The Lutheran Hour
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"More Than He Seems"
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Text: Matthew 21:4-5
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Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! More than 2,000 years ago a Child was born to a poor couple in a remote village of a small province in the Roman empire. Born in humble meekness that Child, God’s Son and our Savior, came to offer Himself as our Substitute. Jesus’ life, His suffering, death, and resurrection are proof He has defeated our eternal enemies. Now all who are brought to faith in Him are forgiven and saved. God grant such faith belong to us all. Amen.
Once upon a time, many years ago, when sideshows, patent medicine wagons and circuses crisscrossed the country, there was a performer, a strongman named Hercules the Great. Hercules, clothed in a tiger skin, always wowed the citizens of the small towns and hamlets where he played. In the days before telephones there were no thick phonebooks for Hercules to tear apart. Instead he used his bare hands to do things like straightening horseshoes and ramming railroad spikes into thick, oak boards.
Still, the highlight of Hercules’ act was a bit which was performed with an orange. That’s right, an orange. So the audience could be sure there were no tricks, Hercules’ manager would call up a local preacher to slice an orange in half and hand those halves to Hercules. With a great show of flexing muscles Hercules would squeeze those orange halves. Juice would shoot everywhere… an effect which caused some consternation for the preachers whose vantage point always had them being rebaptized with orange juice and pulp.
Then, when Hercules was done, a challenge went out to the audience, “There’s a $100 prize to anyone who can manage to squeeze three more drops of juice from each of the halves.” As I say, this was way back in the day when $100 was a lot of money and six drops of juice wasn’t anything at all. Most of the folks who were gathered had a nagging suspicion that he or she could meet that challenge and claim the prize. The only thing which stopped them from doing so was an even louder nagging suspicion that they might get up on that stage and make a fool of themselves in front of everybody they knew.
That’s why Hercules’ manager often had to repeat that challenge five or six times before someone, usually some strapping, strong farm boy would come forward to best Hercules. In village after village the scene played out the same way. The local lad would squeeze and grunt and the people would hold their breath in anticipation. Sometimes a drop of juice would fall from the orange halves. Once there had even been four drops; but six; there had never been six. The local boy would strain, he would turn red in the face and about then his friends and family would begin to snicker. Finally, frustrated and furious, the boy would throw down the halves and stomp off the stage while all his friends thanked the Lord they hadn’t been the one to make a fool of himself.
As I said, the $100 prize remained unclaimed for years… that is until the day a certain man, a slight, small, mild and meek sort of man accepted the challenge. This time the people didn’t wait for him to fail before they started laughing. They knew, they just KNEW HE was going to fail. Tentatively the man took the orange halves; hefted them, and then, almost effortlessly gave them a squeeze. Not two drops, not six, but a small rivulet of juice flowed forth. The crowd, Hercules, and the manager were shocked. As the manager handed over the money, he whispered, “Sir, just who are you?” The man meekly replied, “I am a church treasurer. All church treasurers can squeeze something out of nothing.” Yes, I know that’s a long way to go for a punchline.
In truth, I don’t know if that is so for all church treasurers; but I have known one whom that story describes most accurately. This man treated every penny spent by the congregation as if it were his own… and he ran his own farm most frugally. He walked around church shutting off lights; he turned down thermostats, he made sure not too many paper plates and napkins were being wasted at congregational potlucks. No expenditure was too small to escape his scrutiny; no requisition so insignificant it was not questioned. Which is why, to many on the staff, he appeared to be the reincarnation of Dickens’ Ebenezer Scrooge, but only worse. To many he seemed that way, but not to me.
You see, as pastor of that congregation I knew some confidential information they didn’t. What I knew was this: every year, at the end of the year, when our church, like many churches was running in the red… sometimes tens of thousands of dollars in the red, a check with the Treasurer’s name on it would show up and wipe out the congregation’s debt. But there’s more. I also knew that when a family was unable to pay for their child’s tuition at our parochial school, his check would be placed on my desk and that child’s account would be paid in full. All of this, of course, was done most secretively. And although that treasurer made sure every nickel of the Lord’s money bought a dime’s worth of reward, his heart never let the Lord’s work go undone. Generosity, not greed was the quintessence of that man.
Quintessence. I like that word. Quintessence is the stuff which is left over after all the unnecessary has been peeled and stripped away. I’ve been told on a battlefield a soldier’s quintessence can often be revealed. Is he courageous or cowardly; is he committed to his comrades or is his interest centered only on his own safety? When the lead is flying, a soldier’s quintessence can be observed.
