Author: KPB Stevens

Acts 16:1-15 Lydia and the Holy Spirit

~ KPB Stevens ~ Leave a comment

A friend recently asked me whether the Holy Spirit worked through nudges and intuition. I was quick to point out the moments when the Holy Spirit works through miracles, visions, and moments of ecstatic feeling in a group, mostly because I want to preserve the idea that such things are still possible. But my friend was basically right – in our lives today, we mostly sense the Holy Spirit through the feelings we have of the rightness or wrongness of something. Today’s passage from Acts makes it abundantly clear that Paul and his friends also relied on their intuitions to discern the will of the Holy Spirit, sometimes at some cost. At the beginning of the passage, they go from place to place in Phrygia and Galatia, and the Holy Spirit keeps preventing them from speaking. They’re listening closely to those nudges and intuitions, even if it means that their wanderings seem aimless. It must have come as a relief to Paul to experience an actual vision, a dream of a Macedonian man. Dreams might seem like filmy stuff, but they can be a lot clearer than intuitions.

When they get to Macedon, it’s not a man they meet, but a woman. There, at the river beside the gate, they meet Lydia, the first European convert to Christianity, and the leader of the first European church, there in her house in Philippi. The Holy Spirit, it seems, is not very literal about gender, or anything else, really. Its purpose isn’t to dictate events, but to push things along, to get people to places and into situations where new things can happen. In this passage it tells Paul and his friends what not to do – don’t preach in Asia – but it also tells them what to do – make disciples of the women washing clothes in the river. It also helps them to have a broad understanding of leadership. The Holy Spirit has rattled their understanding of the world and social convention, and given them the freedom to seek grace, talent, and wisdom in everyone they meet.

Recently I’ve been watching movies and TV shows about people who were never given a chance to exercise their full potential, young women of sharp intelligence and willpower who had to negotiate mine fields of abusive, cowardly, and angry men to get even the smallest modicum of respect. It makes me angry. Why should the world be this way? I find the patriarchal systems of power that deny and dominate them to be blasphemous, a sin against the Holy Spirit. There’s a passage in 1 Corinthians, ch. 14 that seems to support these patriarchal assumptions. Many scholars think that this passage wasn’t in Paul’s original letter, but was added later by a scribe who couldn’t see past his own cultural assumptions of male superiority. It’s hard to image that Paul, who converted Lydia and established the first European church in her house, could have said it. It’s hard to believe that Paul, who was so open to the Holy Spirit, could have blasphemed against the movement of the spirit in such a way.

Acts 15:36-41 The Falling Out

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This brief little story of Paul and Barnabas’ falling out makes me sad. Barnabas, the son of encouragement, just can’t keep himself from encouraging everyone he runs into, even if they sometimes let him down. No doubt Paul has heard people repeating the three stories of those who turned back on the way to Jerusalem, which Luke himself tells in chapter 9, v.57-62 of his Gospel. John, also called Mark, isn’t much of a disciple in Paul’s eyes. He’s too easily dissuaded from the task at hand. But the same spirit of generosity that led Barnabas to become Paul’s advocate leads him to forgive John Mark and invite him to try again.

I have to admit that I’m more of a Barnabas than a Paul, sometimes to my distress. People do, occasionally, let me down, and when they do I tend to trust them when they ask to try again. Sometimes this pays off and sometimes it doesn’t, but I keep doing it, and sometimes I wonder why. Maybe it’s because I believe in the beauty and benefit of belonging to a community so deeply that I can’t stand to block anyone’s access to it. But I’m settled in place, not on a dangerous mission to convert the Gentiles. There’s a kind of luxury in knowing that the churches that I serve are stable and probably won’t be damaged by someone not showing up to a potluck. Paul doesn’t have that luxury.

I agree with Paul that following the Way of the believer in Jesus Christ is the most important thing. I agree with Barnabas that most of us aren’t going to be very good at this, and that we need patience and forgiveness. I think that Luke holds both of these opinions, admiring both Paul’s rigor and Barnabas’ generosity. It’s sometimes hard and unsettling to hold both positions, to have to be careful and exercise judgement when encountering different people and different situations. But it feels, ultimately, more loving to do so. In this little passage, both Paul and Barnabas are exercising such judgement, it just leads them to different conclusions.

