Preface and Sanctus
This sermon is part of a midweek series on the parts of the liturgy.
Text: Isa. 6:1-7, Eph. 3:14-19, Matt. 21:1-9
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Mankind has always attempted to scale the walls of heaven and pull ourselves up to it. From Eve’s attempt to become like God by eating the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, to the Tower of Babel built to reach the heavens, to the Great Pyramids of Egypt, to the ziggurats of Babylon, to the Asherah poles of the Canaanites, and yes, to our own skyscrapers, malls, and stadium temples built to the religions of finance, technology, and sports, we humans have always behaved as if heaven is just within our reach—one more advance, one more story, one more investment, one more invention, one more development, one more something.
But it’s never worked out that way. Or, as Jesus Himself said, “The kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force.” And once violent humanity gets their hands on it, no matter what it is, it becomes more like hell than heaven. Adam and Eve turned their perfect world into a garden for thorns and thistles. The Tower of Babel became a chaotic cacophony of panic and futility. The false religions of the world demanded blood to satisfy the dark false gods that promised heaven. And in our own glass and steel temples, the financial exploitation of humans for the comfort and pleasure of others continues to move markets upward. Yet still humanity tries—individually or in group: nations, political parties, whatever form it takes.
But we in the Church have a secret tucked away within our liturgy, for those who have ears to hear. That secret is this: we do not need to climb up to heaven. Heaven comes down to us in the Divine Service.
I mean this in in the realest possible sense. It’s not symbolic or metaphorical. It’s not what the radio means when its singers talk about heaven in their fluffy pleasure-centric ways. I do not simply mean that what happens in the service is nicer than what happens out there in the world in all its false religions, although that is true. Listen again to the vision of heaven—the actual, literal heaven—that’s seen by the prophet Isaiah, revealed to us tonight: “In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him stood the seraphim. Each had six wings: with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. And one called to another and said: ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Sabaoth; the whole earth is full of his glory!’”
Sound familiar? It should. That “Holy, holy, holy” is what we call the Sanctus, which is just the Latin word for “Holy.” And when we sing it, heaven comes down to us. It’s not because it’s some sort of magical incantation, but because this is where Jesus is coming to be with the people He’s saved. He’s coming to be here in His body and blood in the Lord’s Supper. So we sing in the Sanctus, that same song, “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.” And wherever Jesus goes, He brings heaven with Him. He brings the six-winged seraphim, He brings the bright angelic armies, He brings all the company of heaven. That’s what we recognize right before we start singing the Sanctus. It’s what we call the Proper Preface. That’s when I, on behalf of the congregation, speaking as “we”, give thanks to God for something specific that He’s done, attached to that season of the Church year, whether it’s for sending John the Baptist to preach to us in Advent, or giving the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, or revealing Jesus as the Son of God during Epiphany. And then it always wraps up with “therefore with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven, we laud and magnify Your glorious name, evermore praising You and saying…” The subject changes from season to season, but the heart is the same: God has done something great for us, we’re thankful, and now heaven is coming down to join in our song of thanksgiving in the realest possible way.
Lent is a season full of mysteries. The immortal God dies on a cross. The Creator of the world is slain for the sake of His creation. Heaven intersects with earth. But it’s a good season to slow down, take a breath, and ponder these mysteries. That’s why you’re invited to lift up your hearts. You lift them to the Lord, to ponder the wonders He has laid out for you, the joy He’s promised you. For as it turns out, the veil separating heaven and earth is not so thick. Our loved ones who have left our presence to stand before the Lord are with Him—and when He comes to be with us in the very real way of the Lord’s Supper, all the company of heaven is joining in our song. Our sanctuary becomes the temple of heaven. God is seated on His throne, high and lifted up here, in this sacred space. Angels and archangels and all the company of heaven, including those who have gone before us in the faith, join us in singing “Holy, holy, holy.” Our eyes may not be able to see it. Our nerve endings may be unable to perceive it. But those have never been the best instruments for faith anyway. We walk by faith, not by sight. Faith comes by hearing, so hear the angels’ words, which are the entire Church’s words. Listen for what’s happening when He who comes in the name of the Lord, that is, Jesus, arrives. Hear Him as the One who is holy, who is blessed, who now makes you holy and blessed as He has forgiven you, as He unites Himself to you in the Sacrament, as He makes you one with the whole Church on earth and in heaven. All this is because of His sacrifice, given and shed for you, to bring heaven to you.
Jesus has come in the name of the Lord—the name He has shared with you in Baptism, at the Invocation, the Triune name spoken upon you again in the Confession and Absolution. He’s come to you and brought heaven with Him, in song, in body and blood, in truth. Receive it in the Divine Service. Sing with the angels. Find your joy, your rest, your hope in the heaven of this sanctuary. In the name of Jesus, the Lord of Sabaoth. Amen.
