Buried Lies

Text: John 12:20-33
Theme: “Buried Lies”
Fifth Sunday in Lent
March 25, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

IN THE NAME OF JESUS

20 Now there were some Greeks among those who went up to worship at the festival. 21 They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, with a request. “Sir,” they said, “we would like to see Jesus.” 22 Philip went to tell Andrew; Andrew and Philip in turn told Jesus.
23 Jesus replied, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. 24 Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. 25 Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. 26 Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honor the one who serves me.
27 “Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. 28 Father, glorify your name!”
Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and will glorify it again.” 29 The crowd that was there and heard it said it had thundered; others said an angel had spoken to him.
30 Jesus said, “This voice was for your benefit, not mine. 31 Now is the time for judgment on this world; now the prince of this world will be driven out. 32 And I, when I am lifted up[g] from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” 33 He said this to show the kind of death he was going to die.

So some Greeks were in town, our text says. What were they doing there? It must have been Spring break. The college crowd does like to head out of town, with their sunscreen and mom and dad’s credit cards, on Spring break – maybe to Padre or Cabo or some such place. Perhaps they’ll do some scuba diving in Belize. These Greeks, though, were in Jerusalem. And lest we think they were just vacationing, our reading, again, says they were there to worship at the festival. That changes the game a smidge. It wasn’t just any old festival; it was the big Jewish one: Passover.

Back where they came from, in Greece, there were scads of deities to worship; there were so many choices, a plethora of religious decisions to make. The Greek pantheon -- a collection of gods, if you will -- must have been like a religious Sam’s Club. The world is filled with gods (small g) who expect you to make a decision. Madison Avenue marketing is the modern Zeus who directs us to the god (small g) who will help us out and we can choose to serve. There’s only One God (capital G) who chooses to serve you, who makes a decision for you.

Our Greek friends had quite list to choose from. If you loved the daylight, you might have worshipped at the temple of Hemera. If nighttime was your thing, you might choose to bow the knee at the temple of Nyx. Perhaps the Greeks in our text were Dionysians. Dionysus was the Greek deity of wine, parties, festivals, madness, drunkenness, and pleasure at being forever young. Dionysius would have been the patron deity of the Denton Arts and Jazz festival. Dionysian priests and priestesses would run the liquor stores, the hookah lounge, and the head shop. Dionysus would surely support the legalization of weed. That must be it. They were Dionysian Greeks – just like we’re Christian Americans. When Christian becomes the adjective and not the noun, we detour into some not so good places – like to where a drug deal could go horribly wrong. But that’s for another sermon.

We go back to our Greek friends. Our best scholarship suggests that they might have grown weary with all this polytheism –with all these little deities supposedly running around and running the show. The monotheism – monotheism, meaning one God as opposed to many of them – may have drawn them to the worship of Yahweh – the God of the Hebrews; the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and, as it turns out, Jesus.

They want to see Jesus, we are told. I mean, His fame had spread. Word must have reached all the way to Greece – even without telephone, telegraph, or an iPad 3 with a high-powered WiFi connection and a Twitter app. (I wonder who the god of technology was. Let me check the list: looks as though it’s a toss-up between Hermes and Hephaestus – or maybe it is Steve Jobs and they just didn’t know it back then. Could Steve jobs be the reincarnation of Hermes and Hephaestus? You have to wonder!)

At any rate, our Greek friends were looking for an interview, an audience with Jesus of Nazareth. They go to who appears to be one of Jesus’s handlers, one of his front men – perhaps His “campaign manager.” They approached Philip, one of our Lord’s disciples, who has a Greek-sounding name. Surely, he can help. Philip sent a text message to Andrew, and Andrew, in turn, left a voicemail on Jesus’s iPhone and an instant message on His Google account which automatically forwarded the same message to His Facebook page. Actually, they didn’t have texting back then – or even voicemail, instant-messaging, social networking, or blah-blah-blah back then. (I just wanted to see if you were still with me!)