 

Acts 15:22-35 They rejoiced at the exhortation

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I’m writing this at the end of January, a few days after Nehemiah, Chapter 8 appeared in the Sunday lectionary. One of the things that struck me when studying and preaching on that passage was how happy the people were when Ezra read them the law of Moses, how much they rejoiced at being given some instructions on how to live their lives. The believers in Antioch express a similar joy when Silas and Barsabbas read them the Council in Jerusalem’s letter. Part of their joy is that it relieves a big anxiety. Some unappointed interlopers have come and told them that they’re practicing their faith wrong, that if they hope to be real followers of Jesus, they have to be circumcised. But their practice, the practice that Paul was formed in and his friend Barnabas supports, is to be pretty mellow about circumcision, and not teach it as a necessary entrance rite to the Beloved Community. So they’re grateful that the Council has solved the issue. But they’re also very grateful that the Council exhorts them, that it gives them four disciplines to live under. Don’t practice any form of idolatry, keep to two important food ways, and don’t fornicate.

In a way, the content of the exhortation isn’t that important. Most Christians today ignore the food ways entirely, eating meat that hasn’t been drained of blood and never questioning whether our meat was slaughtered by strangling. That said, many of us keep to the spirit of that strangulation rule, and try to avoid purchasing products that were created with processes that are cruel to animals. Yet we have accepted other disciplines over time, things that the Jewish followers of Jesus in Jerusalem never dreamt of. We abstain from certain vices during Lent, confess our sins, celebrate Jesus’ birth at a time of year that would have surprised early Christians, go on silent retreats…the list could go on. The point is that we have many practices that are important to us, and we’re happy to have them. We might even exult over them.

Sometimes the secular culture that we all live in, the culture that influences us whether we like it or not, seems antithetical to the very idea of discipline, although it probably isn’t. Even the most passionate advocates of personal freedom probably think that people should take care of their property, be prudent with money, or hold to some other discipline that seems so obvious that it doesn’t even need to be named. There is something in us that clearly needs some rules to follow. There is also something in us that can become rigid and ungenerous about those rules, and use them as a cudgel to pummel others. The rules can become idols in themselves. I think it’s important to look at the heart of the Council’s four exhortations, and understand their intent. When we do, we see that they’re all about trying to look through God’s eyes, trying to view everything with love. We can’t do that if we worship idols. But once we’re no longer worried about idols, we are exposed to a startling vision. Animals count, God loves them to, and they shouldn’t be treated with cruelty. Other people count, and we shouldn’t use them to satisfy our own desires.

We need these rules made plain to us so that we can be a community together. Any community could get lost in constant argument about which practices are the best. Such arguments can decrease love, increase suspicion and enmity, and break communities apart. That’s why simple, understandable disciplines can come as such a relief. We can stop fretting about the best ways to live our lives, and get on with living them. If the rules are simple enough, they leave room for more discovery, for finding new ways of expressing Christian love. Understanding this, we all might come to rejoice.

 

Acts 15:1-21 The tolerance of James the Less

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It is strangely dangerous to write about the James who speaks at the Jerusalem council, because he could be one of two people, and the person you think he is reveals what you believe about Jesus, and especially about Mary. We know that he’s not James the Son of Zebedee, because that James, often known as the Greater, was killed by King Herod at the beginning of chapter 12. So that leaves the possibility that he is James the son of Alphaeus or James the Brother of Jesus, and there are some who think that he’s both. Let’s take each of these in turn, since I get confused trying to disentangle it all, and I’m sure that you do, too.

James the son of Alphaeus is named in Luke’s list of the apostles in chapter six of his Gospel, not to mention in similar lists in Matthew and Mark. That’s about all we know of him, although Jacobus Voragine tells us that Alphaus means wise, so maybe he’s called “son of Alphaeus” for the same reason that Barnabas is called “son of encouragement” and that James (the one whom Herod killed) and his brother John are called “sons of thunder.” As for his being James the brother of Jesus, there’s plenty of scriptural evidence that Jesus had brothers, but as early as the fourth century there were Christians who claimed that these brothers were really cousins, because they wanted to assert the perpetual virginity of Mary. James is named as one of Jesus’ brothers in Mark 6 and Matthew 13, and we can assume that he was among the brothers who came with Mary to see Jesus in Luke 8. So now we have a real dispute, one that causes a lot of anger. Was Mary a perpetual virgin or wasn’t she? If you say that James was really Jesus’ brother, you’re saying that she wasn’t. If you’re saying that James was a cousin and that Alphaeus was his dad, you’re saying she was. If you try to combine the two by saying that he was Joseph and Mary’s son (born after Jesus, of course) but also a “son of wisdom” you’re in the Mary had other kids camp. If you say that these two people, James the son of Alphaeus and James the Brother of Jesus were different people, you’re left not knowing which of them speaks up at the Jerusalem council.

