Delivered 18 April, 2010
by Rev Dr John Evans
Acts 9:1-6, (7-20) •
Psalm 30 •
Revelation 5:11-14 •
John 21:1-19
There are some media images which are just seared into our mind. Mine come form the Vietnam war, or as the Vietnamese say, the American war. I think you know the ones: the young girl, naked and screaming in pain fleeing a napalm attack. The other was the summary execution in a street of Saigon of a Vietcong, by the Saigon Police chief. There are others we now can add to: a plane flying into one of the twin towers in New York, a lone protester standing in front of a tank in Tiamen Square Beijing. . . . or perhaps just the standard fare of any nightly news bulletin of violence and destruction on a grand scale, or on a local scale of a bashing, a stabbing or glassing.
Violence and its main driver hate – is all around us.
I believe I have shared with you before my amazement since moving to Carlton of its violence. I have even kept the brick that was thrown at me at close quarters. We tend to play it down by qualifying it with words, concepts like “drunken” or “drug fuelled” violence – as if that somehow makes it all right. It would seem to me it just introduces an added dimension to the problem. As I have suggested this violence usually has a cause – hate. Hate because of difference – they are ethnically different, they are gay, they are of a different religion. I hate the other because of my own insecurity or their perceived dominance or threat to who I am.
Hatred, the power of hate is driving violence and conflicts and atrocities in our world today. We still have our national disputes – disputes between nation states – but we seem to be able to handle them reasonable well: it is the fanaticism of ethnic, tribal and religious, and occasionally political hatred which drives contemporary violence which the world has troubling in handling. The recent conference in Washington about nuclear security was really about this sort of violence, and the possibility that disaffected and fanatical groups will get hold of nuclear weapons.
Hate destroys. It consumes the hater and does violence to the hated. It is a power, it is demonic – it is not of God. And hate can induce an equal response in those who are hated. Vengeance becomes the mindset; there is then a spiral into the abyss.
Saul of Tarsus hated. He hated we a vengeance. The readings from Acts 8, the chapter before our reading today of his “road to Damascus” experience, shows the level and the intensity of his hatred. He stood by approvingly at the stoning of Stephen; and then lead the campaign against this new sect within Judaism – here in our readings called the people of the Way. As the book of Acts succinctly records, the “the church in Jerusalem suffered terribly”. One can only surmise why Saul hated these early followers of Jesus. Was it that these people of the Way were too successful; perhaps they had something that he actually longed for in his faith – excitement, energy a new purpose. Perhaps it was that this new sect involved non Jews. It was really an ethnic purity issue. Stephen after all was not a Jew. Perhaps it was a class thing. He was highly educated, certainly highly educated in the faith; and the leadership of this new movement were just ordinary country folk from Galilee. They were not patrician like himself. Saul was the sort of person who could have easily planted a car bomb at Peter’s house.
The story of the conversion of Saul has much to inform us as we look at hatred and its consequential violence in our world today.
Now this very famous “road to Damascus experience” of Saul is usually seen as the model for all conversion experiences. It has even entered our common language. All sorts of people have a “road to Damascus experience”: a moment of blinding insight – a conversion from being a persecutor of Christian faith to being one of its greatest, if not greatest, advocate. This is THE great conversion. A model, an inspiration for all sorts of missionary endeavours. An so we could spend time looking at this story, and some of its more challenging features – the blinding light, audible voices, the question of Saul –“who are you Lord?” And the reply “I am Jesus whom you are persecuting.” And there are things to be learned here.
However, the hero in this story, in my mind is Ananias – a person of the Way who lived in Damascus. His story I think is simply the story of the Easter gospel and how we are to respond to hatred and violence within our community. His role is so often forgotten; however, I would like to suggest it is Ananias who actually converts Paul and shows the power of the living crucified Christ in the face of the power of hate and vengeance.
There are of course two Ananias’ in the book of Acts. Ananias means “God is merciful”. The first one, we read about in Chapter 5. This Ananias, along with his wife Sapphrira, sold property, but did not hand it all over to the common pool of property of the early followers of Jesus. He was challenged by the apostles and, as we know fell down dead. Our Ananias however, gains the reputation of being devout and faithful, and later in the book being much lauded by Paul himself. So as a subplot we have here an interplay of these two lives to remind us that God’s merciful response is related to our understanding of our discipleship and faithfulness.
