Author: KPB Stevens

Acts 7:1-60 The Second Retelling

~ KPB Stevens ~ Leave a comment

The first retelling of the story of Jesus and the disciples took place on the day of Pentecost, and Peter was the storyteller. This second retelling occurs before a much more hostile audience, and the storyteller is Stephen, who was unknown to us, though present, on Pentecost. The church has raised up new storytellers for its story’s retellings. Stephen doesn’t just repeat verbatim what Peter said. He greatly expands the narrative, adding new thoughts and plot lines, changing the story’s reach and its intention. This is the story retold for the authorities who are threatening the disciples, yet Stephen has no intention of placating them. He doubles down, claiming, in effect, that Jesus’ story is their story, even if they refuse to acknowledge it. Jesus is like Moses, who tries to defend the Hebrew slaves and expects to be credited for it, but is blamed instead. Jesus represents that long tradition in Judaism that worried about seeing all of the religious power in the land concentrated in the temple in Jerusalem, and Stephen quotes Amos and Isaiah to make the point that this worry is and has always been central to the Jewish story. So his retelling is an extension of, not a rejection of, the tradition that the disciples share with their fellow Jews, and that may be why they stone him. He presumes to have authority over the narrative, and their power and control comes, in part, from claiming the narrative for themselves.

This is, in part, why it’s never convincing to me when we try to excuse someone’s bad actions in the past by saying that they were simply a person of their time. A president who held slaves while espousing freedom, an otherwise charitable cleric who could not imagine that African people had the same souls as European people – these persons might be admired for the good things they did in their lives, but they should not be excused from the bad. Particularly when they were part of a community that told a story that, if they listened to it closely enough, would have shown where they were failing in their actions and imaginations. They were trying to live by a number of different stories, some cultural, some religious, some political, and they didn’t know which to prioritize, or how to get the mixture right.

We all do that, of course. These stories constitute the identities that I talked about when commenting on the parable of the great banquet in Luke 14:1-24. The stoning of Stephen presents us with a way of judging which identities we should cling to and which we should let go of, or at least hold lightly. The simple question is this: which of your identities are you willing to die for? It seems a little dangerous to write that, since extremism thrives when one identity takes over and banishes all the others, so I want to make it clear that I’m keeping my question plural, allowing for the possibility that we might have several worthy identities, and that I’m talking about self-sacrifice, and not the sacrifice of others. I’m not asking which identity you’d be willing to kill for. But which of the stories you live by are so important to you that you’d die for them? For me there are only two – my faith and my family. And because I know this, I also know that the stories of faith and family are the only ones I really want to tell and retell. There is remaining mystery in both stories. I’ll need to tell and retell them again and again, and I’ll never fully understand them. But they are the stories that intrigue, that keep me coming back, and they are the stories that give me courage when I’m afraid, strength when I’m weak, hope when the world as it is seems hopeless.

 

Acts 6:8-15 Changing the Customs

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Every group, every family, every community has traditions, many of which are unspoken, unacknowledged even by the group that adheres to them, especially if they’ve never been articulated. A friend of mine once used the example of a new spouse marrying into a family with several children. The tradition of the house on Christmas morning is for everyone to sit on the stairs and wait until everyone is assembled before going down to the living room to open presents. No one has told the new spouse this, because they’ve never realized that it was what they were doing, let alone thought of it as a tradition. So on Christmas morning she goes barreling down to the living room, enraging everyone for reasons that neither they nor she really understands. Norms and practices are important to us, and they’re unavoidable, but they must be held lightly, and with a spirit of generosity.

For the members of the Synagogue of the Freedmen, they can’t be held lightly, because they originated with Moses. Last year, as we were reading the Book of Exodus, I realized that all of those priestly rules in the last ten chapters or so must have come as quite a relief to those who had been inadvertently establishing traditions, and wanted other people to follow them. The way they were doing things was now sanctioned by God. And yes, I’m assuming that they were setting the tabernacle up and praying in a certain way before Moses received God’s instructions on Mt. Sinai. I assume this because of the ancient principle of lex credeni, lex orendi, which can be translated as belief following practice. We start to do a certain thing because it’s beautiful and it feels right, and then we come up with theological reasons for why we’re doing it. A good example of this might be the stoles that clergy wear. I’ve read spiritual and theological justifications for wearing them that claim that they symbolize the towel with which Jesus wiped the disciples’ feet at the Last Supper. Historically, that’s not true. Stoles were what officials wore to signify their authority in the Eastern Roman Empire, so when the church gained authority, church officials started wearing them, too. Given that, it would be hard to find anything sacrilegious in the choice not to wear them, but clergy continue to wear them because its traditional for them to do so.

