“Word for Today” – Titus 1 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
There are two kinds of families in this world: Dog families and cat families. Growing up, I was a member of a cat family. We always had at least two cats frolicking around the house, shedding fur and using our sofa as a scratching post. I love cats. They’re low maintenance and, at least when they’re in the mood, they can be quite affectionate.
I can remember one afternoon, I decided that I wanted to take our cat, named Neffy, for a walk. Interestingly enough, even though we never had any dogs, we did have a dog leash. So I called my brother and sister and announced, “Let’s take Neffy for a walk!” And so, we placed the leash on her collar. Dogs, of course, gladly welcome the opportunity to be walked. They happily pant with anticipation and even jump up at their owner as a sign of eagerness. Our cat, however, dug her claws into ground and began rumbling with a low, disgruntled growl punctuated by an occasional hiss. And it was then that I learned the perils of walking a cat. For cats do not like to be led.
In our reading for today from Titus 1, the apostle Paul gives a pastor named Titus an assignment at the churches at Crete that is about as easy as walking a cat: “The reason I left you in Crete was that you might straighten out what was left unfinished and appoint elders in every town, as I directed you” (verse 5). Apparently, things on the Mediterranean island are not going well. This is why Paul continues, “For there are many rebellious people, mere talkers and deceivers…They must be silenced, because they are ruining whole households by teaching things they ought not to teach – and that for the sake of dishonest gain” (verses 10-11). The Greek word for “rebellious” is anupataktos, a word meaning “submit” with an alpha privative. Thus, these are people who refuse to submit to Christian teaching and godly guidance. Like cats, they do not like to submit to leadership.
What is the solution to these cats of Crete, who refuse to be led? Paul answers, “Rebuke them sharply, so that they will be sound in the faith” (verse 13). Even though it may be difficult and harrowing, Paul encourages Titus not to give up on these wayward ones. For he wants them to be led to soundness in faith.
Walking a cat is not easy. Neither is leading one who has wandered from the faith. But as hard as it might be, such leadership is certainly worthwhile. For God’s desire is that more and more people “hold firmly to the trustworthy message as it has been taught” (verse 9).
As Christmas approaches, is there anyone whom you can lead with God’s Word and gospel? Perhaps you can invite them to Christmas worship. Perhaps you can share with them the gospel. Even if they seem hostile to Christianity, take a chance on introducing them to the Christ child in the manger. For his birth, life, death, and resurrection is the very thing on which all of history – and even all of eternity – hangs. So take a Cretan cat for a walk. Yes, they may growl. But, then again, they may believe.
“Word for Today” – Hebrews 13 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
It was my parents who first taught me about Jesus. I can still remember them reading stories to me from my children’s Bible about folks like Abraham and King David and the twelve disciples and Paul and, of course, Jesus. These stories warmed my heart. But more importantly, God’s Word saved my soul.
As I grew older, and my faith grew deeper, I continued to learn about Jesus. In high school, an unbelieving friend tested my faith. So I studied and consulted one of my teachers until I found transcendent answers to her objections. In college, I had a professor who taught me New Testament Greek. His love for God’s Word gave me a deeper appreciation for Scripture than I could have ever imagined. In seminary, a pastor took it upon himself to mentor through a very difficult season in my life. If it weren’t for him, I probably wouldn’t be a pastor today. Over and over again, from my parents to my teachers to my professors to my pastors, I have been taught God’s Word and have had my faith stretched and deepened. It is because of these people that I am who I am today.
“Remember your leaders, who spoke the word of God to you. Consider the outcome of their way of life and imitate their faith” (verse 7). Such is the exhortation of the preacher of Hebrews in our reading for today from Hebrews 13. And this is an exhortation we would do well to take to heart. For we all have leaders in the faith – those who have gone ahead of us and have gladly, willingly, and freely shared their wisdom, knowledge, and insight with us to help us grow in our faith. It is these people we are to remember.
