Text: Acts 3:12-19
Theme: “Times of Refreshment”
3rd Sunday of Easter
April 22, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
+In the Name of Jesus+
12 When Peter saw this, he said to them: “Fellow Israelites, why does this surprise you? Why do you stare at us as if by our own power or godliness we had made this man walk? 13 The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God of our fathers, has glorified his servant Jesus. You handed him over to be killed, and you disowned him before Pilate, though he had decided to let him go. 14 You disowned the Holy and Righteous One and asked that a murderer be released to you. 15 You killed the author of life, but God raised him from the dead. We are witnesses of this. 16 By faith in the name of Jesus, this man whom you see and know was made strong. It is Jesus’ name and the faith that comes through him that has completely healed him, as you can all see.
17 “Now, fellow Israelites, I know that you acted in ignorance, as did your leaders. 18 But this is how God fulfilled what he had foretold through all the prophets, saying that his Messiah would suffer. 19 Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come from the Lord.
Today's message is about refreshment. More particularly, it's about the refreshment of the soul or spirit.
I like refreshments. Most of the time we think about food or drink. There's some event or get-together that we attend, and we are told that refreshments will be served. Take the prefix and the suffix off of the word refreshment, and right smack dab in the middle is the word fresh. What's the opposite of the word fresh? Stale. Someone asks: "Would you like a slice of bread?" You say: "Sure." Someone else says: "Why not try a slice of freshly-baked bread?" I mean, bread is bread, but do you want just bread or freshly-baked bread?
This morning, I'm talking to you under the assumption that everyone agrees that there are three parts to who we are as individuals -- and maybe even as a group: body, mind, and spirit. All three -- it's safe to say -- require refreshment, or they become stale. Your body needs refreshment, usually in the form of food and exercise, or it atrophies. Your mind needs refreshment, and that requires it to be open to receive and absorb new information. If not open, then closed. If closed, then closed-minded. Without refreshment for the mind, you end up with people who think they've got it all figured out. Needless to say, that has created a host of problems in world history.
But what of refreshment for the spirit? Without spiritual refreshment, we're basically left to ourselves. And, at least in my experience, the self cannot stand the strain of playing God. To use the Biblical language, a soul that is not refreshed is "disquieted" or "downcast". "Why are you downcast, O my soul?" asks the psalmist. In modern lingo, this staleness -- this notion of a disquieted or downcast soul -- is often understood as depression. Depression is often a matter of anger turned inward. Depressed people would tell you that their whole existence seems stale.
There is evidence that the soul itself can be like a wild horse. It would shun the bridle and bit. The spirit desires to run free. With any and all constraints removed, the spirit feels refreshed. Do you want to know about one of the great energizers of the soul? Notice, I said it is an energizer. I didn't say it was a refreshment. The energizer of soul that I speak of is called resentment. Resentment fires up the pistons of the soul, and it makes us think, say, and do many things. It insists that the soul lash out -- aggressively, or, at other times, in passive-aggressive ways. Another energizer is jealousy. Still another energizer is fear. If the soul runs on resentment, jealousy, and/or fear, it will feel energized.
But in the end, my friends, it burns out. It becomes stale, downcast, disquieted. Harboring resentments, jealousies, and fears appear to be delicious and refreshing to the soul. In actual fact, they are killers.
This past week, I took some time off and went to Indiana to visit my two oldest daughters. Kiersten, who is twenty two years of age, and Caroline, who is twenty, are both autistic young adults. Kiersten was diagnosed, at a young age, with Aspberger's Syndrome. Caroline was diagnosed with Pervasive Developmental Disorder. The autistic diagnosis, once it sets in and is fully grasped, is a devastating one. Unmet expectations are simply resentments in embryonic form. I expected my daughter to be typical and normal children. But when the double diagnosis sank in, it most certainly gave birth to resentments, jealousies, and fears within me. But since then, something incredible has happened.
As I have observed them, I can say that they've been afraid at certain times. They have what some call separation anxiety, and they're afraid of change. But that whole resentment and jealousy thing is almost non-existent. They derive no spiritual energy from these things. It's almost as if resentment and jealousy are foreign to them. With Kiersten and Caroline, the autism has all but completely disabled the power of resentment and jealousy to eat their souls alive. And for that, along with many other things, I am so very grateful.
To quote Lou Gehrig, I, today, feel like the luckiest man alive. I have a wonderful wife, terrific children and stepchildren, a gregarious and happy little grandson, and an exquisite church family here at First Presbyterian. Along with that, I have two daughters who, without even knowing it, have become mentors. Autism notwithstanding, they have taught me that it is possible to live lives without being eaten up by resentment and jealousy. It may sound odd, but there are days when I wish I had a little autism.
So again, what is it that refreshes the soul? What is it that energizes the soul in a life-affirming and not a self-defeating way?
In 1958, a downcast but energized soul bombed a building in the state of Georgia. It happened to be the largest Jewish synagogue in Atlanta. Nevertheless, on the first Friday evening after the bombing, at the Sabbath service, that shell of a building -- all boarded up with doors hanging on hinges -- was filled to overflowing. The rabbi stood up to speak. He saw a huge crowd -- a crowd unlike he'd ever seen before. After a few moments of gazing out over this large group, he quipped: "So, this is what it takes to get you to temple!"
Earlier, we heard about a similar scene taking place in the passage from Acts. The "big event" that drew the large crowd was not a bombing, however. It was the healing of a crippled beggar who, day in and day out, sat at the temple gate in Jerusalem begging and pan-handling for money. Peter and John, our Lord's disciples, didn't have any money for a handout that day. But what they did have they gave him. In the Name of Jesus, the crippled man was healed. And that, like rubber-necked motorists at the scene of an accident, drew a crowd.
The event in itself was powerful enough, but only when the sermon was preached would the true meaning and whole truth emerge about what happened.
Before Peter's message, the crowd thought it was Peter and John that had done the healing. Even today, people like to believe that there are other people out there somewhere who hold the key, the solution, to everything that ails us. They have the right touch, the right prayer formula, the right technique, the right medications, the right plan of action, the right Bible study, the right wisdom to bring us great and lasting good. People will buy their CDs, attend their rallies, watch their programs, and read their books in the hope that they -- the enlightened ones -- might have the answers.
The apostle and disciple Peter spoke the truth to that pile of stuff that Bess Truman spent years trying to get Harry to call fertilizer. Getting the crowd's attention, he says: "Men of Israel, why does this surprise you? Why do you stare at us as if by our own power or godliness we have made this man walk? ... By faith in the name of Jesus, this man whom you see and know was made strong. It is Jesus' name and the faith that comes through him that has given this complete healing to him, as you all can see."
When bodies, minds, and spirits are stale and not refreshed, any dramatic action -- and the healing of the crippled beggar certainly qualifies here -- will garner attention. But only when we interpret these events in the Jesus way will our spirits and souls find refreshment.
Peter drew their attention to Jesus. He told the crowd, "You acted in ignorance, as did your leaders" (when you put Jesus to death). Ignorance -- like resentment, jealousy, and fear -- can, indeed, generate some energy and action. But our God, rich in mercy, worked the miracle of all even amid the ignorance. Through it all, as Peter remarked, "God fulfilled what he had foretold through all the prophets, saying that His Christ would suffer. Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come from the Lord."
You want refreshment? You want a spirit forever young? Change your mind. Turn again to God. Believe that that last act of love of Jesus, when He was crucified on that cross, washes away the last vestiges of resentment, jealousy, and fear. Know that your destiny is glorious, for Christ is risen from grave and you get to ride along; you get to contribute a verse -- a verse of thanksgiving from a spirit that is truly refreshed.
Amen.
THE STRAIGHTFORWARD PULPIT
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Sunday, April 15, 2012
3 B's
Text: 1 John 1:1-2:2
Theme: “3B's”
The Second Sunday of Easter
April 15, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Paul R. Dunklau
+In the Name of Jesus+
1 That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched—this we proclaim concerning the Word of life. 2 The life appeared; we have seen it and testify to it, and we proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and has appeared to us. 3 We proclaim to you what we have seen and heard, so that you also may have fellowship with us. And our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ. 4 We write this to make our[a] joy complete.
5 This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. 6 If we claim to have fellowship with him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live out the truth. 7 But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all[b] sin.
8 If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. 9 If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. 10 If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar and his word is not in us.
