The temple in Jerusalem was a busy place; it was the center of the economic and spiritual realities of the ancient people of God. Approaching in the outer court, you could smell the constant burning of the incense and see the smoke drifting high into the air. You could hear the animals crying in their pens. Animals set aside for sacrifice on the altar. Lots of clean animals and birds, from bulls down to pigeons. The priests set about their vocation with sincerity and thoughtful, deliberate actions. Their role was to bring the promise of forgiveness to the sinners who crammed into the temple with heavy hearts and deep longing. For atonement of sin, blood was to be spilled, death in exchange for life. Occasionally, especially during the festivals, the Psalms would be sung, drowning out the other sounds, as praise to Yahweh flowed from the lips of the faithful. All the senses of the worshippers were engaged in the house of God. It was tactile and gritty, no comfy pews to sit in, no air conditioning to keep you cool.

Faith was confirmed in that space; it was there that the eternal and temporal met. In fact, the temple was designed to mimic the Tent of Meeting, that portable place of worship during the wilderness wanderings. And yet St. Paul, the great apostle to the Gentiles, is addressing those who have ever stood in those courts, never smelled those smells and heard those cries. He speaks of a faith not found in the sacrifice of animals and the burning of incense, but a faith that comes by hearing. He has argued that the faith which saves is not bound to the old system but in the proclamation of all that Christ has done. And this Word is not bound to the walls of the temple; it is not hedged in by the working of a sacrificial system; in fact, it is exploding out to the far reaches of the known world, to Rome itself.

Now, the temple with its sacrifices wasn’t simply done away with; it was completed, fulfilled. All the blood of all the bulls and lambs was but a foreshadowing of a final perfect sacrifice. A sacrifice that would complete the atonement of mankind. And that sacrifice shockingly didn’t happen in the temple, but outside the walls of the city. It was a sacrifice not just for the ancient people of God but for all the world; it was public, on display for all to see. It was a cross erected at the place of the skull upon which hung our Lord. Here is the final and perfect sacrifice; here is the blood that would be the once-for-all exchange of death for life.

And so in our reading today Paul says, “I appeal to you therefore, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.” Your life, which has been renewed by faith, is caught up in the great sacrifice of Christ. A sacrifice that is holy and acceptable to God. A life lived by faith alone is the pleasing aroma that fills the nostrils of God.

I have often thought that we, as the people of God, live our lives in a way that is disjointed from the rest of the world. You have similar jobs to other people; you go to the same stores, eat at the same restaurants, engage in the same recreation, and listen to the same music. In many ways, your lives are no different than anyone else. But your experience is not exactly the same. You see the world differently; you have a different understanding of life’s purpose and meaning. You have, as Paul says, been transformed by the renewal of your mind. Transformed by the faith you’ve been given, transformed to see this age as temporary, and so to long for a new heaven and a new earth. Transformed even in your view of suffering and hope and forgiveness.

And once again, Paul anchors this transformation in the waters of Baptism. For he reminds us that it is there in those waters that the final sacrifice of Christ has become your reality. Remember how he said, “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.” You have died and now live in Christ. Through this gift you are the living sacrifices of God here and now. You are the public testimony of God’s mercy and grace.

And flowing from this mercy we are not left alone, transformed and disjointed from the rest of society to just manage as best we can. No, we are brought together; we are connected to one another; we are fashioned into the body of Christ. Paul says, “For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned.” You are not brought together to establish a hierarchy of power and prestige. Rather, you are brought into the church to be of service to one another, to bear up under each other’s burdens and to allow each other to bear yours. You are a living, breathing sacrifice to the Lord.

I’ve been a pastor for a long time. Though I’ve certainly had my failures, I have always sought to be a faithful steward of the mysteries of God. As such, I’ve handed over the gifts of the Lord’s Supper more times than I can remember. And I’ve noticed something during that process: when people come to the rail and kneel down to receive the gifts of Christ, there are three main ways they conduct themselves. The first is that they bow their heads, a very reverent and devout posture, ready to receive the body and blood of our Lord, in with and under the bread and wine. This is by far the most common. But some will choose to look at the cross; here they contemplate the magnitude of the gift, the great sacrifice that has been made. And then there are the few bold ones who take a noticeably different approach and look me in the eyes as I distribute the gift.

But what I never see, and perhaps it is something to consider, is that people look at each other as they commune. Smile at one another, have that moment when you acknowledge that we are in this together, that we are a curious and transformed collection of believers.
Each with their own gifts, each with their place in the body of Christ. Paul says, “For as in one body we have many members, and the members do not all have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another.”  Your faith is never about just you and Jesus; it is about these brothers and sisters who have gathered here with you. We are far removed from the temple with its sights, sounds, and smells. And through the blood of Christ, your sacrifice no longer needs to die but is living. Lived out in the sights, sounds, and smells of our transformed life lived together.