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Pastor Franklin Wilson
Acts 1.1-11
Psalm 47
Ephesians 1. 15-23
St. Luke 24.44-53
“God has gone up with a shout, the Lord with the sound of the ram’s horn.”
The Ascension celebrates the risen Christ at the right hand of God, seated “in the heavenly places….” Today Christ ascends, “he was carried up into heaven.” In the Anglican tradition, parishes often take this occasion to have a picnic, and often atop the nearest hill. I briefly considered preaching from one of the aria balconies for this service, but soon decided that the value of such a gimmick would likely be short lived.
Here in the U.S., most parishes forget Ascension altogether, though some move the day to Easter’s seventh Sunday. Often times, hose who do observe the Day are reduced to liturgical tricks: some have been known to fill balloons with helium on Ascension Day. I vividly recall a congregation standing outside in the parking lot watching vast quantities of red, yellow, and blue balloons ascend to the heavens. We stood and watched them sail out of sight before returning to the fellowship hall for coffee and angel food cake. We did that for a couple of years, until someone asked the obvious question, “What’s the point of watching balloons disappear?” To which someone else replied, “It’s like watching Jesus ascend!” To which, yet another responded, “Yes, but Jesus ascended to the right hand of God, and the balloons just lose altitude and get tangled in somebody’s tree. How is littering the landscape with colorful plastic a helpful proclamation of the Ascension?” We soon discontinued that practice.
What then? Perhaps we ought to celebrate the Ascension in the balcony. Or, high atop the church tower. Perhaps we could parade up Bascom, or have a picnic on Observatory Hill. Maybe we could rent a helicopter—or a whole fleet of helicopters—and invade Camp Randall with the Eucharist! I note that the private company Space X either recently has or soon will launch the first ever commercial payload destined for the international space station: perhaps this might serve as a higher sign of Christ’s ascension to the right hand of God. But, then, is the international space station any nearer the right hand of God than, say, this altar or the lower mechanical room?
“God has gone up with a shout, the LORD with the sound of the ram’s horn.” Psalm 47—verse 5—serves as the appointed Psalm and antiphon for Ascension Day. The sound of the ram’s horn signals a festival, a triumphal procession, the declaration of a holiday. Yet, who notices the Ascension? Who celebrates Ascension as a holiday?
‘God has gone up with a shout!” Doesn’t such language come from a pre-Copernican age when directions like “up” and “down” were understood in absolute terms? When Psalm 47 was written down, a thousand years before Christ, “up” was absolutely “up there.” And “down” was undoubtedly always and ever beneath our feet; little, I imagine, did the Psalmist consider that 4,000 some odd miles beneath our earthbound feet “down” becomes “up”—that, given enough distance and time, upward and downward appear one and the same. Direction is a relative thing. If, at length, up becomes down, down up, what can the Ascension say to a people no longer possessed of an earthbound absolute, a people for whom “heaven” has largely ceased to exist in spatial terms? If God is no longer, “up there,” but rather everywhere, then is God really anywhere?
I’ve been reading a little of St. Augustine of late, trying to spend more time in the 4th and 5th centuries—an age in which people doubtless thought in more absolute terms than we. It happens that this morning I was reading Peter Brown’s epilogue to his highly acclaimed and lately revised biography of Augustine. From a recently discovered sermon preached in the summer of 397, Brown quotes Augustine comparing God’s grace to a youth eager to rouse his friend for a day of entertainment in the amphitheater:
“You love that charioteer; you goad on all who love you to come along to watch him, to love him with you, to cheer for him…. And if the day of the wild beast show dawns, you the fan of the wild beast fighter, you do not get any sleep … and when the time to go comes, you become a total nuisance to your friend, who is fast asleep and would rather sleep on than get up … If it were possible, you would snatch him from his bed and deposit him in the amphitheatre.”
If we in our enthusiasms goad and become a nuisance to those with whom we want to share our joys, how much more God? If human insistence irritates and intrudes in our distracted lives, Augustine seems to suggest, then how much more the intrusive grace of God. Augustine sees the shadow of divine grace even within our irritating human behaviors.
But, of course, the Ascension seems just the opposite. We may be eager to go to a concert, an art museum, a Brewer’s game, or a play. But we are hardly eager to participate in a festival without apparent connection to our perception of reality. I mean, if “up” is no longer “up,” then what does Christ’s going up mean? If even we can go up aboard an aircraft or (as some suggest) fly to a space station, what’s the big deal about Christ being taken up?
