Then He said to them, “These are My words that I spoke to you while I was still with you, that everything written about Me in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled.” Then He opened their minds to understand the Scriptures, and said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in His name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. And behold, I am sending the promise of My Father upon you. But stay in the city until you are clothed with power from on high.” Then He led them out as far as Bethany, and lifting up His hands He blessed them. While He blessed them, He parted from them and was carried up into heaven. And they worshiped Him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and were continually in the temple blessing God. (Luke 24:44-53)
The Ascension of Our Lord. The Church commemorates this event tomorrow on May 29, 2014. The date, like that of Easter, changes every year depending on the date of Easter. Traditionally there is Divine Service on that day, but in many Lutheran churches this feast is not observed with the frequency used in the past. The event commemorated tomorrow is one of solemn importance, for in the Ascension Christ returns to the Father and begins His role as our Great High Priest, ever interceding for us before the Father.
On this day 23 years ago I, Emmanuel Tovar, came into the world. These past 23 years have been interesting, to say the least. But I wouldn't trade them for anything else in the world. On this day, I simply am grateful to God for giving me yet another year to live, and I pray that I may live to do His will for my life.
Good evening, Internet. Today I want to give a brief reflection on Christian art, whether in the Church or the home. Many people disregard liturgical art because of their interpretation of the First Commandment (see Exodus 20:3-4), which prohibits the making of idols for worship. The problem with this is that the context does not prohibit the use of imagery in general. I wish more churches would implement some form of Christian art in churches. When it comes to the use of imagery in homes, I am a full supporter of it. Sometime down the road, I wish to own a personal crucifix! This is a short post, and I would love to get your opinions on it!
May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all.
Hello, internet. Today I would like to do a review of the Easter hymn "Christ Jesus Lay in Death's Strong Bands" (in German Christ lag in Todesbanden) written by the one and only Marty Luther. This idea is not mine. I got it from Issues Etc. (www.issuesetc.org) and Pr. Todd Wilken. What I will do is show a stanza of the hymn, then give my reflections on each stanza. Here we go.
Christ Jesus lay in death’s strong bands
For our offenses given;
But now at God’s right hand He stands
And brings us life from heaven.
Therefore let us joyful be
And sing to God right thankfully
Loud songs of alleluia!
Alleluia!
I could spend hours on this stanza, but I won't. The first two lines pretty much give a concise summary of the account of the Crucifixion and the reason why Christ was on the cross in the first place. Lines three and four summarize Christ's Ascension (Luke 24:50-53, Acts 1:6-11). What should the response of the people be? Alleluia!
It was a strange and dreadful strife
When life and death contended;
The victory remained with life,
The reign of death was ended.
Holy Scripture plainly says
That death is swallowed up by death,
Its sting is lost forever.
Alleluia!
This stanza presents Christ's agony on the cross as a battle between Him and the devil. It alludes back to Genesis 3:15, when God tells to the serpent that the Child born to the woman will crush him on the head, but he will strike Him on the heel. Although Christ does indeed die, it was not the end. As verse three says, Jesus was the ultimate victor in this fight. The promise given here is that death is swallowed up by death. Such a wonderful promise!
Here the true Paschal Lamb we see,
Whom God so freely gave us;
He died on the accursed tree
So strong His love to save us.
See, His blood now marks our door;
Faith points to it; death passes over,
And Satan cannot harm us.
Alleluia!
Paschal Lamb. That may be a new term for you. We all know what a lamb is. But what on earth does Paschal mean? Paschal comes from the Greek word Pascha (πάσχα), which is a transliteration of the Hebrew word for "Passover". The thing that sticks out to me is that God gave Him to us freely. And Christ showed the strength of His love by dying on the cross for us. Verse five ties back to the account of the institution of the Passover (Exodus 12:1-28) and gives the allusion of Christ as the Passover Lamb. Such beautiful imagery!
So let us keep the festival
To which the Lord invites us;
Christ is Himself the joy of all,
The sun that warms and lights us.
Now His grace to us imparts
Eternal sunshine to our hearts;
The night of sin is ended.
Alleluia!
Since this is an Easter hymn, the festival here refers to the feast of Easter. The center of this stanza is that "Christ is Himself the joy of all". That's pretty straightforward. The next verse expounds on it, by referring to Christ as the sun that gives us warmth and light. This stanza, as said previously, is pretty straightforward.
Then let us feast this Easter Day
On Christ, the bread of heaven;
The Word of grace has purged away
The old and evil leaven.
Christ alone our souls will feed;
He is our meat and drink indeed;
Faith lives upon no other!
Alleluia!
This final stanza is a very beautiful stanza filled with great imagery. It draws on Christ being the Bread of Life (John 6) and how He is what can only satisfy our souls. It truly is beautiful.
If you like things like this, please leave a comment and let me know! Or if you have any suggestions on how to make this blog better, please leave me a comment as well!
Good afternoon, Internet. Today marks the last post of my series on Liturgy. I have a couple of new stuff under my sleeve, so I'll be back tomorrow with something new. Today I want to talk about the ending portion of the liturgy, the benediction.