1 My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But if anybody does sin, we have an advocate with the Father—Jesus Christ, the Righteous One. 2 He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world.
Well, we've heard some tremendous selections of Holy Scripture already this morning, and this is all well and good since the celebration of our Lord's resurrection continues. But I'd like to start with a comment or two on a book in the Old Testament that is not featured in the lectionary this morning. I speak of the book of Ecclesiastes. Now, it could be that there are a few here this morning that don't even know there is a book of Ecclesiastes, and that's okay. I suspect others among you have read selections from the book or maybe even the entire thing, but then have moved on. It's not exactly everyone's literary cup of tea. Still others may conclude that it makes for dismal reading except for that part of the book that goes like this: "To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven -- a time to be born and a time to die...," etc. A popular musical group of yesteryear, The Byrds, made it famous in their song "Turn, Turn, Turn."
The trouble with Ecclesiastes, even among Christians, is not that it's purely utopian, on the one hand, or post-apocalytic, on the other. The trouble is that it's almost too real. Ecclesiastes tries to put a square peg into a round hole. It doesn't fit with our fervent yearnings for a more peaceful, just, economically fair, environmentally friendly, and serene world. The book of Ecclesiastes sets us down on the mainstreet of Realville. Ecclesiastes tells us not how it ought to be or how we should hope it to be, but how it is.
The author of Ecclesiastes, most likely, is King Solomon, the son of the great King David. In the first chapter, he opines: "I, the Teacher, was king over Israel in Jerusalem. I devoted myself to study and to explore by wisdom all that is done under heaven. What a heavy burden God has laid on men! I have seen all the things that are done under the sun; all of them are meaningless, a chasing after the wind."
One of the great commentaries on the book of Ecclesiastes comes from an unlikely source. It doesn't come from a professional theologian tucked away in the ivory tower of academia or in some accredited institution of higher education. It doesn't come from a parachurch group with an axe to grind. Instead, it came from a song-writer and balladeer who hails from Seymour, Indiana. I actually preached a sermon there years ago, but that's another story. I speak of John Mellencamp.
Twenty five years ago, Mellencamp came out with an album entitled The Lonesome Jubilee. He actually quotes Ecclesiastes on the record liner, and many of the songs fit the themes of Ecclesiastes perfectly. I cite just one, and it's called "Paper in Fire". The second verse goes as follows:
He wanted love
With no involvement
So he chased the wind
That's all his silly life required
And the days of vanity
Went on forever
And he saw his days burn up
Like paper in fire.
Holy moly! Man, woman, and child: this is the status quo, the way it is, for many a mortal. People want love. They want it to be unconditional; they want it to be consistent; they want it at their beck and call; and they want it never ending. But (and here's the thing), they want it with no involvement; that's the dirty little self-centered secret. They want love to be something like a spiritual dietary supplement, but they don't want to do the reps. Thus, love becomes little more than a means to an end, another weapon in the arsenal and tool in the kit that people make use of on their journey to self-fulfillment.
When love doesn't work out the way we want it to (whether it be romantic love, the love of a friend for a friend, or the love of God, for that matter), we get frustrated, irritable, and cranky. All of that is a cover for what's really going on. We're afraid. Fear. There you have it.
Fear. That's why the disciples of Jesus gathered behind a locked door on the first Easter evening. Fear. That's why the disciples gathered behind a locked door a week later. But locked doors are a trifle for the risen Jesus Christ. He appears to them; He extends to them that massively wonderful word of peace. Then, on the second Sunday of Easter, He says to Thomas (who doubted that Christ, in fact, had risen from the dead): "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed."
Thus, we come to the first fork in the road in today's message. Is it going to be vanity, meaninglessness, and chasing after the wind for an entire lifetime, or is it going to be belief? Whoever you are -- and you know who you are, I'm willing to wait it out with you. Take the entire Easter season (seven weeks, a "week of weeks") to think it through. One of the great hallmarks of the Presbyterian Church is that it values an open mind; it welcomes inquiry. We don't have all the answers in the Presbyterian Church, but we certainly can provide a safe and welcoming place for you to ask the questions. My hope is that you'll do that, that you'll think it through -- and then take the leap anyway. BELIEVE: this is the first B word in the three B's of our sermon title.
The second B word is BELONG. You know, people are big into membership. They're members of the human race. They're members of the upper class, the middle class, the lower class, the bourgeoisie, the proletariat. They're members of LA Fitness, or the Daughters of the American Revolution. They're members of the NRA or the Sierra Club. You get the idea. You can be a card-carrying, flag-waving member of just about any organization that your heart desires. But the question, the deeper question, is this: do you feel as though you really belong? In a culture where it's possible to not even know the names of your next door neighbors for decades, do you really belong?
People do prefer their anonymity. I've visited with folks who attend very large churches. The pews are packed with hundreds if not thousands of people. They're so many folks there that they can arrive late and leave early, and no one really notices. They can be so very alone among so very many people. They attend, but I don't think you could say that they really belong.
The Bible's word for belonging is "fellowship." St. John writes in our text: "If we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin."
Now, fellowship isn't about being BFF's (best friends forever). In short, there are probably going to be people in the church that we wouldn't otherwise hang out with, or consume Cabernet or sip Chardonnay with. And that's okay, because what binds us together -- what gives us a sense of belonging -- is not that we like to hang out with each other. In the church, there are Marys -- and there are Marthas. Mary, you'll recall, was somewhat shy and submissive. Martha, her sister, was a study in contrast. She was a type A personality -- busy and driven and goal-oriented and such. In the church, you'll have your Matthew the tax collectors who are what we would call today liberal or progressive in their thinking. On the other hand, you'll have your Simon the Zealots who are conservative right down to the bone. But what unites them all is not their peculiarities, their personalities, their politics, or their bank accounts. What unites them, what gives them a sense of belonging, what provides fellowship is that, by the grace of the risen Christ, they walk in the light! The first hard fact about them is not their peculiarities, their personalities, their politics, or their bank accounts. What they all have in common is that they are sinners -- and not that they prefer Beethoven, Bach, or Buxtehude to Lady Gaga, Snoop Dog, or the Charlie Daniels band. But, best of all, they believe that the blood of Christ cleanses them from all sin!
They believe and they belong. And third, they BECOME. In just a few weeks, I'm going to attend the annual Men's Conference at Mo-Ranch, a Presbyteran conference center in the Texas hill country. They're hoping for about five hundred men to show up this year, and they've invited me to give my seminar on "The Bucket List". I offered it a few years ago, and what it does is offer a faith-based look at what we want to do with the rest of our lives (or things that we want to accomplish before we die). I named the workshop after the movie of the same name starring Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson.
I have participants list the items, the things they want to do before they kick the bucket. Then I have them list all the things that prevent them from doing those things. The first time I gave the workshop, I got a good many answers, and I can boil them down to just three. First, it would cost way too much money; second, it would take too much time; and third, I'm not sure if it's the "right" thing to do.
Money, time, and morality. At this point, I tell the participants: "Do you know that all three -- money, time, and morality -- can become idols?" In the end, I tell them: "If you can link the items on your list to your faith alone, then go for those items with all the gusto God gave you."
In the end, those who believed discovered that they truly belonged, and they became different people. Our New Testament reading from Acts reveals this. It says of those early Christians that they "were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they shared everything they had."
There are some, in Christian circles, who do not like this passage of Scripture. Why? Because it sounds to them like communism. It seems to follow the dictum of Karl Marx: "From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs." But we're not talking about a worldwide economic system here. We're talking about what happens when people believe the Gospel of the crucified and risen Christ and belong to one another. They become people who share what they've been given. The communism of the world says: "What's thine is mine" -- and it takes a centralized government to do that. The communism of love says: "What's mine is thine" -- and it takes a Christian to do that.
Thus, in the end, we are ones who believe, who belong to one another, and whose lives become ones of service. Along with the assurance of the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting, this is what Easter does, my friends: you believe, you belong, you become. That's all. That's really it. And all God's people said...
Amen.
Theme: “3B's”
The Second Sunday of Easter
April 15, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Paul R. Dunklau
+In the Name of Jesus+
1 That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched—this we proclaim concerning the Word of life. 2 The life appeared; we have seen it and testify to it, and we proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and has appeared to us. 3 We proclaim to you what we have seen and heard, so that you also may have fellowship with us. And our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ. 4 We write this to make our[a] joy complete.