Sadly, we all too often fail to honor these people. Past mentors all too easily become forgotten relics of a bygone era. The less we see them, talk to them, and ask for their counsel, the less often they come to mind and the less often we thank God for their influence on our lives. And yet, their teaching is just as valuable today as when they first shared it with us. For the author of Hebrews continues by reminding us, “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” (verse 8). In other words, the doctrines of Christ do not change because Jesus does not change. Thus, true doctrine that we are taught at the age of two is just as true when we recall it at the age of eighty. The people who taught it to us, therefore, are to be remembered and celebrated.
Who has led and mentored you in your faith that you can remember? Was it a pastor? A parent? A professor? A friend? Today, write that person a card or send them an email or give them a call or take them to lunch and thank them for the formative influence they have had on your life. “Remember your leaders, who spoke the word of God of to you.” And then, lead someone else. Mentor someone else. For even as you were led, others need your leading. For leading someone in the faith by God’s Word can change a life – and even change an eternity.
“Word for Today” – Hebrews 12 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
A couple of weekends ago, I was taking care of some things around the house while my wife, Melody, was relaxing on the couch and watching TV. She was enjoying a movie I had not seen in decades – the movie “Annie.” You know Annie – that indomitable red head with an irrepressible spirit. And then, of course, there is her unforgettable song: “The sun will come out tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, there’ll be sun. Just thinking about tomorrow, clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow, till there’s none. When I’m stuck with a day that’s gray and lonely, I just stick up my chin and grin and say: The sun will come out tomorrow!”
If only we all had Annie’s perpetually cheery disposition. But real life doesn’t always allow for Annie-esque optimism. For life doles out plenty of days which are “gray and lonely.” The clouds of trials and troubles often overshadow the sun of joy and jocularity.
Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, I had to endure many a cloudy day. Under what seemed to be perpetually gray skies, a burst of sun was always a welcome and even exciting sight. For me, a sunny day is better than a cloudy one. That is part of why I find the opening of Hebrews 12 so fascinating: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us” (verse 1). The preacher of Hebrews says that our life of faith is marked not by sun, but by clouds. It is marked by a cloud of witnesses. Who are these witnesses? These are those who have gone before us in the faith and sometimes have suffered and died for the faith. Indeed, the Greek word for “witnesses” is martys, from whence we get our English word “martyr.” We meet some of these witnesses in the previous chapter of Hebrews: Abel, Enoch, Abraham, Moses, and the like. In fact, Hebrews 11 and 12 seem to echo Jesus’ transfiguration, when the witnesses of Moses and Elijah appear with Jesus before Peter, James, and John, and a “cloud appears and envelopes them” (Luke 9:34). The image of preference for the Scriptural writers to describe those who surround our lives of faith seems to be that of a cloud.
But why? Isn’t the image of a cloud dark, dank, and depressing? Well, certainly a Christian’s life is not always easy. It is often marked by suffering from sin and persecution from the devil. But the image of gray skies carries with it not only difficulties, it also carries hope. For we are promised: “Look, he is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see him, even those who pierced him; and all the peoples of the earth will mourn because of him. So shall it be! Amen” (Revelation 1:7). And I always thought the day of Jesus’ return would be sunny. I guess it will be marked by clouds.
Annie may have hoped for the sun to come out tomorrow. But today, I’m hoping for clouds. For on the clouds my Savior will come. And that promise is enough to make even the cloudy day of his return seem awfully sunny.
“Word for Today” – Hebrews 11 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
The year was 431. The Christian Church had called an ecumenical council at Ephesus to address the teaching of its Archbishop of Constantinople, Nestorius. Nestorius taught that although Mary was the mother of Christ the man, she was not the mother of Christ, the Son of God. Rather, Mary gave birth to a mere mortal who was subsequently “occupied,” as it were, by God. Under the leadership of Cyril of Alexandria, pictured above, the council declared this teaching heretical and affirmed a doctrine known as the hypostatic union – that Christ is completely God and completely man. He is not merely occupied by the Divine, he is the Divine.
The word “hypostatic” is from the hypostasis, meaning “substance.” The hypostatic union, then, is a doctrine that declares that two natures – Christ’s divine nature and his human nature – are contained in his one person, or substance.
