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.