Remembering Dionysius and Damaris

Text:  Acts 17:22-31

Theme:  "Remembering Dionysius and Damaris"

6th Sunday of Easter

May 25, 2014

FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

+In the Name of Jesus+

²² Paul then stood up in the meeting of the Areopagus and said: “People of Athens! I see that in every way you are very religious. ²³ For as I walked around and looked carefully at your objects of worship, I even found an altar with this inscription: to an unknown god. So you are ignorant of the very thing you worship—and this is what I am going to proclaim to you.

²⁴ “The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by human hands. ²⁵ And he is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything. Rather, he himself gives everyone life and breath and everything else. ²⁶ From one man he made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands. ²⁷ God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us. ²⁸ ‘For in him we live and move and have our being.’^[a] As some of your own poets have said, ‘We are his offspring.’^[b]

²⁹ “Therefore since we are God’s offspring, we should not think that the divine being is like gold or silver or stone—an image made by human design and skill. ³⁰ In the past God overlooked such ignorance, but now he commands all people everywhere to repent. ³¹ For he has set a day when he will judge the world with justice by the man he has appointed. He has given proof of this to everyone by raising him from the dead.”

There you have it:  a good, solid passage from the book of Acts.  Acts, in a nutshell, tells us that Christianity is a missionary faith.  It doesn't  sit still.  Acts gives us the record of how the gospel picked up steam,  gained traction, and hit the road.  Acts begins with the Ascension of the Lord and then the Day of Pentecost in Jerusalem.  From there, the narrative is like a travelogue with the ultimate destination being Rome, the capital city of the world at the time. Finally, the apostle Paul arrived there  through an interesting set of circumstances. But that story is for another day. 

He, Saint Paul,  took at least three missionary journeys after he was converted to Christianity.  On one of them, he stopped in Greece. And it wasn't just any place in Greece; he went to Athens. And it wasn't some Athenian street corner where there might be a 7-11 today.  No, he went to the Areopagus.   It was a place where the civil and criminal issues of the day were judged and resolved.  It was like a court. If you were a member of the Areopagus, you were an Areopagite.   It was also a central gathering place for the great thinkers of the day to share their thoughts on philosophy, politics,  religion, and all other various and sundry "hot button" topics.  Everything was fair game to be sliced, diced, and discussed.   The Areopagus was sort of a "think tank."  If you wanted to get in on the latest and greatest things being tossed around intellectually in the Greco-Roman world, there was no better place than the Areopagus.  There had to have been the ancient version of a Starbucks nearby.  "I'll have a venti Greco-Romanio with three extra shots of expresso, thank you!

The Romans named the Areopagus  "Mars Hill" for the Roman god of war.  But there was no fighting going on that day.  The old god Mars must have been resting.   Paul took his leisurely time  strolling around the area.  He was just another face in the crowd and indistinguishable from all the rest.  He does marvel at Athenian culture and notes that they appear to be a very religious people.  There were shrines and little temples everywhere for every conceivable deity.  Just in case they missed anything or anyone, there was even an altar where sacrifices could be made to "An Unknown God." If you are truly to be cosmopolitan and inclusive of all ideas, then you best have all your bases covered. "There might be a god we don't even know about, so best have a place to go worship him, her, or it."

Inevitably, Paul got his vocal chords into gear. Christianity is a missionary faith, and it is also a vocal faith.  It needs a voice.  He gains admission to a meeting of the Areopagus and apparently is given speaking privileges. Referencing his discovery of the altar to the "Unknown God", he declares: "So you are ignorant of the very thing you worship -- and this is what I'm going to proclaim to you." 

With an economy of words, with a few short phrases, he gives them the history of salvation which reaches its zenith in the resurrection of Jesus.  His challenge is not for them to build more shrines and have more discussions about the next set of gods -- known or unknown -- to come down the pike.  His call is to repent, to change one's mind about  God and then to believe that God, in Jesus, will come back one day to judge the world.  The resurrection is proof of that.

How did it go over?  How did it all turn out in the Areopagus?  Did his listeners sit there spellbound?  Did babies stop crying?  Could you hear a pin drop?  Well, things in Christianity don't always go over like gangbusters.  Not everyone is going to sign on, join up, repent, believe, and order a new Bible on Amazon.com.  While the gospel is "the power of God unto salvation," it does suffer itself to be rejected. You can say no to Jesus, think that His existence and his death and resurrection are all a bunch of nonsense, and go on your merry way.  In cosmopolitan and inclusive America, no one is going to shake a stick at you for that.  It's freedom; it's your prerogative. 