It is this Greek word which we encounter today in our reading from Hebrews 11: “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see” (verse 1). The Greek word for “sure” is hypostasis. Thus, this verse might be translated, “Now faith is hope with substance.” Accordingly, faith is not just wishful thinking, it is substantive. It hopes in something, or more precisely, someone, who is tangible and true.
The church father Bernard of Clairvaux comments on this passage thusly: “The substance…of things hoped for [is] not a fantasy of empty conjectures…Under the name of substance something certain and fixed is put before you” (Some Letters of Saint Bernard, 272-273). What is this “certain and fixed” substance put before you? The One in whom the hypostatic union comes together, of course – Jesus Christ. This is why the preacher of Hebrews finishes his exposition on faith by exhorting us to “fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith” (Hebrews 12:2). Jesus is the one who gives substance to our faith. Therefore, he is to be fixed before our eyes at all times.
It is fashionable these days to extol a faith which, rather than having Jesus as its substance, finds its substance elsewhere. Pastor Josh recently shared with me an article from USA Today in which a researcher from the Pew Foundation hailed the syncretism of Americans as a sign of “spiritual and religious openness.” This article chronicled how more and more people are meshing nominal Christian beliefs with other false beliefs, such as a belief in reincarnation, or Kabbalah, or pantheism. These people take a smorgasbord approach to faith – you choose whatever doctrines from whatever religions you desire and then synthesize them into your own personal faith. This kind of faith does not find its substance in Jesus, but in the personal whims, preferences, and desires of its believer.
The orthodox Christian faith is most certainly different than this kind of cafeteria Christianity. For orthodox Christian faith finds its substance in Christ and Christ alone, as the apostle Paul passionately declares: “For I resolved to know nothing…except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Corinthians 2:2). This is the faith for which those at the Council of Ephesus, and many since then, have so earnestly contended.
What is the substance of your faith? Is it your own personal whims, which can change and shift according to your mood and will? Or is it the rock solid, never-changing, ever-faithful Jesus Christ, who is both God and man? I hope it’s the latter. For faith in Christ – and faith alone in Christ – is the sole source of true hope for salvation.
“Word for Today” – Hebrews 10 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
Thursday is laundry day at our house. When we get home, Melody and I throw a couple loads of laundry into the washer, into the dryer, and then dump the freshly washed clothes onto our bed to fold and put away. It’s usually a team effort. But every once in a while, if one of us has a commitment, the other is left doing laundry alone. Indeed, this happens to me from time to time. However, I never mind doing laundry myself. I wash, dry, fold, and put away the clothes. At least, I used to put away the clothes.
It’s happened again and again. I would fold the laundry, put away my clothes, and then put away Melody’s clothes – except I could never remember which articles of Melody’s clothing went where. I would inevitably put things in the dresser I should have hung in the closet and hang things in the closet I should have put in the dresser. Melody, upon noticing that her clothing was not where it should be, would chide me: “You’ve seen me put my clothes away a hundred times! You can remember all sorts of theological minutia, but you can’t remember where my clothes go?” And as much as I hate to admit it, she’s right. To this day, I cannot remember which articles of Melody’s clothing go where, although I can remember lots of other, more complex, information.
I suppose like many guys, I suffer from selective memory. There are certain things which seem to naturally lodge themselves in my brain while there are other things I cannot recall, no matter how hard I try.
In our reading for today from Hebrews 10, we are met with a case of selective memory. The preacher of Hebrews begins with that which is easily remembered:
The law is only a shadow of the good things that are coming – not the realities themselves. For this reason it can never, by the same sacrifices repeated endlessly year after year, make perfect those who draw near to worship. If it could, would they not have stopped being offered? For the worshipers would have been cleansed once for all, and would no longer have felt guilty for their sins. But those sacrifices are an annual reminder of sins, because it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins. (verses 1-4)
The preacher says that the very Old Testament sacrifices which were meant to cleanse from sin, sadly, served only as a “reminder of sins” (verse 3). In other words, these sacrifices lodged in the brains of the ancient Israelites the sins they had committed against God. Indeed, the Greek word for “reminder” is anamnesis, meaning “remembrance.” To sacrifice is to remember the very things you would most like to forget.
