Text:  Titus 2:11

Theme:  "The Master of Disguise"

The Feast of the Nativity of Our Lord

December 24, 2012

First Presbyterian Church

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

 

+In the Name of Jesus+

For the grace of God has appeared that offers salvation to all people.

The first verse of our New Testament Reading from Titus chapter two is our provision for meditation on this blessed Christmas Eve.  St. Paul presented a short and highly concentrated version of the Christmas message to a young man by the name of Titus.  He writes to him:  "For the grace of God has appeared that brings salvation to all people." 

Titus was not a Presbyterian. He wasn't Protestant; he wasn't Catholic. Simply put, he was your garden variety Gentile.   For that matter, he knew nothing of Santa Claus, decking the halls with boughs of holly,  or having a "merry little Christmas" in spite of it all.  He never heard Eartha Kitt sing "Santa Baby" or Elvis Presley sing "Blue Christmas".  He wasn't Jewish; he didn't have any ethnic ties to religion.  Perhaps he was like the growing number these days, who claim no spiritual, faith-based, or religious affiliation. These are the folks -- to put it as gently as possible -- for whom none of that matters.  It's just ancient, archaic beliefs that are best left in a museum in our ultra-modern world. 

If there is a god, Titus might have thought, he must be the emperor.  If you didn't believe that, you might have been killed in those days.  If it's not the emperor, God -- whoever  God is -- must be so far away that He doesn't care, and, therefore,  is irrelevant.  Or if God is near, He's more like a little pet that is nice to have around but you wish it would stop barking at inappropriate times.  Titus was like all of us.  On his better days, he had his hopes:  "Someday soon, we all will be together if the fates allow.  Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow."  Titus, like so many, was just another nameless face muddling through.  And isn't that about as much as we can hope for?  As Melvin, Jack Nicholson's character in "As Good as It Gets", says:  "Are ya with me, sweetheart?"

But then one day, a day that changed him forever, he heard the true meaning of Christmas and, indeed, the true meaning of life.  He heard of a child -- born of the history and promises of Israel.  Along the way, he discovered that the world was not a mistake, and accident, or a cosmic joke.  It was created and created good by a loving God, but something went horribly wrong.   Yet that's not how the story would end -- because, as Titus learned,  when the time had fully come, God sent forth His own Son to pay the price for humankind's age-old rebellion against God.  He came to believe in Jesus, the Messiah, the one long foretold.  He came to trust in Jesus, the Immanuel, the God-with-us.  He came to understand that the church was not a social club or yet another strange religious organization with archaic, unenlightened, and anti-intellectual beliefs.  It was a gathering of people who were called out of darkness into God's marvelous light.  They were citizens of a kingdom that cannot be shaken.  Every congregation -- for all its welters and warts, faults and failures --  was an embassy of heaven!

Thus, all other bets were off.  This was the real deal.  That dark void in his soul -- you know what I'm talking about?  That part of you that is so real and so painful and that you try so hard trying to deny? -- was filled with light.  What dawned on him was that he was loved (even when he couldn't love himself, and even when he loved himself too much), and, more than that, that God, in Jesus Christ, was doing for him what he could not do for himself.  He became a real man, a believer.   It was all because, as the blessed Apostle Paul wrote to him in the letter, "the grace of God that brings salvation to all has appeared."

That grace didn't appear in the Roman Coliseum or in Madison Square Garden to a sold-out , standing-room-only crowd.  It appeared in a lowly manger bed, a rock-hewn feeding trough-- with stinking animals and manure all around.  The imminent arrival of the grace of God was not signaled by a flyover of F-16s, but by a guiding star.  The announcement of God's grace appearing did not come via divine tweet to a bunch of godly, pre-chosen twitterers.  It wasn't a viral phenomenon on YouTube.  It wasn't captured via Instagram and then disseminated far and wide.  The message that we are to harken to, the message of the herald angel, was first given to the poorest of the poor, the day laborers, the shepherds watching their flocks by night.  And the grace of God didn't arrive in a warm birthing suite that looked like a 5-star hotel room with pink or blue teddy bears and balloons at the ready. Anything approaching a hotel in Bethlehem was an Inn that would make a Motel 6 look like a Hilton, and there was no room for them there anyway.

And what of the theotokos, what subsequent generations would call the "God-bearer"?  It was a girl -- likely no more than a teenager -- named Mary.  Her creator was in her womb as that donkey trudged along toward Bethlehem on that first Christmas Eve.  If you can marvel at that, my friend, you are on your way!  You're on your way!

You see, God is the master of disguise!  He didn't do it in the way that we would envision it or choreograph it.  It's as if the grace of God snuck up on us unawares. It wasn't like a foreign invasion with predator drones, tanks, and troops; it was like it embedded itself -- quietly, in this world, even in our own skin.  "How silently, how silently the wondrous gift is given," says a best-loved Christmas carol.

