Sun, May 10, 2020
Living the Easter story
Acts 7:51-60 by Craig de Vos
Series: Sermons

It’s been six weeks now since we all sat in our familiar pews…

listened to our wonderful organ and the choir…

sang hymns…

prayed silently with and for each other…

and put an envelope into the collection.

And, given the timeline outlined by the Prime Minister and Premier on Friday…

it’s going to be a while yet before we do.

I don’t know how you have been finding it––

I imagine it’s all been a bit strange, even surreal.

Easter certainly didn’t feel like Easter.

Sure, on one level, we were––

at least symbolically––

living the Easter story.

As I wrote in “Highlights” back in April:

“In our sense of isolation, our sense of abandonment, our sense of fear and dread, we are effectively re-living Good Friday. But Easter is coming. Hope and joy will return. We will, once again, experience new and abundant life”. 

Maybe, we’re not there yet.

Maybe, we’re actually at the Holy Saturday point…

and our symbolic Easter still awaits us.

In a sense, as church, we’re in limbo.

Or, perhaps, we’re like the earliest disciples––

coming to terms with the resurrection…

struggling to understand what this new “normal” means…

and trying to grapple with what it means to live as a community in light of this.

We’re still waiting.

We’re having to think afresh about how we do things…

and what it means to be church. 

And, for me, perhaps…

that’s what makes the early chapters of the Book of Acts so interesting.

The author offers us his picture––

his ‘history’––

of the earliest Christians;

of how they responded to the risen Christ…

and stumbled their way into being church.

Not long after the reading that we had last week––

in which the author idyllically sought to portray them as a family…

sharing all things in common––

troubles arose.

In particular, he suggests, the continued growth in the community created issues.

The disciples––

the leaders––

were too busy…

and a group of widows were being neglected.

Now, bear in mind…

this was a world where there were no widows’ pensions—

and no social security at all;

a world where wives didn’t inherit anything from their husbands’ estates.

As a result, widows were often left destitute and defenceless––

such that being a widow was synonymous with being poor, powerless, and vulnerable.

Somehow, despite his claim that the church acted as an ideal family…

the author suggests that a group of widows were being neglected––

even purposely overlooked.

Interestingly, he labels them as “Hellenist” widows––

presumably, inferring, that they were Greek-speaking…

rather than Hebrew or Aramaic speaking––

suggesting that they were migrants.

So, even within the author’s romantically idealised caricature of the church…

xenophobia and bigotry still lingered.

In recognising that this was wrong and needing to be addressed…

the disciples asserted that it was not their primary role to “wait on tables”.

As a solution, the community set aside seven men––

whom the disciples prayed for and laid hands upon for this “duty”.

It’s from the Greek, here––

specifically, from the verb for “waiting” or “serving”––

that the term “Deacon” was derived.

These seven…

appointed to attend to the needs of neglected widows…

were the first deacons.

One of them was named Stephen.

A little later, he was arrested and put on trial because he was outspoken about his faith in the risen Christ.

And, in our reading this morning, we hear some of his defence speech.

Prior to this morning’s reading, he has been indirectly criticising the authorities––

the religious powers-that-be––

for their unhealthy attachment to the Temple…

and for the barrenness of their lives and worship.

Here, in the conclusion to his speech, he sharpens his criticism.

No longer subtle or indirect, he launches into a full-frontal assault…

entirely shattering our image that Christians ought to be blandly “nice”:

You stiff-necked people, uncircumcised in heart and ears, you are forever opposing the Holy Spirit, just as your ancestors used to do”.

His accusations recall those made by the prophets…

who criticised the people of God for only hearing what they wanted to hear;

for actively resisting God’s work in the world;

and for turning aside to gods of their own making––

gods who were comfortable;

gods who wouldn’t demand too much of them;

gods who wouldn’t upset things;

gods who would simply do what the people wanted.

 

And yet…

Stephen’s criticism actually arose out of his life of faith and service––

out of his care for widows.

After all, that’s one of the things that Jesus got stuck into the religious establishment about…

condemning them, according to the Gospel of Luke, because… 

They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers”.

And, here, we have Stephen––

chosen as a deacon to work for the welfare of widows––

standing before the very people whom Jesus had condemned for their exploitation of widows…

and accusing them of using their religion for their own ends…

worshipping a god of their own making…

perverting God’s purposes…

and turning religion into a matter of merely personal piety and devotion––

a matter of ‘me and God’;

while, at the same time, propagating a God who doesn’t demand too much.

In other words, he’s accusing them of creating a God who is safe and comfortable––

a God who exists simply to meet their personal, existential needs.

According to the author of Acts…

Stephen was on trial for continuing what Jesus had begun to do:

caring for the needy…

disturbing comfort and complacency…

challenging those forces that oppress the vulnerable…

and calling into question the established religious order.

And, even as he kneels, dying, he prays for their forgiveness––

following the example of Jesus…

continuing his ministry.

 

Five weeks into this Easter season, this reading is a reminder:

true faith can never separate the spiritual from the material;

true faith can never be just a me-and-Jesus thing;

true faith can never be a matter of simply going to church…

looking for comfort and support…

and having my personal, spiritual, social, or psychological needs met.

Because the God of the resurrection calls us to be open, honest, and take risks…

to welcome and love each other–– 

no matter what––

and to live as a family.

Because the God of the resurrection bursts into our lives––

challenging and calling us to change…

and sending us out to continue Jesus’ work of healing…

loving…

and caring.

But the God of the resurrection also sends us out to continue Jesus’ work by taking a stand…

offering practical aid to the disadvantaged and needy…

and opposing those forces that exploit and oppress––

whoever they might be…

and wherever and whenever we might encounter them.

 

And this reading is a salutary reminder…

that we only encounter the risen Christ among us as we engage in mission––

as we feed the hungry;

house the homeless;

care for the needy;

stand up for the marginalised;

condemn hypocrisy;

challenge injustice;

and call out those who oppress.

Because it’s only when we do that, that we’re actually continuing the ministry of Jesus…

being Church…

and keeping the true spirit of Easter alive.

It’s in our care of and advocacy for widows––

both literal and figurative––

that our worship is made real.