Thankfully, in the New Testament, we receive another anamnesis:
The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” “In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” (1 Corinthians 11:23-25)
The Greek word for “remembrance” in these verses is anamnesis. A new sacrifice has been given to help us remember. But it is not the sacrifice of “bulls and goats” (verse 4) which only serves to remind us of our sins. Instead, it is sacrifice of “the body of Jesus Christ once for all” (verse 10) which reminds us that we have a Savior. It is this sacrifice that we remember in Communion. And marvelously, through the reception of Christ’s body and blood, there is not only a remembering, but also a forgetting. As the preacher of Hebrews promises, “Their sins and lawless acts God will remember no more” (verse 17). God, it seems, has a selective memory. He remembers his love, his faithfulness, and his grace toward us, but forgets all our sins. And there is no greater and more blessed selective memory than that.
“Word for Today” – Hebrews 9 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
The story is told of a pastor who had a group of children gathered around him one Sunday morning for a special children’s message. He asked the kids, “Who wants to go to heaven?” Every child raised their hand eagerly. “And what do you have to do to get to heaven?” the pastor continued. The expected answer, of course, was, “You must believe in Jesus Christ who died on the cross and rose again for the forgiveness of sins.” But that is not the answer little Timmy had in mind. No, Timmy pursued a different route. What do you have to do to get to heaven? “You have to die!” Timmy proudly pronounced.
Death is never a desirable thing. And yet, there are some instances in which death is a necessary thing. If I want really good deer sausage, a deer must die. In order for us to enjoy beautiful foliage in the fall, leaves must enter into senescence, on their way to death as they eventually fall to the ground. And in my house, if I don’t want pesky ants raiding my kitchen, I must put out ant baits so that the ants will die. Death is not desirable. But it is sometimes necessary.
In our reading for today from Hebrews 9, we read of something else which necessitates death: “Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness” (verse 22). Death – the shedding of blood – is a prerequisite for sins to be forgiven. As the preacher of Hebrews explains:
For this reason Christ is the mediator of a new covenant, that those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance – now that he has died as a ransom to set them free from the sins committed under the first covenant. In the case of a will, it is necessary to prove the death of the one who made it, because a will is in force only when somebody has died; it never takes effect while the one who made it is living. (verses 15-17)
The Greek word for “covenant” in verse 15 and “will” in verses 16 and 17 is the same: diatheke. This word describes a last will and testament. In other words, it is a word connected to death. The covenant of forgiveness that God has made with us, therefore, can only be put into effect upon a death. In this case, it is the death of God’s Son that enacts God’s covenant. Death is necessary to our forgiveness. Yes, death is at the very heart of the gospel.
But it’s not just Jesus’ death that is at the heart of the gospel. No, our deaths are vital as well. As the apostle Paul says in Romans 6:8, “We died with Christ.” But this death, counter-intuitively enough, leads to life: “We died with Christ so that we will also live with him.” Death to sin, death, and the devil is a prerequisite for eternal life with Christ.
I suppose Timmy was right after all. You do have to die to go to heaven. But the good news is, when you die, you don’t stay dead. For you are raised to new life in Christ!
“Word for Today” – Hebrews 8 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
I know I really should, but I don’t always update my computer and other electronic devices as regularly as possible. It seems that every time I log on, my laptop is asking me to download a software update or my iPhone is asking me if I want to update a whole host of apps. Speaking of my iPhone, I have a “restaurant app” which gives me nutritional information for a slue of popular restaurants to assist me in making healthy choices when I got out to eat. I had not used this app in quite a while, but the other day, I decided I wanted to look at some information on a burger. So I brought up the app. No sooner did the program appear than I was met with a message: “There is updated restaurant information available, would you like to download it now?” I hit “download.” Next came the message, “Downloading 1 of 2734 items.” “Hmm,” I thought to myself, “Maybe I don’t need to know the nutritional information on that burger after all.”