 Richard John Neuhaus writes that "Disguise is central to God's way of dealing with us human beings.  Not because God is playing games with us but because the God who is beyond our knowing makes himself known in the disguise of what we can know.  The Christian word for this is revelation, and the ultimate revelation came by incarnation."  And that takes us to Mary's baby; that's where the grace of God that brings salvation is found.  The almighty God wears swaddling clothes.

We celebrate The Feast of the Nativity of Our Lord this night at First Presbyterian Church -- an embassy of the Kingdom of God and an outpost of heaven on earth.  And in just a few moments, disguised in the lowly forms of bread and wine, we are privileged to share that grace of God that brings salvation in The Lord's Supper.  How precious it is to share this meal, this feast of the Nativity, with family and friends from far and near this night. 

I know that there are a number of homes among us where, this Christmas for the first time, there will be an empty seat at the holiday table.  But there is no emptiness here tonight, for here in this Supper -- with angels, and archangels, and all the company of heaven -- we keep the feast.  Earth is in heaven, and --- thank God!  -- heaven is on earth, for, albeit in disguise, the grace of God that brings salvation to us all has appeared.   Titus would never be the same. What about you?   A very merry Christmas and a happy new year to you all!

Amen.

Why We Can, With Good Reason, Light the Pink Candle

Text:  Philippians 4:4-7

Theme:  "A 'Dickens' of An Advent"

Third Sunday of Advent

December 16, 2012

First Presbyterian Church

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

 

+In the Name of Jesus+

⁴ Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! ⁵ Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. ⁶ Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. ⁷ And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

I had planned to tie in our New Testament Reading with the best-loved story of Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol, which featured the ghost of Christmas past, present, and future.  But the events of his past week on Friday changed all that after we went to print with our bulletin. 

Be that as it may, our Advent Wreath is brighter this morning.  The third candle -- which represents joy -- is now lit.  On some Advent wreaths, the third candle is pink in color, and pink symbolizes joy.  Joy is referenced in the traditional New Testament Reading for the Third Sunday in Advent.  You just heard that text from St. Paul's letter to the Philippians which is aptly described as the "epistle of joy."  "Rejoice in the Lord always," declares the apostle; "I will say it again:  Rejoice!" 

The Third Sunday in Advent is a snippet of joy in a season that, liturgically, is all purple.  Purple is the color of repentance and reflection on the character and content of one's life.  It is a call to change one's mind and prepare one's heart for the coming of the Lord.  To be brutally honest, the purple symbolizes the hard work of taking a long, hard look at one's life, turning back to God, and then trusting all more in the grace given in the Christ-child, Jesus, born that first Christmas.  The joy candle, on the third Sunday of the season, gives us something of a break from this hard work.  We are called simply to rejoice.

But I must admit that this call to rejoice, at least in Advent 2012, seems tragically out of place.  Even this morning, on the way to church, I saw our American flags flying -- at half staff.  The horrifying events at Sandy Hook Elementary School in New Town, Connecticut have ripped into the time of Christmas and tore into our souls.  Later Friday, our president spoke first as a parent himself.  He talked of  hugging his children tighter like most parents would do this past Friday night.  But then he reminded us that there are some parents that can no longer do that. 

Many, many months ago, a dear friend of mine -- and a friend of yours for much longer -- suggested to me that I play a little piano before each Sunday service.  His name is Lou Kraft, and I took him up on his challenge.  He spends his first Christmas on a different shore, with a greater number, and with a brighter light shining.  Today, I played two songs:  "The Coventry Carol" and "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day."  I chose "The Coventry Carol" because the text of that haunting song, played at Christmastime, refers to the dark side of Christmas -- and that is the story of King Herod's slaughter of the innocent children in Bethlehem.  On the church calendar, that event is commemorated on December 28th which is called "Holy Innocents Day."  With the events in New Town, Connecticut fresh in my mind, I suggested on my Facebook page that "Holy Innocents Day has come early this year." 

At about the same time, I noticed that Jeff Snider, our wonderful minister of music, had referenced Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on his page.  "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day" was penned by this magnificent poet in the mid-1860s as America was in the midst of civil war.  In 1861, Longfellow lost his wife in a tragic fire, and he was plunged into "melancholy" -- which is a word that previous generations used for depression.  He took pen to paper and wrote:

I heard the bells on Christmas Day their old familiar carols play,

And wild and sweet the words repeat of peace on earth, goodwill to men.

I thought as now this day had come, the belfries of all Christendom

Had trolled along the unbroken song of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head; "There is no peace on earth," I said.