Jesus doesn’t text back. Instead, upon hearing of the Greek request, He speaks to the crowd. He uses His own voice. What a novel idea! He says “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.” This isn’t the hour for curiosity about religion and coffee house chit-chat with our Bibles and latte’s. Now is not the hour for the endless, nauseating, posturing and elitist spin that passes for public discourse in even our own society. And, moments later and even more dramatically, we hear this: “Now is the time,” says Jesus, “for judgment on this world, now the prince of this world will be driven out. But I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” John, who wrote the Gospel that bears His name, reports: “He (Jesus) said this to show the kind of death he was going to die.”

It would be the death of the cross for Jesus. That’s where He would be lifted up – on the cross. That death is what draws all people to God. It is not our curiosity. It is not our infernal, boundless desire for answers. It is not the American pantheon of gods (small g) we create for ourselves. It is not our exceptionalism. It is not our constitutionalism or our progressivism. It is not our moral fortitude. It is not our religious commitments. It is not our polished Presbyterianism. It is not our politics. It is the cross, my friend! A hymn puts it this way:

In the cross of Christ I glory, tow’r-ing o’er the wrecks of time.
All the light of sacred story gathers round its head sublime.

Let us fool ourselves no longer. It is the magnetism of the cross of Jesus that draws us here. Yes, in two weeks we will sing our Hallelujahs that Christ rose from the dead. But let us recall that the victory we shall celebrate is not the victory of Spring – not the victory of baseball, motherhood, apple pie, and Chevrolet. It is the victory of the Crucified One. He was crucified for our sins and raised again for our justification.

Take the cross out of the mix, and the magnetism – the drawing power – is gone. And then we’re left to search for or create and then make decisions about our own gods (small g). But the pesky little critters always elude our grasp, our control.
Oh, they got a hold of Jesus alright. They controlled Him. But, as He says in our text, “Unless a kernel of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it to eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honor the one who serves me.”

Late last year, I met the author David Cook. He wrote the book, Golf’s Sacred Journey: Seven Days at the Links of Utopia. As many if not all of you know, there is a town in Texas called Utopia. There is a driving range there and a cemetery. The story is about a pro golfer who loses his golf game, but, as it turns out, he was losing so much more – his faith, his family, his best hopes and dreams. He found himself worshipping at the altar of the championship and the million dollar payday. He sacrificed for that, but then his game left him.

In Utopia, Texas, trying to escape it all, he met an old man who knew a thing or two about golf – and life, for that matter. Every now and again, golfers experience what is called a “buried lie.” In other words, the ball lands and gets plugged in a wet sandtrap or some mud. As a golfer, I can tell you that it’s no fun. You can’t really hit a shot as you’re accustomed to. You have to extricate the ball.

The old man talked to this disillusioned pro golfer about buried lies like that and another kind as well. Take, for example, the lies – the untruths – we tell ourselves. We tell ourselves that life is all about winning – at all costs; that life is all about wealth and endless financial security, and you get there any way you can; that life is all about having our politics carry the day; that life boils down to self-fulfillment and self-fulfillment alone. There are other lies that we tell ourselves too – that we’re inferior, that we’re not worthy, that we’ll never amount to anything. All of these things are just flat-out false, but we tell ourselves this stuff, in so many words, all the time. You could say that it’s the air we breathe, and its making our spirits drown

If the Greeks had a god for deception, we’d be worshipping at that temple frequently. But, as the sign at an Alcoholics Anonmyous meeting house says, “The deception of others is almost always rooted in the deception of the self.”
The old man had the golfer write down all the lies he had been telling himself all through the years. Then, later in the day, he had the man walk over from the golf course to the cemetery. There, the old man had dug a small, fresh grave. There was a wooden box nearby. “Bury those lies”, said the old man. And, with not a few tears, that’s what that golfer did.

Then, through that old man, the young pro learned that the ultimate victory of life was to be found in the love of God made known in Jesus Christ who was lifted up from the earth to draw all people to Himself.