Personal experience has shown me, if a person lives long enough, those around him may often see his quintessence. When joints have failed, skin has wrinkled, arteries have hardened, what often remains is a person’s quintessence. Years ago, I remember a member of my church who spent all his life doing nothing much more than trying to get rich. He spent his last years incredibly worried that everyone around him stayed around him because they wanted his money. When life had whittled him down, his quintessence was greed and he assumed greed was the great motivator for everyone else.
But a person’s quintessence need not be dark. I can also recall another lady who died in her mid 90s. For years her mind remembered the long ago, but not so much the recent. Still, her quintessence showed through. When she was asked to pray, she would reach out and take the hand of the person praying, a smile would spread across her face, her eyes would look up to heaven as she listened and then as she poured out her own love for Jesus. Her quintessence was found in a love for the Savior Who had first loved her. It was a love which embraced everyone around her. Most of the people she had known in life had proceeded her in death. That she didn’t know anybody around her now wasn’t a concern, she loved them anyway. She couldn’t remember their names, but she patted their hands whenever they came near her. When life had taken away the extras, this lady’s quintessence was love: love for God and for others.
It should not be a surprise to you if I say the Bible exposes the core and quintessence of more than a few folk who are mentioned there. As today is the 1st Sunday in the Church year, a time when Christians think upon the Savior’s birth and their sins which were the reason Jesus came to earth, John the Baptist always takes center stage. The Christ’s prophesied predecessor comes to us dressed in camel’s hide, and using his great voice to call people to repentance. John was an impressive figure, Jesus called him the greatest man who ever lived. Decades after his death, Josephus, the Jewish historian, says people still trembled at his name.
Maybe, but the truth is this: John’s quintessence was meekness, not power. When Jesus and John met together on the banks of the Jordan River, John did not give his heaven-sent Cousin a complete listing of his accomplishments: the numbers to whom he was preaching, the many who were repenting; the lists of souls who had asked for baptizing. On the contrary, after that visit John told his best disciples to follow Jesus, and to anyone who would hear he said: “I must decrease in influence while Jesus must increase.” When people asked him for his resume, John meekly replied, “Me? I’m not anybody. I’m just a voice in the wilderness.”
Understand, John didn’t corner the market on meekness. Look at David. David was Israel’s greatest king. Early in his lifetime, the Lord had been with the young shepherd when he had used a slingshot to bring down great Goliath, the champion of his country’s enemies. It was a great and historical event, an event for which a person might be excused if he were to boast. But David never spoke much about what had happened the day he took Goliath’s head. Read through the book of Psalms. David wrote many of those ancient poems, but no matter how hard you look, you won’t find a Psalm which says, “I may have been a little shaver, but my slingshot made the big guy quaver.” There’s no poem which brags, “I came with my stones and a lot of courage, and now his corpse is providing forage.” No, David gives credit to the Lord for all the good that happened to him. David’s quintessence is to meekly “give thanks to God.”
And there’s others. Look at the New Testament you will hear St. Paul confess that he is “chief of sinners” and in another place, he allows that of all the apostles he most certainly needs to be considered as being “the least.” To the church in Philippi (3:8-9), Paul wrote: “…I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ 9 and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ.” The quintessence of that great missionary was one of meekness.
All of this talk about meekness probably sounds strange to you. That’s because we live in an age where meekness means a person is a loser, a rug to be walked on, a substandard individual. When we think of ourselves and our children, we like to believe we are all strong, shrewd, independent, self-confident, leaders. We are masters of our fate, captains of our souls, winners to be admired and emulated; we are self-assured, self-made, self-actualized successes. We not only do as we want, we can bend others to do the same.
Meekness? Nobody wants to be meek. We watch television programs about the lifestyles of the rich and famous. As far as I know, no network has proposed a program called, “Lifestyles of the Unremarkable and Inconspicuous.” We identify with the Real Housewives of New York City, Beverly Hills, and Miami, not the women of Podunk, Connecticut; Podunk Missouri, Podunk, Vermont, or even Podunk, New York.
Nobody wants to be mild-mannered Clark Kent if he can be Superman; nobody hankers to be Bruce Wayne if he can be Batman and everyone forgets Peter Parker when Spiderman is around. Even some little old ladies walk down the street with a spring in their step after they have pushed the envelope and, in no uncertain terms told the supermarket’s bag boy they want the tomatoes and eggs at the top of their grocery bag rather than the bottom. Meekness? Companies educate their executives in forcefulness, not timidity. And before our children ever start school, they are taught to play fair, play square and win. That’s why their sports heroes are home-run hitters and not the nice guy sitting on the bench; we follow the touch-down runners not the guy who remains unpicked after the football draft has gone through its 47th round. Nobody wants mild-mannered meekness. Meekness is pitiful, pathetic, feeble, frail, forgettable.
