This is the sermon I preached at Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb., on Saturday and Sunday, March 27–28, 2010, for the Passion Sunday.

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Readings

Luke 19:28–40 (Procession with Palms)
Isaiah 50:4–9a
Psalm 31:9–16 (antiphon v. 5)
Philippians 2:5–11
Luke 23:1–49

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Prayer

Pour out upon us your Holy Spirit, gracious Father, so that we may contemplate in faith your great mercy in giving up your only Son to conquer death and to grant us the promise of eternal life through his resurrection. Amen.

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Message

As he stretches his arms wide upon the cross,
our Lord Jesus Christ finds himself transfixed.
He is pinned at the intersection of life and death.
On one axis, the perfect love he and his Father and their Spirit
hold for us and for the whole world
comes flowing down out of heaven in a torrent.

And on the other axis,
our Lord open his hands to the nails of our sins,
and through his pain and suffering,
pours out that love like a living stream in the desert of our dying.

No one but God could give himself away
in perfect love and total obedience,
making the ultimate sacrifice
to overcome the chasm that sin and death
have opened between us and the God who made us.

And so, the Father sends his Son,
announced by the angel Gabriel,
born of the Spirit and Mary, his human mother,
raised in a loving family,
taught by learned rabbis,
revered by throngs,
believed by people poor and hungry,
plotted against by the elites,
betrayed by Judas,
forsaken by his disciples,
vilified by the crowds,
sentenced by Pontius Pilate,
scourged by soldiers,
and crucified by the state.

And so he died,
not for himself,
but for you and for me and for all humanity.

He paid the price on our behalf,
he atoned for our sins,
he bore the guilt for our wrongdoing,
he became temple, priest, and sacrifice,
he vanquished sin and death and the devil,
he ascended his throne,
he gained the crown,
he, the shepherd, laid down his life for the sheep,
he, the lamb, went willingly to the slaughter,
he died that we might live.

This is the good news—dreadful yet sublime.
And as we begin this Holy Week,
we come together to gather at the foot of the cross of Jesus Christ
and to turn our gaze upward
and to meditate upon our Lord’s gift for us and for the whole world.

And as the Father’s gift of love in his Son
flows out from those outstretched hands
and, by the Spirit, seeps into our dry and desiccated lives,
we will find ourselves refreshed and renewed,
made soft and supple,
open and obedient to their will.

This posture of faith—
the inclination of body and spirit—
is what God almighty bestows upon us
through his Word in St. Paul’s letter to the Church at Philippi:

Let this same mind be in you
that was in Christ Jesus,
who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
as something to be exploited,
but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death—
even death on a cross. (Philippians 2:5–8, NRSV)

This is the moment in which we now find ourselves.
We stand at the crossroads between death and life.
And as we witness our Lord’s self-emptying,
his humility and obedience,
and then his death,
we find ourselves taking to our knees in gratitude,
becoming obedient and humble ourselves.

This is our place.
This is our destiny.
This is our calling.

And in the days to come,
we will hear and know
our Lord’s exaltation and naming by his Father,

…so that at the name of Jesus
every knee should bend,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue should confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:10–11, NRSV)

Amen.