Rev. Debra McKnight's Sermon
June 14, 2020
Saul is breathing threats of murder and violence against the followers of The Way, which is to say the folks who are following Jesus. They are a reform movement, still connected to Judaism; they are not the only reform movement, but they are the ones Saul becomes zealous to destroy. He has permission from the Chief Priest and he uses both his privilege as a Roman, as well as his connections as a Jewish leader to terrorize folks. This is where we are in the book of Acts and I wonder if it might be where we are today. Saul is caught in fear of change, fear of this new community, bent on destruction, until he changes. Saul becomes Paul, he goes blind for three days and, when the scales fall from his eyes, he changes everything. How? How does he go from persecutor to persecuted, from oppressor to oppressed, from power over to power with? How do we change today?
This moment in our history, this season of struggle and unrest, this season of uncovering our communal failures reminds me, oddly enough of Augustine. He writes as the sun is setting on the Roman Empire. It is coming to a close, its power by force, its disregard for life at every level, and its peace by the swords is ending in chaos. This is the backdrop of his life. In the City of God he writes, “Is it reasonable, is it sensible to boast of the extent and grander of empire, when you cannot show that men lived in happiness, as they passed their lives amid the horrors of war, the shedding of men’s blood-whether the blood of enemies or fellow citizens-under the shadow of fear and amid the terror of ruthless ambition? The only joy to be attained had the fragile brilliance of glass, a joy outweighed by the fear that it may be shattered in a moment” (Book IV, Chapter 3).
He speaks to the purpose of community and questions the empire’s successes - community that connects and empowers and invites life abundant should be the purpose for organizing community. In the next chapter, this Church Father of Hippo, writing from North Africa will outright compare Emperors and Kings to gangs and pirates. Today perhaps he would use the word terrorist. “Remove Justice, and what are kingdoms but gangs of criminals on a large scale? What are criminal gangs but petty kingdoms” (Book IV, Chapter 4). He connects power with justice; power without justice is ambition, it is purposeless, it is terror. What would he speak to us yet today? He says, “It is a wicked prayer to ask to have someone to hate or to fear, so that he may be someone to conquer” (Book IV, Chapter 13).
The power we possess together and how we possess it together is essential. It must be bound to justice to have meaning. We see written large before us how much we struggle with power. And we won’t be in a world without power; we need it to organize. We want to organize a faith community and so we hire a pastor. We want someone to organize our streets and open the pools and manage our contracts so we elect folks, like a mayor and hire folks and they work towards the purpose of community. We hope they will work for the greater good. Power when it is deployed well brings justice, invites connection, builds people up and honors their gifts. It strengthens rather than diminishes life. Real power shows restraint. Real power shows wisdom and intention about its deployment. Power without restraint, makes us bullies.
We see this when the most powerful countries and the most powerful people misuse their power. When The President speaks of “dominating the streets” or removes peaceful protesters for a photo in front of a church. We see it when careless remarks at the world, the largest microphone, means folks ingest cleaning products or unvetted theories become news. We see it when law enforcement, armed from head to toe push a 75 year old man to the ground. Power requires restraint. Its misuse is a violence against the very fabric of our community. Every system we look to asks us to reform. When we deploy our power having the most money, the most might, the biggest voice and the most guns, and it is disconnected from justice without a care for connection, it makes us bullies. We have a problem with power at every level. We see it in homes when parents and care givers offer hurt and harm by their words or hands. We see it as cycles of domestic and sexual violence just keep turning. We see power abused in the classroom and in the boardroom. We see it when we try to control certain bodies, whether it is access to health care for folks who are transgender or folks who need access to their reproductive rights. We struggle with power and we are asked if our struggle will require us to grow or if we will sunset like empires before.
Reform is hard. Nobody wants to do it. We don’t do it until we have to and we need to do it in every system around us. In our justice system, our education systems, our healthcare systems, our corrections systems, our policing systems, and in our church. Every thing must change. We know this. But it takes work and it requires us to be honest about why things are the way they are and what we are afraid of as we change. And if we are going to approach this through the metaphor of “Bad Apples,” well we should want to get very good at extracting bad apples before they rot the entire culture. We should be pros at removing bad apples and we should get better still at nurturing healthy fruit. How do we support healthy leaders, who use wisdom and restraint in their power, who are rooted in the values of our community, seekers of a common good, who make us all better for their work and show compassion?