In our reading for today from Hebrews 8, the preacher of Hebrews speaks of an update. But this update is not for some computer program; rather it is an update for the covenant God has made with his people:
The time is coming, declares the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and with the house of Judah. It will not be like the covenant I made with their forefathers when I took them by the hand to lead them out of Egypt, because they did not remain faithful to my covenant, and I turned away from them, declares the Lord. This is the covenant I will make with the house of Israel after that time, declares the Lord. I will put my laws in their minds and write them on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people. No longer will a man teach his neighbor, or a man his brother, saying, “Know the Lord,” because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest. For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more. (verses 8-12)
God has declared, “It is time for an updated covenant. A better covenant. A covenant which cannot be broken by the sins of men, but instead is written on the hearts of men and is upheld by my forgiveness as I remember the sins of my people no more.” And this updated, better, new covenant, of course, is fulfilled by Christ. The preacher then concludes concerning this new covenant: “By calling this covenant ‘new,’ God has made the first one obsolete; and what is obsolete and aging will soon disappear” (verse 13). The updated covenant has superseded the old.
A few key words need to be noted in order to understand the full punch of the preacher’s polemics. First, the Greek word for “obsolete” is palaio’o, which carries with it the sense of something that is worn out and used up. This is the word Jesus uses in Luke 12:33 when he says, “Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out (Greek: palaio’o), a treasure in heaven that will not be exhausted, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys.” The old covenant, then, is worn out and broken down. It is time for a new model. But the preacher is not done yet. He also calls this covenant “aging.” The Greek word here is gerasko, from whence we get our English word “geriatric.” This old covenant is so old that it belongs in the geriatric ward! Finally, the preacher says this covenant will “soon disappear.” The Greek word for “disappear” is aphanismous, loosely related to our English word “phantom.” Upon the coming of Christ, the old covenant becomes nothing but a phantom.
All of this is to say that the old covenant has received a major update in Christ. Indeed, it has not just been updated, a whole new model has arrived! But in a world where updates race toward us so fast that we could probably spend days just updating our electronics, this may hardly strike us as good news. However, this update in Christ, blessedly, is the only update there is, for it is given by a “Son who has been made perfect forever” (Hebrews 7:28). No more updates are needed.
This time of year, we celebrate the advent of God’s updated covenant. For God’s updated covenant came not as a download off a website, but as a baby in a manger. And this updated covenant does not need our maintenance, for it is maintained by Christ’s faithfulness and not ours. Praise be to God for his updated – and forever perfect – covenant!
“Word for Today” – Hebrews 7 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
To this day, people still think of him every time they hear the finale of Gioachino Rossini’s William Tell Overture. You know who I’m talking about. He was one of six Texas Rangers, riding in the sun. They rode into an ambush, and all were killed but one. This single survivor laid there on the trail, and was found by Tonto and lived to tell his tale. He wore a mask as a disguise and thus began his fame, and rode a silver stallion – the Lone Ranger is his name.
For all of the Lone Ranger’s fame, his identity has remained a mystery. Some people think that behind his trademark mask is the historical Western hero Wild Bill Hickok. And yet, in episode after episode, distressed damsel after distressed damsel would be rescued without ever learning his name. Indeed, it even became customary at the end of each episode to ask, “Who was that masked man?” And the answer would always be the same: “Why, he’s the Lone Ranger!”
In our reading for today from Hebrews 7, we are introduced to a lone ranger of sorts. He is a curious and cryptic fellow, being “without father or mother, without genealogy, without beginning of days or end of life” (verse 3). At least we know his name, though: Melchizedek. Melchizedek was the king of Salem, an ancient name for Jerusalem. In Genesis 14:17-20, after the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, Melchizedek appears to Abraham and brings his some bread and wine and blesses Abraham. In gratitude, Abraham offers him a tithe. After this, Melchizedek simply recedes into the pages of history.
Who is this masked man? And how can he be without father or mother, without genealogy, and without beginning of days or end of life? Such obscurity has led some biblical interpreters to the conclusion that Melchizedek was a Christophany. That is, he was a preincarnate appearance of Christ. This is why, these interpreters would say, he is described so mysteriously by the preacher of Hebrews.