Come away from your pantheon; bury your lies; be drawn to the truth: that God would stop at nothing, not even death on a cross, to love you.
Amen.

We Were Made for Greater Things

Text: Ephesians 2:1-10
Theme: “We Were Made for Greater Things”
Fourth Sunday in Lent
March 18, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

IN THE NAME OF JESUS

1 As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, 2 in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient. 3 All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our flesh[a] and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature deserving of wrath. 4 But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, 5 made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. 6 And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, 7 in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. 8 For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— 9 not by works, so that no one can boast. 10 For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

In the lectionary commentary series Feasting on the Word, writer Ian S. Markham provided a neat summary of our text in the following sentence: “We are made for greater things.” Ephesians 2:1-10 is a magnificent reading. It includes classic themes of Reformed theology such as grace and faith. But set aside the reading itself for a moment, and let us ask ourselves: do we really believe that we are made for greater things? Whatever the answer, I think it’s a good question for us to ask as individuals and as a church on a daily basis. Are we, indeed, made for greater things?

Your answer may depend, in part, on the perspective you hold at any given moment. If you think, as almost a Gospel truth, that your best days are behind you, then the answer is clear. If your glory days are in the past, then the answer is patently obvious. If you look only to today, tomorrow, and the future, you may not be sure if we are made for greater things – at least on this side of the grave. If you’re a pessimist at heart, you would say no. If you’re an optimist, you’d say yes. If you’re a realist, you’d say maybe. There’s this lovely little electronic postcard that’s making the rounds. It reads as follows: “Dear Optimist, Pessimist, and Realist: Thank you. While you were arguing over the glass of water, I drank it. Signed: The Opportunist.” Would an opportunist say that he/she is made or meant for greater things?

Whatever your thoughts, today’s reading from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians gives us an opportunity to answer the question. We’re all opportunists now! Lord willing, we will be able to say – as individuals and as Christ’s congregation – that we are indeed made for greater things.

But before that can happen, I am persuaded that we have to get a basic fact out on the table. Not only is this fact basic, it is also all-important. We can’t sugar-coat it; we can’t deny it; we have to state it. If we don’t acknowledge this fact, we might as well go home – or, worse, we are in danger of becoming religious zealots and fundamentalist extremists instead of Christ-followers. If we don’t get this truth 100% right, then there will be uncertainty. To paraphrase the story Jesus told, we will build the “house” of our lives and our hopes for greater things on sand and not solid rock.

The basic fact is our powerlessness. Our brain waves may be registering; our lungs may be taking in oxygen; our hearts may be pumping good, red blood through our arteries and veins. We are very much alive – physically. Initially, there does seem to be some kind of power at work.

But then, banging into our eardrums, comes this startling word from the apostle Paul to the Ephesians: “As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient. All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our flesh and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature deserving of wrath.”

What he’s saying, in a nutshell, is essentially this: apart from God, we are self-centered in the extreme and it killed us. Ask any recovering alcoholic worth his/her salt, and they would say that they were so self-centered in the extreme that it almost literally killed them. In their powerlessness over alcohol and in the unmanageability of their lives, they were committing timed-release suicide. They were arranging their own lights; they were directing their own show; they were playing God.

Alcoholic or not, apart from God, our occupation – indeed, our pre-occupation – will be our own cravings, our own desires, and our own thoughts. We like to think we have power and that we possess a measure of control; that it’s all about us, and our motives – although self-centered -- are as pure as the wind-driven snow. We can get aggressive about this – and even passive-aggressive about it.

For hundreds and even thousands of years, the Bible has called it sin. Here in America, in the twenty first century, our government – to wit, the National Institute for Health – calls it “Narcissistic Personality Disorder.” Here’s the symptomology. See if it sounds like what the apostle Paul was getting at in our text:
A person with narcissistic personality disorder may:
• React to criticism with rage, shame, or humiliation
• Take advantage of other people to achieve his or her own goals
• Have excessive feelings of self-importance
• Exaggerate achievements and talents
• Be preoccupied with fantasies of success, power, beauty, intelligence, or ideal love
• Have unreasonable expectations of favorable treatment
• Need constant attention and admiration
• Disregard the feelings of others, and have little ability to feel empathy
• Have obsessive self-interest
• Pursue mainly selfish goals

Now, we may not have all of these symptoms. But we all, most assuredly, have some of them. And I’m here to say that if this, indeed, is a clinical disorder, then it has reached epidemic proportions in American culture.