In the book of Acts, we are told of the reaction:  "When they heard about the resurrection of the dead, some of them sneered."  They gave Paul what some today call the "stink eye".  Others "said 'We want to hear you again on this subject.'"  They remind me of those nowadays who are "curious" about the faith -- maybe not a lot curious but just a little.   The church, for better or worse (and, in my opinion, mostly for worse ) labels  them "seekers." 

The text says that when Paul left the Areopagus, some followed him and believed.  Two from that group are mentioned by name:  Dionysius (a man and a member of the Areopagite Council) and Damaris (a woman).  All we know of them from the Bible is that they heard and received the good news proclaimed by Paul, and they believed.  That's all; that's it; that's the sum total of what we know of them.  Later tradition says that Dionysius would eventually become the Christian bishop of Athens. 

Dionysius the Areopagite.  His name goes into English as Dennis.  Nothing changed for him that day except everything.  And what of Damaris?  Every year, on October 3, the eastern orthodox churches observe Saint Damaris's day.  And if you visit  modern Athens, you may find yourself on the Odos Damareos -- the "Damaris Road."

There's nothing -- not the least little bit -- about the awards these two won, about the degrees they earned, about the wealth they may or may not have generated or kept, about their achievements or the status -- celebrity or otherwise -- that they reached in life.   They are all but unknown -- inconsequential at best and non-existent at worst -- to the world.  All that is said of them is that they heard and believed. 

On Memorial Day Weekend, a wreath is laid -- with much civic ritual -- at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington National Cemetery across the Potomac from our nation's capitol in Washington D.C.  The names of the soldiers buried there who were killed in action in American wars, the monument says, are known only to God.  All we know about them is that they gave "the last full measure of devotion."

We have the names of Dionysius and Damaris. But there were others, Acts tells us,  who heard and believed Paul's message at the Areopagus, and we don't know their names.  Like the unknown soldiers, they are unknown followers of Christ -- unknown to us, that is.  But they are known to God.

What is that brings you the most comfort -- that you know God or that God knows you?

Just to review:  we have observed that Christianity is a missionary faith;  it's always on the move.  Second, we've learned that Christianity is a vocal faith; it has a message -- specifically, the good news of Jesus -- to be spoken.  Third, the faith can be sneered at, "stink eye"'d, and rejected.  And finally, it is a faith of being known.  You see, it's not that we know God but that God knows us. Better yet, God loves us.  "God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son."

There may be times when you feel like little more than a number on someone else's ledger.  You may feel unknown -- unknown by others and not even sure if you know yourself anymore. 

When that happens, remember the Areopagus; remember what God's Word has shared this day.  Remember that great word from God and make it your own:  "Do not be afraid.  I have ransomed you.  I have called you by name.  You are mine."

Amen.

Matters Painful and Refreshing

Text:  1 Peter 2:9

Theme:  "Matters Painful and Refreshing"

5th Sunday of Easter

May 18, 2014

FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

+In the Name of Jesus+

⁹ ...You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. 

Major newspapers -- including a smattering of minor ones -- regularly publish an advice column.  A couple of notable ones that will ring a bell are Ann Landers and, of course, Dear Abby.  People write in with a description of the problem(s) they are facing, and the columnist writes back with sage and timely advice.

Apparently, there's a column out there called "Ask Amy".  I've never heard of it; I don't read advice columns with any regularity.  But a friend passed along a clipping from an "Ask Amy" exchange that he thought was worth a read.   Lo and behold, it's preachable!  Here goes:

Dear Amy:

Every fall, my sister, cousins and a cousin's sister-in-law have a weekend shopping excursion in our home city. 

We stay in a hotel, treat ourselves, shop for our children and go out for lunches and dinners.  It is a great time to reconnect.

I have a sister "Wendy", whom we do not invite.  She is offended to the point of tears when she finds we have not invited her.  My two sisters and I are very close in age, but Wendy hasn't been as close to this set of cousins as my sister and I have been through the years. 

We are all married stay-at-home moms.  Wendy is a divorced, working mom with one young child. 

There are several reasons why we do not include her.  We know she doesn't have very much money for such an outing.  She does not have many of the same interests as we do.  We're all very active churchgoers, while she only sporadically attends services.  Plain and simple, she does not really fit in with us anymore.

She takes it very personally, and last year even came over to my home unannounced crying about it, which upset my children and caused my husband to threaten to call the police if she did not leave.

Now she barely speaks to me and has told our relatives that I am a horrible person (even though I've helped her).

How can we get her to understand that she should perhaps find another set of friends whose lives and interests align more closely with hers?

