Easter 5A
May 7, 2023
John 14:1-14
Acts 7:55-60
INTRODUCTION
On this 5th Sunday of Easter we will hear the story of someone being stoned to death! Happy Easter!
No but really, our reading from Acts is the story of the stoning of Stephen, the first Christian martyr. It’s pretty rough, but a good story to know, so I’m going to give you some more background on that one in my sermon. Stay tuned.
1st Peter will give us a much nicer image of stones, describing Christ as the cornerstone and foundation of our spiritual house.
In John, Jesus seems to refer to that spiritual house, a place he prepares for us with many dwelling places. It is a reading we often hear at funerals, and with good reason. This story takes us back to Maundy Thursday, Jesus’ last night with his disciples before his arrest. The air is thick with grief and anxiety – Judas has just left them, and Peter’s denial has been foretold, and it is clear that something is about to happen to Jesus. But Jesus tells them not to be troubled, for he goes before them to prepare the way. In fact, he says, he is the way, and the truth and the life, and because we know him, we also know the Father. These are certainly words that speak comfort to our aching hearts!
Last week, we heard about God’s presence in the dark valleys of life, and this week will show us what those dark valleys may look and feel like. As you listen, think of the ways God has shown up for you in your darkest places. Let’s listen.
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| St. Stephen, the first martyr |
Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our risen Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
When I saw that the story from Acts today was the stoning of Stephen, I thought, “Ooo, I want to preach on that.” It’s such a horrible story – why would I feel such an urge? And yet, when the Spirit speaks, we listen!
So, let’s look at this compelling, if gruesome, story. Were you familiar with this one? It’s not one typically covered in Sunday School! Stephen’s claim to fame, other than his feast day being the setting for the Christmas carol, Good King Wenceslas, is that he is the first Christian martyr – the first witness to die for the sake of the faith. (The word “martyr” comes from the Greek word for “witness.”) Before we dig into the part of the story we heard today, let’s go back, and put this into its larger context.
Christ has died, risen, and ascended, and the Holy Spirit has come on Pentecost, and the Christian movement is gaining momentum. The disciples are increasing in number. To support the growing needs of the community, the apostles appoint seven deacons, to tend to the work of feeding and service, while the apostles focus on preaching and evangelism. One of these seven is a man named Stephen. (As an aside, this ministry structure still exists in the church – in addition to ministers of word and sacrament, which I am, we also have the diaconate, deacons, who are ministers of word and service. This is its origin story. Cool, right?)
This system works well, and the number of disciples continues to increase. Stephen is “full of grace and power,” and “did great wonders and signs among the people.” It is reported that his face was like that of an angel, it shone so; people could hardly look away from his brightness. So everything seems pretty great, right? But, of course, some in the synagogue are jealous of him and his wisdom, and they bring false charges of blasphemy against him, and Stephen is brought to stand trial before the council.
Now, you’d think that Stephen might defend himself, right, since he didn’t do anything wrong! But just like Jesus on trial before him, he does nothing to defend himself. What he does do, however, is give a dynamic speech, in which he recounts the story of the people of Israel, starting with Abraham, and all the way through Moses, the exile and the prophets. And he finishes with a flourish, pointing out how very like their ancestors his accusers are – who killed and persecuted the prophets, and who opposed the Holy Spirit, and who failed to follow the divinely given law. “You have become [the Righteous One’s] betrayers and murders,” he says. “You… have not kept [the law].”
Oof. You can imagine, they do not take this well. Luke tells us that “when they heard these things, they became enraged and ground their teeth at Stephen.” And this is where our reading today picks up. Just as his accusers are practically snorting with rage and pawing the ground like agitated bulls, Stephen gazes up to heaven and recounts a vision he is seeing, of the glory of God and Jesus standing at God’s right hand. With this, his opponents cover their ears, and with a loud shout, go running toward him, drag him out of the city, and begin to stone him. Stephen, ever peaceful, commits his spirit to Jesus, and with his last breath, asks God to forgive them for this sin. And the beautiful shining light in his angelic face goes out. Wow, what a story!