"The Lord bless you and keep you." Recall again the words of Jesus in
the parable of the sheep and the goats: "Come, you who are blessed by my
father, inherit the kingdom." The blessing that God speaks to us in the
Benediction prepares us for that final summons. Throughout the Divine
Service, God is forming us in his likeness as he establishes in us a
deeper and more lasting faith toward him and a persistent and steadfast
love for one another.
"The Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you." In their
reports of Jesus' Transfiguration, the evangelists tell us that Jesus
shone more brightly than the sun, prompting Peter to say, "Lord, it is
good for us to be here." In heaven we will have the same response
because it will be good--very good--to be in the presence of the Light
of the world. For the moment, we see only dimly, but then we will see
face to face. Still, it is good to be here even now, in this heaven on
earth that we call worship, for already here God showers us with his
grace.
"The Lord lift up his countenance on you and give you peace." We
Christians are truly blessed in that God does not hide his face from us.
In all other religions there is ultimately doubt as to their gods'
attitudes toward them. How can it be otherwise, given that their gods
are the creation of their own imaginations? But ours is the creator of
heaven and earth. To be sure, he is a stern judge who holds the sinner
accountable. But in the person of his only Son, we see our Father's true
nature, his fatherly heart of love. That is the countenance that he
lifts up toward us in his holy Word and Sacraments as he reveals his
mercy and grace.
Where the Lord blesses and makes his face shine and lifts up his
gracious countenance on us, there is peace. Not the peace of this world,
but peace between God and his faithful people. We know that peace
because even now, in Word and Sacraments, we have Jesus and all his
benefits. And in heaven we will rest in his eternal peace.
Good afternoon, Internet. Another Lutheran contribution to the church's liturgy is the use of the
Nunc Dimittis as the post-communion canticle: "Lord, now let Your
servant depart in peace." At first glance it appears that we're taking
the words of Simeon completely out of context. After all, what does his
experience have to do with ours? How can Holy Communion ever compare to
Simeon's unique honor of holding the infant Jesus in his arms during the
child's first visit to the temple at the tender age of 40 days (Lk
2:25-38)?
Of course, we would love to have been in the temple and shared in the
experience with Simeon. For that matter, we would give anything to have
been the first--along with the shepherds--to see the infant Jesus, or to
have been with the Magi as they offered their gifts to him. But, as
Luther so insightfully taught, we don't find Christ in those places.
Through the events of his incarnation, birth, crucifixion, and
resurrection our Lord has accomplished our salvation. But the benefits
of his saving work--forgiveness, life, and salvation--are distributed to
us through his means of grace, his Word and Sacraments. We can't go
back to stand with Simeon in the temple. The good news is that we don't
have to.
So when, following our reception of the Lord's Supper, we sing Simeon's
ancient song of faith--"Lord, now let your servant depart in
peace"--nothing could be more appropriate. Indeed, our eyes have seen
his salvation. Better yet, we have tasted and seen that the Lord is good
(Ps. 34:8). So, what could be better than holding the infant Jesus in
our arms? How about eating and drinking his body and blood given for the
forgiveness of our sins? This truly is heaven on earth, because here we
have Jesus and all his benefits.
Good afternoon, Internet. Today I want to talk about my absolute favorite part of the liturgy, the distribution of the Eucharist. You want to talk about personal relationship? Nothing is more personal than receiving the very body and blood of Jesus Christ into your very person. I walk away amazed every Sunday.
Try for a moment to picture the heavenly throng standing before the
throne of God on the Last Day. The numbers will be staggering. And yet,
united as we all are to Christ, the Bridegroom, we will be one--his
elect Bride. As the faithful make their way to the altar to feast on the
Bread of Life in the distribution, they are given a glimpse of that
holy Bride. Oh yes, we see all of her warts and blemishes: the petty
bickering over trivial matters, the deep disagreements on more weighty
issues, and the painful ways in which we sometimes treat one another.
Yet, by our common confession of the truth, we are one in Christ. As
Christ gives himself to us in this holy meal, he strengthens that unity
and bids us love one another with a deep and abiding love. How can it be
any other way, as we are sent from the table with the blessing to
depart in peace?
Good afternoon, Internet. Sorry for the absence these past couple of days, but I've been adjusting to having the summer off.
Turning again to the Revelation to St. John, at one point John sees a
scroll in the right hand of the One who was sitting on the throne. A
"strong angel" puts forth the challenge, "Who is worthy to open the
scroll and break its seals?" Then, between the throne and the elders,
the Lamb comes into view. Undoubtedly the most significant feature in
John's description of this Lamb is that it is a lamb who appears to have
been slain.
When we sing the Agnus Dei, "Lamb of God, you take
away the sin of the world, have mercy on us," we are preaching and
praying all at once. It was, after all, with these very words that John
the Baptizer pointed his disciples to Jesus (John 1:29, 36). As we
prepare to feast on the Lamb of our salvation, we do indeed proclaim him
who gave his life for us. Here is the Lamb of God! Yet we also pray to
him who is now present in his body and blood. We pray for mercy, mercy
from the One who showed the true depths of mercy and compassion as he
was silently led to slaughter, dying like a lamb shorn of all its honor.