The previous paragraph might seem like a long digression, but my point is that we should never get so wrapped up in our traditions that they get in the way of our capacity to love. That’s exactly what the members of the Synagogue of the Freedmen are doing, and what the Sanhedrin, the temple council, do as well when they call Stephen before them to answer charges. There he is, his face shining like that of an angel, and yet they’re willing to condemn and kill him because he went racing down the stairs on Christmas morning instead of sitting and waiting like everyone else. To me, this passage has instant applicability to everyday life. What traditions and customs are you living by, without even knowing that you’re living by them? A good way to tell is by watching your own annoyance, and seeing which actions by others cause it to flare. And once you notice it, and know which customs matter to you, can you practice holding them lightly? They can still be important to you, and it’s good to articulate their importance to yourself and others. But can you do so in a spirit of generosity, and even risk letting them go if they’re impinging on your ability to love?

Acts 6:1-7 The First Order of Ministry

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Already there were two social identities at odd with each other within the community of the disciples, those who identify as Hebrews and those who identify as Hellenists. Both these groups were entirely comprised of Jews, but the Hellenists came from other places than Israel. They, or their parents, had been living in the diaspora, in Alexandria or Antioch or Rome, or lesser known and far flung places. They didn’t have the same community ties as the Jews who were living in the Roman province of Judea. The difference in identity between the Hebrews and Hellenists seems small to our eyes, but it was obviously large enough to them to cause difficulties. They knew which group they belonged to, and they watched carefully to see if their group was slighted or supported. They knew that all of the important people, the people in positions of power, came from the Hebrews. The uneven distribution of food may not have been intentional, which may have made the tensions worse. A person who has friends and family surrounding them is likely to see to their needs first. It’s very hard for us to be as aware of the needs of strangers as we are of the needs of those we love. And our pride often causes us to take the most offense at someone pointing out our unintended offenses. Given all of this, we can imagine how the cycles of suspicion and incrimination grew between these groups.

The disciples response was to create the nascent church’s first order of ministry, the deacons. It is easy to be critical of religious hierarchies, and I often have been critical of them while writing this blog. Yet this is the story of why we have them. The needs of community are great and the labor is broad, and no one person, or group of people, can do everything. The funny thing about these deacons is that they will soon overspill their original mission, and concern themselves with much more than a fair distribution of food. They will become the teachers and converters, the ones who are walking the roads and byroads, meeting with strangers and teaching them about the Way of Christ. Stephen and Philip, especially, will set the model of what Christian ministry is like. It starts with very specific goals and roles, but, like grace, it is always expanding beyond any boundaries that are set on it.

In Bible study, we spend some time considering what Jesus means in Luke 12 when he says that “everyone who speaks a word against the Son of Man will be forgiven, but anyone who blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven.” If the Holy Spirit it the energetic, creative manifestation of God in the midst of us, then blaspheming against it involves trying to limit its reach and power to move us. If the early church had been too strict in its definition of roles, then it would have blasphemed against the Holy Spirit. After all, if the Holy Spirit prompted Stephen to preach and Philip to go wandering, who were they to get in its way? We sometimes forget that the Holy Spirit pushes the limits of our institutionalism. We sometimes blaspheme against it by limiting the ministry of our fellow Christians. But the Beloved Community of the disciples didn’t do that. They understood that the growth of their movement meant a need for certain ministries and certain roles, but they never stopped people from answering the call to something new within those roles.

 

Acts 5:27-42 Gamaliel’s Freedom

~ KPB Stevens ~ Leave a comment

I’ve talked about control many times while writing this blog, and now I think it’s time to share something I was given near the beginning of my training as a Spiritual Director in the Wellstreams Program here in Columbus. Many of the handouts we received had been photocopied many times, some of them probably from mimeographs, and they didn’t always attribute their source, so I’m not sure where this came from originally. If anyone knows, please comment so that I can give credit where it’s due. I present this now in honor of Gamaliel, who in the 5th chapter of Acts shows the movement from compulsion to contemplation, and exhibits a freedom that the other members of the council don’t have. I’ll say more about him at the bottom of this post.