So how does this story speak to our modern, American context? First, and most obviously: being a follower of Christ is not always easy or comfortable. Today, we don’t typically face death for preaching or living a Christian life, at least not in this country, but, if we are always perfectly comfortable following Jesus, then well, we’re not doing it right. Don’t get me wrong – there is certainly comfort to be had in our faith, which gets us through our many trials. Jesus causes our hearts not to be troubled, and gives us hope for the future and promises us an eternal dwelling place with him. But faith isn’t only being comforted. Faith also calls us to speak truth to power, as Stephen does here and as so many prophets have done over the generations. It means rocking the boat sometimes by saying things in love that might make other people uncomfortable. It means resisting reacting to the violence around us with violence of our own. In short: faith means acting like Stephen!
Yes, we can learn important lessons from Stephen, as a model of faith. But sometimes it is more fruitful, and certainly more convicting, to look at the other side of the story, the broken side, because that is where we might see not our hopeful future, but a reflection of our own current reality. Faith is also hard because it means that sometimes the word of God doesn’t applaud or comfort us, but convicts us. The detail in this story that convicts me is this bit about his opponents – how, when faced with God’s word, they “cover their ears” and “with a loud shout” go rushing at the person calling them out. That sounds all too familiar in our increasingly polarized society, doesn’t it? We are deeply entrenched in our beliefs, and even in the face of new information, we are often more likely to say, “Well, that doesn’t quite fit with my understanding of the world, so I’m going to ignore that. I’ll cover my ears and keep shouting my own opinion on the matter, and if it gets really bad, I might just have to pick up some stones are start throwing.” This is not just in political discourse. It happens with family, and friends, in our most intimate relationships, too. And no, it’s not just “the other side” that does this. All sides do this. I consider myself a pretty open-minded and well-informed person, but I definitely resist when even good, hard, reliable evidence starts to blow holes in something I had fervently believed. Yes, I have even been known to cast some verbal stones, intending to assuage my discomfort. I think we’d be hard-pressed to find someone who hasn’t. It is easier, after all, to attack than it is to self-reflect, and admit we’re wrong.
Yes, God’s Word can be very convicting. But it doesn’t let us stay there. First, we see where we are, and then we see where God is drawing us. The Word reveals that faith in Christ means putting aside our ego and letting God’s sometimes convicting Word penetrate into our hearts. It means recognizing that sometimes, we could be wrong. Sometimes, the more faithful act is not to shout, but to listen, and let the Spirit mold our hearts into something new, rather than go on the attack to defend something old.
How do we do this? Look back at how Stephen responds to the reactivity of the crowd. As he is dragged out of the city and attacked, merely for speaking truth to power and proclaiming God’s word, he does not back-pedal or defend himself. He stays above the fray. Literally, his gaze rests on something above the fearful, reactive mess of attack and vitriol around him: his gaze is on the vision of Jesus standing at the right hand of God in glory. We might think he was being a bit of a doormat – after all, what kind of person wouldn’t fight back in this situation? But his steadfast gaze on God is a brave, strong, and even defiant and prophetic act. He refuses to be sucked into the reactivity of his transgressors; if he had focused on their reactivity, perhaps he would sink to that level, sink into fear, rage, or sadness. But no, he will not give the power of centerstage to the angry mob; he gives the power where it rightly belongs: to the redemptive work of God.
And how do we know that? Because first, he gives himself fully to God (“Lord Jesus, receive my spirit”), and then with his dying breath, he doesn’t fit in one last insult, or condemn his attackers for their fear-filled acts; rather, he forgives them. “Lord, do not hold this sin against them,” he says. He bears witness to Jesus’ redeeming love. By staying focused not on the angry mob, but on the loving Giver of Life, he finds himself free from the need to blame, self-defend or explain. He does not need to “win” this argument, because he has already won eternal life.
He sets his gaze on Jesus, not his transgressors. He looks toward life, and not toward death. And this orients him to the life of redemptive love to which we are all called. Even in his death, Stephen is a witness to us, showing us the courage it takes to live into the life of faith that exists above the fray, outside of the world’s reactivity, and in a place of redeeming love.
Let us pray… Faithful God, the path you lay out for us is as challenging as it is full of love and grace. Guide us to be faithful disciples, slow to cast stones and quick to listen, love and forgive. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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