How is this disorder treated? The government suggests psychotherapy as a treatment. Psychotherapy can mean many things to many people. For most, it involves individual or group counseling. But go deeper. Psychotherapy literally means the healing of the soul.

The Apostle Paul just takes it one step further. Apart of God, you’re soul cannot be healed. Why? Because it is dead. Individual or group counseling will not help a spiritual corpse. But redemption would; resurrection would; a new life would!

Genuine Christianity is not about making cosmetic changes; it is not about tweaking one’s life to make it a smidge better and a little less self-centered than the lives of the other Joes and Janes. Genuine Christianity is a movement: it moves from death to life, from crucifixion to resurrection, from slavery to freedom, from the status quo to greater things always!

He stated it this way to the Ephesians and, by extension, to all of us:
"Because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

Wherever you are at it in life, whatever your individual situation may be, you are God’s handiwork. You are made for greater things!

Amen.

Without A Song!

Text: Psalm 19
Theme: “Without A Song”
Third Sunday in Lent
March 11, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

IN THE NAME OF JESUS

For the director of music. A psalm of David.
1 The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
2 Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they reveal knowledge.
3 They have no speech, they use no words;
no sound is heard from them.
4 Yet their voice[b] goes out into all the earth,
their words to the ends of the world.
In the heavens God has pitched a tent for the sun.
5 It is like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber,
like a champion rejoicing to run his course.
6 It rises at one end of the heavens
and makes its circuit to the other;
nothing is deprived of its warmth.
7 The law of the LORD is perfect,
refreshing the soul.
The statutes of the LORD are trustworthy,
making wise the simple.
8 The precepts of the LORD are right,
giving joy to the heart.
The commands of the LORD are radiant,
giving light to the eyes.
9 The fear of the LORD is pure,
enduring forever.
The decrees of the LORD are firm,
and all of them are righteous.
10 They are more precious than gold,
than much pure gold;
they are sweeter than honey,
than honey from the honeycomb.
11 By them your servant is warned;
in keeping them there is great reward.
12 But who can discern their own errors?
Forgive my hidden faults.
13 Keep your servant also from willful sins;
may they not rule over me.
Then I will be blameless,
innocent of great transgression.
14 May these words of my mouth and this meditation of my heart
be pleasing in your sight,
LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer.

FYI (for your information), today’s Old Testament Reading -- not listed in the bulletin -- is from the book of Exodus, chapter twenty, verses one through seventeen. It gives us the story of the delivery of the Ten Commandments, or, the law of God. Like varieties of Papa John’s pizzas, there are lots of laws in the Bible to be delivered, but these are the biggies. Together, they’re called the moral law. Jesus summed them up when he said: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength; and love your neighbor as yourself.” So, how’s it going with all of that?

Then, in the New Testament Reading – which is listed in the bulletin (1 Corinthians 1:18-25)– we heard of Christ not as a new law-giver but as the crucified One. Do you want your laws or your wisdom? In Christ crucified you find the wisdom of God. So, if you want to bone up on the wisdom of God, then fix your eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who, for the joy set before Him, endured the cross. That’s how the author of Hebrews puts it.

If that weren’t enough, things really pick up steam in today’s Holy Gospel from John, chapter two, where Jesus fashions a whip made of cords and drives the religious entrepreneurs plum out of the temple. His tactics, on that occasion, were rather brash. Interestingly, it’s called the “cleansing” of the temple. Things must have gotten dirty with institutional religion. So, what we have here is not an array of Scriptural hors’ d’oeuvre’s to sample, but a solid, nutritious meal. Beware! There is lots of spiritual “junk food” out there these days – filled with human additives. Bookstores and the internet are filled with it. Stay away from that.