Signed,

Sad Sister

  Hold on to your hats, people!  Here comes Amy's reply:

Dear Sad:

First, let's establish that I agree with your sister:  You are a horrible person. 

Obviously, you can do whatever you want and associate with -- or exclude -- whomever you want, but you don't get to do this and also blame the person you are excluding for not "fitting in."

The only way your sister would ever fit in would be for you to make room for her.  You are unwilling to do that, and that is your choice.

But her being upset is completely justified, and you'll just have to live with that.  Perhaps this is something you could ponder from your church pew, because despite your regular attendance, you don't seem to have learned much.

Ouch.  That's painful.  Whether or not you agree or disagree with "Sad Sister" and/or "Ask Amy"'s response, it's painfully obvious that there is some of what is popularly called "dysfunction" going on in "Sad Sister"'s family.  At least two human beings -- sisters -- are in conflict; they are alienated from one another.  Feelings are raw, and enflamed, and hurt.  There is a sense of hostility and what the Bible calls "enmity".  In a word, it's painful. 

In circles of psychology, psychiatry, social work, and now even in clinical pastoral education, there is a popular school of thought called "family systems."  The thinking is that the family is a system --  like a body with interconnected parts.  When one part gets "out of joint",  it affects all the other parts.  Let me illustrate:  a number of months ago, it was suggested to me that I go see a chiropractor for problems I was having in my left shoulder.  The doctor I visited uses a form of chiropractic called "Airrosti."  He determined that the problem wasn't my shoulder; it was actually in my hip. The shoulder was the location of the pain while the hip was the source.  It was all interconnected, and he treated both the location and the source of the pain.

Family systems thinking is like that.  In fact, it has become so precise that it can actually predict what will likely happen  in the future.  Family system teachers use what is called a "Genogram".  On a dustless chalkboard, for example, they will put up something like a family tree to show the connections between family of origin, the family itself, and the extended family.  Then they introduce the problems people in families face and sometimes cause.   It is quite an eye-opener to see how the next generation will be affected.  In a class I took, they studied the family of the famous actor, Henry Fonda.  There was a thread of depression and suicide that was rife in that family;  it was intergenerational. 

Family systems thinking has been applied to churches as well.  It really shouldn't be a surprise, for the Bible teaches that we are "the body of Christ and individually members of it."  We've already seen where conflict and hostility can affect family members.  It also can affect churches. 

When I attended a seminar on this, the presenter offered story after story of dysfunction and conflict and hostility in the church families.  There were tales told of people -- otherwise good people and regular, church-going people -- who hadn't spoken to one another in years.  There was such deep dislike, conflict, and potential or realized hostility, that they avoided one another at all costs.  It took every ounce of energy just to be civil. The issue was not whether the church was a welcoming church, a friendly church, and so forth.  In every instance, they were.  They were as welcoming and friendly as anyone could hope to expect.  But below the surface there were cracks and fissures. There were conflicts between people and/or groups of people in the church that went unacknowledged but were most certainly felt. Everybody who knows knows about it; nobody talks about it.   It's what one church-goer has called the "black cloud affect."   It's painful.

What's the source of the pain?  Family systems theory applied to churches has revealed that it often revolves around the pastoral office.  Some folks like the minister (and even the minister's family) while others don't.  In smaller churches, it becomes clear fairly quickly who supports or doesn't support the minister. 

In 1987, I took my first call to a Lutheran congregation in Indiana.  On my call documents, there was this cryptic line typed at the bottom,  and I'll never forget it.  It read:  "Previous minister resigned under pressure from voters." It was like a warning that said:  "This is what you're getting yourself into."  (I really didn't have a choice if I wanted a job.  In the Lutheran tradition, you go where they send you fresh out of seminary.)   The previous pastor had asked for a vote; he felt pressured to do so.  It didn't go in his favor, but the vote was 51% to 49%.  The church was split right down the middle. 

The minister is one source of the pain.  A second source is building projects.  I don't know of a minister, session, or church council anywhere that hasn't had pushback with building projects.   It  has to do with money or the lack thereof.  It has to do with different understandings of mission.  It causes conflict.  It's painful.

A third source is denominational affiliation. You like the church but don't like the denomination, or you don't like the church but you like the denomination.  You get the idea.

When these pains are allowed to fester over a period of time, people may not talk about them but they will feel them.  There may or may not be a vote on a divisive issue -- about the pastor, the building project, or fill-in-the blank.  But people will vote -- and they often do so with their feet. 

If you've stayed with me this long, you're probably thinking:  "Alright, Pastor Dunklau.  You're long on diagnosis and short on cure.  You've shared the painful matters.    You've identified the problem.  Now, what solves the problem?  what's the solution?"

