Sermon for Fifth Sunday of Easter

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran on May 18, 2014
Preaching text: Acts 7:1-60 (The actual text for the day is only Acts 7:55-60, but it's helpful to see the full chapter to better understand the sermon below.)

I remember my very first sermon like it was yesterday. I was at St. Paul, Charleston, my home congregation. I was probably a freshman or sophomore in college and it was the day after Christmas: St. Stephen’s Day. I had no training, no experience, no seminary. No idea really what I was doing. Only a word of advice from my pastor that was less than helpful: “He was young, eager, and dedicated.”

My sermon was less than 2 minutes long and a total disaster. (Anyone thinking I’m going to only preach two minutes today is going to be disappointed.)

I have quite a bit more to work with now. Which is good because today our first lesson is about St. Stephen and his moment of martyrdom. I’ve learned a great deal about who he was and what brought him to this moment, this paradoxically awful and yet triumphant episode in the life of the early church.

To fully understand it, we have to go back into history to recognize a few truths. Context is everything when it comes to this story.

The Bible is a book of many things, not the least of which is the chronicle of a religious conflict between two types of religious people.

Now I’ve talked about this at some length before. I’ve talked about the differences between settlers/pioneers, purity/compassion, moral/ethical. These conflicts are as ancient as humankind; they were happening before the Bible was compiled together, they were happening during the events of the Scriptures, both Old and New Testament, and they continue today throughout the world.

On one side is the establishment, the church, the temple, the synagogue. They are concerned with morality, with ritual purity, with maintaining themselves as the sole purveyor of religious goods. They want to ensure that you come to them and to them alone as the source of all things spiritual and theological. As pastor, as preacher, I am officially on this side of the dividing line and, at times, I hate it.

It’s a little dangerous for me to admit that. You see, my obligations as pastor require me to support the establishment. The church pays my salary, gives me what I need to maintain my family and lifestyle. But where I am as a Christian believer is much more with the other side of the coin.

They are the originalists. Now I use that term very intentionally. When we talk about “originalism” as a legal concept, we’re talking about trying to be faithful to what the people who created something intended (A constitutional originalist wants to be faithful to what the Founding Fathers intended in writing the US Constitution, for example.)

Originalists always want religion to be what it’s supposed to be. What was God’s intention for his people in the Old Covenant? In the New? What is it that we’re really supposed to be about? Spreading the good news. Caring for the less fortunate. Welcoming the stranger. Being a light to the nations. These are fundamental original concepts behind God’s promises and his call to his people, both Chosen and Christian.

The conflict arises because the establishment is always threatened by the originalists. ALWAYS. They’re renegades, rebels, heretics, rabble-rousers, trouble-makers, and so forth. Originalists usually peel back the veil and reveal all the ways the establishment benefits those who are a part of it. They expose where the church or the synagogue or the temple has become about you or me, instead of about God. The establishment usually doesn’t take that very well.

Temple cult in ancient Israel, they’ve got themselves a cushy deal. They’ve brought in a few other Gods, usually those that give them a license for political ambition, greed, or lust. And along comes this pesky prophet. “Thus says the LORD...” What a nuisance, reminding people about what God told them in the law of Moses. Before long, they’re not going to put up with the lies we’ve been telling them. We’d better kill that prophet before that happens.

The Pharisees of the synagogue in Jesus’ day. They got a cushy deal too. The power and authority to include or exclude people from the community, based upon a exceedingly strict interpretation of OT purity. And then along comes Jesus, who eats with tax collectors and prostitutes, who heals lepers, and forgives sins. What a nuisance, reminding people that God loves everybody, not just the people who meet our approval. Before long, everyone’s going to be in this place. We’re not going to be able to keep “those people” out of here and then we’re not going to have any power anymore. We’d better kill him before that happens.

The Pope and the Curia of Rome in the 15th & 16th centuries. They got a cushy deal. We tell people to jump at our command, to pay for indulgences for their forgiveness, and they make us rich and powerful. And then along comes this monk Martin Luther. He keeps talking about what the Bible really says, that God forgives freely through Christ. What a nuisance! Before long, no one’s going to pay for our extravagant lifestyles. We’d better kill him before that happens.

As I said, this conflict has been around for all of human history. Stephen is one of many who challenged the system, stood up to the establishment, peeled back the veil, and died for it. We only get the tail end of his story, but the verses that precede our First Lesson are a long debate between Stephen and the establishment of his day. And sure enough, he reminds them of how poorly they’ve stayed true to God’s intention. He tells the truth, the most dangerous act of all.

Human beings are incredible self-deceivers. Nothing angers us more than to have our delusions stripped away. Originalists do that, by their very existence, they do that. The establishment wants to believe they’re doing the right thing. They want to believe it so badly that they blind themselves to every and all examples that contradict that belief. They self-deceive. They lie to themselves. We, because we often are the establishment, lie to ourselves.

Then along come these trouble-makers, these originalists. They remind us that we do not hold to our own values as well as we should or even want to Boy, do we ever hate being called out for that. So they’ve got a tough job. They’ve got to do something that no one wants them to do...

Except for God himself.

You see, the establishment is easier. You show up, you do the ritual, you tithe your 10% (or whatever), and you go home. You don’t rock the boat. You don’t cause trouble. And you don’t  have to have anything you already believe challenged. It’s easy. It’s simple. But it’s not what God calls us to be.

God calls us to be Stephen and those like him. He calls us to be Martin Luther. He calls us to be prophets. He calls us to be like Christ himself, willing to challenge the status quo for the sake of those it leaves out: the poor, the different, the less worthy, those we don’t like. That’s a tall order, to stand up to the church or to the government or to the whole of society and tell it what God really wants it to do. To tell the truth, the most dangerous act of all.

But here’s the thing. It’s dangerous and yet it’s not. Stephen himself puts proof to that. As the stones start flying, he looks up and has a vision of Christ himself. You see, God is with us every step of our journey in life. When we do the wrong things, but also when we do the right things, when we do the hard things, the things that make us enemies. The things that make people want to kill us because we dared to speak the truth.

Truth is a rare commodity in human society. But God has called us to be a people of truth, fully aware of what it might cost us. He’s been there. He remembers the nails, the mockery, the thorns in his crown. And because he remembers, he stands with us when we stand against all the powers of this world. And with him by our side, what’s the worst they can do? Kill us? Hah. Amen.