Returning
one more time to the apostle John's vision of heaven, we later hear his
description of the saints in white robes. "Who are they?" John is
asked. The answer: "These are the ones coming out of the great
tribulation. They have washed their robes and made them white in the
blood of the Lamb" (Rev. 7:13-14). This is the blood of our redemption,
the propitiatory sacrifice that was foreshadowed at the first Passover
when the blood of the year-old lambs was sprinkled on the doorpost as a
sign that blood had already been shed in that house. In his Easter hymn,
Martin Luther applies that incident to us, thus revealing our standing
before the Father: "See, his blood now marks our door; Faith points to it; Death passes o'er, And Satan cannot harm us" (Lutheran Service Book #458).
So it is at every celebration of the Lord's Supper. The blood of the
Lamb is poured out for our drinking and his flesh for our eating.
Clearly, God's mercy is shown, and his peace rests on us.
Good evening, Internet. Today I want to talk about the central act of the liturgy: The Holy Eucharist, also called the Lord's Supper. Among many Christians, the words of Jesus that we often refer to as the
Words of Institution are nothing more than an historical report: this is
what Jesus did and what he said. Period. We have been blessed to know,
however, that these words mean much more. They do what they say.
According to the command of Christ, we celebrate the Lord's Supper not
as a mere meal of remembrance but as a Sacrament by which Jesus himself
comes to us. We don't transport ourselves back in time; rather, he comes
to us and brings heaven down to earth for our benefit.
Of course, in heaven we won't receive the Lord's Supper. There we will
have Jesus—the Bread of heaven—in all his fullness. But for now, as we
wait for his return, he establishes his own beachhead in our
sin-infested world, coming as our defender and deliverer, offering his
own body and blood as the medicine of immortality. Here we find strength
for the journey as Christ dwells in us and we in him. And the more we
partake of this sacred food, the greater our desire becomes to be with
Christ forever. In the words of St. Thomas Aquinas' great eucharistic hymn: "O Christ, whom now beneath a veil we see: May what we thirst for soon our portion be: To gaze on Thee unveiled, and see Thy face, The vision of Thy glory, and Thy grace." (Lutheran Service Book #640)
Good afternoon, Internet. Today, I want to talk to you about my personal favorite part of the liturgy, the Sanctus. Many parts of Lutheran liturgy contain Latin names to certain parts of the service, and the Sanctus is one of many. Sanctus is Latin for "Holy". If any part of the service has been recognized as providing a glimpse of
heaven, it's the Sanctus: "Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Sabaoth, heaven
and earth are full of your glory." This is the eternal song of the
angels who hover over the throne of God in the vision of heaven that was
given to Isaiah (Is. 6:1-4). Such was the splendor of their song that
the very foundations of the threshold of the temple trembled at the
sound.
At first glance, these words appear to be out of place at this point in
the service. Nevertheless, the reality is that there is nothing in this
entire world that compares with the miracle of Jesus' bodily presence to
feed his people. In this meal God is breaking into our world to give us
life. No wonder our repeated cry is "Hosanna in the highest," for what
is more needed in this dying world than the Lord's salvation?
The second half of the Sanctus contains a statement as bold as the first.
Here we have our own little Palm Sunday. Just as the crowds cried out
to Jesus as he entered Jerusalem, so do we declare, "Blessed is he who
comes in the name of the Lord" (Mt. 21:9; Ps. 118:26). Heaven continues
to break into our world as Jesus, our humble king, comes riding into our
midst in the Lord's name. This confession in the Sanctus of Jesus' real
presence is so significant that Luther proposed moving the Sanctus
after the Words of Institution in order to highlight the reality of the
words we sing.
"What shall I render to the Lord?" Truth is, we have nothing to render him. We brought nothing into this world, and we will take nothing with us when we depart. As Jesus so poignantly tells us, our treasures are already stored up for us in heaven (Matt. 6:19-21). There is, however, an offering that we do make, both now in our worship and one day in heaven itself. It is the sacrifice of thanksgiving as we call on the name of the Lord (Ps. 116:17). In the Apology to the Augsburg Confession (Article 24), this eucharistic sacrifice is carefully distinguished from the propitiatory sacrifice of Christ. The sacrifice for sins belongs to him alone. Every time we try to grab that honor for ourselves, we come up short--very short. But when we recognize our rightful place--that we are on the receiving end of God's merciful goodness--then the sacrifice of thanksgiving cannot help but pour forth from our lips as we give our thanks to the One who gave everything for us. The giving of our firstfruits, whether it is money or possessions, time or talents, is also a part of this sacrifice of thanksgiving. Our mouths cannot remain separated from the rest of our bodies. If the thanksgiving is flowing from our lips, then it will also find expression in the giving of our very selves for the sake of Christ and the neighbor.
Good evening, internet. Forgive my temporary absence, but this week was finals week. Now that it's over, I can devote more time to this blog. So don't worry, I haven't abandoned you all! I will be back in action tomorrow!
