“About that time no little disturbance broke out concerning the Way.” - Acts 19:23
“What’s insane is not [the bird’s] painful, clumsy, efforts to fly, but rather the hand that broke its wings.” - Rubem Alves, Tomorrow’s Child
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Last week,
as we continued to move through the Book of Acts (as we do each year in the Sundays after Easter),
we spent a little bit of time
talking about some of the early churches’
inner-tensions and conflicts.
We did this
in order to help us both to understand a couple of the core proclamations of the early faith
and
to explore how those teachings might apply to conversations
that we are still having as a church today.
Amen?
This morning,
I wanna move outside of the topic
of the early church’s inner tensions,
and I wanna take some time, instead,
to focus on
a couple of particular messages or motifs that I think were really important in the early church (and for us today)
in what shape those messages spread among the poor people who lived in the occupied territories of Rome (like the ones we read about today), and
why (at times) these messages would cause what were perceived as uprisings, riots, and “no small disturbances” (as the scriptures sometimes call them), and
why they were then a lot of times followed by violent reactions from the State.
And to do that,
I wanna rewind us a bit.
And I wanna highlight some of the stuff that’s happened so far in the books of Luke & Acts.
Sound like a plan?
So, in brief:
In Luke’s Gospel:
Jesus is born.
Jesus grows up.
Jesus is loved by his parents.
And, after about 30 years,
Jesus is baptized.
Jesus is then tempted in the wilderness,
and finally begins his mission with the words of a prophet,
saying:
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
and the Spirit has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor,
and freedom to prisoners
and new visions for those who have ceased to see with their hearts.
The Spirit has anointed me to set the oppressed free,
and to proclaim the year of the favor of the Lord.
Amen?
From there on out,
Jesus begins to live into these words.
He begins
healing
and exorcising
and feeding those who were just left there
those without healthcare
and those without community
and those without food–
ministering to those who society
was happy
to ignore
and to dispose of
and
to leave for dead.
All the while,
as he does all of these things,
Jesus is also preaching
and what he’s preaching, I believe,
are
his deepest and most fervent dreams for
the world:
dreams he calls the Good News
of a new order of all things–
a new order which,
in contrast to Rome
(who currently occupied the land),
blesses the poor,
and makes the last become first,
a Reign of Love that sees to it
that the powerful are taken from their thrones
and that (in the end)
crowns
and thrones
and kings
will be no more.
+++
In response to all of this,
to Jesus’ healing and feeding and dreaming among the crowds,
the powers of Rome make a decision:
to arrest, torture, incarcerate,
and execute him,
putting Jesus’ body on public display–
a form of entertainment for the cruel,
and a warning for any who might be tempted
to participate in Jesus’ dreaming about Good News,
or enticed to follow in his Way.
As the story goes on:
Jesus resurrects.
Jesus cooks some fish.
Jesus tells Thomas to put his finger in the holes of his hands.
And then Jesus leaves.
Soon after, the Spirit comes.
There’s wind. And there’s fire.
And,
despite Rome’s efforts to deter it,
Jesus’ community picks up Jesus’ mission
and dreams his Good News dreams
with more fervor than ever before.
They, too, heal.
They, too, resurrect.
They, too, exorcise the demonic among them.
They empower their communities.
And they hold all things in common,
giving thanks,
sharing meals,
and
singing hymns and spiritual songs.
As they do,
they preach as Jesus preached:
That the last shall be first.
That the poor shall be blessed.
That the hungry shall be fed.
And that it should already be so among us.
They preach.
They dream.
They get derided.
And (nonetheless) their following grows.
And eventually,
as a result,
the ears of the powerful perk up once again.
The disciples are thrown in jail.
They are beaten with stones,
persecuted by Roman governors
and trolled by Roman police.
And (much like Jesus)
they are put on display
as an act of entertainment for the cruel,
and as a warning against anyone
who might be tempted (also) to dream their messiah’s dreams
and to follow his radical Way.
And as this is all happening,
despite Rome’s best efforts to the contrary,
their communities grow even more.
Thousands upon thousands join say the first chapters of Acts.
The dreams they share are infectious.
And beautiful.
And enlivening.
Because they are delivered as Good News
that is deeply and spiritually True.
That is:
true in the sense that it ignited the dreams of those who were living a nightmare so that they were able to dream again.
True in the sense that it spoke to the pain of the oppressed,
and showered the Spirit of power upon them
so that they could change things,
so that they could become something new,
and so that they could live together in a Way
that was counter to the violence,
contrary to the hierarchies,
and quite distinct from the ones they called
“the prowling lions,”
the authorities
who constantly circled around them,
waiting for an opening to pounce and to devour.
+++
When the community saw that these people
(these new followers of Jesus) lived in such a way,
says Acts,
those in power were reminded that these dreams were disruptive,
that they were unsettling,
that they made people want change for the better,
that they made the hungry cry out for food.
For the hungry, this crying out what enlivening.
But for the powerful, this was terrifying.
And so, they made another decision.
They decided to conspire against them, toward their demise.
As they did, they noted that
these new Chrisitan communities,
as they were baptized and incorporated into Jesus' dreams,
would, at their baptisms, renounce the nightmare of the Empire,
And make an oath to embrace instead the aspirations of Jesus’ liberating God.
And [interestingly enough, conspiring against them] in response,
the Roman authorities accused the disciples,
says the books of Acts,
of
inciting a riot.
Let me say that again a little differently:
Renouncing the nightmare, and embracing the dream,
the disciples were accused by Rome of inciting a riot.
And so they were charged. And they were jailed yet again.
And so it was for 300 more years,
that these dreams and these renunciations
would see these followers of Jesus
jailed and stoned and even fed to lions in front of crowds.
A form of entertainment for the cruel.
And a warning to others who may be tempted to join them.
Until such persecutions were declared to be illegal.
For 300 years they kept these dreams alive, on their lips, and in their hearts.
For 300 years, despite the fact that there was no evidence that they would ever come to fruition.
But despite the odds, these Christians kept dreaming anyway.
And they kept inviting the whole world to dream with them.
+++
“What is insane is not [the bird’s] painful, clumsy, efforts to fly, but
rather [what is insane is] the hand that broke its wings.”
Every miracle, every sharing of all things in common, every call to transformation and renewed life, all of it, still, is a testimony and a renunciation of the world as it is.
This may seem to those who are invested in the world
to be “riotous.”
And yet, this reaction to the world,
this hoping against it, this dreaming and desiring of what could yet be,
is not born from a desire for violence or for pain.
On the contrary. It’s born from pain.
And it’s born from a desire to fly
in a world that has consistently broken our wings.
+++
Today, in just a minute,
when we gather around the font,
we, with Jesus-followers of old,
will be given the opportunity to renounce these powers,
once again.
Powers that would separate us.
Powers that would demean.
Powers (for example)
that would justify mass shootings
and augment ideologies of supremacy and inferiority
based on religion, nationality, or race.
All powers that create and perpetuate nightmares that distort and prevent the liberating dream of Jesus and his God.
And, as we do this,
as we renounce and as we dream,
we will also welcome baby Riot into this community,
a community, who, on our better days,
still gathers each week
around those radical hopes and dreams of Jesus.
As we do this,
may welcome baby Riot with open hearts
into these dreams and desires,
and may we be renewed,
as well,
for the work
and for the world
into which those dreams invite us.
Christ is risen. Christ is risen, indeed. Alleluia!
Amen.
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