"For hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth, goodwill to men."

Let there be no mistake and no doubt about it at all:   the events in Connecticut "mocked the song" of peace on earth, goodwill to men.  Yesterday, while ringing the bells for the Salvation Army at WalMart, I got a text message from my daughter:  "That terrible event in Connecticut gave me nightmares last night."

Did God cause this to happen?  Absolutely not.  Did God allow it to happen?  Yes, and I wrestle with that.  The answers as to why seem to elude my grasp.

But then came yesterday morning. I walked down that same long hallway I did when I worked at Nasr Brothers Jewelers in the Golden Triangle Mall.  There, right outside Dilliards, I was a greeted by our choir and many of our people.  The entire corridor of the mall was flooded with the sounds of the carols they sang.  Then, almost as if on cue, the last verse of Longfellow's song came to mind:

Then peeled the bells more loud and deep:

"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail

With peace on earth, goodwill to men.

I invite you to join me this morning -- whether you be member or guest or here for whatever reason it may be -- in hanging onto that hope and holding out for it.  Ultimately, the wrong SHALL fail and the right WILL PREVAIL!  That day shall come when, to use the language from Revelation, God shall wipe away all tears from our eyes. There shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain:  for the former things are passed away.

With the world being what it is, the singing of the carols by our choir, with nearly all of them telling the story and true meaning of Christmas, was almost an act of defiance.  It was like a happy rebellion.  One shopper, a lady standing behind me, had tears in her eyes.  "I'm so glad I was here," she said. "I needed to be here." 

Likewise, we need to be here today, and we are.  Perhaps the lighting of a candle called joy is itself an act of defiance, a gesture of happy rebellion.  "Rejoice," says the inspired apostle.  "And again I say:  rejoice!"  And all of it for a very good reason:  it's because "The Lord is near," says the apostle. 

They were written nearly two thousand years ago, but they are so timely -- and, to use a popular term, "relevant" -- that it's almost scary.  St. Paul says  "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.   And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

Flags fly at half-staff and they may do so again in the future, but Christ has died! Christ is risen! Christ will come again!  In and through this Jesus Christ, may your hearts and minds be guarded by the peace of God so that you can truly rejoice in this world and in the world to come.  Amen.

 

Text:  Luke 3:1-6

Theme:  "Is One Semester Enough?"

Second Sunday of Advent

December 9, 2012

First Presbyterian Church

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

 

+In the Name of Jesus+

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar—when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, Herod tetrarch of Galilee, his brother Philip tetrarch of Iturea and Traconitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilene— ² during the high-priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. ³ He went into all the country around the Jordan, preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. ⁴ As it is written in the book of the words of Isaiah the prophet:

“A voice of one calling in the wilderness,
‘Prepare the way for the Lord,
make straight paths for him.
⁵ Every valley shall be filled in,
every mountain and hill made low.
The crooked roads shall become straight,
the rough ways smooth.
⁶ And all people will see God’s salvation.’”^[a]

A week ago right now I was up in the clouds -- at 30,000 feet, to be exact. 
The British Airways 747 was headed south across North America toward Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport.  It brought us back -- safely, thank God -- from a week-long trip to London.  There we ate fish and chips, watched the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, journeyed to Stonehenge, dined at the Hard Rock Cafe, crossed The Beatles' Abbey Road, and looked on in amazement as one brother-in-law actually held the guitar of Jimmy Page, lead guitarist for Led Zeppelin!  The Queen, as we discovered, was in residence at Buckingham, but she wasn't able to have us in for tea!

There are many "takeaways" from the trip, but one of them stands out.  It's a very British three word phrase that goes like this:  "Mind the gap."  The announcer on the London Underground train system would always tell us to "mind the gap" as we stepped off the train -- with the gap being that literal space between the train itself and the platform at the station.  If you don't "mind the gap", there might be an accident. 

"Mind the gap" is advice both simple and good for many reasons.  That "gap", in whatever form it may take, could take you down.  That gap could be your blind spot.  Perhaps it's a situation in your life that has the potential of getting out of control.  The gap -- whatever it is -- is dangerous; your well-being or even your life could be in danger if you don't mind it.

We "minded the gap" successfully as we got off the train at Westminster and then, later, took a double-decker bus to St. Paul's Cathedral.  It's in the area of old London where Jack the Ripper committed his grisly crimes.  It's also an area that was bombed heavily during Hitler's "blitzkrieg" of London in World War II.  Almost miraculously, the magnificent St. Paul's cathedral sustained little damage.  It became a symbol of British faith and resistance against insurmountable odds.  And, Christians have been worshipping at that site since 600 AD -- for over fourteen hundred years.  They worshipped there for over a thousand years before there was even a United States.  What a history lesson!

