Remembering to Look Up and Around (Acts 1:1-11)

Telling stories is an art.  The writer works to craft a story, yet there are a number of challenges ahead of the writer, not least among them being writer’s block.  If you are stuck, the story will sit idle waiting whatever conceptual block prevents the writer from moving onward.  As I have found with writing, often it is best to leave the story alone for a spell, then while doing something often totally unrelated to one’s obsession about getting the plot back on track, the “solution” to the writer’s block problems comes to an end.  (For me, I find myself best “sleeping on it”, giving up and coming back to my writing the next day.  For others, it might involve doing chores, taking a walk, and on occasion, praying for inspiration when a deadline is hanging over your head. Once properly distracted from what has been bedeviling you, Viola! The “plot twist” appears!) 

The story of Acts starts off with a rather intriguing plot twist.  The story begins with the resurrected Christ teaching his followers, and after a season of instructing and living with them, one day he ascends into the sky.  The star of the story called “gospel” appears, yet after a few words, he disappears from the narrative—exit, stage UP! 

The story of Acts is about Jesus and his gospel, though his appearances are limited to “cameo” at best in this book.  Instead, the narrative traces the adventure of those who would receive the Spirit’s empowering and heed Jesus’ call “to be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”  What began as a bunch of yokels from backwater Galilee staring off into the sky as Jesus departed takes on a wonderful complexity, a creative renewal of a story that most readers thought had finished.  As the early Church theologian John Chrysotom said, “In the resurrection, [the disciples] saw the end but not the beginning, and in the Ascension they saw the beginning but not the end.”

A good story needs the complexity of development, otherwise the story goes a bit stale or set in its ways.  In writing for television, you try your best to avoid the dreadful effect called “jumping the shark” (the term is used in popular culture for a show that has gotten so stale or far-fetched.  The origins of the term comes from the old sitcom Happy Days, which reached a series writing low when one episode has a plot that involves the Fonz waterskiing and jumping over a shark.  Yes, it’s remarkably bad writing, and hence a phrase to refer to “industry gold standard” bad narratives was born. 

The television show LOST will come to an end later this month, and the internet will be abuzz with whether or not the series’ finale worked.  I chuckle at the flurry of comments online already, as people ponder whether or not they can handle the potential outcomes.  (How do I think LOST will end?  My money’s on the show ending with Hurley finding Bobby Ewing taking a shower.  Sorry, 80s pop culture joke….)

      The book of Acts demonstrates a remarkable development upon the gospel Jesus offered.  The book opens with referencing all of the good that Jesus said and did.  The disciples have been through the journey of belief, finally seeing the fullness of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, testifying to his role as Messiah, the long-awaited Christ.  In his glory, Jesus sends forth these followers to go to the ends of the earth, to go to places familiar and unfamiliar, places near and far.  Unfortunately, the audacious call “to go” is heard yet not readily embraced.  These disciples will be on an adventure that one cannot really believe is all within one book. 

      Edgar Johnson Goodspeed, a leading American Baptist biblical scholar decades ago, observed that the Book of Acts serves as a most remarkable story.  Where else, he asks,

within eighty pages, will be found such a varied series of exciting events—trials, riots, persecutions, escapes, martyrdoms, voyages, shipwrecks, rescues—set in that amazing panorama of the ancient world—Jerusalem, Antioch, Philippi, Corinth, Athens, Ephesus, Rome?  And such scenery and settings—temples, courts, prisons, deserts, ships, barracks, theaters?  Has any opera [and today we would add in “film”, “graphic novel”, TV drama] such variety?  A bewildering range of scenes and actions (and of speeches) passes before the eye of the historian.  And in all of them he sees the providential hand that has made and guided this great movement for the salvation of [human]kind.” 

The Ascension might seem like “the end” to the disciples, who expected Jesus to remain with them, yet this “ending” was the start of a “beginning”.  The disciples dwell on the type of questions that miss the point of that which Jesus has been preparing them.  They ask Jesus if he is about to restore the fortunes of Israel.  They have been learning from Jesus throughout his ministry and now after his resurrection.  They have seen his rejection of the powers of Empire and Temple alike, yet they still wonder if “the kingdom” he is heralding is like the kingdoms of the world.  As for himself, Jesus resists even at the heights of glory as the Resurrected Son of God preparing now to ascend to the right hand of God, or as the later Apostles Creed would put confess as part of “the” faith:

He ascended into heaven,
            and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty;
            from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead.