Just this: if up is down, then the Ascension means Christ comes closer by going further. If we’ve become bored with God’s grace and forgiveness “up there,” if we’ve sought in some sense to become our own gods, then Ascension becomes the new sign of Christ’s eagerness to claim and serve us, to die and rise for us. If Christ is at God’s right hand, then grace springs from God’s left—and God will snatch us by whatever means he chooses; when we least expect, he will claim us as his own, and never let us go. If up is down, then God is nearer than we know—as near as bread and wine in our mouths. Going down into our guts, Christ bears us up in the Name of the Father and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
Category: News
Luther Memorial will host homeless families through The Road Home of Dane County during the week of May 13-20. Please consider volunteering for this meaningful ministry.
Volunteer opportunities include meal preparation, kitchen anchor, evening host, activity host, overnight host and breakfast host. We also need volunteers to set up the Sunday school suite on Sunday, May 13, and take down on Sunday, May 20. Please sign up on the board in the narthex.
We thank all those who have committed their time to this outreach ministry and continue to do so. We encourage new volunteers to try this ministry and experience the feeling of providing this very important service to families who are in need of support at this challenging time in their lives.
Even as we ask volunteers to mark the week of May 13-20 for our next hosting for The Road Home, we also remind you to set aside some time to volunteer for our hosting again on September 2-9.
Contact Phyllis Pleuss at 827-5698 for more information.
Category: Music
The first summer choir rehearsal is Sunday, May 27 (Day of Pentecost) at 9:30 a.m. The choir is open to all members, friends and visitors. No audition is required, and you are welcome to participate as your summer schedule permits. Contact Bruce Bengtson at 258-3160 ext. 22 or bengtson@luthermem.org to learn more.
Category: News
New members will be received Sunday, June 17. Register at the welcome desk. Questions? Contact Suelyn Swiggum (258-1360 ext. 15 or swiggum@luthermem.org) or Pastor Wilson (258-3160 ext 17 or wilson@luthermem.org).
Category: News
Celebrate spring with friends and family at Oakwood Village West on Monday, June 4, 10 a.m.–1 p.m., with worship in the Resurrection Chapel, followed by lunch ($8.50) and a program in the Nakoma/Westmoreland rooms. Let us know if you need transportation or a special menu. RSVP by Tuesday, May 29 at the welcome desk or to Suelyn Swiggum (258-3160 or swiggum@luthermem.org).
Category: Music
Today’s program completes the series for this academic year. The series will resume September 5. Have a restful and renewing summer.
Bruce Bengtson, organist
| Prelude and Fugue in B minor (BWV544) | J. S. Bach (1685–1750) |
| Christ lag in Todesbanden (Hymn #370)
Three Verses |
Samuel Scheidt (1587–1654) |
| Passion Symphony (Op. 23)
IV. Resurrection (Hymn #476) |
Marcel Dupré (1886–1971) |
Category: Music
Bruce Bengtson, organist
Featured soloist: Jacqueline Lathrop, soprano
| Offertoire on “O Filii” (Hymn #386) | Alexandre Guilmant (1837-1911) |
| The Way to Emmaus | Jaromir Weinberger (1896-1967) |
Text: And, behold, two of them went that same day to a village called Emmaus, which was from Jerusalem about three-score furlongs. And they talked together of all the things which had happened. And it came to pass, that, while they communed together and reasoned, Jesus himself drew near and went with them. But their eyes were holden that they should not know him. And he said unto them, What manner of communications are these that ye have one to another, as ye walk, and are sad? And the one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answering said unto him, Art thou only a stranger in Jerusalem, and hast not known the things which are come to pass there in these days? And he said unto them, What things? And they said unto him, Concerning Jesus of Nazareth, which was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people: And how the chief priests and our rulers delivered him to be condemned to death, and have crucified him. But we trusted that it had been he which should have redeemed Israel: And beside all this, today is the third day since these things were done. Yea, and certain women also of our company made us astonished, which were early at the sepulchre; And when they found not his body, they came, saying, that they had also seen a vision of angels, which said that he was alive. Then he said unto them, O fools, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken: Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and to enter into his glory? And beginning at Moses and all the prophets, he expounded unto them in all the scriptures the things concerning himself. And they drew nigh unto the village, whither they went: and he made as though he would have gone further. But they constrained him, saying, Abide with us: for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent. And he went in to tarry with them. And it came to pass, as he sat at meat with them, he took bread, and blessed it, and brake and gave to them. And their eyes were opened, and they knew him.
(Luke 24:13-31)
O Jesus Christ, our Lord and our Savior, abide with us: for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent. Abide with us, abide.
Category: Weekly
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Category: Sermon
Pr. Franklin Wilson
Acts 8.26-40
Psalm 22.25-31
1 John 4.7-21
St. John15.1-8
“To him, indeed, shall all who sleep in the earth bow down… and I shall live for him.”
“We love because he first loved us.”
“Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me.”
Philip asked the eunuch, “Do you understand what you are reading?” And the eunuch replied, “How can I, unless someone guides me?” It’s the first of the eunuch’s three questions: “How can I (understand) unless someone guides me?” “About whom, may I ask you, does the prophet say this, about himself or about someone else?” And, finally, “What is to prevent me from being baptized?”