Speaking of history, Saint Luke -- the beloved physician and the author of our Gospel reading for today -- was tuned in to history.  This, of course, almost immediately, will turn off some people who find history to be dull and boring in an age obsessed with entertainment. We don't go home from church, during the NFL season, to watch The History Channel.  For that matter, history doesn't seem to be very "spiritual" either.  What difference does it make if it was the fourteenth or the sixteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar?  (Actually, it was the fifteenth!)  Who cares if Pilate was the governor of Judea, Herod the tetrarch of Galilee, and so forth?  What's a "tetrarch"anyway?  As we "mind the gap" of Christmas and fall head-long into the annual, frenetic preparations, what's the big deal that Annas and Caiaphas shared a high-priesthood?  We have far more important gaps to mind than spending time focusing on all this historical falderol!

But wait a minute:  Luke thought it was a big deal; Luke thought it made a difference; Luke cared about giving us the details for a very good reason:  our faith is not some spiritual fairy-tale.  Christmas is not all about creating moods and experiences with food, drink, family, friends, gift-giving, and some diva singing "Santa Baby" in the background.  Christmas is grounded in history.  It's on terra firma.  It happened!  God -- Creator of the rolling spheres and ineffably sublime -- stepped in.  To be more precise, His Word showed up on the scene.  We are told that the "word came to John the son of Zechariah in the wilderness."   It didn't come to Caesar or Herod or Annas and Caiaphas.  Those were just the historical personages which pinpoint the history -- the historical timeframe, if you will. 

The word comes.  It isn't dropped down from heaven on golden tablets and accompanied by angels. It isn't delivered in an armored car.  It isn't carried by an intelligence officer in a discreet messenger bag.   In fact, it comes to one man who turns out to be just an ordinary Joe Six-pack kind of guy. 

There he stands -- in the wilderness of history.  There he stands -- forever the great Elijah!  There he stands -- the great preacher of Advent.  There he stands -- John the Baptist.  He speaks a word that didn't originate in the depths of his transformed heart.  He speaks a message that didn't spring from his own experience or fervent feelings.  It was a message that came to him.  It came from the outside and not the inside. 

The message took hold.  It gripped the people.  It drew a crowd. Other accounts tell us that the whole Judean countryside and all of Jerusalem came out to listen to John.  Apparently, he had what they were missing.  And, as we shall see, they didn't come out just to be entertained.

But didn't they have enough?  What was missing?  Didn't they have Tiberius Caesar and Pilate and Herod to rule over them and take care of them and provide all the necessary governmental goods and services they required?  Didn't they have Annas and Caiaphas to guide them in their religious activities?  Didn't they have each other?   Wasn't that enough?

Apparently not.  In some way or another, John's message struck a chord. People lined up to hear John just as people and pundits gather out at Apple headquarters when the umpteenth version of the iPad or iPhone is unveiled.   What amazes me, to this day, is that the message unveiled wasn't really anything new.

John's message from God had first come from a prophet, Isaiah, who had long since been in his grave.  John quotes Isaiah chapter 40: 

A voice of one calling in the wilderness,
‘Prepare the way for the Lord,
make straight paths for him.
⁵ Every valley shall be filled in,
every mountain and hill made low.
The crooked roads shall become straight,
the rough ways smooth.
⁶ And all people will see God’s salvation.

In my final year at seminary, I took an elective course called "Isaiah II."  There were actually two graduate level courses offered on just the book of Isaiah in the Old Testament.  As far as books in the Bible are concerned, Isaiah is huge.  It has sixty six big chapters.  No wonder they call Isaiah a "major prophet".  The first class, which I didn't take, treated chapters 1-39.  "Isaiah II" presented chapters 40-66. 

I was looking forward to the class. There's so much great material in this book.  Much of it inspired Georg Friedrich Handel as he took to writing The Messiah which includes many songs with selections from Isaiah as text. 

Now I thought we'd take a leisurely, academic stroll through the final twenty six chapters of Isaiah during the semester.  Then we'd write a paper on some theme of our own choosing.  And what do my wandering eyes did appear?  Well, it wasn't a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.  It appeared to me; it dawned on me that, when it was all said and done, we spent the entire semester on just one chapter of Isaiah.  It was chapter 40.  The material there is so rich, so full, so meaningful.  In fact, when you get right down to it, you could spend many semesters on just that one chapter and not sufficiently probe its depths. 

