May 6, 2007
I think of this morning’s story from the Acts of the Apostles as one of those ‘circle ever wider’ scripture lessons. You know: one of those stories from holy scripture that makes it clear what the mission and ministry of the Church are. Which is a couple of things, it seems to me: one, it’s bringing the good news of Jesus Christ to more and more people, and inviting people of all types to come and experience our community which tries to live that good news. But it’s also recognizing that the Holy Spirit moves where it may, where it wants, and that we also have to pay attention and recognize where the good news is already – that we don’t have a corner on the good news or the Holy Spirit.
That’s one of the things that Peter learns as described in the book of Acts: that the Holy Spirit might lead him, the church, us, to places where we didn’t think we would ever go. The Holy Spirit isn’t controllable, doesn’t recognize or adhere to the same (artificial) boundaries that we human beings think are so important. So. The story. This particular account, chapter eleven of the book of Acts, is really Peter’s defense of himself and his actions after a particular experience he had, in which it became clear to him that God, through the Holy Spirit, was widening the circle. It’s interesting how the very first verse of this chapter starts: “The apostles and believers in Jerusalem heard that the Gentiles had accepted the word of God.” Right. They heard it, but clearly they didn't believe that the Gentiles had accepted the word of God. Why not? We might ask? Because Gentiles weren’t Jewish. Jesus was. The earliest followers of Jesus were. Jesus, they believed, had come to redeem Israel, first and foremost – and maybe only. Peter, however, has this experience where it becomes clear to him that maybe God’s love and redemption were broader than that, and less limited by religion, or ethnicity, or nationality. This story is told in chapter 10 of Acts, and Peter re-tells it to the ‘apostles and believers in Jerusalem,’ those who were critical of Peter for his interaction with ‘the other’ – in this case, Gentiles.
Why did you eat with them? These ‘apostles and believers’ ask Peter. Why did you visit with them? They want to know. In other words, how could you do such a thing? They aren't us. Though as we listen to this conversation, it easily could remind one of a question the Pharisees asked Jesus: why does this man welcome sinners, and eat with them? Peter, why are you entering houses of Gentiles, and eating with them? There is a certain amount of irony here, don't you think? Kind of like the Puritans came to this country for religious freedom, but only for themselves: everyone had to conform to their religious practices. Jesus has to deal with the Pharisees about his interactions with ‘the other;’ those who accepted Jesus then don’t want his followers to interact with ‘the other.’ The definition of the ‘other’ might change – in one case it’s ‘sinners,’ as the Pharisees defined that term; in Peter’s case it’s Gentiles – but what doesn’t change is that those who are DIFFERENT are considered less than.
So Peter explains his actions: this is the vision I had, he tells them. This is what it meant; this is why I went to Gentiles and ate with them: I truly understand now, that God shows no partiality. God doesn't sort into us and them the way that we do. "The Spirit told me not to make a distinction between them and us," he says. God says not to make distinctions; the Holy Spirit says not to make distinctions. Oh yeah, and didn’t Jesus say something like this too? Well as a matter of fact, he did. One of the stories about Jesus that illustrates this best is his encounter with a woman who was a foreigner. In Matthew’s gospel, she’s a Canaanite, whom Jesus encounters when he is in the region of Tyre and Sidon, places where there were mostly Gentiles. She calls to Jesus, asking for his mercy, because her daughter needs healing. But Jesus ignores her. The disciples want Jesus to send her away; Jesus himself says that he was sent ‘only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.’ He didn’t come for everyone, he says. . . but that is not where the story ends. The Canaanite woman persists. She asks Jesus to help her. Here is what he says: It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs. Ouch. Pretty harsh. The people Israel: children. All others: dogs. This is the Jesus we know and love? Her response to what Jesus says is this: “‘Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.’ Then Jesus answered her, ‘Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish. And her daughter was healed instantly.” Here’s the thing: the belief was that other nations were outside the mercy of God. Even Jesus almost falls into the trap of this belief, until his encounter with a foreign woman who just wants her daughter healed makes it clear, to him and to us, that God’s mercy encompasses all. This is where Jesus lives, in the end: the circle becomes wider, because of this story and others in the gospels which show Jesus embodying God’s love for all. There is no ‘other.’