5 This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. 6 If we claim to have fellowship with him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live out the truth. 7 But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all[b] sin.
8 If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. 9 If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. 10 If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar and his word is not in us.
1 My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But if anybody does sin, we have an advocate with the Father—Jesus Christ, the Righteous One. 2 He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world.
Well, we've heard some tremendous selections of Holy Scripture already this morning, and this is all well and good since the celebration of our Lord's resurrection continues. But I'd like to start with a comment or two on a book in the Old Testament that is not featured in the lectionary this morning. I speak of the book of Ecclesiastes. Now, it could be that there are a few here this morning that don't even know there is a book of Ecclesiastes, and that's okay. I suspect others among you have read selections from the book or maybe even the entire thing, but then have moved on. It's not exactly everyone's literary cup of tea. Still others may conclude that it makes for dismal reading except for that part of the book that goes like this: "To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven -- a time to be born and a time to die...," etc. A popular musical group of yesteryear, The Byrds, made it famous in their song "Turn, Turn, Turn."
The trouble with Ecclesiastes, even among Christians, is not that it's purely utopian, on the one hand, or post-apocalytic, on the other. The trouble is that it's almost too real. Ecclesiastes tries to put a square peg into a round hole. It doesn't fit with our fervent yearnings for a more peaceful, just, economically fair, environmentally friendly, and serene world. The book of Ecclesiastes sets us down on the mainstreet of Realville. Ecclesiastes tells us not how it ought to be or how we should hope it to be, but how it is.
The author of Ecclesiastes, most likely, is King Solomon, the son of the great King David. In the first chapter, he opines: "I, the Teacher, was king over Israel in Jerusalem. I devoted myself to study and to explore by wisdom all that is done under heaven. What a heavy burden God has laid on men! I have seen all the things that are done under the sun; all of them are meaningless, a chasing after the wind."
One of the great commentaries on the book of Ecclesiastes comes from an unlikely source. It doesn't come from a professional theologian tucked away in the ivory tower of academia or in some accredited institution of higher education. It doesn't come from a parachurch group with an axe to grind. Instead, it came from a song-writer and balladeer who hails from Seymour, Indiana. I actually preached a sermon there years ago, but that's another story. I speak of John Mellencamp.
Twenty five years ago, Mellencamp came out with an album entitled The Lonesome Jubilee. He actually quotes Ecclesiastes on the record liner, and many of the songs fit the themes of Ecclesiastes perfectly. I cite just one, and it's called "Paper in Fire". The second verse goes as follows:
He wanted love
With no involvement
So he chased the wind
That's all his silly life required
And the days of vanity
Went on forever
And he saw his days burn up
Like paper in fire.
Holy moly! Man, woman, and child: this is the status quo, the way it is, for many a mortal. People want love. They want it to be unconditional; they want it to be consistent; they want it at their beck and call; and they want it never ending. But (and here's the thing), they want it with no involvement; that's the dirty little self-centered secret. They want love to be something like a spiritual dietary supplement, but they don't want to do the reps. Thus, love becomes little more than a means to an end, another weapon in the arsenal and tool in the kit that people make use of on their journey to self-fulfillment.
When love doesn't work out the way we want it to (whether it be romantic love, the love of a friend for a friend, or the love of God, for that matter), we get frustrated, irritable, and cranky. All of that is a cover for what's really going on. We're afraid. Fear. There you have it.
Fear. That's why the disciples of Jesus gathered behind a locked door on the first Easter evening. Fear. That's why the disciples gathered behind a locked door a week later. But locked doors are a trifle for the risen Jesus Christ. He appears to them; He extends to them that massively wonderful word of peace. Then, on the second Sunday of Easter, He says to Thomas (who doubted that Christ, in fact, had risen from the dead): "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed."
Thus, we come to the first fork in the road in today's message. Is it going to be vanity, meaninglessness, and chasing after the wind for an entire lifetime, or is it going to be belief? Whoever you are -- and you know who you are, I'm willing to wait it out with you. Take the entire Easter season (seven weeks, a "week of weeks") to think it through. One of the great hallmarks of the Presbyterian Church is that it values an open mind; it welcomes inquiry. We don't have all the answers in the Presbyterian Church, but we certainly can provide a safe and welcoming place for you to ask the questions. My hope is that you'll do that, that you'll think it through -- and then take the leap anyway. BELIEVE: this is the first B word in the three B's of our sermon title.
The second B word is BELONG. You know, people are big into membership. They're members of the human race. They're members of the upper class, the middle class, the lower class, the bourgeoisie, the proletariat. They're members of LA Fitness, or the Daughters of the American Revolution. They're members of the NRA or the Sierra Club. You get the idea. You can be a card-carrying, flag-waving member of just about any organization that your heart desires. But the question, the deeper question, is this: do you feel as though you really belong? In a culture where it's possible to not even know the names of your next door neighbors for decades, do you really belong?
People do prefer their anonymity. I've visited with folks who attend very large churches. The pews are packed with hundreds if not thousands of people. They're so many folks there that they can arrive late and leave early, and no one really notices. They can be so very alone among so very many people. They attend, but I don't think you could say that they really belong.
The Bible's word for belonging is "fellowship." St. John writes in our text: "If we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin."
Now, fellowship isn't about being BFF's (best friends forever). In short, there are probably going to be people in the church that we wouldn't otherwise hang out with, or consume Cabernet or sip Chardonnay with. And that's okay, because what binds us together -- what gives us a sense of belonging -- is not that we like to hang out with each other. In the church, there are Marys -- and there are Marthas. Mary, you'll recall, was somewhat shy and submissive. Martha, her sister, was a study in contrast. She was a type A personality -- busy and driven and goal-oriented and such. In the church, you'll have your Matthew the tax collectors who are what we would call today liberal or progressive in their thinking. On the other hand, you'll have your Simon the Zealots who are conservative right down to the bone. But what unites them all is not their peculiarities, their personalities, their politics, or their bank accounts. What unites them, what gives them a sense of belonging, what provides fellowship is that, by the grace of the risen Christ, they walk in the light! The first hard fact about them is not their peculiarities, their personalities, their politics, or their bank accounts. What they all have in common is that they are sinners -- and not that they prefer Beethoven, Bach, or Buxtehude to Lady Gaga, Snoop Dog, or the Charlie Daniels band. But, best of all, they believe that the blood of Christ cleanses them from all sin!
They believe and they belong. And third, they BECOME. In just a few weeks, I'm going to attend the annual Men's Conference at Mo-Ranch, a Presbyteran conference center in the Texas hill country. They're hoping for about five hundred men to show up this year, and they've invited me to give my seminar on "The Bucket List". I offered it a few years ago, and what it does is offer a faith-based look at what we want to do with the rest of our lives (or things that we want to accomplish before we die). I named the workshop after the movie of the same name starring Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson.
I have participants list the items, the things they want to do before they kick the bucket. Then I have them list all the things that prevent them from doing those things. The first time I gave the workshop, I got a good many answers, and I can boil them down to just three. First, it would cost way too much money; second, it would take too much time; and third, I'm not sure if it's the "right" thing to do.
Money, time, and morality. At this point, I tell the participants: "Do you know that all three -- money, time, and morality -- can become idols?" In the end, I tell them: "If you can link the items on your list to your faith alone, then go for those items with all the gusto God gave you."
In the end, those who believed discovered that they truly belonged, and they became different people. Our New Testament reading from Acts reveals this. It says of those early Christians that they "were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they shared everything they had."
There are some, in Christian circles, who do not like this passage of Scripture. Why? Because it sounds to them like communism. It seems to follow the dictum of Karl Marx: "From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs." But we're not talking about a worldwide economic system here. We're talking about what happens when people believe the Gospel of the crucified and risen Christ and belong to one another. They become people who share what they've been given. The communism of the world says: "What's thine is mine" -- and it takes a centralized government to do that. The communism of love says: "What's mine is thine" -- and it takes a Christian to do that.
Thus, in the end, we are ones who believe, who belong to one another, and whose lives become ones of service. Along with the assurance of the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting, this is what Easter does, my friends: you believe, you belong, you become. That's all. That's really it. And all God's people said...