It was from this chapter that John the Baptist quoted.  Looking to the future as prophets are wont to do, God tells us, through Isaiah and John the Baptist, that there will be a level playing field. There will be no gaps that need minding -- because every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill made low.  Crooked roads will be straightened out and rough places made smooth.  And all people -- not just a select few, but all people -- will see God's salvation.  That includes Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, new age practioners,  believers of every stripe, atheists (who don't believe in God), agnostics (who aren't sure), and apatheists (who don't care).  EVERYONE -- past, present, and future -- will see God's salvation!

Luke says that John preached a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.  To repent, stated simply, is to change your mind.  A person baptized by John was one who had changed his/her mind.  Baptized by John, you were, in effect, saying:  "Now, I'm going to go God's way.  I'm not going to depend on the government -- Caesar, and Pilate, and Herod, and all the rest.  And I'm not going to depend on religion with its rules and regulations and rituals and high priests telling us what do or not do.  I'm going to mind the gap that is all-important.  I'm going to prepare the way for the Lord.  I'm going to live in faith. I'm going to believe that while religion can't forgive my sins, God will.  And God's forgiveness is on the way. 

It was a rebellious, defiant, but yet upbeat and enlivening message that took hold out there in the wilderness during the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar.

Is it taking hold with you? If so, then a semester is not enough to study it and apply it.   Martin Luther once wrote:  "When our Lord and Master Jesus Christ said 'repent', he willed that the entire life of the believer be one of repentance."  In other words, on each and every day -- and sometimes even moment by moment -- you change your mind and thereby prepare the way for the Lord.  Why is it important to do this?  Because the devil, the world, and your own sinful nature are constantly trying, like Hitler's bombs, to "blitzkrieg" you into changing your mind the other way. 

But the devil, the world, and our own sinful natures, despite all the damage they have wrought, were not able to stop something from happening.  You see, the devil, the world, and our own sinful natures are like the Grinch looking down on Whoville watching the Whos enter the town square and start singing.  He couldn't keep Christmas from coming!

And Christmas is not what Andy Williams called "The most wonderful time of the year."  Christmas is not what one dictionary defined as "a warm time for special foods."  Christmas is the feast of the nativity of our Lord.  He was given the name Jesus because He would save His people from their sins.  He -- in His advent, birth, life, passion, death, resurrection, and ascension -- minded the gap between us and our God. And that gap is no more, for we are all God's children and we get to feast with Him today.  Happy Advent and Christmas to you all!

 

Amen.

Who is Going to Make the Potato Salad?

 

Text:  Mark 13:1-9

Theme:  "Who is Going to Make the Potato Salad?"

25th Sunday after Pentecost

November 18, 2012

First Presbyterian Church

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

 

+In the Name of Jesus+

13 As Jesus was leaving the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher! What massive stones! What magnificent buildings!”

² “Do you see all these great buildings?” replied Jesus. “Not one stone here will be left on another; every one will be thrown down.”

³ As Jesus was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John and Andrew asked him privately, ⁴ “Tell us, when will these things happen? And what will be the sign that they are all about to be fulfilled?”

⁵ Jesus said to them: “Watch out that no one deceives you. ⁶ Many will come in my name, claiming, ‘I am he,’ and will deceive many. ⁷ When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed. Such things must happen, but the end is still to come. ⁸ Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be earthquakes in various places, and famines. These are the beginning of birth pains.

In the last year or so, I've added about twenty pounds to my bench press.  I like the progress, but I wonder about the cost.  I've been waking up in the middle of the night by sharp pains in my shoulder which essentially are saying:  "You're not 18 anymore."  Still, I can bench press a ton!  Did you know that?  Yes, I am so strong I can lift a ton.  You say, "That's impossible." I say, "No, it's not; I'd just have to be in outer space to do it!"  It's a whole different sphere out there.  I'd have the power there that I don't have here.

It's hard to break out of one's sphere.  One way is death, and we don't want that.  Another way would including taking off for outer space, but NASA is no longer and a private flight is cost-prohibitive.  There are times -- more times than we'd probably care to admit --  when we are uncomfortable right smack dab in the middle of the sphere where we are created to be.  There is so much going on here in the sphere of our existence that we find it difficult to manage.  Then, it feels as though we've lost control, and we don't care much for that either. 

In the organization called Alcoholics Anonymous, there is only one requirement for membership:  a desire to stop drinking.  Once you have that desire and choose to act on it -- what recovering alcoholics call "working the steps", you meet with another requirement, and that is this (and I'm here reading from the "Big Book" of Alcoholics Anonymous: 

 

            The first requirement is that we be convinced that any life run on self-will can         hardly be a success.  On that basis we are almost always in collision with        something or somebody, even though our motives are good.  Most people try to       live by self-propulsion.  Each person is like an actor who wants to run the whole      show; is forever trying to arrange the lights, the ballet, the scenery and the rest of       the players in his own way.  If his arrangements would only stay put, if only     people would do as he wished, the show would be great...