Thus, for a Scriptural feast such as this, we need some good background music. What shall we choose? Today’s Psalm, Psalm 19, comes to the rescue. It is a psalm – which is to say, a song! Yes, the Bible is chock full of law and filled to the brim with wisdom, and bursting with stories. But let us not forget the music.
Julie Andrews, dancing in and around the Austrian alps, reminds us: “The hills are alive with the sound of music, with songs they have sung for a thousand years.” On that horrible night which followed the horrible Friday when JFK was assassinated, American radio stations – all but in unison –- played classical music through the wee, small hours of the morning. The selections captured the shocked and grieving mood of the nation.

What would life be with only talk and no tune? What if existence was little more than awkwardness and no rhythm? What if human discourse was limited to lecture and no poetry? What if it were only law and no wisdom? What if it were only outlines and no stories? What if Ronnie Van Zant didn’t say “Turn it up!” before he and the Lynrd Skynrd band started singing “Sweet Home Alabama”? What if B.B. King didn’t have his guitar? What if the University of Nebraska didn’t have “Hail Varsity”? What if the University of Texas didn’t have “Texas Fight”? What if Oklahoma didn’t have “Boomer Sooner”? (Well, we might be better off without that!) But seriously, what if Denton didn’t have an arts and jazz festival? What if UNT didn’t have its One O’clock Lab band? What if Denton Christian Preschool didn’t have its annual visit from the Mariachi Singers and the Denton High brass? What if John Haynie didn’t have his trumpet? What if Clyde Miller didn’t have his French horn? What if Jean Mainous didn’t have her piano? What if Lejean Mitchell didn’t have her flute? What if Hyung Kyung didn’t have her organ? What if Skylar Padia and Beverly Hoch didn’t have their voices? What if Jeff Snider and Mike Linder didn’t have their choirs? What if someone like a Jim Nance didn’t come and warm a pastor’s heart by bringing a powerful example of the “Agincourt” tune? What if Mike Steinel didn’t have his talent to improvise Bob Dylan? Where would we be without our voices, and our radios, and our albums, and our CDs, and our playlists, and our earbuds? We would be so much the worse off.

The lyricists Billy Rose and Edward Eliscu were thinking about this way back in 1929. They wrote it all down – and folks like Nelson Eddy, and Frank Sinatra, and Tony Bennett, and Mario Lanza, and Mahalia Jackson, and Louis Armstrong; and even The Isley Brothers, Stevie Wonder, and the Supremes brought it to our ears:

Without a song the day would never end
Without a song the road would never bend
When things go wrong a man ain’t got a friend
Without a song

That field of corn would never see a plow
That field of corn would be deserted now
A man is born but he’s no good no how
Without a song
I got my trouble and woe but, sure as I know, the Jordan will roll
And I’ll get along as long as a song is strong in my soul.
I’ll never know what makes the rain to fall
I’ll never know what makes the grass so tall
I only know there ain’t no love at all
Without a song!

Today’s song, straight from the pages of God’s Word, is Psalm 19. King David wrote it, and he wrote it for the choir director we are told. So we better give it to Jeff. Jeff, can you come down and finish the sermon?

We are prompted not to look down, not to look around, but to look up! “The heavens,” it says, “declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands.” “Heavens” refers to what we would call outer space. We’ve had astronauts up there. “Skies” refers to the upper atmosphere. That’s one of the things I’ve learned to love about Texas: it has a big sky. Texas fits well with Psalm 19. Your day isn’t quite as good as it could be without taking a look up there at that sky.

Speaking of the skies and outer space up there, did you hear the news this week? Just in time for Psalm 19, we were on the receiving end of a solar storm. What, pray tell, is that? Well, whatever it was it bumped me off the internet and dropped a couple of my cellphone calls this past Thursday. A news report said it was the biggest solar storm in five years and had the potential to upset airplane flights, GPS systems, and electric power grids. Joe Kunches, of the Space Weather Prediction Center in Boulder, Colorado, said that the storm was expected to be a G3 on the G1 to G5 scale of what he called “geomagnetic storm intensity.” Oh, okay.

