab. Society thinks it's going right by you, that its left you altogether. But if you're doing dynamic things mentally, the fact is that you can just put your foot out like that and the whole big ship of state is going to go." Etched in stone at his grave site, it says, "CALL ME TRIMTAB -- BUCKY." (Nancy Gibbs, Time, Nov 22, 2010)

Think of Jesus on the day of his death; try to take your mind back to the culture, history, and nature of society in that day. By normal political standards crucifixion was not unusual and Jesus was seemingly unimportant. Roman crucifixions were rather common. The practice of crucifixion pre-dates the Romans. For example, Alexander the Great conquered Tyre, a seacoast town not far from northern Galilee and crucified 2,000 of its people. Among the Romans crucifixion was generally not used for Roman citizens, but was widely used for slaves and enemies of the state. After the slave rebellion led by Spartacus, 6,000 slaves were crucified by Crassus.

Jesus grew up in Nazareth of Galilee, a nothing town if there ever was one. But, about 3 1/2 miles north of Nazareth was the large city of Sepphoris, a hot-bed of opposition to Roman rule. After Herod the Great died in 4 BC, a messianic-type leader named Judah ben Hezekiah led a revolt out of Sepphoris which was eventually put down by Varus, the governor of Syria. He destroyed Sepphoris, killed or sold into slavery 30,000 of its inhabitants and marched 2,000 more to Jerusalem where he crucified them in a single day. We can safely assume that the road from Nazareth to Sepphoris was lined with crosses. At the time, Jesus would have been a very small child. But later, Joseph and Jesus probably found employment as carpenters in Sepphoris which was rebuilt by Herod Antipas and made the capital of Galilee.

On the day that Jesus died, what was one more crucifixion? In the big picture of the Roman empire, Jerusalem was a little, obscure, back-water town and this Jesus was so insignificant as a revolutionary that Pilate saw no reason to kill him. He was just one of three that day, and one of thousands over the years. Who, on that day, would have thought his death would make any difference in the long run of things? And yet we know it did. Like the trimtab that turns a mighty ship, Jesus' death on Calvary changed the world.

Apparently, one person on that day had an inkling that something unusually significant had happened. Mark tells us: "When the centurion, who was standing right in front of him, saw how he breathed his last, he said, "Truly, this man was the Son of God" (Mk 15:39). And so he was, and for this reason we come to the table now to remember the one who died on our behalf and changed our world.

A Reason for Weekly Communion

Each week we meet for worship and the Lord's Supper. Why every Sunday? I was raised in the Christian Church with this tradition and when that question occurred to me as a young person the usual answer was, 'we want to follow the New Testament pattern for the church and there is ample evidence that the earliest Christians observed the Lord's Supper on the first day of each week.'

To be sure, there is evidence for such regularity in the New Testament. In Acts 2:42, Luke describes how the earliest Christians "continued steadfastly in the apostles teaching, the fellowship, the breaking of bread and the prayers." The breaking of bread (communion) was as regular as the teaching, the fellowship and the prayers. Some 25 years later, after the church had expanded throughout the Mediterranean area, Luke tells how Paul came to Troas and waited several days until, as he says, "on the first day of the week, when we were gathered to break bread, Paul began talking to them ... " It appears that it was the custom to meet on the first day for the observance of the Lord's Supper.

It seems appropriate that we too should gather on the first day to "break bread". It is a good tradition. This answer satisfied me for a long time (I don't always catch on quickly),until one day it occurred to me that doing something simply because others have done it, even done it over a long period of time, is not enough. Tradition is valuable and helpful, but is it enough reason to continue doing something? Isn't there a more fundamental question that must be asked? What is behind this tradition? What is the fundamental reason for observing the Lord's Supper that drove the earliest Christians, and the church ever since then, to meet regularly for the observance?

Many texts in the New Testament, with many answers, could be given but if I had to point to just one it would be the reason given in 1 Corinthians 10:16-17, which seems to be saying that the Lord's Supper connects us to both Christ and the church in essential ways. Here is how Paul says it: "Is not the cup of blessing which we bless a sharing in the blood of Christ? Is not the bread which we break a sharing in the body of Christ? Since there is one bread, we who are many are one body; for we all partake of the one bread."

The blood of Christ ... the one body ... symbolized in these elements ... in this communion we are connected to the blood that forgives and the body that unites. What greater reason could we have to maintain the tradition and to "continue steadfastly in the apostles teaching, the fellowship, the breaking of bread and the prayers"?

FROM MEMORIAL TO FREEDOM DAY

On Memorial Day, a few weeks ago, we remembered fallen heroes. In a few short weeks we have gone from Memorial Day to Freedom Day. But even now, as July 4th is upon us, the nightly news keeps us painfully aware of our fallen heroes. There may be one or more that each of us knew personally, either from as far back as World War Two or from more current conflicts. I'm sure that we all agree that the fallen heroes deserve to be remembered.