            What usually happens?  The show doesn't come off very well...

            Our actor is self-centered -- ego-centric, as people like to call it nowadays.  He is      like the retired businessman who lolls in the Florida sunshine in the winter complaining of the sad state of the nation; the minister who sighs over the sins of        the twentieth century; politicians and reformers who are sure all would be Utopia    if the rest of the world would only behave; the outlaw safe cracker who thinks society has wronged him; and the alcoholic who has lost all and is locked up.      Whatever our protestations, are not most of us concerned with ourselves, our       resentments, or our self-pity?

It was quite possibly a lovely day in Jerusalem -- not the new Jerusalem which shall come down from another sphere.  I'm talking about the Jerusalem in our sphere right here on terra firma.  Our Lord Jesus was leaving the temple area along with His disciples.  One of them offers up  a comment.  It wasn't provocative, mean, or manipulative; it was just a simple observation.  The disciple exclaims:  "Look, Teacher!  What massive stones! What magnificent buildings!" 

Yesterday morning, I drove up to Austin College in Sherman, Texas for a church meeting.  I tuned to XM radio, channel #4, and enjoyed my first go-around with holiday music this year.  I've never been to Sherman and Austin College, and the town and school, together, look like a nice place to live and study. It was like a scene from a Norman Rockwell painting.  One of my motives for going to these meetings is to support, as best I can, the new inquirers and candidates that are studying for the ministry of Word and Sacrament in the Presbyterian Church (USA). So many of you and so many others supported me. Thus, I feel an on-going debt to support those who are now where I once was.

After a few conversations with friends over coffee, I headed back to Denton in the early afternoon.  The GPS, surprisingly, told me to take a different route.  I swung west over to Gainesville and then headed south on I-35.  Still lost in all the Christmas music on channel 4, I did manage to scan the horizon.  I knew I was getting closer to home and hearth when there, to the southeast, I started to make out the two towers at Texas Women's University.  If you're away for three years or just three hours, you can't help but smile.  That sight gives you a sense of peace and of stability. 

Perhaps that is all the disciple was seeing as he gazed at the magnificent temple in Jerusalem! "What massive stones," he exclaimed.  "What magnificent buildings," he said.  Take your peace and stability where you can get it.  I like this disciple.

So this disciple offers up this high fastball of words! Jesus, in turn, knocks it out of the park.  He says:  "Do you see all these great buildings?  Not one stone here will be left on another.  Every one will be thrown down."

In stunned silence, the disciples and Jesus left the temple area.  If you could have followed them on GPS, you would note that they headed east across the Kidron Valley.  Then, with valley traversed, they took a short hike up to the Mount of Olives.  Most definitely, there was an even better view of the massive and magnificent temple from there.  I've seen pictures of the temple area, taken from the Mount of Olives, on Google.  It's a photographer's paradise. 

There, taking a bit of a break, four of the disciples -- Peter and Andrew, James and John -- approach Jesus.  They'd been thinking about the provocative statement our  Lord had made earlier.  They ask:  "Tell us when these things will happen?  And what is the sign that they are about to be fulfilled?"

Hats off to them! Those are great questions to ask.  If all our peace and stability is going to come tumbling down in a mass of rubble, if our hopes and dreams for the future are about to be shattered to bits, forgive us for wanting a little bit of a heads up. We've got to start making preparations; we've got to get to Home Depot and get our duct tape and bottled water. 

As a side note, even after Jesus was crucified and rose again from the dead, His disciples were still, as they say, "future trippin'".  In the book of Acts, right at the beginning of the book and just as Jesus was about to ascend into heaven, the disciples want to know what's going to happen and when.  They say:  "Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?"  Jesus replies:  "It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority."

Here in 2012, we all are so much like these disciples that it's scary.  We love our images and institutions of peace and stability. We smile when we catch glimpses of them.  They become more precious to us as we hear, all but on a daily basis, how bad it is out there.  Hurricanes hit; non-union helpers are told to take a hike;  stock markets and credit ratings drop; a fiscal cliff looms; currency is devalued; cancer kills; peoples'  lives and homes are robbed, burglarized, and bashed; violent uprisings start; hellfire missles are fired from drones; faithfulness wanes; secularism rises; alcohol, grade-A narcotic, xanax, aderol, methamphetamine, cocaine, heroin, you name it, fills the void; we're closer to collapse than ever before; the end is near!  "Hear a funky noise?  It's the tightenin' of the screws," sings one aging rock star. 