Amen.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Resurrection Messages, 2012
Text: John 13:1-17, 31b-35
Theme: “Maundy ‘Hush Puppy’ Thursday”
Maundy Thursday
April 5, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” – John 13:34-35
The events of the early evening on the first Maundy Thursday did not happen in a traditionally religious setting – such as a temple, or a synagogue, or a sanctuary. They happened in an upper room – something of a small banquet hall. The surroundings were casual, and it allowed for close and relaxed conversation among the participants. I’d like to thank all of you for what you’ve done tonight – from bringing food, from setting up Erwin Hall, for all of it. We find ourselves in a relaxed setting – enjoying good food and one another’s company. All things considered, that’s not bad; not bad at all.
Speaking of casual, close, and relaxed, I’ve dressed that way this evening. I do want to highlight one element in my apparel. That would be my shoes. I have a new pair of Ecco-brand shoes. I picked them because they can serve double-duty as a golf shoe and a street shoe.
In thinking about tonight and all that it means (including something as seemingly trivial as what shoes to wear), I thought of another shoe brand and a story behind it that just might illustrate one of the great truths that springs from that first Maundy Thursday.
I’m sure most if not all of you have heard of Hush Puppy-brand shoes. In the early 1990s, the brand had about run its course. Sales were down to 30,000 pairs a year. For a national brand, that was bad; thus, they considered phasing out the Hush Puppy.
Then something happened that was so quick and unexpected that it boggles the mind. Hush Puppy executives heard from a shoe store in New York, the “big apple”, that sales had suddenly become brisk. In a matter of days, shoe designers and posh shoe stores were wanting to feature the brand in their advertising circulars. Long story short, they ended up selling over four hundred thirty thousand Hush Puppy shoes in 1995. They went from 30,000 to over 430,000 pairs.
How did that happen? Well, it started with a small group of children in the East Village and Soho sections of town. They weren’t trying to promote the brand -- that is the Presbyterian, oops, I mean, the Hush Puppy brand. The kids wore them precisely because no one else would. No one was trying to create a trend. Madison Avenue advertisers were baffled. In his book The Tipping Point, writer Malcom Gladwell describes what happened as something like an epidemic. He points out that little things – in this case, a tiny act of defiance undertaken by a few kids -- can just take off and spread like wildfire. Hush Puppy brand illustrates that beautifully.
But tonight, we have the best illustration. Like the Hush Puppy executives in the early 90s, the powers that be were about to phase out Jesus, to arrest Him, put Him on trial, and execute Him. On that first Maundy Thursday, all of the people were gathering in their homes and, more specifically, in Jerusalem, the holy city, to celebrate Passover. They were following the familiar yet ancient rules to remember that ancient event, so long ago, where God’s angel of death had “passed over” their homes and spared them. The next day, the Red Sea was parted, and the Israelites marched through, on dry land, to their freedom from four hundred years of bondage. That’s worth commemorating, wouldn’t you say? In fact, God commanded it. And every year at Passover, they obeyed the command.
But there was Jesus – not with His family but with His closest friends (and one of them was a betrayer). On the night before He was to be killed, He removes their sandals, their shoes. He washes their dusty, sweaty, stinky feet. Can you think of anything more menial and earthy than that? And at one point, on that night when the happy Passover commands were being fulfilled, He slips this in: “A new command I give you: love one another – even as I have loved you.”
There are three kinds of love in the New Testament. First, there’s eros. It’s the physical, sexual kind of love God created for marriage. Secondly, there’s philew, otherwise known as “brotherly love” or, as we say, friendship. Lots of folks have relationships – and that’s a very popular and overused word. But far fewer have friendships. And third, there is the love that can only come from God. It’s called agape. This is the love Jesus commands. Agape one another even as I agape you. Such love is about two things; it’s really quite simple: service and sacrifice. Jesus served them; he washed their feat. He sacrificed for them; He gave His LIFE.
You know what? I, your pastor, Paul Dunklau, engage in acts of service and I make sacrifices. I sure do. I serve myself and make sacrifices for myself. Isn’t it really all about me, in my case, or you, in yours? That’s certainly the impression and the culture and the world I live in is giving me.
But tonight, we laid all that down. We took all that off – like so many dirty shoes. We confessed our sin. We heard the Gospel of the forgiveness of sins. And this means that we are in prime position to serve one another and sacrifice for one another – that is, to LOVE one another even as Jesus loves us.
Who knows what might happen. I don’t know. I do know that they were about to phase out Hush Puppy brand, but look what happened. It was epidemic – if not epic! And it came from the least likely place. It didn’t come from advertisers or from marketing departments, or from slick websites, facebook pages, or twitter-feeds. It didn’t come from strategic planning.
No, it came from kids who wore the shoes because no one else would.
Do you think we could wear the shoes? Do you think we could agape one another and serve and sacrifice for one another as if no one else would? With God’s love, we can.
That little band of happy ruffians in the East Village and Soho bought the shoes because no one else would. Tonight and even at this moment, God is holding out His love to us like a pair of nearly phased out Hush Puppies. And what is He saying? He’s saying “Buy it!”
Amen.
Text: John 19:30
Theme: “Tetelestai!”
Good Friday
The Service at Noonday
April 6, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
“When he had received the drink, Jesus said, ‘It is finished.’ With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.”
It is good to be with you in this place and on this day. We are not alone. Countless people the world over are observing this anniversary of the death of Jesus with reverence and solemnity.
But, meanwhile, even though the financial markets are closed, our culture can’t sit still. The world around us seems, at times, to be on steroids. It’s not unreasonable to conclude our society in general has attention-deficit disorder. Moments of reverence and solemnity are thought awkward or, worse, boring. The hard work of meditation is too much; it consumes time that some think could be better spent elsewhere. When the subject of such meditation is a gruesome execution preceded by a flogging (and all the mental images that they evoke), then most tend to take a pass on Good Friday. But they show up in record numbers on Easter in their Sunday best -- for the eggs, for the chocolate, for the bunnies, and for the brunch. The thrill of victory and of winning is strong – and Easter delivers. It creates fans of Jesus.
But Good Friday creates followers.
I have little more to say. The Scriptures we’ve heard have said it all this early afternoon. Allow me, however, one footnote. It comes in the form of one word that Jesus said moments before He gave up His spirit. They didn’t take His Spirit away from Him. He gave it up willingly. Just before that, He said tetelestai. That’s one word that takes three English words to translate. “It is finished.” It has been said that “The pain of discipline is weighed in ounces, but the pain of regret ways a ton.” I’ve always been uncomfortable when people say that they “have no regrets.” I just don’t get it. To be human is to have quite a few regrets. But I’m convinced Jesus didn’t have any. His pain was the pain of discipline, the pain of obedience. He did what His Father had called Him to do. And, at that one moment in time in world history, He said tetelestai.
Interestingly, the first question God asks in the Bible also comes in the form of one word: ayeka. In English, it’s translated as “Where are you?” God asked the question to Adam and Eve. He knew where they were at; they were hiding. He didn’t ask the question to gather information He wasn’t aware of. God asked it for their sake.
The good news, the message that makes Good Friday truly good, is that Jesus didn’t so much say tetelestai for Himself. He said it for us. He did for us, completely, what we could not do for ourselves.
What wondrous love is this, O my soul!
Amen.
Text: Mark 16:1-8
Theme: “A Shakespearean Easter?”
Good Friday
The Service at Noonday
April 6, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
1 When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body. 2 Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb 3 and they asked each other, “Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?”
4 But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. 5 As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed.
6 “Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. 7 But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.’”
8 Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.
Some of you, if not most of you, have read pieces of classical literature written by William Shakespeare. You probably did so in high school or in undergraduate general education courses. Romeo and Juliet is likely the most recognized selection. I actually have a cousin, Katherine Eggert, who is a Shakespeare scholar who taught at the prestigious Stanford University in Palo Alto, California. Katherine’s cousin, however (meaning yours truly!), never really got into Shakespeare. But one Shakespearean phrase has stuck with me. In fact, it’s the title of one of his plays: As You Like It.
That phrase has taken on a life of its own. It has been used by various and sundry artists, composers, and writers to respond to people who have asked what the piece of art, the composition, and/or the reading selection means. Not wanting to give away what he/she had in mind, the artist, composer, or writer says: “As you like it!” And that means: “It’s up to you to draw your own conclusions.”
