Readings: Genesis 4:1-15 | Ephesians 2:1-10 | Luke 18:9-14
Text: Ephesians 2:1-10
Consider the two ways of man in Genesis 4, exemplified by Abel and Cain: Man as creature—dependent and sinful, living alone by God’s merciful hand—versus man acting as judge of God and trying to cover up his misdeeds. How does God, our Creator, respond to these two ways of man? With giving us the diagnosis we cannot decipher for ourselves:
“Why are you angry, and why has your face fallen? 7 If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin is crouching at the door. Its desire is contrary to you, but you must rule over it.” (Genesis 4:6-7)
Ephesians 2 gives the spiritual diagnosis, not just for one man, but for the whole of humanity. This is the diagnosis for the symptomatic actions: “And you were dead in the trespasses and sins 2 in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience— 3 among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind.”
You—yes, everyone who is hearing or reading this—were by natural birth, dead in trespasses and sins together with the rest of mankind. Yet, God in His mercy took what was dead and made us alive in Christ. This is what God did about man’s state of being a spiritual corpse. But it first takes His exposing what is dead in us, because we’re all too pleased to come up with our own reasons why we can live apart from Him.
“4 But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, 5 even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved”
What has this saved us from? From being slaves to sin, from being hell-bound, from being alienated from God, from being at odds with the ways we were created to love and serve our neighbor.
This being saved, being made alive, is called the Gospel because it is a message that is good from God who alone is good and brings us back from evil by leading us in what is good once more.
Consider these statements from the Old Testament and Gospel readings:
Then the Lord said to Cain, “Where is Abel your brother?” He said, “I do not know; am I my brother’s keeper?” (Genesis 4:9)
The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: “God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. 12 I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.” (Luke 18:11-12)
In the first, Cain’s statement is an outright lie: Lo yadati “I know not.” It’s a lie in the plain sense that a child tries to cover up that he broke a lamp while the baseball mitt is still on his hand. But also in a deeper sense, Cain is disavowing his intimate bond with his brother by saying he does not know. That is, he claims no community with Abel and has fully disowned him.
Furthermore, Cain denies being his brother’s keeper in words, but not by his actions. “The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade on your right hand.” (Ps. 121:5) As our Keeper, it is the Lord who decides who will live or die, and determines what is good and evil. Cain there simultaneously denied being Abel’s keeper, and his own evil intent usurped God’s throne to become judge and life-giver. What madness!
This dissociation from other people—I know them not—is what we’re all too familiar with today. The latest movement of Cultural Marxism makes great inroads for this, by applying a devalued label to another person. You are an oppressor, and I am oppressed. Neither do I have to listen to you, nor do you and I have anything in common, nor would you even understand me if you tried. But it’s only one more brick in a vast wall that we’ve been erecting between each other for centuries. It also manifests itself in the gross disregard for another’s humanity—all murders, kidnappings, abuse, voyeurism, theft, and whatever other evils people commit one against another.
This is the root of the evil that the Lord’s Word exposes: “You have heard that it was said to those of old, ‘You shall not murder; and whoever murders will be liable to judgment.’ 22 But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment” (Matthew 5:21-22) Our heart so devalues another human being—made by God in His image—that we feel little or no pangs at doing to others what we would never let happen to us.
Yet in this, there is still a functioning conscience that does not want such deception brought into the light of day. What is done in secret or under the appearance of propriety is done that way because we know it’s wrong. But God’s human creatures have become so backwards that they can be completely convinced that their lives are pleasing to God. Take, for example, the second quote:
The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: “God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. 12 I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.” (Luke 18:11-12)
Prisons are full of people who have been caught in their mistreatment of others. It’s plain to see the wrong, and most of the time, they are rightly punished for their misdeeds. But the plague of “not-my-problem” also comes well-dressed and respectable. The Pharisee in this parable has made himself unique in his own eyes and is sure that God agrees.
This is at the root of all of man’s religious endeavors, be they in the name of the true God, or the Muslim Allah, or the rainbow-clad, progressive “Jesus” of the social gospel. The devotees put the inscription of their chosen deity, and are convinced that their efforts receive applause in heaven.
Here’s why the “with-it” Pharisee is contrasted with the despised tax collector (maybe analogous to today’s collection call center employee). On the social ladder, the Pharisee has respect, the outward marks of God’s favor. He’s nowhere close to becoming a fugitive like Cain (he’s far above outwardly breaking God’s commandments). The tax collector is without such reputation, and knows that people are right to curse him out behind his back.
Yet, God’s work to redeem is seen in both these in the despised person:
Abel also brought of the firstborn of his flock and of their fat portions. And the Lord had regard for Abel and his offering (Genesis 4:4)
The tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ (Luke 18:13)
In both of these men, is a recognition of what our human sin has done, and what it costs to make amends. They recognize the need for sacrifice. But the thing which sets them apart from those who offer up virgins or children, is that they recognize no blood of ours will do the trick. Not only is our own fault—our own most grievous fault—something we cannot fix or blame someone else for, but it takes God’s intervention to make us right.
“…even when we were dead in our trespasses, [He] made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, 7 so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. 8 For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, 9 not a result of works, so that no one may boast. 10 For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.”
Our redemption doesn’t end with “being saved,” because that would be like Cain who expected to sin and have no consequences, or the Pharisee who enjoys being a descendent of the Exodus but has no intention of realizing he’s of the same sinful stock as the Egyptian people. It is God’s work not only to redeem, but also to sanctify each of us—to make us holy and set apart for His ways for His human beings. Each of us is His workmanship, and in spite of what our sinful nature has taught us, we must learn from Him what He made us for.
Luther’s explanations to the Ten Commandments are a great example of this “relearning” we must go through. For the sake of brevity, let’s just look at the 5th Commandment: “You shall not murder. What does this mean? We should fear and love God so that we do not hurt or harm our neighbor in his body, but help and support him in every physical need.” This warns all of us would-be Cain’s away from what he did, and shows us rather what we are made to do. Hear St. John explain this contrast:
12 We should not be like Cain, who was of the evil one and murdered his brother. 15 Everyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him.
16 By this we know love, that [our Lord Jesus] laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers. 17 But if anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him? 18 Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth. (1 John 3:12, 15-18)
As our redemption is the work of God the Son, our sanctification is effected by God the Holy Spirit. It’s carried out day by day, year by year, as long as our pilgrimage may be. We hear His Word, repent of our sins, receive the fruits of Christ’s redemption, pray for His help to put away the futile ways of our sinful flesh, and be renewed in the design He has for us.
In the Name + of Jesus. Amen.
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