That’s all just a nice, scientific way of saying what our psalm is singing: “The heavens declare the glory of God… . Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they display knowledge. There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard.” Again, it’s a good idea to look up at the sky from time to time. A telescope from Brookstone could be more than just a tool for a hobby. It could be a means to a spiritual experience.

The next verses of the song tell how God has “pitched a tent” for the sun. The sun is going camping! When the sun comes up morning, it’s like a bridegroom coming forth to meet his bride. It’s like a champion running the course. “Nothing is hidden from its heat,” we are told – or its solar storms, for that matter.
You can’t gaze for too long at the sun, so King David shifts our attention to the law of God. As the sun does its thing every day (keeping us warm, giving us light, playing its part in growth and life), so the law of God revives the soul. That word can be trusted. It can make you wise. It gives you joy. Like the sun, the commands of the Lord are “radiant,” says our text.

On it goes. The psalm extols and praises the benefits of the Word of God and keeping it, holding it close, making it your own. It gives us warnings, it says – and great rewards.

Without God’s Word, we are, in effect, without a song. We can’t discern our errors. We would be in denial about our hidden faults. So, even in this song, we plead with the Lord to keep us from willful sins and ask that they not have control over us. “Then,” says the psalmist, we will be “blameless and innocent of great transgression.”

Lent tells us that the ultimate blame and the ultimate transgression ended up with Jesus. Where does your blame, my blame, our blame belong? Where does our transgression, my transgression, your transgression belong? With Jesus! Nowhere else! On the night before He died, He did and said many things. Lest we forget, He sang a hymn with His disciples. They couldn’t be without a song!

He is the One who bore in His own body our sins upon that cross; so that we, such as we are, might make a clean break with sin and live unto righteousness. And He rose again from the grave, on that first Easter Sunday, so that, to use the lyrics of our psalm, the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts might be pleasing in God’s sight. For God is our rock and our redeemer.

Yesterday, I was at the memorial service for a friend by the name of Ralph Culp. They did some singing. One selection was his favorite hymn – a Christmas hymn called “In the Bleak Midwinter.” The last verse goes like this:

What then shall I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb.
If I were a wiseman, I would do my part.
But what I can I give Him,
Give to Him my heart.

Like Ralph Culp and so many others, we’ll all get along as long as a song is strong in our soul; for there ain’t no love at all without a song.

Amen.

The Heidelberg Factor

(This placque, commemorating Martin Luther's work, is located in the Universitatsplatz in Heidelberg, Germany -- on the grounds where the Augustinian monastery once stood.)

Text: Mark 8:31-38
Theme: “The Heidelberg Factor”
Second Sunday in Lent
March 4, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

IN THE NAME OF JESUS

31 He then began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests and the teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and after three days rise again. 32 He spoke plainly about this, and Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him.
33 But when Jesus turned and looked at his disciples, he rebuked Peter. “Get behind me, Satan!” he said. “You do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns.”
34 Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. 35 For whoever wants to save their life[b] will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me and for the gospel will save it. 36 What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? 37 Or what can anyone give in exchange for their soul? 38 If anyone is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will be ashamed of them when he comes in his Father’s glory with the holy angels.”

It was going to happen sooner or later. I just as well state that right up front. Even those in His closest circle of followers would start asking questions – questions like: “What’s the goal? What’s the ‘end game’?” “What’s the purpose in traipsing around with our new friend, with following him – not in virtual reality (as in Twitter or Facebook), but in realville, in reality?” “How is this all going to turn out?” “Will we get our championship rings at the end of this season of our lives?”

