The First Sunday in Advent – Pr. Faugstad sermon
Text: St. Matthew 21:1-9
In Christ Jesus, who “comes [to you] with gladness, / Moved by His love alone, / To calm your fear and sadness, / To Him they well are known” (ELH 94, v. 7), dear fellow redeemed:
My wife and I have been working our way through a book about Abraham Lincoln’s thirteen day train ride to Washington D. C., where he would take the oath of office. While Lincoln made his way there, the united states were coming apart at the seams. Some states in the south had already seceded and had elected a new president for themselves. The federal government was floundering. Credible intel suggested multiple assassination plots to keep Lincoln from ever getting to Washington. It was an anxious trip.
At every stop along the way on a carefully designed route through the northern states, Lincoln was met by large crowds of people wanting to catch a glimpse of this iconic man. Whenever he stepped off the train, they surged forward trying to get as close as they could and maybe even shake his hand. They hung on every word he spoke. As humble as his upbringing was and as down-to-earth as he conducted himself, they treated him like a celebrity—maybe even like a king.
If you had been there in that tumultuous time, and you met Lincoln at one of his train stops, what would you have done? What might you have said to him? To this point, Lincoln hadn’t done much more than talk. Was he really up for the task of leading a country that was on its way to civil war? Was he truly the man for this moment? There were many hopes, but also many questions.
The coming of Jesus to Jerusalem was met with just as much excitement and just as many questions. The people knew Jesus was special. They had seen Him perform many miracles, including the raising of Lazarus from the dead not far from Jerusalem. They also knew that the Jewish religious leaders despised Jesus and wanted Him silenced. No doubt the Roman authorities were aware of these things, and they were anxious to maintain the peace and avoid an uprising, especially now that the city was jammed full of people attending the annual Passover celebration.
If you had been in Jerusalem at the beginning of that festival week, and Jesus came riding down toward you from the Mount of Olives, what would you have done? What might you have said? We know what the Israelites did. They removed their outer garments and cut branches from nearby trees, and they laid them on the ground in front of Him. They wanted to create a soft carpet for Jesus’ arrival. They wanted Him to know He was most welcome.
But while the donkey’s hooves may have fallen quietly on the path, the crowd was anything but quiet. The people who went before Him and those who followed Him were shouting and singing the words of an old song, perhaps as much as 1,000 years old. “Hosanna!” they cried, which means, “Save us, we pray!” “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!”
They were shouting the words of Psalm 118, a messianic song of victory. They believed the coming of Jesus was the fulfillment of these words. They welcomed Him as a king, “the Son of David.” Just what sort of king He would be was not clear to them, but they almost certainly had nationalist notions in mind. Jesus could lead them into a new era of earthly glory and prosperity, free from the rule of outsiders, like the rule of the great king David!
But Jesus was not that sort of king. By the end of the week, He stood before Pilate and said, “My kingdom is not of this world” (Joh. 18:36). His kingdom was heavenly. He was looking to gain eternal souls, not earthly subjects. He would win them in a most surprising way. It would not be done by political deal-making, alliance building, or a superior show of strength. Jesus secured freedom for the captives by suffering. He brought them life by dying. He won everything for them by appearing to lose it all.
Jesus came to do what the people were crying out for, “Hosanna! Save us, we pray!” But it wasn’t salvation from corrupt religious leaders or pagan overlords. He saved them from their sin and death. It is rare and perhaps even impossible for an earthly leader to do something that benefits everyone. But what Jesus accomplished was for everyone. He suffered and died for everybody’s sins. He made no distinctions, played no favorites. Jesus was there on the cross for all sinners.
That means He was there for you. When Jesus received His crown of thorns and was pinned to that gruesome instrument of death, you didn’t exist. You wouldn’t exist for nearly 2,000 years! But God the Father saw the wrongs you would do and the good you would leave undone as clear as day. All sin was before Him, and He placed all of it on His holy Son. All your pride when things went your way, and all your impatience when things didn’t. All your bad decisions, your unfaithfulness, your brokenness. All of it was piled on Jesus, who suffered as though all of it was His doing, as though all of it was His sin.
Suppose you were employed somewhere, and you decided that you would do whatever you felt like doing. You broke the rules. You broke merchandise. You took whatever you wanted. When the losses couldn’t be ignored, the boss called everyone together. Now things were getting serious. How would you lie your way out of this one? But you didn’t have to. Even though the evidence strongly pointed to you, your innocent co-worker was accused instead. He was the one to be fired—not you. And he didn’t even open his mouth. He knew the truth, and he willingly took the punishment—took the punishment for you.
Knowing what your sin did to Jesus, knowing what He suffered in your place, what would you do if He met you here? What might you say? Part of you would want to try to justify yourself and pass the blame for your sins on to others. You were just a victim of unfortunate circumstances. Or maybe you would even have some criticisms of Him, that if He were a king more attuned to your daily needs and more aware of your troubles, you would not have struggled along like you had.
That would be no way to greet your King. But He would stand there patiently, looking right at you, a mixture of love and compassion and truth in His eyes. Then slowly He would lift His hands and turn them open to show two marks—marks from the nails. Those marks speak a message of perfect love, perfect sacrifice, perfect forgiveness, a message that can be boiled down to two words, “For you.”
Nothing more needs to be said. Nothing more needs to be done. Jesus died for you. He rose from the dead in victory for you. And He still lives for you. “I am with you always,” He says (Mat. 28:20). He does meet you here. He comes humbly, hidden in simple words, simple water, simple bread and wine. He comes through these lowly means to transfer all the wealth of His kingdom to you. He gives you His forgiveness, His righteousness, His life.
And when He comes in each Divine Service, you greet Him like the Israelites did outside Jerusalem. As the Israelites laid their garments at His feet, so you put off your old Adam in repentance and lay your sins before Him. That is how the Divine Service begins, with repentance. You tell the truth about yourself and put yourself at His mercy. And immediately you hear His words of absolution, the free forgiveness of all your sins.
As the Israelites also decorated the road with palm branches, so you sprinkle the path of your coming King with praises. You join the angels in their Christmas song, “Glory be to God in the highest. And on earth peace, goodwill toward men.” And as the Israelites repeated what they had learned about Jesus in the Holy Scriptures, so you listen to the Scripture readings and sermon and confess the truth about your King in the Creeds, acknowledging Him as the fulfillment of all of God’s promises.
Then in the service of Holy Communion, you even take up the Israelites’ hosanna song. Just before Jesus joins His body and blood to the bread and wine, you sing, “Hosanna in the highest. Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest.” Then you hear Jesus’ invitation, “Take, eat; this is My body, which is given for you…. Drink of it all of you; this cup is the New Testament in My blood, which is shed for you and for many, for the remission of sins.”
The entire Divine Service is a review of what Jesus did to save you and what He still does to keep you in His kingdom. Your King is not ashamed to count you among His followers. He is happy to meet you and dispense His riches to you. He does not ask anything from you except that you trust what He tells you. And even this faith comes to you as a gift from Him.
He is not a king who forces His subjects to be devoted to Him and praise Him. He doesn’t have to force us. When we see all that He has done for us, we cannot help but give Him thanks and praise and desire to live our life in His service. None of it is good enough for Him, and He accepts all of it with gladness.
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost; as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, forevermore. Amen.
+ + +
(picture from “Entry of Christ into Jerusalem” by Pietro Lorenzetti, 1320)