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.
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