Jesus of Nazareth had blazed quite a trail. Now, the government, at the time, could have cared less about Him – this little pipsqueak, itinerant “preacher” wandering out in the country. The religious establishment – again, at the time – had, at best, a negative opinion, and, at worst, they concluded he was a dangerous man; a “friend” of the lowest, most base, and profoundly immoral members of society; and, worst of all, an out-and-out blasphemer. Plans were already in the offing to somehow deal with Him. In modern lingo, the thought goes as follows: “Arrest him; put him on trial; convict him; send him to the holding cell outside the death chamber in Huntsville, Texas; juice Him, save God’s honor, let justice rolls down like mighty rivers”. You get the idea.

But for the rank and file, for what we might call the “Joe and Jane Six-packs” of the world, His words hit home; His message resonated with them; it got into the nooks and crannies of their heads and hearts and souls. They weren’t book reports or religious lectures delivered to yawning congregations of a Sunday. His stories were things you could sink your teeth into and understand. They provoked thought; they called forth response. “Holy, moly! Who is this guy?” people must have been thinking. He told people -- actually, everyone within the range of His voice – they were right on the cusp of something big. The kingdom of God was at hand! Things were – finally! – going to be put right. The call was to repent, to change your mind. Think it through if you must, but take the leap anyway, because this is the time of the Lord’s favor. There would be recovery of sight for the blind, release for the captive ones, and the poor would have good news preached to them. And, by golly, this guy did things, in the course of any given day, that backed it all up with action; He didn’t just say it, He lived it: the water turned to wine; the paralytic and the leper and many with various and sundry diseases were healed; the forces that demonized people were sent packing.

Still, how would it all turn out? Where is this Jesus thing headed? Jesus, who knew what was in the heads and hearts of humanity, beat them to the punch. He took His disciples for a little time of retreat up north in Caesarea Philippi. On the way up, He posed a question: “Who do people say that I am?” They babbled out a few responses. But then came this: “Who do you say that I am?” Uh-oh, now it’s getting personal. It’s not time for opinions; it’s time for convictions. The disciple Peter spoke up: “You are the Messiah!” Bang! He nailed it! “Blessed are you, Simon, son of John,” says Jesus, “for flesh and blood has not revealed this to you but my Father who is in heaven.”

Jesus sort of set the table with this exchange. It was the perfect moment to answer the question: “What is the end game?” Our text today supplies the answer: “He then began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests and the teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and after three days rise again. He spoke plainly about this.”

Talk about sucking the life out of the room! Talk about dousing enthusiasm! Talk about emptying the pews. This was bad; this was intolerable; this could not happen. “Give us the Jesus that spins yarns; works miracles; gives us instructions and principles and tips on how to live life successfully or ‘to the max’. Give us a Smoothie King Jesus who nourishes our lives with all the right ingredients. Give us a Messiah who lifts us up from the tawdry, and the ho-hum, and the hum-drum, and who makes our lives glorious! Be the leader, the Messiah, the anointed One, the agent of change, who enables us to live our best life now! That’s what will continue to draw a crowd. Times are tough and we could use a little sweetness and light; be the Jesus who keynotes our political tea party, or be the non-Wall Street Jesus of the 99% who gives us an administration of change and hope; either way, quit being so serious; stop speaking so plainly. We didn’t’ sign-up to follow a man headed to the death chamber.

Perhaps these were the thoughts of the disciple Peter who politely pulls Jesus aside, away from the crowd, and then, if I might paraphrase for effect, “rips Him a new one.” Jesus, in turn, looks away from Peter and back at the rest of the disciples. He says: “Get behind me, Satan. You don’t have in mind the concerns of God but only human concerns.”

Isn’t this supposed to be a retreat up there at Caesarea Philippi? If that weren’t enough, it only gets worse from here. Our Lord calls in the whole crowd at this point, and he says: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me and for the gospel will save it. What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? Or what can anyone give in exchange for their soul? If anyone is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will be ashamed of them when he comes in his Father’s glory with the holy angels.”