In the movie City Slickers, Billy Crystal plays a man of the city who desires a change in life; he wants to get out there and see what it’s like to be a cowboy. He and his friends head out to some dude ranch and they run into a real cowboy-esque character -- the genuine article! -- played by the late Jack Palance. At one whimsical and philosophical moment in the show, while they were out on horseback, Crystal asks Palance about the meaning of life. Palance holds up one finger for Crystal. Crystal’s character is confused. The meaning of life is one thing said Palance in so many words, and you’ve got to figure that out – or, as “The Bard”, William Shakespeare, might say: “As you like it.” You make the call; you make the determination; your interpretation is as good as any.
My problem, ladies and gentlemen – and I confess this to you with some frustration, is that I’m not always sure of my interpretation. What I’m looking for is certainty – objective, unmistakable certainty. I want the house of my life built not on the shifting sands of my own views, interpretations, or understandings of reality. Those can come and go as quickly as a Texas thunderstorm in spring. I need a foundation upon which I can rest and upon which I can build.
Easter Day – once you’re past all the bunnies, balloons, breakfasts, brunches, and brass accompaniment – boils down to this: either Jesus Christ who was flogged and executed – crucified! –- on Good Friday nearly two thousand years ago rose bodily from the grave, or He did not. If not, then Easter Sunday – lets just lay it out on the table! -- is little more than a chirping festival of Spring where we sort of celebrate that nature has finally woke up from a long a winter. As many folks in North Texas, particularly those affected by the recent tornadoes have learned, nature can wake up from its winter sleep mighty cranky. How sure can you be of mother nature? It’s easy to marvel at the wonder of the “pink moon” (that we saw recently) or a Texas sunset and praise God for its grandeur. But what if you’re standing amid the rubble of your own home?
Last Wednesday morning, the weather was stunningly beautiful. To be sure, it was wet after the tornadic storms passed through the night before. But the temperature was cool; the sun was shining; the flowers were blooming; the birds were chirping, and the grass was as green as all get out. I observed all this while I stood at the grave of a dear friend and member of this church at Rose Lawn cemetery. What’s going to sustain the grieving family is not ultimately the kindness of the doctors, nurses, and social workers (they did a great job). What will sustain them is not the gentleness and attentiveness of the hospice team (they, too, did a great job). What will keep them is not the flowers and the food and the sympathy and the concern of others (although that, too, was remarkable – and the family would be the first to say so). What finally is going to hold is not anyone’s interpretation of Easter, but rather the message.
The story of the resurrection of Jesus Christ, in Holy Scripture, does not suggest itself. It does not offer itself as a means for you to transform your life for the better. It is not a divine diet or exercise regimen. It doesn’t purport to create a peaceful, easy feeling of wellness everywhere. It doesn’t advertise itself as a one-size-fits-all solution for all the problems in life that we face that seem to be compounded quarterly. The real Easter is not on an editorial page. It’s not in the form of an advertising circular. In the Bible, in terms of overall impact, it’s on the front page, and it’s the lead article. “If Christ be not raised, your faith is in vain,” said the apostle Paul. Easter is not poetry or prose that we can review and give it either our thumbs up or thumbs down. It is an announcement; it is news; it is good news.
Give these dear women credit. They were faced with massive uncertainty; of that, they were certain. The death of Jesus had pulled the rug out from under their very existence. His crucifixion had thrown their lives, to use a popular phrase, “under the bus.” But again, give them credit. They did what they could do, what was right there in front of them to do. And it took no small amount of bravery. They took spices and went to the tomb. It would be a last labor of love for their friend who was so unjustly killed. In their confusion and uncertainty, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome forgot about that whole problem of the stone in front of the tomb. “Who will roll it away?” they ask.
But then they looked up. It’s the grandest looking up in the history of the world. The stone had been rolled away! They enter in. They are startled at the sight of young man sitting to their right in a white robe. Maybe he was sitting on the left in a gray robe. What difference does it make? The difference is this: accurate news reporting is specific. This isn’t the language of political – or theological – “spin”.
The ladies are afraid. Who wouldn’t be? Sensing this, the man says: “Don’t be afraid. You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you. Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.”
In most ancient manuscripts, that’s where the entire Gospel of Mark comes to an end – at chapter sixteen, verse eight. The first reaction of the first people who heard the announcement, these women, was fear. That’s where the story ends. I remember the story of a pastor who preached for seven weeks on the “transforming power of the gospel”. When it was all said and done, he asked the congregation: “Now, having heard all this, can anyone honestly say that they are still afraid of death?” One man leaned over to the next and said: “Heck yes, we all are.”
Fear. Mark’s gospel ends on a note of fear. Fear. It’s the scarlet thread in the lives of many a mortal. Fear. It either closes people down or energizes them into a fight or flight response. Literary critics, Shakespearean types, etc., will love the narrative ending on a note of fear. They’re free to interpret at will. You’re left to draw your own conclusions as to what happens next. As Shakespeare said, “As you like it”! But I’m no literary critic, and I’m not into Shakespeare. All I am is a voice that is here to tell you today that a rolling stone gathers no moss. And that stone has rolled right on down to today to this Feast of the Resurrection of our Lord at First Presbyterian Church!
My name’s sake is the apostle Paul, and here’s what he had to say about the news of Easter: “For I delivered to you first of all that which I also received: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and that he was buried, and that he rose again on the third day, according to the Scriptures, and that he was seen by Cephas, then by the twelve. After that he was seen by over five hundred brethren at once.” Does that language sound as if its up for Shakespearean interpretation? You see, Christianity is not art. It’s life, real life, life beyond the furthest reach of death.
“Okay,” you say, “but why did he die and rise again?” That’s the question of an inquiring mind, and I want you to know that inquiring minds are welcome at First Presbyterian Church. The last thing in the world we’re trying to do is get anyone to conform. We can’t do that. All we can do is proclaim the message and trust the Spirit of God to do the work that is the Spirit’s alone to do. And we can keep the sacraments, the ordinances of God’s house, Baptism and the Lord’s Supper, front and center – so that you can be sure that the God who raised Jesus is connected to you here and now. But back to the question, why did he die and rise? Here’s what the aforementioned apostle said in his letter to the Romans: Christ was “delivered up for our transgressions and was raised for our justification.”
If that is true (and we believe it is based on eyewitness testimony), that makes Easter far more than a “chirping festival of spring.” This is the festival of certainty. This is the victory – and the vindication! – of suffering of love. This is the feast of the resurrection of our Lord! Feel free –like you’ve never felt free before! -- to learn it, live it, and love it! Alleluia! And thanks be to God!
Amen.
Theme: “Maundy ‘Hush Puppy’ Thursday”
Maundy Thursday
April 5, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” – John 13:34-35
The events of the early evening on the first Maundy Thursday did not happen in a traditionally religious setting – such as a temple, or a synagogue, or a sanctuary. They happened in an upper room – something of a small banquet hall. The surroundings were casual, and it allowed for close and relaxed conversation among the participants. I’d like to thank all of you for what you’ve done tonight – from bringing food, from setting up Erwin Hall, for all of it. We find ourselves in a relaxed setting – enjoying good food and one another’s company. All things considered, that’s not bad; not bad at all.
Speaking of casual, close, and relaxed, I’ve dressed that way this evening. I do want to highlight one element in my apparel. That would be my shoes. I have a new pair of Ecco-brand shoes. I picked them because they can serve double-duty as a golf shoe and a street shoe.
In thinking about tonight and all that it means (including something as seemingly trivial as what shoes to wear), I thought of another shoe brand and a story behind it that just might illustrate one of the great truths that springs from that first Maundy Thursday.
I’m sure most if not all of you have heard of Hush Puppy-brand shoes. In the early 1990s, the brand had about run its course. Sales were down to 30,000 pairs a year. For a national brand, that was bad; thus, they considered phasing out the Hush Puppy.
Then something happened that was so quick and unexpected that it boggles the mind. Hush Puppy executives heard from a shoe store in New York, the “big apple”, that sales had suddenly become brisk. In a matter of days, shoe designers and posh shoe stores were wanting to feature the brand in their advertising circulars. Long story short, they ended up selling over four hundred thirty thousand Hush Puppy shoes in 1995. They went from 30,000 to over 430,000 pairs.