I am not sure this is the best interpretation of Melchizedek’s identity. A common Jewish interpretive principle – and really, a common Jewish interpretive trick – involves looking at what is not mentioned in a text and then assuming that because it is not mentioned, it did not happen. The Jewish philosopher Philo, for instance, argued that since Cain’s death is not mentioned in the Scriptures, Cain did not die. Such arguments are, of course, utterly arbitrary since no written account contains every possible detail of any given happening. But this seems to be the tact that the preacher in Hebrews is taking. Because Melchizedek’s origins, birth, and death are not mentioned, he must not have any origins, birth, or death, says Hebrews’ preacher. This description of Melchizedek, in turn, helps him connect Melchizedek’s identity closely to Christ’s: “[Christ] has become a priest not on the basis of a regulation as to his ancestry but on the basis of the power of an indestructible life” (verse 16). Like Melchizedek, Christ has no beginning and no end. He is our ultimate high priest who “does not need to offer sacrifices day after day, first for his own sins, and then for the sins of the people. He sacrificed for their sins once for all when he offered himself” (verse 27).
We will never get full insight into the identity of Melchizedek. He will forever remain a “masked man.” The good news, however, is that while Melchizedek the priest remains masked, Christ the priest does not. For Christ has been “revealed in these last times for your sake” (1 Peter 1:20). The mask is off. Jesus’ goodness, life, and salvation have been revealed. That is why the preacher of Hebrews later says, “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith” (Hebrews 12:2). We can fix our eyes on Jesus because he is not enigmatic and hidden, but glorified before our very eyes through the cross. He is our great, unmasked high priest.
“Word for Today” – Hebrews 6 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the king’s horses, and all the king’s men, couldn’t put Humpty together again.”
You know the rhyme, but did you know that it was originally a riddle? Before the identity of Humpty Dumpty was so well known, children, after hearing this poem, would be asked, “Who is Humpty Dumpty?” They would then have to decipher the clues. What kind of a thing is so fragile that, once it takes a great fall, it cannot be put back together again? The picture above, taken from a 1902 Mother Goose storybook, gives us the answer to this rhyming riddle in parentheses. Humpty Dumpty is an egg.
The truth of the human condition is that we all have a bit of Humpty Dumpty in us. We are all more fragile than we care to believe or admit. That is why a stinging comment can cut so deeply. Or a public failure can embarrass so monumentally. Or a broken relationship can hurt so horribly. We are all fragile.
It is this sobering recognition of humanity’s fragility that leads the preacher of Hebrews to offer a stark warning in our reading for today from Hebrews 6:
It is impossible for those who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, who have shared in the Holy Spirit, who have tasted the goodness of the word of God and the powers of the coming age, if they fall away, to be brought back to repentance, because to their loss they are crucifying the Son of God all over again and subjecting him to public disgrace. (verses 4-6)
The preacher of Hebrews reminds us that there are some who have taken a great fall. But this is not a fall off a wall, this is a fall from faith. The Greek word for “fall away” in verse 6 is parapipto. This is the only place in the New Testament that this word appears. It is from the verb pipto, meaning, “to fall,” and intensified by the preposition para. In other words, it denotes someone who has not just fallen, but fallen hard. They have taken a great fall.
The preacher of Hebrews warns that a person who takes such a parapipto cannot be put back together again: “It is impossible…if they fall away, to be brought back to repentance” (verses 4, 6). But this is not because God does not desire to put them back together again. Indeed, he would love nothing more than to see them repent and restored. But these people will have none of God’s restoration. Instead, they violently and vociferously “crucify the Son of God all over again and subject him to public disgrace” (verse 6). The problem, then, lies not in the will of God, but in will of these men. For they do not want to be put back together again. Instead, they rail against God and seek to destroy him. Indeed, the Greek word for “public disgrace” in verse 6 is paradeigmatizo. Like parapipto, this is a compound word consisting of the verb deigmatizo, meaning, “to disgrace,” and then the preposition para which serves to intensify the main verb. These people, then, do not just want to disgrace Jesus, they want to radically disgrace him. They want to subject him and his message to as much scathing ridicule as they can marshal.