What does today’s crowd – the ultra-modern crowd – think of this? I pondered that pretty hard this week. Consider the whole bit about self-denial. Here’s where most part company with Jesus. If anything, our society teaches us to “affirm” the self, focus on the self, highlight the self, and emphasize the self. I mean, folks, we swim in an ocean of relentless narcissism where the basic template and default position is “I’m right; you’re wrong. We breathe in the air of tireless self-promotion, of self-aggrandizement, of grandiosity and pomposity, of “me first” first, last, and always.

What of taking up a cross? People will wear a cross; they come in gold, platinum, silver, and stainless steel. Adorn that cross with cubic zirconia, or, if you are able, diamonds. Put one on your necklace; solder one onto your ring; put on a pair of cross earrings. I heard of a church that is encouraging its members, this season of Lent, to get tattooed with religious symbolism – including the cross. By all means, wear it – even painfully emblazoned on your skin, but what of bearing it? Oh, we’ll bear it – as long as it’s light and easy and made of Styrofoam.

And what’s this mumbo-jumbo about losing one’s life for the gospel? Don’t we want to save lives? C’mon, let’s be honest. We live in a socially Darwinistic, modern world where it all boils down to the survival of the fittest. Shouldn’t the church enable people to survive and be fit?

We don’t want to forfeit our souls, but gaining the whole world isn’t such a bad idea, is it? Crying out loud, we split the atom, put a man on the moon, came up with the microchip, and, just recently, the two hundred fifty billionth iPhone app was downloaded. Let’s accept life on life’s terms. Greed is good. Profit is not a dirty word. And is not a fresh influx of entrepreneurial capitalism the answer to all our woes?

What’s this about being ashamed of Jesus and His Words? We’re not ashamed of all of them, but just a few of them – like this one.

All during this past week, I felt increasing gratitude for being a Presbyterian. Now, I’m the first to tell you that the Presbyterian Church is having its share of problems. But I’m still grateful that I’m part of it. Here’s why: the Presbyterian Church is part of the Reformed tradition. The Reformed tradition – changed and always changing – is part of the Protestant tradition. The Protestant tradition takes us back to Martin Luther who “protested” some of the things that were happening in the church of his day. To wit, he argued that you could not buy your way into God’s good graces with your money or your good works. He posted 95 Theses to that effect on the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg, Germany on October 31st, 1517 – nearly five hundred years ago.

The institutional church at the time – I speak of the Roman Catholic Church and, for that matter, the holy Roman empire (which included Germany) – didn’t like what they read. The pope didn’t like it; the theologians didn’t like it; the government was worried. His theses for debate and discussion were the rhetorical equivalent of a bomb going off.

Six months later, Luther – an Augustinian monk turned university professor of theology – agreed to address his colleagues at the annual get-together of the Augustinians in Heidelberg, Germany. (For those of you wondering about today’s sermon title, now you know!) It was a perilous, dangerous time for Luther to be traveling. He had a target on his back. He had said he would issue something of an apology to the Vatican, but that hadn’t been forthcoming. Some hoped that he would explain himself and keep the peace at Heidelberg.

But Luther had something else in mind. Fortunately, we have the written record of Luther’s remarks to his colleagues. It’s called the “Heidelberg Disputation.”

Let me close with two brilliant gems from the “Heidelberg Disputation.” Consider, first, thesis twenty one: “A theologian of glory calls evil good and good evil. A theologian of the cross calls the thing what it actually is.” When Peter ripped Jesus as new one for predicting that death on a cross, Peter was calling good evil. He was a theologian of glory. When Jesus spoke of following Him, denying one’s self, etc., he was calling what we might think of evil as the highest good. Jesus, the Son of God and the promised Messiah, was a theologian of the cross.

In thesis twenty six, Luther wrote: “The law says ‘do this,” and it is never done. Grace says, ‘believe this’, and everything is already done.”

This is “The Heidelberg Factor”: is it all about human glory, or is it about the cross of Jesus Christ and God’s love for us that sent Him there?

Dear friends, everything is already done. And love, so amazing and do divine, involves our souls, our lives, our all.

Amen.