Thoughts on Good Friday and the Cross from your Pastor… April 3, 2005 I was ordained as a minister of Word and Sacrament. After years of prayers and support, you surrounded me at Faith Lutheran Church in Goodridge and I was set apart as a pastor in Christ’s Church. I have been asked, “Why did you become a pastor?” Is it because your dad is a pastor? The answer is no.
It has always seemed a natural and logical thing to do. My Barbies played church. I sang the liturgy with my dolls. Years later you began to ask me to teach Sunday School, attend youth events, and even preach once in a while. You encouraged me to do this work. I am a pastor because you called me.
Yet my My father’s vocation is not insignificant. We are unique in this place. For all but 11 months over the last 35 years, this parish has been served by either R.W. Dahlen or myself. My dad was the only one who encouraged me to consider a different vocation. He knew the work I would be called to. He told me when I became a pastor, it was because I wouldn’t listen. He knew from a very young age once I had my mind fixed on something it wasn’t going to change. When I was a little girl there was a great sack of oatmeal that needed to be consumed. My mother baked cookies with some of it but we ate a lot of oatmeal. I hated it! The taste, the texture, the smell! I was loath to eat it. There was a standoff. My dear father told me to eat my oatmeal and I refused. He says it was the moment he knew I could say “no” to him. He knew my becoming a pastor was going to happen.
When pastors are ordained, they are presented with a stole. The stole is a long band of fabric worn by clergy. It is a symbol of the yoke of obedience to Christ (see Matthew 11:28-30). The stole I was presented at my ordination is the same one my father was given at his. It was made my my mother and my grandmother. The stole I was given is red, the traditional color of celebration. It is embroidered with the words “Unum praedica, sapientiam crucis!” or “Preach one thing: the wisdom of the cross”.
The phrase comes from a sermon-fragment from Martin Luther from 1515 in which he gives an answer to the question every preacher asks: “What shall I preach?” His answer is the wisdom of the cross_a great stumbling block to the world. The cross in its proper context in our preaching, is the Gospel (see 1 Corinthians 1:18).
The cross is an ancient symbol of suffering and death and was so long before our Savior was lifted up, before he breathed his last and died. This season as we long for spring and the blessing of Easter we cannot understand the gifts of God without the sacrifice that Jesus made for us. Resurrection and joy have no meaning without seeing them next to the devastating holiness of the cross.
Luther saw the cross everywhere in scripture especially at the manger when our Lord was wrapped in bands of cloth and laid in a trough. It foreshadowed what was to come. He understood the victory of Easter because he understood it as the victory of the Crucified. He embraced the reality that Emmanuel, God with us, would once again be wrapped in bands of cloth and laid in a tomb on a Friday we call Good.
This is why when we go through hard things, when we suffer the consequences of sin, when we or our loved ones are lost in death, when we find ourselves in unspeakable grief, we hope. We know the cross did not have the last word. The Crucified died, yes. But he rose! On that awesome, glorious day, Jesus rose and he will come again.
The people of God in this place have suffered as all people have. We have gathered to mourn and pray too many times to count. We have gathered for many Good Fridays. We will gather for more. I wish we could enjoy an endless season of Easter Sundays. I, like my father before me, have preached through these seasons, walked with you and stood over graves where you have laid your beloveds in Christ and commended them to God. I took to heart the words laid across my shoulders when I promised to be faithful to Gospel. I have looked to the cross and the blessing that comes in death and the hope of the resurrection of the dead (see John 12:24). My father taught me this and he showed me how to be pastor here.
None of us know what tomorrow will bring. Zechariah reminds us in St. Luke’s Gospel: By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace (Luke 1:78-79). Without the night, we can not embrace the dawn. But no matter the darkness that comes, Christ’s light will shatter it. This is the wisdom of the cross. This is what I am blessed to preach and what I will continue to preach. It is perhaps the best reason I listened to you and now stand in the pulpit humbled and graced by your call. It is the legacy from one preacher to the next from the first preachers of the Gospel. This is the treasure I share and the hope I carry day by day! Peace, Kristin Emma
Comments