One space that has aired out for reform is the church universal. Since I’m a pastor, I will start there, but you can imagine it as a metaphor. We have a history of clergy leaders abusing their power and abusing the most vulnerable, children and women. As modern protestants, it might be convenient to say, “Oh it’s that other denomination over there…you know the one…it’s not us”. But if we are honest and if we actually care about the heart of our work and the values that Jesus taught, we will look inward and figure out where we bring harm. We will look at what makes healthy leaders and we will get good at removing a bad apple. We do this, or we are trying to. Do I love participating in it? Do I love going to extra trainings on boundaries? To be honest, I often do not. Do I think my male peers should have to pay for my training just based on statistics?…well, I kind of do. But, I go. And every time I go, I am reminded of how to help, how to look for red flags, how to be mindful in our local systems and how to support survivors. Every time I am reminded how much more we need to change as a church, how we fail to talk about healthy sexual expression over and over. We don’t talk about healthy sexual ethics or healthy boundaries and unhealthy boundaries, or red flags or cycles of violence; it is easier to make when you can have sex a black and white answer, and we choose easy. We choose easy to the benefit of no one. We fail over and over again.
This week I was prepared to participate in the start of a church trial and it wasn’t because we believed love is love and some zealous folks brought me up on charges. It was the trial because women spoke their stories of harassment and stalking, hurt and fear to myself and another clergy woman. His history was documented already and the cycle looked like it was continuing. Every time a pastor or priest is in the news for abusing their power, they diminish the work of the church. Every time it elevates skeptics and it makes the work that should be life-giving that much more challenging. I spend most of my time telling folks what I am not, what we are not. I am a pastor, but I like gay people. I’m a pastor, but we march in pride parades. I’m a pastor, but I don’t think women should be silent in church. I’m a pastor, and we believe in science. I’m a pastor, but not that kind of pastor.
So it grieves me every time someone diminishes the world of the church with their greed, ambition, selfishness, and predatory behavior. This week in preparation, I was one of the only witnesses because the fear in theses cycles of violence is so great. Preparing for this trial took time, it took energy, it took money. I practiced. I practiced with an attorney and that’s just the end of the work. There was deep preparation and I didn’t always want to do it, but when I heard a young woman say, “I thought he was nice because he was a pastor,” I was all in for this Bad Apple removal project. In the end, there wasn’t a trial; he surrendered his credentials and that’s that. Reform is hard work and, if we fail to participate every time a leader abuses power, they diminish the very heart of our work. If we can not stand up to make change within our own systems, then there is no purpose to the work that rests ahead.
Reform is hard and uneasy. No one wants to do it, but we are called. So when we hear Me Too and it makes us feel uneasy, we need to ask why are we afraid. When we hear Black Lives Matter and we feel worries, we need to ask why are we afraid, why is that hard for me to say? And we need to go deep into our heart. Why are we afraid? Fear drives us into ugly spaces.
Fear is at the very heart of the story of Saul becoming Paul. He is breathing murder and threats against the people who follow Jesus. They are not the only reform movement, but they are at the top of his list of problems. This reform movement is ruining something he liked just the way it was. So he uses his power as a leader with in the Jewish community to get the Chief Priests permission and his privilege as a Roman citizen to travel and bring people bound. He is terrorizing folks who follow Jesus and he is sort of famous for it. Then he is overwhelmed by something new, a voice he names as Jesus says, “why are you persecuting me?” For three days, he sits in this space of blindness, in darkness. The Voice he attributes to Jesus is direct, more direct than usual…you will be told. His companions bring him to Damascus and he waits. This spirited voice shows up to a man named Ananias and give him one of the worst jobs in early Christianity…Go Talk to Saul. Rightly hesitant, Ananias must wonder if this will lead to his own death, to confront the number one oppressor. Ananias enters this dangerous space of trial and uncertainty. He goes where he never imagined he would go to talk to one he must have considered a monster. And everything changes. The narrative does not end in Ananias bound, but rather Saul unbound, something like scales fall from Saul’s eyes. Saul is so changed he changes his name to Paul. He learns and he listens and soon he is off using all of his gifts and privilege for preaching on the very theology he once considered an enemy.
How will we confront our fears? How will we sit in the discomfort and darkness? What will it look like when the scales fall from our eyes? May we join Paul in letting go of the fear and anger and becoming new. May we join him in repentance and reform, a way of power with rather than power over, a way of transformation, deploying power for compassion and love.
May we have the courage. Amen.
Rev. Debra McKnight
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