What solves is what refreshes and the solution is what inspires.  Let me repeat:  what solves is what refreshes and the solution is what inspires.  When it comes to churches -- like our own and so many others, what refreshes and inspires is how God sees us.  Left to ourselves, we may see our church as small, ineffective, conflicted, and dysfunctional. And we are not alone.  Every congregation, in one form or another, has these problems.  There may even be folks we'd rather not talk to and avoid.  We may even have seen it this way for a long, long time.  The more we look at it this way, the more it weighs upon us.  We keep seeing the same things and doing the same things, and we expect a different result.  When we get the same results, there is pain.  When there's pain, what do people often do?  They lash out.

But there is also the way God sees the church.  And there is no way in hell that the black cloud of systemic dysfunction can defeat it.  One of great reformers declared that "The devil, that prowde spirit, cannot endure being mocked."  Well, that old devil is going to be pretty hacked off with what God's Word is about to say. 

God says to the churches, and God says to us:  "You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light."

When, by God's grace, we see ourselves as God sees us, we discover -- and re-discover -- who we are and what we are given to do.  That discovery is what refreshes and inspires.  That discovery puts us all on the same page.  We may not -- and, indeed, we cannot -- always be on the same page with the minister, or the building project, or the denomination, or certain specific issues or even personalities. But we can be -- indeed, we MUST BE, to a person -- on the same page when it comes to how God sees us and with God has given us to do.  All the rest of it is small stuff.  Don't sweat the small stuff.  God went to massive lengths to give us forgiveness and love.   It's always there for us to receive -- and for us to pass on to others.

With this refreshment and inspiration from God, the black cloud dissipates.  The church greets the dawn and begins a new day refreshed and inspired.

My prayer today is that our congregation  will sense in its collective soul what singer George Strait felt in his heart when he sang "Peace of Mind":

I don't dare slow down for anything

What tomorrow brings suits me fine

And I don't dare look back on yesterday

It's a throw away better left behind.

I'm free, free to do as I please

Free to choose, free to be

Just plain me, just plain fine.

I'm here and I'm there

Not a care in the world

What a cure for the soul...peace of mind.

I go anywhere that ol' wind blows

Down a blacktop road...anytime.

No strings attached, no ties to tie me down

So why hang around, when I can fly.

First Presbyterian Church and its friends and visitors and guests, we don't have to hang around anymore.  We can fly!

Amen.

"'Organic' Easter"

Text:  1 Peter 1:17-23

Theme:  "'Organic' Easter"

3rd Sunday of Easter

May 4, 2014

FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

+In the Name of Jesus+

Since you call on a Father who judges each person’s work impartially, live out your time as foreigners here in reverent fear. ¹⁸ For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors, ¹⁹ but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect. ²⁰ He was chosen before the creation of the world, but was revealed in these last times for your sake. ²¹ Through him you believe in God, who raised him from the dead and glorified him, and so your faith and hope are in God.

²² Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth so that you have sincere love for each other, love one another deeply, from the heart.^[a] 23 For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, but of imperishable, through the living and enduring word of God.

What comes to mind when you hear the word "organic"?  You probably think of food.  We're given to believe that organic foods -- meats, vegetables, dairy products, and so forth -- are better for you than non-organic.  This is because the products don't have the preservatives and pesticides that could be harmful. They may be grown locally -- that is, they don't have to be shipped from miles away.  On certain days of the week, we have a farmer's market down on Carroll Boulevard offering lots of produce from our area.  We have a couple of grocery stores -- the Cupboard and the one right down the street from us -- that supposedly give a healthy alternative to the products sold at big name supermarkets.  The general feeling is that "organic" is better.

For me, "organic" is about the real thing -- whatever the real thing may be.  In short, there are no added extras.

I have a thought or two I'd like to share with you about what I'm going to call an "organic Easter."  It's an Easter that's the real thing, and Easter with no added extras, an Easter that is more than just an annual memorial of some event that took place over two thousand years ago. 

Easter, as most of you know, is the annual celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the grave.  It's a day that remembers an event -- and it's done, in churches, with quite a bit of liturgical and celebratory excess.  There are special decorations, special music, pancake breakfasts, egg hunts,  etc.  Personally, I would argue that this is very good.  After all, without Easter there would not be a faith that could, in a proper sense of the term, be called "Christian".  The Apostle Paul declared:  "If Christ be not raised, your faith is in vain."  Without Easter, Christianity becomes just another philosophy among the many to choose from. 

So when I talk about an organic Easter, I'm basically asking a couple of questions:  what did Easter actually do to people, and what does it do today?  What power does Easter wield?  What changes did it make?  What changes can it make? 