With all of this doom and gloom around us, the end must surely be near.  Martin Luther, the great reformer, was once asked what he would do if the end of the world would come tomorrow.  Without hesitation, he replied:  "I'd plant a tree today."  What Luther was very vividly saying was that we do not know when the end is coming.  That is not ours to know.  In the Apostles' Creed, we confess that Jesus Christ will come again to judge the living and the dead.  We don't confess when He will come; we just proclaim that He will.  With all due respect, the world has had its share of wingnuts and cracked pots who have tried to predict, with certainty, when the world will end.  Then, when the world doesn't end, they go back and revise their math.  Talk about bad arithmetic!

I remember one time being part of a discussion on the end of the world, or the "end times," or "eschatology" (as it is called in academic, theological circles).  Picking up on what Luther had said, one individual said:  "If I knew the end were coming tomorrow, I'd want to know who is going to make the potato salad." 

That's faith talking, my friends.  By the way, I prefer my potato salad with dill; others prefer it with pickle relish.  I'll make you a deal:  I'll make the potato salad with the relish and you make it with the dill. Then we'll sit back, together, and watch the end of the world unfold.

You know, this bit about planting a tree and the potato salad, there's a smidge of humor in there. With all that is going on around us and within us, be of good cheer!  Jesus says:  "Have no fear, little flock!  For it is the Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom."  That's a stronger fact and promise than the end of the world.

Finally, in today's text Jesus described to His disciples what we've talked about today as the beginning of the birth pangs.  He spoke of wars and rumors of wars and nation rising against nation.  He mentioned earthquakes and famines.  All of these things are happening today.  Jesus called them birth pangs.

My question is:  are these birth pangs like Braxton-Hicks contractions or the real thing?  The answer is:  it's not mine to know.  And guess what?  That's okay.  The Lord Jesus, who died and rose for you and me, is in charge of the timetable.  I'm perfectly content to let the God who loved me all the way to a cross to run the calendar. 

In the meantime, I'm looking forward -- with you! -- to that kingdom about to be fully born, that kingdom which the Bible says cannot be shaken.  So, in this confidence, we dedicate our pledge; we move to Thanksgiving with thanksgiving;  we head into Advent and Christmas in the happy confidence that, in Jesus, God has our back.  We plant a tree; we enjoy the potato salad; we glorify God and enjoy God forever. 

Amen.

 

 

Text:  Mark 12:38-44

Theme:  "Skin in The Game"

24th Sunday after Pentecost

November 11, 2012

First Presbyterian Church

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

 

+In the Name of Jesus+

³⁸ As he taught, Jesus said, “Watch out for the teachers of the law. They like to walk around in flowing robes and be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, ³⁹ and have the most important seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at banquets. ⁴⁰ They devour widows’ houses and for a show make lengthy prayers. These men will be punished most severely.”

⁴¹ Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. ⁴² But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.

⁴³ Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. ⁴⁴ They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”

As noted earlier, we worship today during the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month of the year.  This hour -- ninety four years ago -- signaled the end of what was known as "The Great War" or World War I.  Because of the death and destruction spawned by the war (which left nine million soldiers dead and twenty one million wounded), it was also called "The war to end all wars." 

This last title would not last for very long, as the horrific time of World War II would eventually come.  The United States of America, for a variety of different reasons, has had its place in the conflicts of the world.  Throughout the years, those "inalienable rights" -- life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness -- have required defense.  And so, rightly, the holy catholic church honors the service and sacrifice of the men and women of the United States military.  To use a popular phrase, they had "skin in the game."  They understood, with human nature being what it is, that the world is not some benign utopia where we all get along famously.  There are truths to be embraced and even defended -- with the last full measure of devotion.  For those who have served and are serving in this nation's military and for your family members and loved ones as well, we thank you today. 

I have a question for all of you today:   do you have skin in the game?  Of course, you do; we all do -- in one way or another.  Let's say you had bacon and eggs this morning.  The eggs came from the chicken and the bacon came from the pig.  Which one had skin in the game?  They both did.  But one, the chicken, made a contribution.  The pig, though, gave all.

When it comes to having skin in the game, are we more like pigs or chickens?   There are plenty of "games" out there.  You have your own life, your family life, your friendships, your money, your time, your talent, your interests, your causes, your country, your church.  Like the role of the chicken in a breakfast of bacon and eggs, we make a contribution in all these areas. 

There are times -- and let's admit it -- when we would like a little payback.  We've made contributions -- perhaps even sizeable ones -- for years, and it's time for the next generation of Joes and Janes to step and put some skin in the game.  Or, if we don't get a little payback we at least want some respect.  Look at the teachers of the law mentioned in today's Gospel.  They earned that flowing robe.  By God, they studied to be teachers of the law.  They deserve to be greeted with respect.  More than that, they should be escorted to the front row.  Never mind that they stepped on the dignity of the less fortunate to do it, and, again, as Jesus pointed out, they devoured what little the poor had to fatten their own wallet. 

