Encore Post: From Monday to Wednesday of Holy Week, Jesus taught in the temple. His opponents challenged him several times. He told parables against them and warned people about him. First, the priests asked by what authority he did the things he did. Jesus countered by asking them whether John the Baptist was from God. Because they would not answer, he would not either. (Matthew 21:23-27)
Jesus’ three parables were his last attempt to call his opponents to repentance. They were the Parable of the Two Sons, the Parable of the Wicked Vineyard Tenants and the Parable of the King’s Wedding Feast. The point of all three was that his opponents pretended to serve God but were really disobedient. (Matthew 21:28-22:14)
His opponents responded with several test questions: Should we pay taxes to Caesar? Who will be the husband of a woman in the resurrection who was married to seven brothers without having a child? What is the greatest commandment? His answers were so profound that they did not follow up. (Matthew 22:15-40)
He then posed a question to them: if Christ is David’s son, why does David call Christ Lord? They did not answer.
The majority of what Jesus taught that week, however, was about his second coming and eternity. In this way, he prepared his disciples for his approaching death. One on the evenings of this week in Bethany, Jesus’ friend Mary anointed him with expensive perfume for his coming burial.
Palm Sunday Sermon Zion Lutheran Church, Guttenberg, Iowa and St. Paul Lutheran Church, McGregor, Iowa 29 March 2026 Rev. Michael Brent Keller
Dear saints, the Jewish leaders have wanted to kill Jesus for months, if not years. Finally, they get their chance. Judas goes to the chief priests and asks, “What will you give me if I deliver him over to you?” The answer, thirty pieces of silver, was enough for him, and he started looking for the opportunity to earn that silver.
Jesus is not ignorant of this scheme, and He speaks of it in the Upper Room. He had always known His hour was coming; that He would be handed over to those who hated Him and be crucified. But that also does not mean He wanted Judas to commit treason against his God. But the time does come. Judas brings a mob to the garden, and Jesus is arrested, and your Lord’s passion is well underway.
Something else occurs in the Upper Room. Jesus warns of what is coming, and Peter boldly proclaims that, even if the rest run away, he would never. “Truly, I tell you, this very night, before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.” Peter said to him, “Even if I must die with you, I will not deny you!”
But they all run in the garden. And Peter enters the courtyard near where Jesus is tried. During the trial, two different slave girls asked if Peter was a disciple. Finally, a different bystander asks. The denial turns to oath and culminates with invoking a curse upon himself. And then, the crow pierces the air, and Peter begins to weep bitterly.
As this happens, Judas is also paying attention. And when he sees Jesus condemned, he regrets what he did. He changes his mind. But notice what Scripture says he does not do: repent. Nonetheless, he feels the weight of what he has done, and it leads him to return to the chief priests. Those who are supposed to be the shepherds who guide and share the word of the Lord. He confesses his sin and brings back the silver. But whatever absolution Judas sought, he did not find. These religious leaders have no compassion for Judas, and in their hatred of Christ, they also dismiss his remorseful disciple. They leave it to him to care for his sin. And in grief, Judas throws the silver at their feet and flees the temple.
But the guilt remains. And it breaks him. Sorrowful for his betrayal, Judas fails to seek his Lord. Perhaps he feared what would happen if he did. Even after he sought those who hated Jesus and who treated him with contempt. And now, instead of looking to Jesus for absolution, he takes the priest’s advice. And to make matters worse, he decides that he must be the one to pay for the curse he has put himself under by betraying innocent blood. He judges himself guilty, sentences himself to death, puts himself on a tree, and hangs himself. He knows the Law. He knows the penalty. And so, he takes it all upon himself. He condemns himself and dies for his own sin.
But Peter does not deal with it himself. He does not try to fix it himself. Instead, he stays with the rest of the disciples. On the day of the Resurrection, he is with them in the upper room. He is with them in the days that follow when he decides to go fishing. And he is with them when they encounter Jesus on a seashore. Where Jesus questions and absolves him, restoring him to the Twelve. And when he leaves, he is unburdened.
Judas betrays our Lord, and Peter denies Him. But afterward, Peter is repentant while Judas is remorseful. Peter receives absolution from his Lord. Judas is counselled by the priests to deal with it himself. Something he does with tragic consequences. When you sin against your Lord and God, the same options stand before you. You can feel bad for what you have done and try to fix it yourself, or you can run to your Lord and know that His absolution is there for you.