Today's Scriptures go a long way in helping us answer these questions.  In our first reading from the Book  of Acts, the apostle St. Peter is in the midst of delivering the first post-Easter, post-Pentecost sermon.  He's telling people, in the first Christian sermon ever recorded, what happened at Easter.  Then he shares with his hearers what it all means.  In short, it's "Here's what happened, and here's what it means."

Well, that message had an effect on people.  It says that, upon hearing the message of Easter, that they were "cut to the heart."  They ask:  "What shall we do?"  Allow me to cut to the chase.  This is EXACTLY the effect we yearn and hope for: people hear the straightforward good news of the Gospel (the "organic" Easter, if you will) and they are "cut to the heart" and they wonder what to do. 

Are we always going to get that result?  No.  Not everyone is going to feel "cut to the heart".  Not everyone is going to take the true, life-changing message of Easter and run with it  There are going to be those who reject the message and who doubt the message.  The modern mind is very skeptical.  The modern mind is very religious about doubt -- and it rejects the miraculous.  People don't rise from the dead today.  Therefore, it stands to reason it didn't happen back then. Therefore, Christianity is a noble fairy tale.  Besides that, Christianity seems  more like a code of rules and list of standards that people must conform their lives to.  It seems more divisive than unifying.  You add these and other factors together, and it shouldn't surprise us in the least that people are indifferent to the claims of the Gospel. They're being polite, but way down deep inside they don't believe it.  In a word, they are skeptical.

Still other folks have a curiosity about Easter. They may not necessarily believe it's veracity, but they are willing to explore it further.  They are seekers; they are inquirers. They are missing something in their lives, and they're not quite sure what it is or put it into words.  But they are going to try to find out.

I want you to know that both the skeptics and the seekers are welcome here.  Come to our church; take it all in; absorb it; ask questions; contact me.  Your spirit -- what makes you you -- is important.  Your loved ones are important; your family is important; your welfare is important. 

Then there are those who hear the message of Law and Gospel, of sin and grace, and they are cut to the heart.  "What must we do?" they ask. 

You know what?  St. Peter didn't ask them to become Presbyterians.  Neither did they have to sign a record of friendship pad.  They didn't have a guest register.  There were no divisions of "we/they".  There were no hoops they were to jump through in order to become a "full-fledged" member.

They asked:  "What must we do?"  Peter answered, very simply:  "Repent."  In other words, "change your mind." 

The lyrics of that great song by Sister Hazel come to mind:

Hey, Hey

Did you ever think there might be another way

To just feel better,

Just feel better about today?

If you want to be somebody else,

If you're tired of fighting battles with yourself,

If you want to be someone else,

Change your mind!

"Change your mind", says St. Peter. 

"Be baptized", he says.  Baptism -- with its promise for you and for your children -- signs, seals, and delivers the organic Easter, the message of the Gospel, to you and yours personally.  You don't have to shy away from Baptism.  Come running to it.  Are you not sure you've been baptized?  No worries.  You can have that assurance.  That, among other things, is why we're here at First Presbyterian Church.  Let us know.  We'll pour the water and make it happen.  The Scriptures declare:  "We were...buried with Him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life."

What else does the organic Easter do? It creates people who have "reverent fear." More and more, in my experience at least, I've learned that there are two kinds of fear:  first, there's self-centered fear -- that's the kind where you think of  no one other than yourself and whether or not you're going to make it in this fast-paced and troubled world; the second kind of fear is "reverent fear" -- that's the kind that says that you'

re not in control.  There is a power greater than yourself -- indeed, a power that raised Jesus Christ from the dead.  You honor that God and you respect that God.  That's "reverent fear". 

Now here's one final thing the organic Easter does for people.  It creates people who genuinely love one another from the heart.  If I could sum up what more  and more people -- both inside and outside the church -- are saying, it would be this:  "I love Jesus; it's just His people I can't stand."  Will there be personality conflicts?  Will there be differences of opinion? Of course there will be; that's part of what it means to be human.  We are all alike in so many ways and so different in so many ways.  But if we don't genuinely love one another, then that tells me -- at the very least -- that the message of the organic Easter, the good news of the Gospel, is not getting out. 

It really is all about the Gospel -- that Christ died for our sins and He was raised from the dead for our justification.  That's what we want to be about here at First Presbyterian Church. "I'm not ashamed of the Gospel," declared St. Paul.  "It is the power of God unto salvation." 

Repent!

Be baptized!

Live in reverent fear!

Love one another deeply!

Our own willpower will not cause this.  But the organic Easter -- the message of the Gospel -- will!

Amen.