Sermon from Sunday, April 3, 2016

Reading:  Acts 5:27-41 

 

This is a three-voice sermon with Peter, Caiaphas and Gamaliel speaking in turn.  A “resurrection tree” stands at the centre front of the sanctuary.  Peter speaks first from one side of the sanctuary, and after speaking places his script at the foot of the tree.  Caiaphas speaks second, from the other side of the sanctuary, and after speaking also places his script at the foot of the tree.  Gamaliel speaks last, at the centre and in front of the tree, and after speaking also places his script at the foot of the tree.

Peter:

I am Peter.  That wasn’t the first time they had us thrown in jail for healing people in the name and the way of Jesus. 

The first time was after we healed a man who was lame and begging in front of the temple.  They didn’t like that we did it in the name of Jesus, so they kept us overnight and released us the next day with a warning not to go about “spreading lies” about Jesus and the power of his way anymore – at least not in Jerusalem, and certainly not around the temple.

It didn’t surprise us, really – the way they reacted, after they treated Jesus the way they did.  They never did accept him.  I don’t think they really ever gave him a chance.

Maybe he was a little rough around the edges, compared to them – compared to the priests and the temple lawyers and the Pharisees.  They were so smooth and polished, so professional and proficient in their piety and practice.  They had it down pat.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?  No one could match them, be as good as them, or ever hope to be counted as acceptable and worthy.  They were supposed to be bringing us and God closer together, it seems that the way they went about it, they just drove us and God farther apart, divided us into camps of holy and unholy, clean and unclean, worthy and unworthy, good and bad

That’s what made Jesus so appealing to us – to all of us who followed him and became his disciples in any way at all.  He was open and welcoming.  He was forgiving.  He was inviting and accepting and encouraging.  He healed us and he fed us and he helped us become strong and come alive in ourselves.  He helped those who seemed good and those who were counted as bad sit at the same table and feel like the family of God together.  He made us feel – helped us live, as God’s people – as God’s beloved children, God’s beloved sons and God’s beloved daughters, together in grace and peace.

Which when I think about it, makes me feel a little surprised … or maybe not surprised, maybe just sad, that the priests and the lawyers and all the officially religious people, couldn’t accept him and his way and us and what we were doing in his name and spirit.  Because really we weren’t out to ruin anyone or anything.  It wasn’t our intent or desire to threaten the temple or the priests or anyone or anything else.

We just wanted to do God’s work.  We wanted to carry on the kingdom that Jesus revealed.  We wanted to heal the people and the city of our time.  We knew we had the power to do it – to reach out to people in the street, to forgive and heal sinners in the alleys, to feed the hungry and comfort the dying around the corner, to give power to the poor and a voice to the forgotten.  We knew it was God and God’s spirit working through us, just like God and God’s spirit had been in Jesus.  We also knew the city and its people were hungry for it, they were ready for healing and new life. 

So how could we not?  How could we not carry on, no matter if how we did it upset the people in charge?  How could we not obey God, even if it meant we went to jail every now and then for it?  How could not let ourselves be part of God’s healing desire in and for all the world, even if it meant risking and sacrificing what our life used to be, for it?

Caiaphas:

 

My name is Caiaphas.  I am one of the high priests of the Temple.  I help convene and lead the Council.  I know that I and my colleagues – even the whole temple here and all it represents are cast as the heavies in this story.

We’re seen as obsolete.  Old-fashioned.  Out of step with the times.  Obstructionist.  Self-serving and inward-looking.  Cut off and isolated from the people of the community and from the real issues of the times.  Compromised.  Tainted with the scandal of oppression and abuse of power.  Inflexible No longer able to attract.

The list could go on. 

And yes, there is some truth to the charge that in our response to the followers of Jesus, and to Jesus himself, we have acted out of jealousy and fear.  But for goodness sake, what would you expect? 

I mean the man was out there – in more ways than one.  He was preaching out on the street, he held synagogue at the seashore, he offered confession and divine absolution along the roadside, at community wells, at public picnics, private dinner parties and back yard barbecues.  He was out of control, and so indiscriminate in his openness.  He was making a mockery of all we call holy.  He was undermining my place – I mean, our authority and our God-given standing in the eyes of the people.

And his followers?  They weren’t trained.  They were uncredentialed.  They acted so sure of themselves, but they were making it up as they went along.  Appealing to the current trends.  How could you trust them?  There was no way I – I mean we, could ever work with them. 

I mean … we have the books.  The holy stories.  The tradition and its teachings.  The generations of experience, and centuries of careful interpretation of the will and way of God.  The truth – or at least the closest thing to it, that we are capable of as human beings?  Do we throw all that out?  Do we dispense with tradition and piety and the sacred rituals and practices that have opened us to God and sustained us as God’s people through thick and thin, through good times and bad, through centuries of both triumph and testing?  Does it – do we, do I, all mean nothing?

Gamaliel:

 

My name is Gamaliel.  I am a Pharisee.  I teach God’s law.  I am on the Council that Caiaphas helps convene and lead.

And I wonder.  And worry, about the way things are going.  And always can go.  The way issues get polarized.  How two different groups each feel so quickly pushed by the holy challenge of the other to speak in absolutes, in terms of us and them, of right and wrong, of black and white – as though any of us are capable of knowing the good and bad of anything or anyone so absolutely.

I know how easily we get addicted to our structures and traditions.  To our status and the things that make us feel secure.  Or important.  Or worthy.

We get so used to what we know, and what we know how to handle – and control, that we lose sight sometimes of the bigger picture – the bigger picture of all the world around us and God at work in it, and for it.

We ourselves used to be a much simpler people – back in the desert, back in the wilderness journeying time – when we too we untrained and uncredentialed and we knew it.  We knew then we were all just learners and beginners in the mysteries of God and the desires of God for the world.  We made it up as we went along.  We had Moses.  We had a cloud to follow by day.  A pillar of fire for comfort and direction by night.  We had a tent to set up each time we stopped, where God would meet us.  One stage, one day, one step at a time.

I know that in some ways we need to get back to that kind of faith and that kind of faithfulness.  If we are to remain God’s people – witnesses to the world around us of the good will of God for all the world. 

But I also know that they – the newcomers, the upstarts and outsiders, the followers of Jesus are not always or necessarily right, either.  They’re a bit motley actually – with a number of different teachings and practices that don’t always fit together well.  They have some sorting out to do. 

There’s also a certain pride to their position, underneath their humility and acceptance of persecution or mockery – a particular arrogance that in time may make them just as controlling and maybe as closed and fearful as we are. 

Not all things that appear holy, really are.  Not all movements of God’s spirit last long.  Not all communities that seem able to heal and empower people, are part of God’s long-term plan.

There’s a certain patience and humility we need to learn and practice in the way we see both ourselves and others.

Because really it’s about God, isn’t it? 

About the God beyond us all.   About the God who is beyond our structures and traditions, and beyond our trends and enthusiasms? 

And about our willingness and openness to let ourselves be part of God’s healing desire in and for all the world, regardless of where it leads us and what it costs us?