And it was this discipleship on which I wish to focus.
Ananias - this follower of Jesus in Damascus - also has a vision. A strange vision. He is to go to see Saul and place his hands upon him. He is to restore his sight after this blinding light he has just experienced. But here is the heroic bit, the courage, the power of love – the faithfulness of Ananias (unlike the other one). Ananias actually knew who Saul was, and what his reputation was like. Ananias says, in response to his vision: “a lot of people have told me about this man, how much evil he has done to his saints in Jerusalem; and here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who invoke your name.” (9:13-14)
Would you visit a known Islamic terrorist? Would you seek out a Taliban cleric or an al Qu’ida sympathiser . . . let alone a person with whom you strongly disagree.
But even more amazingly would you go and visit a terrorist, for the purpose of commissioning this terrorist to spread the gospel of peace and new life?
What converted Paul?
Yes obviously the blinding light was significant. No doubt the blinding light of insight can affect us, and indeed many people, as they purposefully strive for Damascus. Yes all this killing and fear is not working – we are just spiralling into ever increasing hatred and fear. I am being consumed by it, my opponents are being consumed by it – there is more to life. I have had enough. Yes, we all will have blinding lights: those aha moments. They do not necessarily convert us – perhaps we are left wondering. Well yes – that is unedifying, unhelpful – but what actually should I now do, or believe in? They don’t necessarily convert us to do something about it. Like Paul we can be blinded by the realisation there is no future in the current way: but remain in the dark – for remember Paul remanded literally blind as to what to do. There is that delightful phrase:
“Saul got up from the ground, and though his eyes were open, he could see nothing.” (9:8)
I believe what ultimately converted Paul, was that one of these people whom he was actually persecuting, came in the power of love, to see him. Someone who reasonably could have expected to have been harmed in coming to see him, actually came bringing hope of another way. This converted Saul. He could now see. Ananias did not have to say or do much. His very presence seems to have been significant. Acts is clear – Saul was not converted outside Damascus. It happened somewhere on the street named Straight. When Ananias came – it was then that Saul was baptised and he could again see clearly; or is it he had a new view of the world. And if that was not enough, Paul then stays for a few days with the people, the very people who he set out to persecute. What an amazing scene.
Hatred corrodes and destroys lives, communities and even whole nations. Hatred begats hatred. For the Christian, for the Christian of the Easter faith - this is not God’s way. Vengeance and hate leads to the cross; but the God of Easter gave new life; a new way of living. The power of love overcomes the power of hate. Like Ananaias we are called to be reconcilers and change hatred into new life.
So what does that mean for us today. Do we need to sit down with radical Isalm; perhaps even radical Christianity. Our society certainly is not perfect. It has fallen short of God’s will. Often indeed our self righteousness is the problem. In Afghanisatn it strikes me one has to sit down with Taliban and least dream a future for that nation – that is not based on hatred and violence, and we somewhat naively think a military victory is possible or the way to peace. And do we try to talk with Iran, or North Korea. Terrorism or violence should not condoned. But even there we have to be careful. In the US you may recall a disgruntled citizen recently flew a light plane into a tax office, the Inland Revenue Service. He killed himself and others. Much to the chagrin of the national muslim body in the US, this act has not been called terrorism, or a suicide mission. That term, it would seem, is only reserved for radical muslims who challenge the US way of life.
The story of Ananias and Saul/Paul is a remarkable inspiration for us in endeavouring to be followers of the Way. I guess it will not always have such an outcome – however, here is the challenge. Is there really any other way? Reconciliation is core business of being the church. . .. it should motivate us and be our goal. Reconciliation is the core message of Easter.
Paul much later made these observations:
“If anyone is in Christ they are a new creation: the old has passed away; see everything has become new. All of this is from God, who reconciled us to God’s own self through Christ and has given to us the ministry of reconciliation.” (2 Cor 5:17-18)
Ananias is our model. . . . as has been the case of many other saints like Saint Francis. His prayer is still relevant. So let us sing his prayer:
“Make me, make us a channel of your peace.”