How did that happen? Well, it started with a small group of children in the East Village and Soho sections of town. They weren’t trying to promote the brand -- that is the Presbyterian, oops, I mean, the Hush Puppy brand. The kids wore them precisely because no one else would. No one was trying to create a trend. Madison Avenue advertisers were baffled. In his book The Tipping Point, writer Malcom Gladwell describes what happened as something like an epidemic. He points out that little things – in this case, a tiny act of defiance undertaken by a few kids -- can just take off and spread like wildfire. Hush Puppy brand illustrates that beautifully.
But tonight, we have the best illustration. Like the Hush Puppy executives in the early 90s, the powers that be were about to phase out Jesus, to arrest Him, put Him on trial, and execute Him. On that first Maundy Thursday, all of the people were gathering in their homes and, more specifically, in Jerusalem, the holy city, to celebrate Passover. They were following the familiar yet ancient rules to remember that ancient event, so long ago, where God’s angel of death had “passed over” their homes and spared them. The next day, the Red Sea was parted, and the Israelites marched through, on dry land, to their freedom from four hundred years of bondage. That’s worth commemorating, wouldn’t you say? In fact, God commanded it. And every year at Passover, they obeyed the command.
But there was Jesus – not with His family but with His closest friends (and one of them was a betrayer). On the night before He was to be killed, He removes their sandals, their shoes. He washes their dusty, sweaty, stinky feet. Can you think of anything more menial and earthy than that? And at one point, on that night when the happy Passover commands were being fulfilled, He slips this in: “A new command I give you: love one another – even as I have loved you.”
There are three kinds of love in the New Testament. First, there’s eros. It’s the physical, sexual kind of love God created for marriage. Secondly, there’s philew, otherwise known as “brotherly love” or, as we say, friendship. Lots of folks have relationships – and that’s a very popular and overused word. But far fewer have friendships. And third, there is the love that can only come from God. It’s called agape. This is the love Jesus commands. Agape one another even as I agape you. Such love is about two things; it’s really quite simple: service and sacrifice. Jesus served them; he washed their feat. He sacrificed for them; He gave His LIFE.
You know what? I, your pastor, Paul Dunklau, engage in acts of service and I make sacrifices. I sure do. I serve myself and make sacrifices for myself. Isn’t it really all about me, in my case, or you, in yours? That’s certainly the impression and the culture and the world I live in is giving me.
But tonight, we laid all that down. We took all that off – like so many dirty shoes. We confessed our sin. We heard the Gospel of the forgiveness of sins. And this means that we are in prime position to serve one another and sacrifice for one another – that is, to LOVE one another even as Jesus loves us.
Who knows what might happen. I don’t know. I do know that they were about to phase out Hush Puppy brand, but look what happened. It was epidemic – if not epic! And it came from the least likely place. It didn’t come from advertisers or from marketing departments, or from slick websites, facebook pages, or twitter-feeds. It didn’t come from strategic planning.
No, it came from kids who wore the shoes because no one else would.
Do you think we could wear the shoes? Do you think we could agape one another and serve and sacrifice for one another as if no one else would? With God’s love, we can.
That little band of happy ruffians in the East Village and Soho bought the shoes because no one else would. Tonight and even at this moment, God is holding out His love to us like a pair of nearly phased out Hush Puppies. And what is He saying? He’s saying “Buy it!”
Amen.
Text: John 19:30
Theme: “Tetelestai!”
Good Friday
The Service at Noonday
April 6, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
“When he had received the drink, Jesus said, ‘It is finished.’ With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.”
It is good to be with you in this place and on this day. We are not alone. Countless people the world over are observing this anniversary of the death of Jesus with reverence and solemnity.
But, meanwhile, even though the financial markets are closed, our culture can’t sit still. The world around us seems, at times, to be on steroids. It’s not unreasonable to conclude our society in general has attention-deficit disorder. Moments of reverence and solemnity are thought awkward or, worse, boring. The hard work of meditation is too much; it consumes time that some think could be better spent elsewhere. When the subject of such meditation is a gruesome execution preceded by a flogging (and all the mental images that they evoke), then most tend to take a pass on Good Friday. But they show up in record numbers on Easter in their Sunday best -- for the eggs, for the chocolate, for the bunnies, and for the brunch. The thrill of victory and of winning is strong – and Easter delivers. It creates fans of Jesus.
But Good Friday creates followers.
I have little more to say. The Scriptures we’ve heard have said it all this early afternoon. Allow me, however, one footnote. It comes in the form of one word that Jesus said moments before He gave up His spirit. They didn’t take His Spirit away from Him. He gave it up willingly. Just before that, He said tetelestai. That’s one word that takes three English words to translate. “It is finished.” It has been said that “The pain of discipline is weighed in ounces, but the pain of regret ways a ton.” I’ve always been uncomfortable when people say that they “have no regrets.” I just don’t get it. To be human is to have quite a few regrets. But I’m convinced Jesus didn’t have any. His pain was the pain of discipline, the pain of obedience. He did what His Father had called Him to do. And, at that one moment in time in world history, He said tetelestai.
Interestingly, the first question God asks in the Bible also comes in the form of one word: ayeka. In English, it’s translated as “Where are you?” God asked the question to Adam and Eve. He knew where they were at; they were hiding. He didn’t ask the question to gather information He wasn’t aware of. God asked it for their sake.
The good news, the message that makes Good Friday truly good, is that Jesus didn’t so much say tetelestai for Himself. He said it for us. He did for us, completely, what we could not do for ourselves.
What wondrous love is this, O my soul!
Amen.
Text: Mark 16:1-8
Theme: “A Shakespearean Easter?”
Good Friday
The Service at Noonday
April 6, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
1 When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body. 2 Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb 3 and they asked each other, “Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?”
4 But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. 5 As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed.
6 “Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. 7 But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.’”
8 Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.
Some of you, if not most of you, have read pieces of classical literature written by William Shakespeare. You probably did so in high school or in undergraduate general education courses. Romeo and Juliet is likely the most recognized selection. I actually have a cousin, Katherine Eggert, who is a Shakespeare scholar who taught at the prestigious Stanford University in Palo Alto, California. Katherine’s cousin, however (meaning yours truly!), never really got into Shakespeare. But one Shakespearean phrase has stuck with me. In fact, it’s the title of one of his plays: As You Like It.
That phrase has taken on a life of its own. It has been used by various and sundry artists, composers, and writers to respond to people who have asked what the piece of art, the composition, and/or the reading selection means. Not wanting to give away what he/she had in mind, the artist, composer, or writer says: “As you like it!” And that means: “It’s up to you to draw your own conclusions.”
In the movie City Slickers, Billy Crystal plays a man of the city who desires a change in life; he wants to get out there and see what it’s like to be a cowboy. He and his friends head out to some dude ranch and they run into a real cowboy-esque character -- the genuine article! -- played by the late Jack Palance. At one whimsical and philosophical moment in the show, while they were out on horseback, Crystal asks Palance about the meaning of life. Palance holds up one finger for Crystal. Crystal’s character is confused. The meaning of life is one thing said Palance in so many words, and you’ve got to figure that out – or, as “The Bard”, William Shakespeare, might say: “As you like it.” You make the call; you make the determination; your interpretation is as good as any.
My problem, ladies and gentlemen – and I confess this to you with some frustration, is that I’m not always sure of my interpretation. What I’m looking for is certainty – objective, unmistakable certainty. I want the house of my life built not on the shifting sands of my own views, interpretations, or understandings of reality. Those can come and go as quickly as a Texas thunderstorm in spring. I need a foundation upon which I can rest and upon which I can build.
Easter Day – once you’re past all the bunnies, balloons, breakfasts, brunches, and brass accompaniment – boils down to this: either Jesus Christ who was flogged and executed – crucified! –- on Good Friday nearly two thousand years ago rose bodily from the grave, or He did not. If not, then Easter Sunday – lets just lay it out on the table! -- is little more than a chirping festival of Spring where we sort of celebrate that nature has finally woke up from a long a winter. As many folks in North Texas, particularly those affected by the recent tornadoes have learned, nature can wake up from its winter sleep mighty cranky. How sure can you be of mother nature? It’s easy to marvel at the wonder of the “pink moon” (that we saw recently) or a Texas sunset and praise God for its grandeur. But what if you’re standing amid the rubble of your own home?