In 1915, Moina Michael, inspired by the poem, "In Flanders Field," contributed a short poem that led to wearing poppies in honor of those who died:

We cherish too the Poppy red

That grows on fields where valor led.

It seems to signal to the skies

That blood of heroes never dies.

It is appropriate that we connect Memorial Day, with its remembrance of fallen heroes, to Independence Day and its celebration of freedom, primarily because there is a direct connection between fallen heroes and our freedom. The PBS Memorial Day broadcast from the Capital steps was all about fallen heroes. Tomorrow's broadcast on the 4th, also from the Capital steps, will be all about celebration, freedom, and victory, capped off with brilliant fireworks.

For us who call ourselves Christians, it is particularly appropriate that we gather at the communion table today and focus on a fallen hero whose life was given in the greatest battle ever fought, and whose blood, as the poem says, "never dies." Every human war ever fought is simply a microcosm of the deeper, greater spiritual war that goes on behind the scenes. As Paul says in Ephesians 6:12, "Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the ... spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places." We are still engaged in this struggle and we come today to remember and to celebrate the fallen hero who won the decisive battle.

It's been said that every war has a decisive battle. In the Second World War the decisive battle came on D Day and the successful invasion of France. While many battles were yet to be fought, the war was essentially won at that time. There were many fallen heroes on the beach whose sacrifice ultimately led to victory.

Crucifixion day, with its decisive battle, and Resurrection day, with its ultimate victory, go together. Our hero fell, but rose again, enabling Paul to say in Romans 5:10, "If while we were enemies we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son, much more, having been reconciled shall we be saved by his life." Reconciled by his death ... saved by his life! Death and all of this world's sin and evil met its match on Calvary when Jesus Christ became our fallen and then our risen hero. Now, at this table, we celebrate the freedom that was won for us by Him.

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

After her hip surgery and during the nearly three weeks that Frances was in the hospital and the rehabilitation facility I was home alone. There were several things that I had to remember. Turn off the stove, turn down the heat at night, lock the doors and, when I left the house, take the cell phone. I often forget to take it. To help me remember I moved it from its usual place to one where I would be sure to see it. With me the old cliche is true: out of sight, out of mind.

All too often a great natural disaster occurs, like hurricane Katrina, the Haiti earthquake, or the Japan earthquake and tsunami. For a time our national media keeps it before us. Right now our attention is focused on Joplin. But, as time goes by, the media turn to other events. Not everyone forgets, but with many of us it is true: out of sight, out of mind.

If you come to church from West 11th as I do, you turn at the corner on Bertleson where a drunken driver killed several people a few years ago. It was a terrible tragedy and for a long time flower memorials were placed there to remind us. Some are still there but not as many and not as obvious. Usually I don't see them and consequently I don't remember. Out of sight, out of mind.

In 1984 Frances and I had the privilege of visiting St Michael's Cathedral in Coventry, England. The Cathedral is a magnificent, modern building. On the front is a sculpture of St Michael defeating the devil. As you walk into the building from either side you cannot help but see the ruins of the original building that was destroyed by bombs in World War Two. They have left the shell of the original building for all to see. Also, once inside the Cathedral a glass wall with inscribed figures of historical Christians allows you to see the ruins.

As you stand in the ruins your eye is drawn to the charred, ugly cross behind the altar. Someone picked through the rubble of the bombed out ruins and used some blackened pieces of wood to form a crude cross. The bombing occurred on Nov 14, 1943. Only six months later, on Christmas day, the BBC invited Provost Howard to lead a Christmas broadcast from the ruins of the Cathedral. In his message he said, "With Christ born in our hearts today, we are trying, hard as it may be, to banish all thoughts of revenge ... We are going to try to make a kinder, simpler, a more Christ-child-like sort of world in the days beyond this strife."

After the war, as an act of reconciliation the German people collected offerings and paid for the windows in the new Cathedral. Also, a reconciliation statue, titled "Forgiveness", was placed within the ruins. All of these, the new Cathedral, the ruins, the statue and the cross, are visible reminders of the reconciliation found in Christ. We need such visual reminders because it is certainly true -- if it's out of sight, its out of mind.

And so it is with these simple elements, a table that says, "do this in remembrance of me," a piece of bread, a cup of grape juice, the words, "this is my body," and "this is my blood of the covenant." All of this, so simple and yet so important, keep alive and fresh our memory of the sacrifice of Christ on our behalf.

AND THEY SANG A HYMN

Matthew says, "And they sang a hymn and went out to the Mount of Olives."

We are singing creatures. We have songs for everything; songs about life and death, hopes and dreams, tragedies, failures -- you name it and there is a song for it.

Near the beginning of the bible, back thousands of years ago in Israel's early history, they experienced God's mighty power when the Red Sea parted and they walked to safety on dry land. Exodus 14:31 says, "When the people of Israel saw the mighty power that the Lord had unleashed against the Egyptians, they were filled with awe before Him." So how did they respond? They broke into song: "I will sing to the Lord for he has triumphed gloriously; ... the Lord is my strength and my song; he has given me the victory." It was called "The Song of Moses."