Jesus has the power to do as he pleases, yet instead of setting up a powerbase, he sends out his followers to live a contrary way through this world.  A little further into the narrative, after the day of Pentecost, the increasing band of believers celebrate their rapid growth as thousands are said to come to belief and are baptized.  While the faith spreads across the Roman Empire, the disciples live out an ethic that is often called the definitive New Testament definition of the people called “Church”:

They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. ⁴³Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. ⁴⁴All who believed were together and had all things in common; ⁴⁵they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. ⁴⁶Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, ⁴⁷praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.

             Upon this way of life, the followers of Jesus have been learning how to live in this world while waiting for the day of Jesus’ return.  Instead of a “narrative dead end”, the continuation of the story of Jesus and the gospel takes on a new form, with people breaking bread, teaching the faith, and living the gospel in places so far flung that another New Testament writer would call it going “to the ends of the earth” with the gospel. 

            The book of Acts is the best sort of “sequel” to the story of Jesus. Acts is indeed “a sequel”, the second part of a two-part narrative began by the author of the gospel of Luke. Unlike most Hollywood film sequels, this one actually works and is pretty good.  (Watch Star Trek V and you’ll understand what a bad sequel looks like.)  The story of Acts asks the ongoing question that Jesus plants in his follower’s minds before he ascends:  will you be my witnesses?   The book of Acts tells of the witnessing Church, those who live out the faith, share the faith, and in some cases, suffer for the faith.  (It is a perennially sobering note for the reader to learn that the Greek word for “witness” is also the same word for “martyr”.)

       
            The Ascension is a great story for the church to tell.  Sometimes it might even be a story that the church tells to “tell on itself”.  We can be just like those disciples at the outset of the narrative, thinking that the end is at hand, when the beginning is just starting up.  We might cast ourselves in the role of the disciples who err on the side of looking up, waiting and wondering, who need the “two men in white” (aka angels) to turn up and prompt us to get with the work Jesus entrusted us to do.

            Truthfully, the story of Acts, the narrative of “what happened after Jesus ascended”, is a story with some room for expansion and further development.  In fact, the last word of the book of Acts is delightfully challenging.  The last word is “unhindered”, or “hindered not” to keep with the Greek text.  Paul, once a persecutor of the Church, has become one of the faith’s most notable advocates.  He is now traveling across the world, preaching the word and witnessing to the gospel. Acts finishes the narrative with Paul in the full swing of his work, despite the threats and hardship.  Paul proclaims “the kingdom of God and [is] teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ with all boldness and without hindrance.”

            “Hindered not” is a remarkable word to round out a narrative that began with a group of folks confused and staring up into the sky thinking that there was not much left to say now that Jesus has ascended.  The story is not over--it’s just gotten underway!  The faith we confess in Christ is not remembering a story long past.  We are invited to continue the narrative as the Church that awaits and proclaims the One who is surely coming again.

Welcoming the Word (John 1:10-18)

Reading the Bible, we encounter words weaving together the stories of God and humanity.  Sometimes, these words puzzle, delight, disturb, empower.  In these stories, we learn of God’s abiding love and presence within human history, particularly in times of great challenge and adversity.

 In John’s gospel, as the gospel writer is seeking a way to introduce the story of Jesus, he harkens back to one of the earliest stories: the creation narrative of Genesis.  This gospel begins with “In the beginning was the Word”, meaning before creation, before there was a concept of “before”, the Word “was”.   The story of Jesus, the good news about his life, death, and resurrection, is interwoven into the story of the One who brought all of Creation into existence.  John’s gospel develops the story further, speaking of how the Word became “flesh”, bringing God into the midst of the world.  In this story of John’s gospel, we will behold the very power of the universe, voluntarily taking the form of humanity, coming down to dwell among us.  Something familiar yet powerfully new is taking place in this gospel story.

        Words....  When I’m on the road, sometimes, people ask what I do.  Sometimes I just want to be “off the clock”, so I say, “My trade is in words.”  Oh really? They say.  What do you write?  Then I sheepishly have to say, “Sermons.” 

        Words…. Each week, I chase after dozens of words, trying to coral and cajole a few together to make a point, honing them into sentences and paragraphs.  Sometimes, late at night, I have been known to plead with them to make it onto the page sitting there blank before me.  Some weeks, I find the words just show up, moving from mind to keyboard to printed page to pulpit.  Other weeks, I feel like that hapless babysitter in The Incredibles film:  no matter what I do, the unruly child called “just the right word I was looking for” just keeps getting more and more difficult to get a handle on it.  A book written by clergywomen on the art of preaching has likened writing the sermon as similar to birthing.