Oh, yes, I almost forgot.  There is Jesus.  In today's reading, He -- who we confess as the Son of God, God in human flesh -- is watching people pass by who have skin in the game.  Interestingly enough, He is sitting opposite the place where the offerings were put and was watching the crowd put money into the temple treasury.  One of the things this tells me is that all the little decisions I made on any given day are watched by a celestial gallery.  I have time; I have talent; I have treasure; I have a skin in the game.  God is watching over all those decisions.

Jesus, we are told, saw the wealthy -- or, as our political culture likes to call, the "1%" -- put large amounts of money into the treasury.  The rich, very visibly, could show that they had skin in the game.  To be sure, some of them likely went "above and beyond the call of duty", as they say, as they made their pledge, wrote their checks, set aside their money for the good of the cause.    Maybe they even pulled some cash back from overseas bank accounts to do it.  I don't know.  It was the good thing to do, the God-pleasing thing to do, the right thing to do, the natural thing to do -- for people with skin in the game.

But then it happened. 

Out of nowhere, there comes a lady.  She didn't stay at home barefoot and baking cookies.  There could very well have not been a home at all, and there was no family to bake cookies for.  For she, we are told, was poor and was a widow. 

Are there poor widows today?  Of course.  But in Jesus' day, poverty and widowhood consigned you, at best, to second-class citizenship.  It was not a good idea to show your face in public.  People will look at you funny.  Stay home.  Save whatever dignity you have left.  But, for heaven's sake, don't venture out.  "Ma'am, we're sorry that the real world passed you by and you no longer have skin in the game.  Do yourself a favor and kindly stay out of the way of those of us who do. 

But the poor widow would have nothing of it.  Like the Carnival Cruise advertisement says, she "got out there."  She never defined herself by what had happened to her or by what she did or by what she possessed or didn't possess.  Having skin in the game wasn't a matter of what she had.  It was a matter of who she was. The world called her a poor widow, but God called her His child. 

By anyone's standard of currency, that poor widow didn't put diddly-squat into that treasury.  She didn't sign a pledge card; there was nothing to pledge.  She put into the offering plate what amounted to a couple of pennies.  That's all.

But it didn't escape the gaze of Lord Jesus. In fact, it was so significant that He called His disciples to His side as if to emphasize the point.  He said:  "Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others.  They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on."

The rich were like the chicken; they make a contribution.  But this poor widow was no chicken, was she?

Folks, the annual time has come when we make our financial commitments to the mission and ministry of this congregation.  Do I believe Jesus is watching as He was at the temple treasury all those years ago?  Absolutely.  Do I believe that we all, whatever our station in life, have skin in the game?  Absolutely.  Am I going to stand here, hat in hand, and ask for more money?  Maybe some would like me to do that, but I'm not your guy.  What I can do is remind you of the wonderful truth that you are not a second-class citizen.  You are a beloved child of God.  Jesus Christ, at Calvary's cross and Easter Sunday's empty tomb, put ALL of His skin in the game so this could be so.    Whether you have two cents or two million, you have skin in the game.  What I want you to know, this dedication Sunday, is this:  your skin in the game -- your gifts of time, talent, and treasure for well over a century and a quarter -- have enabled and furthered the ministry and mission of this wonderful congregation.  You've weathered the storm of World War I, World War II, and everything since.  God has honored the skin God gave you to put in the game.

I heard a psychologist by the name of Charles Lowery at the Denton Prayer Breakfast this past Thursday morning.  He's a motivational speaker with a Ph.D. in psychology.  He's also the son of a Baptist preacher.  He said, "That might explain why I'm a psychologist!"

In his book, Comic Belief, he tells the story of a six year old boy who had a physical handicap.  The lad was about to perform at his first Christmas pageant.  It was a really big deal.  It took a lot of courage, but he struggled across the platform to perform his part.  As he did, an older boy made a disparaging remark about the boy's handicap.  Completely demoralized, the little boy froze and started to sob. 

A man rose from his seat and walked to the platform.  He knelt beside the boy, put his arm around him, and said to the audience, "It takes a very cruel person to say what was just said to this little boy.  He is suffering from something that isn't his fault.  This was the first time for him to venture out with his handicap to say anything in public.  He's been hurt deeply, but I want you to know that this little boy is my boy.  I love him just the way he is.  He belongs to me and I'm proud of him."  Then he led that little boy off that platform.

Dear friends, that is God.  That's unconditional love. 

As we honor our veterans and dedicate out pledges, we do so as God's little boys and girls.  It doesn't matter what we do or say.  What matters is that we have skin in the game.  What's precious is that we are all God's children.

Amen.