Last Wednesday morning, the weather was stunningly beautiful. To be sure, it was wet after the tornadic storms passed through the night before. But the temperature was cool; the sun was shining; the flowers were blooming; the birds were chirping, and the grass was as green as all get out. I observed all this while I stood at the grave of a dear friend and member of this church at Rose Lawn cemetery. What’s going to sustain the grieving family is not ultimately the kindness of the doctors, nurses, and social workers (they did a great job). What will sustain them is not the gentleness and attentiveness of the hospice team (they, too, did a great job). What will keep them is not the flowers and the food and the sympathy and the concern of others (although that, too, was remarkable – and the family would be the first to say so). What finally is going to hold is not anyone’s interpretation of Easter, but rather the message.
The story of the resurrection of Jesus Christ, in Holy Scripture, does not suggest itself. It does not offer itself as a means for you to transform your life for the better. It is not a divine diet or exercise regimen. It doesn’t purport to create a peaceful, easy feeling of wellness everywhere. It doesn’t advertise itself as a one-size-fits-all solution for all the problems in life that we face that seem to be compounded quarterly. The real Easter is not on an editorial page. It’s not in the form of an advertising circular. In the Bible, in terms of overall impact, it’s on the front page, and it’s the lead article. “If Christ be not raised, your faith is in vain,” said the apostle Paul. Easter is not poetry or prose that we can review and give it either our thumbs up or thumbs down. It is an announcement; it is news; it is good news.
Give these dear women credit. They were faced with massive uncertainty; of that, they were certain. The death of Jesus had pulled the rug out from under their very existence. His crucifixion had thrown their lives, to use a popular phrase, “under the bus.” But again, give them credit. They did what they could do, what was right there in front of them to do. And it took no small amount of bravery. They took spices and went to the tomb. It would be a last labor of love for their friend who was so unjustly killed. In their confusion and uncertainty, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome forgot about that whole problem of the stone in front of the tomb. “Who will roll it away?” they ask.
But then they looked up. It’s the grandest looking up in the history of the world. The stone had been rolled away! They enter in. They are startled at the sight of young man sitting to their right in a white robe. Maybe he was sitting on the left in a gray robe. What difference does it make? The difference is this: accurate news reporting is specific. This isn’t the language of political – or theological – “spin”.
The ladies are afraid. Who wouldn’t be? Sensing this, the man says: “Don’t be afraid. You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you. Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.”
In most ancient manuscripts, that’s where the entire Gospel of Mark comes to an end – at chapter sixteen, verse eight. The first reaction of the first people who heard the announcement, these women, was fear. That’s where the story ends. I remember the story of a pastor who preached for seven weeks on the “transforming power of the gospel”. When it was all said and done, he asked the congregation: “Now, having heard all this, can anyone honestly say that they are still afraid of death?” One man leaned over to the next and said: “Heck yes, we all are.”
Fear. Mark’s gospel ends on a note of fear. Fear. It’s the scarlet thread in the lives of many a mortal. Fear. It either closes people down or energizes them into a fight or flight response. Literary critics, Shakespearean types, etc., will love the narrative ending on a note of fear. They’re free to interpret at will. You’re left to draw your own conclusions as to what happens next. As Shakespeare said, “As you like it”! But I’m no literary critic, and I’m not into Shakespeare. All I am is a voice that is here to tell you today that a rolling stone gathers no moss. And that stone has rolled right on down to today to this Feast of the Resurrection of our Lord at First Presbyterian Church!
My name’s sake is the apostle Paul, and here’s what he had to say about the news of Easter: “For I delivered to you first of all that which I also received: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and that he was buried, and that he rose again on the third day, according to the Scriptures, and that he was seen by Cephas, then by the twelve. After that he was seen by over five hundred brethren at once.” Does that language sound as if its up for Shakespearean interpretation? You see, Christianity is not art. It’s life, real life, life beyond the furthest reach of death.
“Okay,” you say, “but why did he die and rise again?” That’s the question of an inquiring mind, and I want you to know that inquiring minds are welcome at First Presbyterian Church. The last thing in the world we’re trying to do is get anyone to conform. We can’t do that. All we can do is proclaim the message and trust the Spirit of God to do the work that is the Spirit’s alone to do. And we can keep the sacraments, the ordinances of God’s house, Baptism and the Lord’s Supper, front and center – so that you can be sure that the God who raised Jesus is connected to you here and now. But back to the question, why did he die and rise? Here’s what the aforementioned apostle said in his letter to the Romans: Christ was “delivered up for our transgressions and was raised for our justification.”
If that is true (and we believe it is based on eyewitness testimony), that makes Easter far more than a “chirping festival of spring.” This is the festival of certainty. This is the victory – and the vindication! – of suffering of love. This is the feast of the resurrection of our Lord! Feel free –like you’ve never felt free before! -- to learn it, live it, and love it! Alleluia! And thanks be to God!
Amen.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Palm Sunday Is For Children
Text: John 12:12-16
Theme: “Palm Sunday is For Children”
Palm Sunday
April 1, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
12 The next day the great crowd that had come for the festival heard that Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem. 13 They took palm branches and went out to meet him, shouting,
“Hosanna![d]”
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”[e]
“Blessed is the king of Israel!”
14 Jesus found a young donkey and sat on it, as it is written:
15 “Do not be afraid, Daughter Zion;
see, your king is coming,
seated on a donkey’s colt.”[f]
16 At first his disciples did not understand all this. Only after Jesus was glorified did they realize that these things had been written about him and that these things had been done to him.
She was a very British girl – born in Lancashire, England in 1821. Life for her was not easy, but much the same could be said for countless children today. She was orphaned as a child. Later, two serious accidents profoundly limited her physical abilities.
But the accidents did not slow down her mind and heart. Not to be deterred, she bore up under her challenges with class and grace. She wrote devotional verses. Her name was Jeanette Threlfall, and, in one book, Sunshine and Shadow, she included a selection called “Hosanna, Loud Hosanna.”
Hosanna, loud hosanna, the little children sang;
Through pillared court and temple the joyful anthem rang;
To Jesus, who had blessed them close folded to His breast,
The children sang their praises, the simplest and the best.
Palm Sunday is for children – for children of all ages. Jesus, who entered into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey, always welcomed them. He went so far as to say that if you gave a cup of water to a child you would surely not lose your reward. He stated that if you caused one of them to sin, it would be better to have a millstone draped around your neck and you be drowned in the depths of the sea. He said, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for as to such belongs the kingdom of God.” He spoke of entering the kingdom of God like a little child. If we don’t do it that way, he said, we won’t enter it.
What is the thing about children – about children of all ages? They live only by what they are given – that is, by faith. Without food, without clothing, without shelter, without parents, without guardians, without love and guidance, they perish. Without God, so do we –the children of all ages.
The children on that first Palm Sunday were with their parents and loved ones. It was Passover time, and, besides, being a religious holy day with common rituals and activities, it had this way of drawing families together – including the kids. There was no better place to be at Passover than at the holy city of Jerusalem.
This one was different because there was an unscheduled parade. When word got around that Jesus was coming to town, that’s what ensued. I remember my childhood. When it came time for the 4-H fair, there was a parade in town. Folks would line either side of Military Avenue in Fremont, Nebraska. The Shriners would drive in circle-8 formation in their little go-carts and toss out candy. There were clowns and balloons and floats. Local VIPs rode in open-air convertibles provided by local car dealerships.
Jesus rode on a donkey. He didn’t ride on a horse. In Jesus’s day, the donkey was a symbol of peace, while the horse was a symbol of war. A king riding into town on a horse was bent on war – hence, warhorse. If a king came in on a donkey, it was for the sake of peace.
In other accounts, we are told that the crowd – including the children – laid their garments on the road as a sort of royal carpet. In John’s telling of the story, we get the bit about the palm branches which we, too, have with us today. They were used like cheerleaders and sports fans that wave tassels. But they weren’t waving them to cheer on the home team in either a pep rally, during the game, or at a victory parade paid for by Mark Cuban.
Instead, they cried out: “Hosanna!” “Hosanna” is a Hebrew term that packs a wallop. It is both an ascription of praise and a prayer. In short, “Hosanna” meant “Praise to you, O Lord; save us now.”
The children – full of life and adventure – like to be where the action is, where the fun is to be had. Some of them may have just been going along with the crowd. Everyone is cheering, so why not join in! In modern times, psychological studies have been done about crowd behavior. People do things differently, and think different things, when they are in groups as opposed to being by themselves. No wonder that psychotherapy comes in two sizes: individual or group.