So for some of us, that pretty much sums it up. Not that that necessarily ends the conversation. We know that from the outside, church communities that do make distinctions of whatever kinds between whatever 'thems' and us tend to think a motto like St. George's has - a circle ever wider and a people ever free - is just some liberal meaningless mush. That’s not how God is, some might say. God does too make distinctions, some would say: between those who truly believe in Jesus and those who don't, and those who believe in Jesus in a certain way and those who don't. Now for us, at a place like St. George's, we know more or less that our motto, and the beliefs that undergird it, are scriptural. But my guess would be that we use Jesus to justify/explain it: Jesus didn't discriminate. Jesus welcomed all people. Jesus ate, stayed with, socialized with those who were considered outcast or other. And all of that is true. And for us, it often is and maybe even should be that Jesus is the first model for why we are church the way we are church. But he's not the only model. This morning in the book of Acts, we come in on a conversation/argument/ongoing and sometimes not very friendly dialogue amongst the leaders of the early Christian church, about whether one first had to become Jewish to be a follower of Jesus. Thus, the 'circumcized believers' criticism of Peter. All of his earliest followers were Jewish, or converted to Judaism in order to be followers of Jesus. That's the way it worked. The widening of the circle was a big change, and not always an easy one - despite the fact that some of Jesus' own words and actions seem to support that widening. What we have this morning is an inside view of how some of that happened.
Peter is clear in his justification: it came from God. I saw the Holy Spirit fall on the gathered group of Gentiles, he says, 'just as it had upon us at the beginning.' That's a reference to Pentecost, the giving of the Holy Spirit to the community, which we will celebrate later this month. But Peter goes on. He says, "I remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said, 'John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.' If then God gave them the same gift that God gave us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I that I could hinder God?" Well there’s a good question. There’s a question that makes it clear that we are not God. There’s a question that acknowledges that how we see things is not always how God sees things. That acknowledges that we are certainly capable even of getting in God’s way, if we cling to our human distinctions even when God is pointing out that they are not God’s way. Who am I that could hinder God?
There’s a story I’ve been thinking about this week, one that my previous bishop, Tom Shaw, the bishop of Massachusetts, told to a clergy gathering a few years ago . It’s about something that happened at the Cathedral in Boston, where the bishop’s office is. One Friday Bishop Shaw had some visitors, people he was hosting there at the Cathedral So as Bishop Shaw was showing his visitors around, he happened upon a group of Muslims who were doing their afternoon prayers. Now it was Tom Shaw telling this story, and to his credit, it was one that didn’t reflect all that well on him. That is, having found this group praying he then went to the Dean of the Cathedral’s office, and was quite upset about this group that he had found – he wasn’t aware that they were meeting there. As Tom told us the story, the dean patiently explained that this group of Muslims had approached the Cathedral and asked if they could have space for midday prayers, those who worked in the area and needed a place to gather for worship. Here’s what Tom Shaw said, quoting the dean, who was trying to calm him down: “It’s a cathedral, Tom. A house of prayer for all people.” And that was that. It defused his temper, made him remember who he was, who the church is, and what’s what. “Who am I that I could hinder God?”
It’s a question I like, probably because it has a good amount of self-reflection in it. I think it’s a great question for us, offering us an opportunity to look at ourselves, our own lives, and see if there are ways or places that we might be hindering God, or God’s work. If there are places that the Holy Spirit is moving that we aren’t seeing, because we’ve already decided that there’s no way the Holy Spirit could be there. If there are circles that we could help make wider, but we aren’t doing that. How might I be hindering God? What could I do to not just stop hindering God, but in fact actively do God’s work, do the work of our own baptismal covenant, of seeking and serving Christ in all persons. Even if they are ‘other’ to us. Maybe even especially if they are ‘other’ to us.
I want to close by praying one of the prayers from the back of the prayer book, one of the thanksgivings. Let us pray:
O God, who created all peoples in your image, we thank you
for the wonderful diversity of races and cultures in this world.
Enrich our lives by ever-widening circles of fellowship, and
show us your presence in those who differ most from us, until
our knowledge of your love is made perfect in our love for all
your children; through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.