Whew. The James of Acts, who responds to the pharisee followers of Jesus with a shrug, saying, in effect, that there are important characteristics that a follower of Jesus should try to cultivate, but circumcision is not one of them, creates long-standing and ongoing controversy by his very existence and the fact that we don’t know, really, who he is. Everyone seems intent on reading their own agendas into his person, and not listening to what he says. If we could, we might simply say that the perpetual virginity of Mary is more or less besides the point. What’s important is that we love well and treat each other with grace. We shouldn’t make idols of ourselves or of compulsions. We shouldn’t force other people to adopt our cultural norms. This is indeed wise.

Regardless of what we think of James, there’s plenty of agreement and historical evidence that he was the leader of the Jewish Christians. This group started out as the most prominent (everyone who followed Christ in his life and began to follow him soon after the resurrection was Jewish), but by the time that the second century rolled to an end they had become a tiny minority, and eventually disappeared. James himself died horribly, being thrown from a tower and clubbed to death by a mob in 62 ce. Yet for us, as we work to build a Beloved Community in our own day, he stands as a paragon of wisdom. He was among the powerful majority, yet opened his arms to a powerless minority, even if that meant allowing large changes to the community that he helped to lead. And to do that, he had to avoid getting too caught up in the kinds of controversies that later arose around his own identity.

 

Acts 14:21-28 They appointed elders and entrusted them to the Lord

~ KPB Stevens ~ Leave a comment

Paul and Barnabas are not going to stay and live in the communities that they have founded, communities that are already under siege in the cities and towns that they’re based in. In their travels, Paul and Barnabas have already made enemies who seem intent on following them from place to place, internet trolls of the first century who make it their business to mock, attack, and build an opposition. How terrifying it must be for the little nascent churches of Lystra, Iconium and Antioch of Pisidia to be left on their own in such circumstances. They’ve barely been introduced to following the Way of Jesus, and now they have to figure out how to follow in that way all on their own.

They were men and women who were mostly from the same social class that Jesus and the apostles had been from – laborers and artisans. Some of them were Jewish and some were gentiles. Paul had taught them, and would continue to teach them, in Thomas Cahill’s words, that “the life of the believer is to be — at least ideally — a series of acts of generosity toward others without regard to self-indulgence or self-seeking (1).” Paul left them to ponder the thought that, again in Cahill’s words, “all humanity is caught up in a great cosmic drama in which each one, however humble or ridiculous, has a significant part to play — and that we cannot do without one another.”

The leaders of these communities were not well educated in Christian doctrine or theology, because at this point theology was simply the conversations they had with their friends as they tried to follow the way of Jesus, and doctrine didn’t exist. Leadership wasn’t about preaching, and it wasn’t about academic teaching. It wasn’t about maintaining buildings, because they were still meeting in each other’s houses. It wasn’t about speaking up in the forum or trying to effect or change the ways of government. All of those things are important in our context, but in their context government was never going to listen to a word they said. Leadership for them was, simply, the art of keeping a frightened but very idealistic and hopeful community together. Making sure that everyone was welcomed and treated with love. And making sure that the community didn’t become inward looking, but operated secretly to help those non-believers whom they lived among. These early leaders were teachers, but what they were teaching was a way of being, not a way of thinking.

I have to admit that I prefer this method of leadership. At a clergy conference that I attended early in my ministry, I heard someone say that you could never go wrong by loving your people. Surely this is right. There are many things that leaders are asked to do today, but the main question we should be asking is whether we do those things with love. Paul will later have many things to say about love, but the one I always think of is that love does not insist on having its own way. If some program, some idea, some hope that a leader has meets with resistance, and that resistance plants a seed of scorn and anger in that leader’s heart, then that leader should probably let their particular scheme go, or let it lie fallow until it’s time for it to grow. The spiritual question of leadership must always be, “can I hold it lightly?” Those of us who are called to be leaders should ask this question of our planned projects and ambitions, but we should also ask it of our own leadership.