Today, the week that leads to the cross begins. Your Lord enters Jerusalem as King and will soon take up His throne on Calvary. There, He wins for you salvation…redemption… absolution. We see the effect of Judas’ betrayal. But even more, we witness the place where absolution for Peter…for you…is claimed. Amen
Encore Post: “It is better for you that one man should die for the people, not that the whole nation should perish,” prophesied Joseph Caiaphas, the High Priest. (John 11:50) On his way to Jerusalem, Jesus had healed a blind man, performing a sign of the Messiah. A week before the first Palm Sunday, Jesus was at the Bethany home of his friends, Mary and Martha. The week before, in this bedroom community, he raised their brother Lazarus, who had been in the grave for four days.
This unmistakable sign of the Messiah was done before their own eyes and those of their relatives and friends. People flocked to see him and Lazarus. The priests feared Jesus was going to start a rebellion, proclaiming himself the Messiah. Caiaphas knew what would happen. Pilate would destroy the rebels and level the temple and the city. Rather, one man, this man who called himself the Son of God and the Messiah, would die instead of the people. They did not realize that was God’s will — for an entirely different reason.
The Sunday before Passover did not calm these fears but intensified them. Like David had done one thousand years earlier, he rides a donkey into Jerusalem along the road from Bethlehem. It ran through Bethany, Bethphage, through the Mount of Olives, across the Brook Kidron, into the city through a gate into the Temple. The people spread their coats and palm branches on the road before him, sang praises to God, and shouted, “Save now! Son of David” (Hosanna). Jesus not only did not discourage them but also accepted their praise. The leaders of the people united in their plans to kill Jesus. He was, in their minds, a blasphemer and a threat to them and to the nation.
What they missed was that Jesus the Messiah was not intent on earthly revolution, but to die for their sins and the sins of the world and rise again to open the tombs of all believers. He agreed with Caiaphas. For weeks, he had been warning his disciples that he “had to” suffer at their hands, be crucified, die, and on the third day rise. Throughout the week, he would remind them of it. With the hindsight of being on the other side of the resurrection, we remember these events and sing: “Ride on, ride on, in majesty! In lowly pomp ride on to die. Bow Thy meek head to mortal pain. Then take, O Christ, Thy power and reign.” (Henry H. Milman, Ride on, Ride on, in Majesty, stanza five)
Encore Post: On Palm Sunday, Jesus deliberately went to his death in Jerusalem. He could have called upon the countless armies of heaven to save Him, but He did not. Knowing full well what was ahead, He went willingly. Down the road used to bring the lambs for the Passover into Jerusalem, the Lamb of God went to the slaughter. Just as King David rode into the city on a donkey 1000 years earlier, Jesus chose a donkey as his mount. When the crowds acclaimed him Messiah, he received their greeting.
On Thursday evening, Jesus gathered with his disciples to celebrate the Passover. They remembered the night when the Angel of Death passed over the doors of the people of Israel, marked by the blood of the lamb. That night, when he gave us the Lord’s Supper, Jesus became our Passover, giving us his body to eat in the bread and his blood to drink in the wine.
Later, he would be led to trial before the Sanhedrin, which met in the Temple of Solomon. Here, the Lamb of God was condemned to die. On the cross, when He said, “It is finished,” God completed the sacrifice for our sins.
What the women found when they arrived at the tomb the next Sunday morning changed everything. The stone was rolled away; the guards had run away, and an angel greeted them. “He is not here! He is risen!” Once it sank in, the disciples went from sadness to joy. For Christians, the day of worship shifted from the Sabbath to the Lord’s Day. The very people who ran away and hid for fear of arrest would face arrest, torture, and eventually death themselves to proclaim the good news of salvation because of the death and resurrection of Jesus the Messiah. Today we still proclaim the same good news. Now we were redeemed, forgiven, and restored to fellowship with God.
[Sixty-second in a series of posts on Martin Luther’s Small Catechism]
The Lord’s Supper is a great gift to us. With bread and wine, Jesus gives us his Body and Blood to eat and to drink. This gift would be precious, even if that was all there was to it. But God gives us much more in this sacrament. He meets our greatest need, to be forgiven of our sins.
The greatest disaster that comes from Adam and Eve’s disobedience is that it separated them — and us — from God. Cut off from the source of life itself. It brought death to all of us. By giving his body on the cross and shedding his blood there, he paid the price for sin, earning us the forgiveness of sins and reconciling us with God. With the reason for our eternal death removed, the seal of the grave is broken. We are saved and will live with him eternally.
In Baptism, God applies these benefits to us. Yet our sinful nature remains in us. “The old Adam is a good swimmer,” the old quip goes. (No, Martin Luther likely did not say it!) Constantly harassed by the world and its temptations, the sweet lies of Satan, and the lure of our passions, we sin often. The Lord’s Supper forgives our sins and assures us of God’s love for us. It is communion with Jesus in the most intimate way. It is as the ancient liturgy for anointing the sick, “bread for the journey.”
