Power and Transformation

Power and Transformation -- a sermon

POWER AND TRANSFORMATION

A sermon by Kent Winters-Hazelton
October 13, 2002
Twenty-eighth Sunday of Ordinary Time.

[10-15-02]

Acts 4:1-22

Our story this morning from Acts 4 is about a collision of two sources of power. On the one side stand the priestly class of Israel representing the old way, the traditional source of power and authority in Jerusalem at the time of Jesus. On the other side was Peter and John, two ordinary men, fishermen by trade, who represented a great new way of understanding the way the world worked, a new way to seeing power and authority; God's way.

Luke, in his description of this event, leaves nothing to the imagination. Like an indictment handed down by a Grand Jury, all the names are here. Annas, Caiaphas and Jonathan, these were the most powerful men in all of the nation, the rulers of the political, religious and social order. They were the aristocracy, the nobility, the brightest and the best; they represented the best educated and the most connected people in town.

The indictment includes the whole operational structure of the temple, including the Captain of the Temple who was Chief Executive Officer, responsible for its security and administration. And then there were the Sadducees, the elite group of priests who dominated the Jewish religion in the first half of the 1st Century. They, along with the High Priests, ran the town. And finally there was the Sanhedrin, the Supreme Court of Judaism. It is made up the most powerful voices in Jerusalem.

Peter and John faced a formidable force allied against them. This confrontation was with the ruling class of 1st century Judaism, the political and religious powers, the power of the institution and the judicial power. It is very clear that this collection of the elite had a problem with Peter and John.

This cabal saw in Jesus a threat to their power. They thought they had dealt with it. Jesus was dead -- put to death in the worst possible manner: crucified for treason and hailed as a common criminal. A disgrace in the eyes of the socially and politically well-connected.

But now these two, Peter and John, two of his followers, were proclaiming that Jesus was alive and that his movement was more active than ever. This, they reasoned, had to end. And so they had Peter and John arrested and they put them on trial. In other words, what Peter and John said was perceived as such a threat that there was no time for the small claims court and a lengthy process of appeals. They needed to stamp this out now. Why? Why this rush to judgment?

The trial began with a question: "By what power or by what name did you do this?" That is the issue isn't it? By what power or authority do you act? Whenever a subversive way of looking at the world emerges, those people in authority try to suppress it first by questioning its authority. "How dare you challenge us?," is the implied threat of the Sanhedrin.

Peter replied, "This was done in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, the very cornerstone of a whole new reality, that was rejected by you."

Well, that should have bought them great trouble with the authorities. But this was no easy trial. As much as the Sanhedrin wanted to rule against Peter and John, they faced a huge problem. It was the man who was lame from birth. The couldn't get over the fact that he could walk! They all knew him for he was in the temple grounds each day, begging for money. And now he stood before them, healed, able to walk, a symbol of the new power of Jesus.

A collision of two sources of power; the way things have always been and the new reality of God's way.

It is too bad, isn't it, that the church all too often misses the point of this encounter and ends up siding with the pillars and power of society rather than with God's new reality? One summer I read the biographies of three leaders of the Protestant Church in the 1950's; Geoffrey Oxham was the Methodist Bishop of Washington, Reinhold Neibuhr was the Professor of Theology at Union Theological Seminary, and Eugene Carson Blake was the Stated Clerk of the Presbyterian Church. At any given time during the 50's, any one of these men could have been described as the most important Protestant leader in America. I was struck by the fact that they were frequently called to the White House to advise the President on policy. It is great when you have that clout and connections.

One of the ways the Presbyterian Church has been identified over the decades has been the Republican Party at prayer. I doubt we got that nickname for our bold pronouncements on global economic justice.

Do you remember Martin Luther King's Letter from a Birmingham Jail? It is probably the most important statement of religious justice in modern American society. And to whom was it written? To the white members of the Birmingham clergy who urged caution in the process of equal rights for African Americans in Alabama in the 1960's. "Don't upset the status quo," they seemed to say. "Don't undercut our connections with the sources of power."

Let me bring this a little bit closer to home. I face a great temptation as a pastor. At times I fear to speak to controversial issues for fear of upsetting members of the congregation. This is particularly true during the season when we ask members of the church for their stewardship gifts for the coming year.

But the way of Jesus does not make us comfortable, nor does it call us to side with the people of power. Jesus calls us to a new way of imagining the world. It is a way that frightens those with power.

Now we as a nation come to a time when we need to imagine a better way of dealing with the problem posed by Saddam Hussein. The two houses of Congress have given the President the power to launch a pre-emptive, unilateral attack against Iraq. This action would be in violation of the United Nations Charter, any understanding of the Just War theory of Christian ethics, and the collected history of the people of the United States of America.

And we are to do this on the basis of a suspicion.

I remember one year ago, when the pundits and analysts were trying to point the finger of blame for 9/11. One commentator said that 9/11 was not a failure of intelligence, it was a failure of imagination. No one could imagine such a horrific action could ever take place.

My fear today is that we are exhibiting the same lack of imagination as we prepare for war. Somehow we believe that engaging in one more cycle of violence will finally end the cycle of violence. Have we not learned? Have we no other way to think about these things? Why must we cling to the old ways of power and war when they have failed humankind for hundreds and hundreds of years? How many more regime changes will we have to make before the world is the way we like it?

There was a cartoon in the newspaper this week. It had a character on his knees praying. He said, " . . . And as the spokesman for the meek, I'd like to reiterate that we very much look forward to inheriting the earth. If that's still cool with you."

To be meek is still cool with God. God's way has not changed. God has always and continues to challenge the destructive ways by which those in power bring death to God's creation. Rather, God offers a transformative way of life, a life of reconciliation, redemption, of gracious and grateful living. God calls the people of God to break the cycles of violence and to make new life possible.

Many years ago when Israel and Egypt were still enemies, but while peace talks were going on, the Prime Minister of Israel Golda Meir and the President of Egypt Anwar Sadat were invited to appear on Nightline. As their debate went back and forth they said many harsh things. Sadat at one point called Meir a "mean old lady."

As the interview drew to a close, Meir pulled out a small package that she had held on her lap. She handed it to the Egyptian President and said, simply, "I understand that your first grand child was born this past week. I have brought you this gift for your grandchild." Sadat's chin visibly trembled as he reached out to take the gift from the one he had called mean.

A gift from a grandmother to a grandfather. A simple gesture; a human gesture; one that transformed the moment, one with the eye of imagination to break the cycle of violence and begin to usher in a new vision of our reality.

The way of God is transformative and calls us to seek ways to break the cycle of power and violence.

As our nation prepares for this war, may God have mercy upon us and on the people of Iraq.