        Words…. Words can bear a much needed moment of truth and grace.  Words can be used as blunt instruments, spoken in moments of frustration or rage.  However we use words, they are best used with due care and consideration.  Words well used create all manner of good. 

        A few years back, the Benedictine monks of St. John’s Abbey in Minnesota commissioned a Bible to be designed and lettered by hand, a fascinating “old school” approach to creating a Bible.  The “St John’s Bible” is laden with beautiful illustrations, including a frontispiece for each gospel.  The St John’s Bible introduces John’s gospel with the image of a human form emerging from a swirl of the DNA helix and Greek and Hebrew letters, the languages of the Christian canon of scripture.  It is an artistic way of communicating the story, reveling in the generative power of John’s language.  In this passage of scripture, the strands of humanity’s encounters with God, our sins and God’s tireless effort to redeem us, weave together anew.  In this story, the story of Jesus, we learn of the Word that came down and dwelled among us.

        As I read John’s gospel, I often find myself stopping in the midst of the rich language of the opening chapter and just reveling in the words.  I recall the fond memory of Christmas Eve services from my own upbringing when the minister read the Prologue of John as the candles were lit around the sanctuary.  (You will note this tradition made an impression on myself, as I carry it on in my own worship planning.)  The reading builds up from the ethereal language to a highpoint in verse 14:

        And the Word became flesh and lived among us,

                        And we have seen his glory,

                                        The glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

        A few notes on the Greek text of John help at this point:  The imagery is not merely Jesus becoming a man.  The text is more fulsome, claiming the Word became part of what it means to be human.  Jesus did not excuse himself from the grace nor the grit of human life, a body prone to aches and pain, capable of such much less.  The Word becomes fragile flesh and does not live above but among, in the midst, of us, the whole lot of humanity. 

        The Greek text also uses a phrase that few English translations pick up:  the Word became flesh, and (the Greek says) pitched his tent.  It is such an interesting image:  the great God above becomes a common person, somebody who lives as neighbor and fellow journeyer along life’s path.  From time to time, you will spot bulletin cover art provided by a Brazilian Catholic artist who provides free art for churches based on the weekly gospel readings.  (Ah! The global church enriches us!  Vermont Baptists benefit from the art of a Brazilian Catholic!)  This particular week’s image is quite interesting:  Jesus is imaged in the midst of a field of tents, sitting on the ground side by side with another person, having what appears to be a heart-to-heart type conversation.  As the Word, God has the power to create all we know.  As the Word made flesh, Jesus shares life with the created. 

                As John’s gospel unfolds, we see the prologue’s lament that the Word came to the world yet the world did not know him.  He moves among us, yet he is more often rejected, notably by the religious leaders of the day.  Jesus chooses a less expected path, in the midst of the common people, offering his teachings and performing his signs and miracles in veritable obscurity.  Jesus seeks not fame and recognition.  The glory of God shines in the least likely of places, yet in those places, the gospel writer claims the shadows overtaking the world are cast away by the light of Jesus.

                Words…. Christians use quite a few terms to describe Jesus: “Savior”, “the second Person of the Trinity”, “son of God”, Emmanuel, King, Servant, Messiah, and the list goes on.  The terms are spoken out of religious devotion and explored by biblical and theological scholars.  Our words for God are our ways as Christians to identify who we are and the ways we believe. 

                Words…. Jesus gave us words to live by, found in gospel narratives in the form of parables, sayings, and the conversations he engaged in with disciples, the crowds, the marginalized, the authorities.  In these words called “gospel”, we are given words that guide us through life, help us know ourselves better by reading them and taking these words to heart (sometimes in the process engaging in a struggle of conscience to sort them out in the context of our own life and times). 

                Words…. Amazingly, God did not choose to remain aloof or silent up in the heavens above.  Such texts as the prologue to John serve as a counter-witness to those times of despair and doubt when we believe God does not hear us, remember us, or stay with us.  In our present day with a rising number within society self-identifying as “no religious identity” or “not religious or spiritual”, being able to share these sort of texts becomes that much more important. 

Words…. Our texts form us to be a people who believe with heart and mind God is with this world.  We believe God became flesh and dwelled among us.  In turn, we cannot live aloof from the world or refrain from being in the midst of the crosswalks of life.   To follow Christ means to follow him into the midst of the world and dwell there especially in those places we would not go.

Words…. Christ comes among us, speaking the words of life abundant.  Can we stop and listen, hearing the word in our lives?  Can we welcome the Word into our midst?