This is the sermon I prepared for Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb., for the Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost, Sept. 19, 2010.

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Readings

Amos 8:4–7
Psalm 113 (antiphon v. 7)
1 Timothy 2:1–7
Luke 16:1–13

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Prayer

Gracious Father, we thank you for sending your only Son, Jesus Christ, to reveal yourself to us and to gather us into your family. Bless us, by your Holy Spirit, so that we may live faithfully in your Church. Amen.

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Message

Jacob sat at his all-in-one chair and desk
and nervously fingered his yellow number-2 pencil.
The point was worn down, blunted,
the eraser worked over into a rounded hemisphere,
because he had just finished writing
the most difficult note of his young life.

His best friend, Joshua,
had agreed to be his courier, his messenger.
He’d given Josh the folded-into-a-wad note
during recess that morning,
along with explicit instructions.

Take the note to Elizabeth.
Wait while she reads it.
Then bring me her answer.

Jacob knew these things took time.
The ways of girls were a great unknown.
Their timing was a mystery.
But still, the waiting was agony.

He wanted to know what she thought of him,
whether they might become friends,
if she would talk to him after school.

And so, Jacob waited for a reply
to come to him through his mediator, Joshua.
Soon, he thought, soon I will know.

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We grow up with the idea
that sometimes we need a go-between,
a negotiator, a mediator, a messenger,
someone who can speak to both parties
at the delicate beginnings of a relationship,
or in the midst of careful and formal talks—
someone who can be trusted to be honest,
to speak the truth to both people in the relationship.

And so, since we know how this works
in our daily lives and relationships,
it is no surprise to discover
that our normal, mundane images of mediators
find their source, their inspiration,
as well as their fulfillment, their completion
in the life of our God.

In our reading from 1 Timothy,
St. Paul shares a fragment of an ancient hymn:
“There is one God;
there is also one mediator between God and humankind,
Christ Jesus, himself human,
who gave himself a ransom for all.” (1 Timothy 2:5, NRSV)

Our Lord is our go-between, our mediator,
he is like Jacob and Elizabeth’s friend, Joshua:
trustworthy, honest, a man of integrity.
He’s like Joshua, but he is also much more.

Jesus Christ is the one mediator
between his Father and us
because he is both God and man.
He is the Son of the Father,
sharing for all eternity in the community of their Spirit.
And he is the son of Mary, the mother of our Lord,
born a Jew in Palestine two millennia ago.

He does not carry a message between God and people,
or between people and God,
written on a wadded up scrap of tablet paper.
Instead, he is the message,
he is the Word made flesh,
he is God incarnate,
he is the One who is both God and man.

And that is what makes him the One
who can serve his Father and us as mediator.
Only he can give himself up,
only he can die on our behalf,
only he can be the ransom for all.

He is the greatest gift the Father could ever give,
the most generous gift we could ever receive,
because he is the Triune God’s gift of himself
to us, to all, and to the whole world.

We don’t need to wait and to worry
like Jacob did at his desk,
wondering whether we will get word,
agonizing over whether there is a future for us.

Jesus Christ is the One who comes to us,
the One who speaks the Word he is,
the One who makes us to be God’s people.

There is another well-known passage
from St. Paul that offers us the assurance
that Jesus Christ, our mediator, is the One for us.
In Ephesians 4, the apostle writes,
“There is one body and one Spirit,
just as you were called to the one hope of your calling,
one Lord, one faith, one baptism,
one God and Father of all,
who is above and through all and in all.” (Ephesians 4:4–6, NRSV).

[Tomorrow morning/Today] we will gather
around our baptismal font
to witness the birth of a new Christian.
When November is washed
in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,
the water and Word together
become the presence of our Lord
in her life and in our midst,
just as surely as he comes to us
in the Meal we share at his Holy Table.

He comes in Holy Baptism
as the one mediator
between God and humankind,
because he himself is both human and divine.
And so he is the only one
who can give himself as a ransom for all,
and in our midst, as a ransom for November.

For her, this is the first day of her new life.
For us, it serves to remind us,
no matter how long ago we rose dripping from the font,
we were born on that day to a new life,
we had that moment of grace that made us a people
ransomed, redeemed, restored, reconciled, and renewed.

So, no matter how divided we now find ourselves,
no matter how deep the splits and fissures of dissension
over politics and religion,
social issues and public policy,
church administration and direction,
congregational priorities and goals,
no matter what may leave us
sitting nervously at our desks,
fingers twiddling our pencils,
our minds spinning madly with worry
about whether our plans will succeed—
no matter what—
there is One who is our Mediator.

He comes into our midst,
just as he promises.
He shares his message that he embodies as both God and man,
that he is God with us, among us, for us,
and that he has given himself a ransom for all. Amen.