The eunuch was a castrated male employed by an Ethiopian queen—the Candace; he managed her entire treasury. The primary purpose of castrating such men was to ensure that the servant could not inseminate a royal female and thereby pollute royal bloodlines. Erotic desire being what it is, there was apparently no other way to prevent the lustful conception of a servant’s child in a royal woman; rape, I suppose, might also have been a worry: witness the Genesis account of Potiphar’s wife and her accusation against Joseph. In the parlance of our time, castration would have nipped such concerns in the bud.
But this eunuch was a “God-fearer.” That is, he went up to Jerusalem to worship. And he could read. When Philip found him, he was sitting in his chariot reading the Prophet Isaiah, presumably from a scroll, which meant someone else must have been driving. Clearly, he was a well-educated and inquisitive man: he understood that, without a guide, he could not understand what he was reading; he understood, that even though he might be able to read Isaiah’s words, without a guide he could not understand Isaiah’s message. In other words, (and on Cantate Sunday this is vital) there’s a difference between the notes and the melody—between musical notes and musical melody. Isaiah’s melody cannot be heard apart from interpretation. And interpretation requires another.
So Luther can say in comment on the 3rd Article of the Creed, “I believe that by my own reason or strength, I cannot come to my Lord Jesus Christ or believe in him. But the Holy Spirit has called me through the gospel and enlightened me with his gifts….”
The eunuch understood this: that he could not hear Isaiah’s melody without guidance. Thus, the Holy Spirit sent Philip—called by through the gospel and enlightened with the Spirit’s gifts—to guide the eunuch into Christ Jesus—the Vine from whom all life and faith grow, flower, and bear fruit.
It helps to consider the Isaiah passage here quoted:
“Like a sheep he was led to the slaughter, and like a lamb silent before its shearer, so he does not open his mouth;
In his humiliation justice was denied him.
Who can describe his generation? For his life was taken away from the earth?”
Perhaps the eunuch views himself in similar terms. Maybe servile castration was like a sheep being slaughtered, like a silent lamb before its shearer. Perhaps in humiliation he felt that justice had been denied. As a eunuch, he could have no generation: deprived of his testicles, he could generate no children. His life had been taken away from the earth. It’s difficult to imagine a passage more poignant to a castrated man, and especially to a castrated God fearer—perhaps a proselyte Jew who had no hope beyond his own cut off life.
Starting, then, with Isaiah, Philip proclaimed to the eunuch the good news of Jesus. In other words, Philip told the eunuch about one like himself unjustly deprived of life whom God had raised up; a dead one in whom there is new life. In the crucified and risen Christ—the Lamb of God, the Vine from whom all fruitful life grows—in the crucified and risen Christ there is new and eternal life—especially for all those cut off from life. In him, the crucified and risen one, there is new and everlasting life. Grafted by baptism into Christ, all who have been cut off and left for dead like branches pruned for the fire, all these bear fruit.
No wonder the eunuch seeks baptism. He is cut off and lifeless. Yet, the Spirit joins him to Christ. Philip’s witness brings him insight and hope. Baptism grafts into the true Vine. Castrated and fruitless, he now bears the good fruit of faith, love, and obedience to the will of God. Lifeless, he now lives. Reproductively dead, Christ is born in him; dead, he is reborn to eternal life.
“I cannot by my own reason or strength come to my Lord Jesus Christ or believe in him. But the Holy Spirit has called me through the gospel and enlightened me with his gifts….” The eunuch shares Luther’s great insight. So do we, and all who affirm baptism into the death and resurrection of the crucified and risen Christ. Apart from Christ the true Vine, we can do nothing. Even as the eunuch required Philip’s witness to believe, so also Philip required the Spirit to find the eunuch. None of us believes on our own. None of us serves by ourselves. None of us bears fruit alone—but all by the grace, mercy, and self-giving love of Christ.
Thus, the Second Lesson can say, “In this is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins.” Our love gives, our faith believes, our service works, our understanding perceives, but not by itself, never alone, but in only relation to Christ, and Christ in relation to all. Christ is and remains with us, that we might be and remain in him. He abides in, with, and under our feeble selves. He binds us to himself precisely because we can do nothing apart from him. Cut off like fruitless branches, he grafts us in. He bears fruit when we are fruitless and—like a vine bearing splendid grapes—he remains in the background while we deliver the fruit in the foreground and receive the accolades.
Let there be no talk of our love apart from Christ’s love for us. All love belongs to Christ, and the intersecting cross is his sign. Christ gives all his love away for the least, the last, the lost, and the dead—and today a baptized eunuch is the re-generational sign—he goes on his way rejoicing. And Philip is snatched away to Azotus, somewhere near us, that the good news might be heard and believed here and now. Dead we live: in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.