The ones who were by themselves on that first Palm Sunday, I suspect, were not cheering. “Hosanna” was not their word on that day. They were the ones who saw Jesus as a threat to their far more adult, grown-up, educated, elitist, sophisticated, fundamentalist viewpoint. The raising of Lazarus was just about the last straw. Jesus was to them like bin Laden. When the information is solid and the opportunity presented itself, you act on it and take him out – based on your own national security instincts. Better for one person to die than for the whole nation to perish; you get the idea.
But Jesus was no terrorist. He loved children; He didn’t kill them – or, like Kony in Africa, prostitute them first. They were not human shields with bombs strapped on. Jesus didn’t believe, to use the phrase made infamous during the days of Hitler’s Third Reich in Germany, in Lebens unwertes Leben (lives unworthy of life). In Jesus, the demons who demonized people were sent packing. The illnesses that buffeted humanity were healed. And the dead – most recently, Lazarus – were raised. Ask the widow at Nain; her son, too, was raised. And that’s not even to speak of Jairus’s daughter. This is the Jesus – who proclaimed the kingdom of God, release for the captives, recovery of sight for the blind, and good news for the poor – that they had to be rid of. Here is a good question to ask congregations, presbyteries, synods, general assemblies, denominations, non-denominations, inter-denominations, church traditions, and even ourselves today: Are you willing to get rid of Jesus to save your religion? Is your religion more important than Jesus? Is Jesus just an item on your session’s docket? How these questions are answered will speak volumes.
So let Him have His day. Let Him have His parade now. Little does He know that we “flipped” one of His disciples – Judas Iscariot – and, in just days, Jesus will be ours for thirty shekels of silver. That’s what Jesus was worth to the religious establishment; that was the price, the bounty, on his head. They treated Jesus as if He were a threat, as if He wore a hoodie, as if He was up to no good, as if He had something to hide.
How is it that people who think they have it so right have it so wrong? I don’t know, but it does seem to happen when the tendency is toward pre-judgment and profiling. All I’d like to do this Sunday is hang with the children, to sing my “Hosanna” and to join it with yours, and, in this Holy Week, to follow Jesus where He goes, to hear – and to see again with the eyes of faith – the story unfold.
They praised Him and begged Him to save them. And on through the week; through Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and then Easter, He did just that.
“Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them. For to such belong the kingdom of God.”
Amen.
Theme: “Palm Sunday is For Children”
Palm Sunday
April 1, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
12 The next day the great crowd that had come for the festival heard that Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem. 13 They took palm branches and went out to meet him, shouting,
“Hosanna![d]”
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”[e]
“Blessed is the king of Israel!”
14 Jesus found a young donkey and sat on it, as it is written:
15 “Do not be afraid, Daughter Zion;
see, your king is coming,
seated on a donkey’s colt.”[f]
16 At first his disciples did not understand all this. Only after Jesus was glorified did they realize that these things had been written about him and that these things had been done to him.
She was a very British girl – born in Lancashire, England in 1821. Life for her was not easy, but much the same could be said for countless children today. She was orphaned as a child. Later, two serious accidents profoundly limited her physical abilities.
But the accidents did not slow down her mind and heart. Not to be deterred, she bore up under her challenges with class and grace. She wrote devotional verses. Her name was Jeanette Threlfall, and, in one book, Sunshine and Shadow, she included a selection called “Hosanna, Loud Hosanna.”
Hosanna, loud hosanna, the little children sang;
Through pillared court and temple the joyful anthem rang;
To Jesus, who had blessed them close folded to His breast,
The children sang their praises, the simplest and the best.
Palm Sunday is for children – for children of all ages. Jesus, who entered into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey, always welcomed them. He went so far as to say that if you gave a cup of water to a child you would surely not lose your reward. He stated that if you caused one of them to sin, it would be better to have a millstone draped around your neck and you be drowned in the depths of the sea. He said, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for as to such belongs the kingdom of God.” He spoke of entering the kingdom of God like a little child. If we don’t do it that way, he said, we won’t enter it.
What is the thing about children – about children of all ages? They live only by what they are given – that is, by faith. Without food, without clothing, without shelter, without parents, without guardians, without love and guidance, they perish. Without God, so do we –the children of all ages.
The children on that first Palm Sunday were with their parents and loved ones. It was Passover time, and, besides, being a religious holy day with common rituals and activities, it had this way of drawing families together – including the kids. There was no better place to be at Passover than at the holy city of Jerusalem.
This one was different because there was an unscheduled parade. When word got around that Jesus was coming to town, that’s what ensued. I remember my childhood. When it came time for the 4-H fair, there was a parade in town. Folks would line either side of Military Avenue in Fremont, Nebraska. The Shriners would drive in circle-8 formation in their little go-carts and toss out candy. There were clowns and balloons and floats. Local VIPs rode in open-air convertibles provided by local car dealerships.
Jesus rode on a donkey. He didn’t ride on a horse. In Jesus’s day, the donkey was a symbol of peace, while the horse was a symbol of war. A king riding into town on a horse was bent on war – hence, warhorse. If a king came in on a donkey, it was for the sake of peace.
In other accounts, we are told that the crowd – including the children – laid their garments on the road as a sort of royal carpet. In John’s telling of the story, we get the bit about the palm branches which we, too, have with us today. They were used like cheerleaders and sports fans that wave tassels. But they weren’t waving them to cheer on the home team in either a pep rally, during the game, or at a victory parade paid for by Mark Cuban.
Instead, they cried out: “Hosanna!” “Hosanna” is a Hebrew term that packs a wallop. It is both an ascription of praise and a prayer. In short, “Hosanna” meant “Praise to you, O Lord; save us now.”
The children – full of life and adventure – like to be where the action is, where the fun is to be had. Some of them may have just been going along with the crowd. Everyone is cheering, so why not join in! In modern times, psychological studies have been done about crowd behavior. People do things differently, and think different things, when they are in groups as opposed to being by themselves. No wonder that psychotherapy comes in two sizes: individual or group.
The ones who were by themselves on that first Palm Sunday, I suspect, were not cheering. “Hosanna” was not their word on that day. They were the ones who saw Jesus as a threat to their far more adult, grown-up, educated, elitist, sophisticated, fundamentalist viewpoint. The raising of Lazarus was just about the last straw. Jesus was to them like bin Laden. When the information is solid and the opportunity presented itself, you act on it and take him out – based on your own national security instincts. Better for one person to die than for the whole nation to perish; you get the idea.
But Jesus was no terrorist. He loved children; He didn’t kill them – or, like Kony in Africa, prostitute them first. They were not human shields with bombs strapped on. Jesus didn’t believe, to use the phrase made infamous during the days of Hitler’s Third Reich in Germany, in Lebens unwertes Leben (lives unworthy of life). In Jesus, the demons who demonized people were sent packing. The illnesses that buffeted humanity were healed. And the dead – most recently, Lazarus – were raised. Ask the widow at Nain; her son, too, was raised. And that’s not even to speak of Jairus’s daughter. This is the Jesus – who proclaimed the kingdom of God, release for the captives, recovery of sight for the blind, and good news for the poor – that they had to be rid of. Here is a good question to ask congregations, presbyteries, synods, general assemblies, denominations, non-denominations, inter-denominations, church traditions, and even ourselves today: Are you willing to get rid of Jesus to save your religion? Is your religion more important than Jesus? Is Jesus just an item on your session’s docket? How these questions are answered will speak volumes.
So let Him have His day. Let Him have His parade now. Little does He know that we “flipped” one of His disciples – Judas Iscariot – and, in just days, Jesus will be ours for thirty shekels of silver. That’s what Jesus was worth to the religious establishment; that was the price, the bounty, on his head. They treated Jesus as if He were a threat, as if He wore a hoodie, as if He was up to no good, as if He had something to hide.
How is it that people who think they have it so right have it so wrong? I don’t know, but it does seem to happen when the tendency is toward pre-judgment and profiling. All I’d like to do this Sunday is hang with the children, to sing my “Hosanna” and to join it with yours, and, in this Holy Week, to follow Jesus where He goes, to hear – and to see again with the eyes of faith – the story unfold.
They praised Him and begged Him to save them. And on through the week; through Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and then Easter, He did just that.
“Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them. For to such belong the kingdom of God.”
Amen.
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