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Acts 6:8-15 Changing the Customs

~ KPB Stevens ~ Leave a comment

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

~ KPB Stevens ~ Leave a comment

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.

 

Acts 5:1-11 Learning to Live Under Discipline

~ KPB Stevens ~ Leave a comment

Imagine this story being told around the table at one of the many meals that Paul presided over, Luke sitting to one side and noting everything. People are eating, dipping bread into olive oil, picking over fish, and as they eat they tell stories of Jesus and the disciples, engaging in the kind of deep spiritual conversation that is so life giving. The conversation lags for a moment, and then someone says, “I know another story, about what will happen to you if you’re a hypocrite and pretend to be better than you are.” Everyone feels a little guilty, and as the story is told they start searching their own consciences. What have they been holding back from their neighbors? Which of their own petty contrivances might become known? The story goes on, and it’s super harsh, and people are looking down at their sandals, or picking at their cuticles, not willing to meet each other’s eyes. They’re all at this dinner because they want to be a part of this new community, and they’ve been gaining a great deal from coming to dinners like this. But now the storyteller is telling them that there’s a cost. That by breaking bread together and singing and praying together, they have agreed to live under a kind of discipline. Their lives and their choices are no longer really their own. They belong to something greater than themselves, and for the most part it’s wonderful, but this community that is encouraging them to surrender their egos so that they can live within the deep beauty of the Kingdom of God really means it, and they’ll have to obey the wisdom of the group and give some things up if they want to grow in the spirit.

Tough stuff, without a doubt, and Ananias and Sapphira’s story is exaggerated to make a point.  But it’s a point that’s worth making. When we join a community, we agree to live by its norms, the way it seeks to make meaning, the way it understand the world, and the actions that stem from those norms and understanding. The classic Christian term for this is discipline. In the church, clergy live under the discipline of their bishops, which means that they understand that they might not be in a position to see the big picture, and they have to accept that there are some things going on behind the scenes in a diocese that they simply can’t be privy to. They can disagree with their bishop, and even kick against the goads a little, but they remain dedicated to the spirituality of being a person under discipline, willing to accept that they can’t and won’t always have their own way. This isn’t only true of clergy, but of every single Christian in the world, to greater and lesser degrees. Being part of a church means agreeing to its norms and practices. More than that, it means being willing to let those norms and practices shape you. By the very act of belonging, you are essentially saying to other people that they can change you, and you are trusting that the changes they wrought in you will draw you closer to God.

Everyone gathered at that table with Paul and Luke understood this after they heard the story of Ananias and Sapphira. They were left with a choice, of course. They could turn away from the discipline of the community and simply not come to its next gathering. They could stay with the community, and willingly allow it to shape and change them. The one thing they couldn’t do was act as hypocrites, and pretend that they were agreeing to the discipline of the community while finding ways to avoid it. They might not physically die if they did, but they would enter a kind of spiritual stasis that amounted to death, unable to grow and change under discipline, unable to accept the fruits of Beloved Community, because they were unable to contribute to those fruits in their turn.