Tag: Leadership

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 4:1-22 Uneducated and Ordinary Men

~ KPB Stevens ~ Leave a comment

From the first, Luke was more than aware of the kind of egotism and vanity that can arise in communities. As he traveled with Paul, he was often in small rooms, eating dinner with friends, sharing funny stories, listening patiently to the concerns and worries of his dinner companions, and treasuring the moment when the talk would turn from the general and superficial to the deep, timorous unveiling of the human heart. He was also more than aware of the petty arguments that were arising among the early Christian community, and the characters of those who insisted on being right. He was sensitive to any move to exclude or to try to control grace (after all, in his retelling, Jesus says that blaspheming against the Holy Spirit is the one unforgivable sin). He worried that the Way of Christ might be perverted into the same old religious and political structures that persecuted the disciples and crucified Jesus. So when the high priests and scribes come back into the story after the resurrection, we should prick up our ears and realize that he’s not only talking about the temple authorities, but about the general human tendency to claim power and prominence and exert control.

His worries were well founded. As soon as Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire, it attracted all sorts of people who weren’t that interested in humility and selfless love, but who saw in the new religion an opportunity to advance their careers and establish dynasties for their families. These people were adept at turning innocent wondering into heresy and establishing their power through persecution and the exposition of ever finer points of doctrine. Fortunately, the Gospels had clear criticisms of this behavior written into them, for anyone who cared to really read them. For every Bishop polishing his crozier and considering his prestige, there was a saint, a contemplative, carefully daring to express that it was not possible to know and understand everything, that, indeed, knowing perfectly hardly mattered. Loving perfectly did.

All of this is laid out at the beginning of the fourth chapter of Acts. Here are the temple authorities, so similar to the prelates and inquisitors of later ages, who are worried about unauthorized miracles. Yet they can’t really take Peter and John seriously, because they are “uneducated and ordinary men.” But they’re worried. They don’t want this unsanctioned hope and faith to spread. It is notable that all of their learning and power can be so easily threatened. It’s almost as if faith that is built entirely on the ego and on control is fragile by its very nature.

Let’s not, however, focus entirely on them, but give a moment’s consideration to Peter and John, the models of faith that Luke presents to us. They are, indeed, ordinary and uneducated men. As I read Acts, I’m also reading Thomas A Kempis’ The Imitation of Christ, a 15th c. instruction manual written for a clergy class that had become too enamored with its own education and wit. The whole book reads like an extension of Peter’s words to the temple authorities. As I peruse it, looking for the perfect passage to end this post with, I find myself stymied by the fact that it all works to one degree or another, and that Thomas A Kempis doesn’t seem that interested in helping me prove my point. But let me offer a passage that balances a critique of the priests and scribes with lovely praise of people like Peter and John:

How swiftly it passes, worldly fame! If only their lives had matched their knowledge! Then they would have worthily studied and read. How many worldly folk are led through vain knowledge to perdition! Little they care for the service of God! And because they would rather be great than humble, therefore their plans come to nothing. He is truly great who has great charity. He is truly great who is little in himself and reckons as nothing the highest honors(1).

 

(1) Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ, 1.4

Acts 3:1-26 Charismatic Leadership

~ KPB Stevens ~ Leave a comment

There should be a word – one of those big, pretentious German words – for that joyous moment when you realize that you’re one of eleven billion people, and don’t have to be special. I first experienced this in my early thirties, and at first I was tempted to be depressed about it. Fortunately I had some preparation from the Gospels that helped me negotiate the ego blow of discovering that I was not, nor would ever be, the center of the world. I had been assured that God was counting every hair on my head, and even if I would never be known on television or in the world of literature, I would be intimately known to God. Just like everyone else.

Peter and John have more reason to think of themselves as special than I ever did. After all, they’re healing people in the temple and helping the lame to walk. And the crowds that surround them are amazed. Yet Peter refuses to take credit. His response is essentially egoless. It wasn’t me, he says, but Jesus. And in this simple encounter, he set the pattern for the church. He said, in effect, that the Beloved Community of the church had only one charismatic leader, and that leader is Jesus Christ, and the rest of us should be content to simply feel the hairs on our heads counted by the fingers of a gentle God.

Peter invites people to know Jesus, even those who rejected and crucified him. He does this because he realizes that God loves and knows them just as much as God loves and knows the disciples. All things, he says, all miracles, all history, all stories, point to Christ. We don’t need leaders who are sunk in their own egos, making choices and exerting power in order to keep those egos defended. We need leaders who want to become thin, almost transparent with grace, like saints in stained glass windows. We want to be able to see through our leaders and see the light of God shining both in them and outside of them. For Peter, and for the Beloved Community, a true leader is exactly the opposite of the Pharisee in the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican. Instead of saying “I thank you God that I am not like other people,” a true leader says “I thank you God that I am exactly like other people, as full of trouble and grace as them, as silly and as wise.”