Near the end of the Bible, through the eyes of John in Revelation 15, as we look toward the end of time, we see with him all of the people who had been victorious over the beast. They too, says John, are singing The Song of Moses and the Song of the Lamb.

In the middle of the Bible is a Psalm that links the Songs of Moses and of the Lamb with our lives. In our Bibles Psalm 66 has this simple inscription: "A Psalm. A Song." In its early verses it refers to Israel's crossing through the Red Sea and goes on to say, "we went through fire and blood, but you brought us to a place of great abundance." One scholar translates it: "you have brought us back to life." This Psalm was well known in Jesus' day because it was used by the Jews at various times during Passover week.

The early Christians continued to use it. Because it talks about passing from defeat to victory, from death to life, the early church added a word it its inscription in the Greek version, the word anastasis, which means "resurrection." They called it "A Song of Resurrection" and applied it to the victory we have in Christ who was raised from the dead.

I say all of this to raise a question. In Matthew's description of the Passover meal, what we call the Lord's Supper, after Jesus spoke of the bread as His body and the cup as the new covenant in His blood, Matthew concludes: "They sang a hymn and went out to the Mount of Olives." (26:30). What hymn did they sing? Since Psalm 66 was often used during Passover week, could that be what they sang? We don't know, of course, but I like to think that Jesus led them in singing about the mighty power of God and His victory through Jesus Christ over sin and death, which we celebrate at the Lord's Table.

About Being Solvent

May I ask a rather impertinent question? Are you solvent? A lot of businesses, families, and even governments today are not solvent, although I am sure that all want to be. The first meaning of the term is that one is able to pay all legal debts, and we all want that.

I began thinking about this word when I read a meditation on Psalm 38 and was struck by the author's statement: "sin is the great solvent of our relationships" (Reardon, Christ in the Psalms). My use if the term just now and his are quite different. My curiosity about the differences led me to the dictionary where I discovered two meanings which appear to be unrelated. One is the ability to pay debts. The other says that a solvent is a substance that dissolves another substance. I wondered, how can those two definitions be related? They appear to be very different.

This question brought me back to Psalm 38 where David is sadly confessing that his sin had separated him from his family and from his God. Sin, like a great solvent, dissolves and destroys relationships. One time Frances had one of the old mercury filled thermometers break in her hand. The mercury rolled out across her fingers, contacted her gold wedding ring, and dissolved much of it. That's what sin does to our relationships. It destroys that which is valuable and precious -- our relationship with spouse, children, friend, or God. And much more.

But there is a positive side to a solvent. In many cases, it cleanses in the act of dissolving. Whether it is paint in a brush or tar on your car, a good solvent will remove it. And so it is with our sin -- a good solvent will dissolve the sin and cleanse us. Thus, we read in 1 John 1:7, "If we walk in the light as he is in the light ... the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanses us from all sin." And we hear Jesus at the last supper say, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood, shed for the remission of sins."

Now I know the connection between the two definitions of the word "solvent" -- at least in a spiritual sense. Our debts have been covered and our sins removed through the sacrifice of Christ. We are right with God again. In His eyes we are solvent, all because of the sin-cleansing blood of Christ.

Perfection Required and Made Possible

People with perfect pitch flinch when they hear something just a little off key.

A perfectionist about appearance will let every stray hair or a single wrinkle make him or her feel uncomfortable.

A skilled wood worker, creating an intricate inlaid pattern on a table top, will not tolerate even one mis-aligned piece.

The crew of a NASA flight to the moon would be very put out if there were the slightest mis-calculation in their trajectory. It would mean sending them into outer space with no hope of return.

If I were preparing a three egg omelet for dinner I might think that one rotten egg out of three is OK. After all, two out of three is not bad, is it? I'm afraid my wife would not find it acceptable.

And yet that's what we do with God. We bring him a life that is only a little bit out of tune, only slightly off course, only a little rotten, and we expect Him to accept it. We humans tend to tolerate imperfection in the lives of others because that's all we ever get. We don't expect people to be perfect. we would have no fellowship at all if we insisted that everyone qualify by a life of perfection.

But when it comes to being right with God perfection is required. Revelation 21 describes heaven and verse 7 says clearly, "nothing unclean will be there." Perfection is required. So what are we to do?

If anyone faced this problem the Christians in Corinth did. Of all the churches seen in the New Testament the Corinthian church seemed to have more than it's share of serious sinners. In chapter 6 Paul acknowledges this. He lists some serious, deadly sins that they were guilty of, saying that those who do these things would not inherit the kingdom of God. But then he adds in verse 11, "and such were some of you. But you were washed, you were made holy, you were made right with God in the name of the Lord Jesus and by the Spirit of our God."

Here at this table, we stand as imperfect, unclean people made perfect and clean in Christ. Paul put it this way in 2 Corinthians 5:21, "For God made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him."

For this reason we remember Him who, in the upper room, said, "this is my body given for you," and "this is my blood" shed for you. In Him is our righteousness.