Mourn The Dirge, Dance To The Flute

Text: Matthew 11:12-19

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

Imagine not weeping or grieving over the loss of someone you love. 

Imagine watching your home burn to the ground or your country be ravaged by war and feeling nothing. 

Imagine a betrayal by a close friend and yet your soul remains unmoved.

None of this is strength. This is not resilience. Instead, it is numbness. It is a soul shut down. It is not normal; it is not healthy. 

And now, imagine a band playing a fun tune, and not a single foot tapping. 

Imagine not grinning at the laughter of a baby or rejoicing when the sun breaks through storm clouds after a terrible thunderstorm. 

Imagine not feeling joy when you finally eat after days of hunger. 

This is not control. But instead, it is detachment. It is a soul that can’t feel joy.  Again, this is not normal, and it is not healthy.

These are examples of apathy and numbness.  Maybe exhaustion or trauma explains them; maybe they are even examples of a sociopath.  

Considering all of this, what happens when this cold numbness infects your soul? What happens when a person becomes a spiritual sociopath?  In other words, what happens when a person is unable to mourn what is evil and unable to rejoice in what is good?  

That’s exactly what Jesus confronts in today’s Gospel reading from Matthew 11. Jesus said, 

“We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn.”

Let me paraphrase this for you:  

“When the Law was preached—you did not feel bad about your sins.  When the Gospel was declared—you didn’t rejoice about the gift of grace." 

You see, John the Baptist came preaching repentance. He sang the dirge. He called out sin. He warned of judgment. And the people? Meh! No mourning. They dismissed John the Baptist as a lunatic who had a demon.  

Then Jesus came preaching the Gospel.. He feasted. He forgave. He rejoiced. He played the flute. And the people? Again—meh! No dancing. They accused Jesus of being a glutton and drunkard.

The people of that generation were spiritually numb.  They were like a spiritual sociopath. They were dead inside. Not because the message was unclear, not because the tune was off, but because they had no ears to hear. There was a dirge song and there was a flute, but it had no effect. 

And here’s the terrifying thing: that spiritual deafness wasn’t just confined to the first century. It’s here too in the twenty-first century. Listen up! This spiritual numbness creeps into the Church. You see, when the church laments sin, the world mocks the church. When the Church rejoices in righteous forgiveness, the world shrugs. And here’s the danger: we—the church—want to fit in with the world. So, we try not to be too visible with our mourning over sin or too joyful over the Gospel. We become lukewarm.

Let’s drive this home!  

Dear friends, when you confess your sins at the beginning of the Divine Service, do you hear what you’re saying?

“O Lord, I, a poor, miserable sinner… have sinned in thought, word, and deed… and deserve your temporal and eternal punishment.”

Those words are not meant to be cheerful. They’re a dirge. They’re a funeral song. You’re confessing that you’re spiritually bankrupt—that your sin is not just a small blemish but a deep wound that deserves eternal damnation and the wrath of God.

And yet, how often do we mumble those words as if we’re reading off a grocery list? How often are our hearts unmoved? No wonder so many churches are quick to cut confession from their services. Way too often, the confession is replaced with an upbeat song because no one wants to mourn over sin. It’s too uncomfortable. Too raw. Too real. 

But here’s the truth: if you don’t mourn the dirge, you’ll never dance to the flute. If you don’t see the weight of your sin, you won’t treasure the Gospel. Truth be told, we should be hiding under the pews with hands over our heads when we confess our sins before God Almighty. When we sing the dirge, there should be no laughter, no flippancy, and no rolling of the eyes.  Only spiritual sociopaths do that.    

And what about when the absolution is spoken? When the pastor stands in Christ’s stead and announces, “I forgive you all your sins…”— do you rejoice? Do your ears perk up? Or, do you shrug and think, 

“Meh! I’ve heard that before, like a thousand times.”