No, nobody wants meekness as their quintessence. Nobody, except your Savior. Read the Gospel reports and you will quickly see the Savior is the ultimate quintessence of meekness. His birthplace in a Bethlehem stable rather than a six-star hotel, was a place of meekness. Although He was the sinless Son of God, He was meek when He slipped into the water of the Jordan to be baptized by John. He was meek as He quietly turned water into wine at Cana. He was meek when He raised Jairus’ daughter and gave instructions nobody should be told. When He was on trial for His life, powerful Pilate, representing the might of Rome, called for a basin and washed his hands of Jesus’ death. But the meek Savior, only the day before had also called for a basin of water, so He might wash His disciples’ feet. To be sure: Jesus is the quintessence of meekness.
Scripture says the same. Speaking about Jesus’ ministry, the prophets had said, “See Your king comes to you, meek and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” When that prophecy was fulfilled there were no marching bands, confetti, no stadium horns, no cheerleaders, no fireworks, no Secret Service to watch the crowds. There were no $10,000-a-plate dinners, no red carpet, no official presenting Jesus with the keys to the city. As the prophets had promised, Jesus came in meekness. And, lest anyone forget, the same King Who began His life in meekness, had it end the same way, no, in a worse way for Jesus died a convicted Criminal. His cross said to all, “Here hangs, a Man rejected by King, Country, and Church.”
Jesus died in meekness; He died in disgrace. At the beginning of His ministry, John had hailed Him as the “Lamb of God Who takes away the sin of the world.” Three years later, Jesus fulfilled John’s prophesy as He was led like a meek, uncomplaining lamb to be slaughtered. Christ’s death upon the cross changed the calendar, the course of civilization and the eternal salvation of anyone whose repentant heart acknowledges Him as Savior. Look upon the cross. Look upon your Savior Who died in meekness and see… But wait. I’ve forgotten something. You can’t see… you can’t understand what Jesus did that day unless I tell you one more thing.
You probably don’t understand meekness. That’s because the meaning of meekness has changed over the centuries. When you think of Jesus being meek you probably conjure up the idea of a shy, retiring, powerless, almost pitiful Person. That is, of course, the way the world likes to see Jesus. Unbelievers like it when Jesus says, “Love your neighbor”, but they ignore Him when He calls the judgmental Pharisees a ‘brood of vipers.’ They applaud Him when He says, “Judge not”, but they forget Jesus whipped the money-changers out of the temple for having made His Father’s house a den of thievery.
Jesus doesn’t fit that role of meekness. He doesn’t fit it at all. That’s because originally the word meek didn’t mean powerless or impotent. No, a person was meek if He kept His power under control and used it for a purpose. That’s the way Jesus was meek. Power for a purpose. When Jesus was born, He was placed in a manger, an animal’s feeding trough. That was to fulfill a prophecy and not because He couldn’t have had His pick of palace nurseries or jewel-encrusted cradles.
When you look into Jesus’ manger, don’t see a helpless, vulnerable Child. Instead, see the powerful Son of God Who, years later, will look Satan in the face and make him back down. When you see those tiny fingers of a Bethlehem Baby, realize those are the hands which will, years later, clutch the nails and die the death you deserve. Don’t think for a moment His hands could not have yanked those nails out of the wood. He had that power. That He did not use His omnipotence to come off the cross, or call for vengeance upon those who put Him there is because He was not on that cross for vengeance or even justice; He was there to save your soul and He allowed nothing, nothing to separate Him from that task. To save you. That is the quintessence of our meek Savior, the Savior who was and is and will always be the Savior of power and purpose.
If you would like to better know this Savior Who has meekly given His life for your salvation, if you need an introduction, you need look no further. Please, call us at The Lutheran Hour. We will be glad to help you…helping sinners meet their Redeemer is our quintessence. Amen.
LUTHERAN HOUR MAILBOX (Questions & Answers) for December 7, 2008
Topic: Was Mary Aware?ANNOUNCER: Was Mary aware of Jesus’ mission and that it would involve a cross? Pastor Ken Klaus responds to questions from listeners. I’m Mark Eischer.
KLAUS: Hi, Mark. So, what is before us today?
ANNOUNCER: It’s a topic that is going to call for speculation and conjecture on your part.
KLAUS: I love conjecture – as long as people understand that’s what it is.