So, we receive this precious gift often. After all, Jesus is really present there. And where he is, there we also want to be.
[Sixty-first in a series of posts on Martin Luther’s Small Catechism]
The Lord’s Supper is really very simple. At his last Passover meal, Jesus took bread, broke it, gave it to his disciples, and said, “This is my body,” and took a cup of wine and said, “This is my blood.” When we eat this bread, we also eat his body, and when we drink this wine, we drink his blood. From the day the Lord instituted this sacrament until the Reformation, all Christians believed that these words did what they said. They also realized this was a mystery that human reason cannot possibly begin to understand.
Because we cannot understand how this can be true, the Reformed and Evangelical traditions believe that Jesus did not mean these words literally, but that the sacrament is a meaningful symbol that reminds us of Jesus’ death on the cross for the forgiveness of sins. They argue that a human body can only be in one place at a time. Since Jesus is now in Heaven, the literal body and blood of Jesus cannot be in the elements of Holy Communion. This way of interpreting the words of Jesus, however, relies not on Holy Scripture but on our capability to make sense of them.
The problem with this approach is that it causes all kinds of other difficulties. Human wisdom is limited because we are creatures and God is our creator, and because we are sinful and God is holy. We can never know for sure that we are right when we depend on our reason. So, Lutherans are content to use our reason to understand what God’s word says and then believe it, even when we cannot put it all together. We let the Bible be the master of our minds and not our minds the master of the Bible. (theologians call these approaches the ministerial and magisterial uses of reason) When we alter the meaning of Scripture based on reason, we end up with all kinds of unintended problems. For example, if Christ’s resurrected body can be in only one place at a time, Heaven, then how can he be as he promised, “with us always until the end of time” (my paraphrase of Matthew 28:20)
Since all the passages which report the institution of the Lord’s Supper are simple reports of the historical events and none of them have poetry, teaching or preaching in them, we take them at face value. They mean exactly what they say. When Jesus says “this is my body” and “this is my blood,” we believe that is exactly what the Lord’s Supper is: Bread together with the body of Christ and wine together with the blood of Christ. We wonder at the mystery of it all and thank God for the gift of his own flesh and blood to us, uniting us to him now and forever.
In Israel, an ancient inscription is set in the floor of a church. Verbum Caro Hic Factum Est (here the word was made flesh). Emperor Constantine had the church — and these words — built there in the 4th century. (300s). There, his mother, Helena, was told that God had become a man. It is not in Bethlehem. It is Nazareth, the place thought to have been the girlhood home of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Ancient tradition identified it as the place where the Angel Gabriel had announced the incarnation of the Eternal Son of God in her womb. Here, it was believed the impossible happened — the finite contained the infinite. The Author of Life became the child of a Jewish girl. To all Christians who confess the doctrines of the Nicene Creed, she is known as the θεοτόκος (theotokos) — the bearer or the Mother of God.
On March 25th, the church celebrates it as the Annunciation. We celebrate on March 25th — nine months before Christmas — right in the middle of Lent or early in the season of Easter. From the perspective of human logic, it is backwards.
Religions invented by humans are all about people seeking God, going on a quest, doing one work after another, performing one ritual after another. Greeks and Eastern religions are all about getting rid of the flesh and the physical world, ascending into the heavens spiritually. The goal is to shed the body for what’s really important — the spiritual.
The incarnation is the first and greatest revelation — epiphany. We don’t seek God — God seeks us. We don’t strive to climb Jacob’s ladder — he comes down it. The Son of Godis the Son of Man. He is in every way like us — except he didn’t sin. He brings to us grace after grace.
The incarnation tells more than about God. It tells us that flesh and blood are good, not to be despised or rejected, but to be celebrated and accepted. We are very good, just the way God made us. We are male or female, short or tall, big or small-boned, a unique combination of traits chosen by God so that none of us — even twins — are exactly the same. In baptism, he calls us by name and writes our names in the Book of Life. What he wants is each one of us. It is for us he was born, lived a perfect life, suffered, died, rose, and ascended into heaven. And it is for us he will come again. He will call our name when he summons us from the grave and transforms us for life everlasting. The truth is, he became flesh to live with us — now and forever.
[Sixty in a series of posts on Martin Luther’s Small Catechism]
Baptism is for everyone — every person of any place, color, class, race, country, or age. God wants to save everyone. The Lord’s Supper, however, is for Christians only. (1 Corinthians 10:14-22) St. Paul tells us that sometimes even Christians should not receive this sacrament. (1 Corinthians 11:27-32) So… who is the supper for?