Movement from Compulsion to Contemplation

Compulsive Living Contemplative Living
Driven approach to life Open-ended & free-flowing approach
Narrow vision of reality Expansive vision of reality
Control; rigidity Surrender; spontaneity
Obsessed & anxious Accepting & serene
Holding on; possessiveness Letting go; freedom
Past & future oriented Living in the present moment
Self-absorbed Self-aware
Strong defenses Necessary defenses/vulnerability
Self-disgust & self-hatred Self-acceptance & self-love
Emotional distance; dissonance with self Intimacy with self, God, & others
Dealing with people Relating to people
Inordinate desires True longing for God
Cluttered inner space Empty inner space
False self Authentic self
Emphasis on pleasure Emphasis on true joy
Childish Childlike
Partially living Fully human & alive

It’s important to think of yourself while reading this list, and be honest about which compulsive impulses and which contemplative impulses are most alive in you. This list provides a very helpful lens when considering the conflict between the disciples and the authorities in Acts. The authorities are driven, have a narrow view of reality, try to maintain control, and have anxiety attacks about the future, based on a too vibrant awareness of the past. In comparison to them, the disciples are just wandering around, praying in the temple and healing whomever they pass. They’re spontaneous and serene, and every reaction they have with other people, including the authorities, is authentic.

Gamaliel is somewhere between these two extremes, just like most of us. He’s not a disciple, but as a pharisee he shares some of their beliefs, and has a better understanding of them than the priests and sadducees. He has a greater trust in God than his co-council members do as well. Let’s relax, he says, and let this play out. More than that, let’s accept that God is in control, not us, and that surprising things can happen that we can’t expect. What’s surprising is that the rest of the council members can also sense the benefits of the contemplative life, although only vaguely, which allows them, at least for the moment, to agree with him.

 

Acts 5:12-26 Peter’s Shadow

~ KPB Stevens ~ Leave a comment

The contemporary spiritual world is full of talk about shadows. This is due to the influence of Carl Jung, who talked about shadows as those parts of ourselves that we want to keep hidden, both from our neighbors and God, but most of all from ourselves. When we feel a strong dislike for someone and don’t know why, it’s because that person exhibits our shadow self. Maybe we claim that they’re selfish or weak, but it’s only because we blame them for bringing our own selfishness and weakness into the light. I first encountered shadow-talk in childhood, when I read Ursula K. LeGuin’s A Wizard of Earthsea. In that novel, Ged, a very gifted young wizard, full of pride and hubris, inadvertently summons his own shadow while trying to impress others with his magic. This shadow escapes from him, and he must spend the rest of the book hunting it, and growing in the humility that it takes to face a shadow. The book reveals what we all fear – that those parts of ourselves that we are most ashamed of will escape from our control and hurt others. But in spirituality, shadow work isn’t about getting better at repressing this shadow. It’s about learning to treat it gently, to forgive it, even to laugh at it, not in mockery, but in joy, when one can see how ridiculous our attempts to control it can be. Shadows can be redeemed. And a redeemed shadow can even be healing to other people.

Obviously, I think it’s significant that it’s Peter’s shadow that is healing people. People put themselves in the way of his shadow – they don’t run from it, but want to encounter it. This, truly, is what a redeemed shadow looks like. Peter doesn’t lose his shadow – a redeemed shadow is not, simply, vanquished. In Jungian terms, a shadow is anything outside of the light of consciousness, so Peter is probably not even aware of his shadow. That is, it’s still a shadow, not something he dwells on with his conscious mind. In a sense, it’s still beyond his control. But all of those traits are exactly what allow it to be redeemed. Our shadow selves can be seen as those parts of ourselves that are the well of our creativity – the unconscious parts of ourselves that can prompt us to thoughts and actions that our controlling conscious mind would never deem to think or undertake. A redeemed shadow like Peter’s is much closer to the unknowable, uncontrollable God, the understanding of God that Jesus tried to reveal to his disciples. The power of healing in Peter’s redeemed shadow might stem from exactly this – its a vision of a life that is released from fear and control, a life that doesn’t try to project its own disappointment and disregard onto other people, a life that is willing to stand exposed in the stark light of God, revealing all of its good and all of its bad and expecting to be loved, not judged.

Of course such a life is threatening to those who draw their power and prestige from judgment, from convincing others that they’re unworthy and in need of rules, rituals, life-hacks that can somehow restore them to grace, or at least make them better. This is why the temple authorities try so hard to put Peter and his friends in the darkness of a prison. They don’t want people to know that their shadows can be brought into the light.

Of course, most of us, myself included, have shadow selves that are not entirely redeemed, and when we try to bring them into the light, we are just as likely to hurt as to heal. Yet when we find ourselves living in Beloved Community, we are met with forgiveness, not scorn or judgment. We can cry in church, criticise our leaders, storm out of meetings, and find ourselves still loved, still accepted. We all have shadow work to do, but one of the great gifts of the community that the disciples founded is that it gives us a place in which to do it.