ANNOUNCER: OK. Well, three questions, actually: Did Mary know Jesus would die on the cross? Did she think Jesus was going to be an earthly king? And what did she think when the angel said Jesus’ kingdom would have no end?
KLAUS: When you talk conjecture, my friend, you really talk conjecture.
ANNOUNCER: Thank you. One other thing I should mention: I get from the tone of the questions that our listener empathizes with Mary. Did Mary have the burden of knowing in advance all that her Son would someday suffer on our behalf?
KLAUS: This is kind of related to one of our earlier discussions.
ANNOUNCER: So what do you think? Did Mary think Jesus was going to be an earthly ruler who would establish an earthly political kingdom? Most of the people at that time, including the disciples, thought that was what the Messiah was supposed to do.
KLAUS: And you can understand why they might believe that. Jesus was called the “Son of David.” David was a military hero. He ushered in the golden age of Israel’s history.
ANNOUNCER: Along with that, isn’t there some kind of theory that Judas betrayed Jesus in order to force His hand – to force Him to perform miraculous works to help bring about this kingdom?
KLAUS: Well, there is that theory. But there isn’t any proof of that theory, at least as far as I can tell. The question is, “Did Mary know?” There’s little question that Mary was a most exceptional person. Think of what Simeon said to her when the baby Jesus was presented in the temple. From the Gospel according to St. Luke, Simeon said, “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed.” And here’s the important part -“And a sword will pierce your own soul, too” (Luke 2:34-35). Mary would have had some idea that Jesus’ life was not going to proceed the way a mother might hope. Along with that, she was undoubtedly aware of the prophecies of Isaiah concerning the suffering servant and she would have had a far more accurate idea of Jesus’ future course than many other people did.
ANNOUNCER: So, in that sense, she might have known that her Son, although He was innocent, would be beaten, whipped, and crucified for us; and that He would suffer all this without complaint.
KLAUS: Yes, exactly. I think Mary had a pretty good idea, although she might not have known all the particulars. By that I mean she wouldn’t have known how old Jesus would be when He died; or that Judas betrayed Him; Pilate and the nation’s religious rulers would be involved.
ANNOUNCER: Okay. Anything else you could add?
KLAUS: One thing. It is an argument from silence, so that makes it a weak one. But none of the Gospel writers record Mary being surprised at what happens to Jesus. She is there at the foot of the cross, she goes to the Savior’s grave on Resurrection Sunday. If this had all been a surprise, it’s difficult to believe she might have acted the way she did. Still, she was a woman of faith and she kept faithful to her commitment made at the annunciation, when she said, “Let it be to me as the Lord wishes.”
ANNOUNCER: So, I’m wondering if we’ve really answered all this part about the earthly kingdom? Mary knew Jesus would die – but is it possible she still thought perhaps His death would somehow free them from Roman rule and lead to the establishment of a new nation?
KLAUS: OK. I see what you’re saying. In other words, might Jesus have been a martyr in the cause that led to a new earthly state?
ANNOUNCER: I realize there’s nothing in the Bible that says that one way or the another.
KLAUS: That’s true. We are, as you said at the beginning, really involved with conjecture here. I’m trying to remember if there is anything that implies she might have felt that way. And, quite frankly, nothing comes to mind.
MARK: How about in the words of her song, the Magnificat? Anything there?
KLAUS: I thought about that. She talks about bringing down rulers from their thrones and lifting up the humble. She speaks of filling the hungry with good things and sending away the rich with empty hands. But those lines can be interpreted both literally or figuratively. They certainly aren’t definitive.
ANNOUNCER: Anything else?
KLAUS: You know, Mark, there are a number of times when the Bible speaks about Mary keeping and pondering things in her heart. I have to believe that Mary was a woman of faith who was willing to endure whatever the Lord asked of her. But I don’t think He gave her any kind of Divine direction as to exactly what would happen. I think she had to live her life as we do – in faith, believing that the Lord knows what is best, even if we don’t always understand.
ANNOUNCER: This has been a presentation of Lutheran Hour Ministries.
Music Selections for this program:
“A Mighty Fortress” arranged by Chris Bergmann. Used by permission.
“Infant Holy, Infant Lowly” arr. Mark Shepperd. From Hymns for All Saints: Advent, Christmas, Epiphany (© 2005 Concordia Publishing House) Concordia Publishing House/SESAC
“Coventry Carol” From Christmas Pastorale (© 1993 Japan Lutheran Hour)
“Fuga sopra il Magnificat” by J.S. Bach. From Organ Music for the Church Year (© 1995 Japan Lutheran Hour)