Dear Baptized Saints, that forgiveness declared by the pastor is not just a routine or a pious church tradition. It is not filler. It’s the Gospel! It’s the flute! And it ought to make your soul dance—even if your face stays stoic.

Now, let’s be clear: I’m not calling for emotional theatrics. I’m not saying you have to weep every Sunday or jump out of your pew and run up and down the aisle. This isn’t about emotional manipulation. But rather, this is about having ears to hear rightly. Because here’s the deal: the devil doesn’t weep over sin. He celebrates it. The world doesn’t rejoice over the Gospel. It mocks it. And your sinful nature? It yawns at both the Law and the Gospel.

That’s the tragic pattern Jesus exposes. He says, 

“We played the flute, you didn’t dance. We sang a dirge, you didn’t mourn.”

You see, that generation long ago rejected John’s Law. They rejected Jesus’ Gospel. They rejected the whole message of salvation. Not because it was unclear—but because they had no ears to hear. Their hearts were hard. Their consciences were seared.

And, get this: the same spiritual deafness during the time of Jesus and the same deafness that we see all around us today was alive and well during the time of the sixteenth-century Reformation.

You see, 500 years ago, the Roman Catholic Church was confused about the dirge song of sin and did not hear the Gospel flute. Instead, they clung to rituals, merits, indulgences, and penance. That is to say, the Law was twisted into a ladder of self-righteousness.  And the Gospel was buried under fear and manipulation.

But then came Martin Luther—a monk with ears to hear.

Luther heard the dirge, and he wept over his sin. He then tried to fix himself with good works and religious efforts, but none of it worked. The more he climbed the ladder, the farther he fell.

Then one day, Luther heard the flute while reading the book of Romans. There in the pages of the scriptures, he rediscovered the Gospel. He heard the flute - that Christ forgives sinners by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone. And Luther danced.

But get this: when Luther started to sing the dirge and play the flute for others, well… the Church hierarchy did not mourn, and the religious elites did not dance. They were deaf.

And so, the church leaders and hierarchy branded Luther a heretic. They burned his books and tried to silence the song.

But, as you know, they failed because the Word cannot be muzzled.  The Holy Spirit was opening ears, so that many were hearing the dirge and the flute.  And yes, many began to mourn, and many began to dance. 

* * *

So, what about today?  

I am glad to say that the song hasn’t stopped. The dirge is still sung. The flute still plays. The Law still kills. The Gospel still raises. And the Spirit still gives ears to hear.

So, dear Christian, listen up! You have been given ears to hear the dirge—and mourn. You have been given ears to hear the flute—and dance.

Your church sings the dirge of sin in the liturgy, the hymns, sermons, and bible studies.  We don’t replace the dirge of sin for a ditty of flimsy worldly happiness.  And we, the flute of the Gospel has not been broken but rings forth from the same liturgy, hymnody, sermons, and Bible studies.  

Mark this: there at St. Paul’s the dirge is sung so that you can mourn your sin, not excuse your sin or hide it, but call it what it is.  And then lay it down before the cross of Christ.   

And mark this as well, the flute of the Gospel is played so that you can put on those shoes and dance! Yes, dance in the joy of the Gospel. Rejoice that Christ Jesus has taken your sin. Rejoice that He was condemned in your place. Rejoice that you are forgiven because of the cross and empty tomb.  

This is the heart of Lutheranism: mourning the dirge of the Law and dancing to the flute of the Gospel. 

This is the essence of Christianity:  

The Law speaks wrath. The Gospel speaks grace. 

The Law reveals sin. The Gospel reveals Christ. 

The Law condemns and crushes. The Gospel acquits and lifts. 

The Law sings a dirge. The Gospel plays a flute.

And you, dear Baptized, have ears to hear both Law and Gospel.  

So don’t let the devil and world steal your mourning. Don’t let your sinful nature clog your ears to the joyful flute, for you belong to Christ. You are not spiritually numb. You have been given ears to hear the dirge and the flute.

In the name of Jesus. Amen.