A question that I am regularly asked about passages like this one is, “How do I know if I’ve fallen away? What if I have taken a great fall, never to be brought back to faith?” My response to each anxious inquiry is the same: “If you’re worried about your faith, then you have not fallen from your faith. For your very concern betrays that you have not rejected your faith, but instead desire to grow in it.” The people the preacher of Hebrews addresses are those who hate God and show no concern for their sin, not those who desire God and are worried about their sin. This is why the preacher continues: “Even though we speak like this, dear friends, we are confident of better things in your case – things that accompany salvation” (verse 9). In our case, the preacher reminds us, we have better things – salvific things. Salvific things which come from the one who was once paradeigmatizo-d on a cross for us and for our salvation.
The promise, then, is that even when we take a giant parapipto into sin, when we trust in God, we can have the full assurance that even if all the King’s horses and all the King’s men cannot, the King can put us back together again. And when he does, we are stronger than ever. For we rest in the strong arm of the one who conquered all – even death on a cross.
“Word for Today” – Hebrews 5 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
It was the summer of 1918 and Belleau Wood, France. A brigade of US Marines was facing off against some five divisions of German soldiers. The fighting was fierce and the battle was bloody. But the Marines were gaining ground. Then came the order: “Take the hill.” And take the hill they did. Wearing gas masks to protect themselves from the mustard gas being flung at them by their German enemies, the Marines charged the hill, scrambling on all fours, with eyes that were bloodshot and sweating profusely from the summertime heat. The German soldiers, seeing these grizzly Marines coming at them, are said to have yelled that they were being attacked by “teufel hunden,” poor German for “dogs from hell.” To this day, Marines still proudly tout the moniker “Devil Dog” as a tribute to their determination to “take the hill” in battle, no matter what.
Hills are taken not only literally in battle, but also figuratively in life. One company may try to “take the hill” of another company in a hostile takeover. At a game, one football team will try to “take the hill” of another football team as it seeks gridiron glory. And what child hasn’t played “king of the hill” where he seeks to “take the hill” of another child? We have all tried to take one hill or another at one time or another.
But some hills cannot be taken. This is the lesson in our reading for today from Hebrews 5. While companies can be bought and games can be won and positions can be secured, the things of God cannot be taken like a hill in battle. Rather, they must be granted. This is why the author of Hebrews writes:
Every high priest is selected from among men and is appointed to represent them in matters related to God, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins. He is able to deal gently with those who are ignorant and are going astray, since he himself is subject to weakness. This is why he has to offer sacrifices for his own sins, as well as for the sins of the people. No one takes this honor upon himself; he must be called by God, just as Aaron was. (verses 1-4)
You cannot take honors from God. Instead, such honors must be bestowed by God. The author of Hebrews offers the example of the Old Testament office of high priest, of which he says, “No one takes this honor upon himself; he must be called by God” (verse 4). Indeed, in Exodus 16, when a man named Korah seeks to forcibly obtain this office when it has not been given to him, the ground opens up and swallows him and his family in divine judgment.
What, then, does all this mean? In the words of the apostle Paul, it means, “Each one should retain the place in life that the Lord assigned to him and to which God has called him” (1 Corinthians 7:17). Our lives should not be marked by incessant attempts to “take hills” and obtain power. Yes, there are times when hills must be taken. Most notably, we are called in the mission of God to take the hill of hell by proclaiming the gospel to the lost (cf. Matthew 16:18). But at the same time we are called to take some hills, others are better left alone. For we are also called to be content with the positions in which God has placed us. There is no need to live our lives greedily yearning for the next hill not yet taken. For such yearning saps our hearts of thankfulness.
Are you content with the hill you’re on? Or do you live your life always trying to take the next hill? Today, thank God for the hill you are on right now and seek contentment on that hill. After all, it is a gift from the One who died on a hill called Calvary. And that makes your hill a great hill, worthy of your deepest gratitude.
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