Sincere Christians have often worried much over whether they are worthy to receive the Lord’s Body and Blood. Did they sin too much? Did they forget to apologize for something or to forgive someone? Should they go to the altar or not?
Martin Luther takes this up in his Catechisms (Small Catechism 6.5, Large Catechism 7.75): “he is truly worthy and well prepared who has faith in these words: Given, and shed for you, for the remission of sins. But he that does not believe these words, or doubts, is unworthy and unfit; for the words For you require altogether believing hearts.” If you realize that you are a sinner, in need of forgiveness, believe that Jesus offers you that forgiveness with his body and blood and the bread and wine of the Supper, then it is for you.
St. Paul’s warning is for those who are sinning in the process of going to the Sacrament. If you really do not want forgiveness for some or all of your sins, watch out. You are, at best, treating trivially the very Body and Blood of your Savior, sacrificed on the cross for you. At worst, you mock the Lord’s Supper. This you would do to your peril.
This is why Christians take a moment to prepare to receive Holy Communion. Luther’s Christian Questions and Their Answers are very helpful for this. Remember your sins, your need for forgiveness, and that Jesus desires to forgive you. Then joyfully go to the altar to receive the sacrifice he made for you, being united with him and your brothers and sisters in Christ.
[Fifty-Nineth in a series of posts on Martin Luther’s Small Catechism]
God gives his grace to us through the means of grace — the Gospel, Baptism, the Lord’s Supper, and Absolution. The Lord’s Supper is unique because it is known by several names. Each emphasizes a different aspect of this great gift to us.
The name the Lord’s Supper reminds us that this sacrament belongs to our Lord Jesus, who instituted it and whose Body and Blood we eat with the bread and wine. The Lord’s Supper is both very simple and yet completely beyond our understanding. We trust the Lord who gives it to us and so call it his supper.
When we call the Lord’s Supper the Sacrament of the Altar, we focus on the sacrifice of Jesus. Following his command, we remember that he offered up, once and for all, the body that we eat and the blood that we drink as a sacrifice for our sins. The blessings this sacrament gives — forgiveness of sins, life, and salvation — are ours because of this sacrifice.
We speak of Holy Communion because the Lord unites us with himself and with our brothers and sisters in Christ in this meal. (1 Corinthians 10:16-17) The Lord’s Supper brings together bread with his body given for us and wine with his blood shed for us. When we eat it, we are united with him in the same way that baptism unites us with his death and resurrection. We are also brought together as one body with Christians of all times and places, and are united with them.
We call the service of worship in which the Lord’s Supper is offered the Eucharist, which is from the Greek word εὐχαριστήσας, which means thanksgiving. It refers to our thankfulness for the gift of this precious sacrament.
It is sometimes called the Mass (yes, even by Lutherans!), a name derived from the Latin words that conclude the liturgy: “Ite, missa est” (“Go, you are sent”). It reminds us we are sent by God into the world. Most frequently, however, Lutherans prefer the term Divine Service (from the German word Gottesdienst). This term reminds us that two things happen in worship. God serves us by giving us the gifts of his word and sacraments, and we serve God by returning to him our thanks and praise for his mercy.
Encore Post: Mary, Martha, and Lazarus were close friends of Jesus. When Jesus came to Jerusalem, He often stayed with them in their home in Bethany, a little town two miles away. So, when Lazarus fell ill, it was personal, even more so because Jesus knew his friend would die. Jesus had raised some people from the dead. Yet the resurrection of Lazarus would be one of his greatest miracles and would set in motion the events leading to his suffering, death, and resurrection.
So, two weeks before his own resurrection, Jesus went to comfort his friends. He said the words that touch a chord in our hearts even today: “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.” (John 11:25-26) Still, he grieved for his friend. Then, even though Lazarus had been dead for four days, Jesus ordered the tomb opened and called Lazarus back from the grave.
Previously, Jesus had raised several people from the dead. The resurrection of Lazarus was different because it occurred in close proximity to the priests’ homes. The Sadducees could ignore stories about Jesus as just fairy tales when they happened in Galilee. When their neighbors actually witnessed Lazarus coming back from the dead, they could not dismiss it.
When Caiaphas, the High Priest, heard about this miracle, he said, “It is better that one man die than the people.” He was right, even though he did not know why. From this moment on, the priests and the Pharisees planned to kill Jesus and Lazarus. A week later, Jesus would ride into Jerusalem amid lambs destined for sacrifice. With his death, he destroyed death, its angel passing over us forever.
