I Am Saul: A Sermon for 5 Easter

The story of Stephen is nothing short of remarkable. Before Stephen became the very first Christian martyr, he – along with six others – became one of the very first Christian deacons. Luke tells us that the apostles were so busy taking care of the widows of their community that they were neglecting their vocation of preaching and prayer. So, they appointed seven “men of good standing, full of Spirit and of wisdom,” to serve as deacons of the church. These deacons had a specific calling to care for the sick, elderly, and poor. That way, the apostles could go about their work of preaching, teaching, and spreading the Gospel. Isn’t it ironic then, that the longest sermon in all of the New Testament was preached by none other than “Deacon” Stephen… right after he was ordained to serve as a pastoral caregiver. 

But Stephen’s first sermon didn’t go so well…so much so that it ended up being his last. It stirred up the faithful, God-loving, religious folks into such a fury that that they ended up dragging Stephen out of town and stoning him to death. All this was over a truth-telling sermon preached by someone who wasn’t even supposed to be preaching in the first place. 

Throughout the history of the Church, it seems like more than anything, Stephen’s martyrdom has served as a badge of honor for Stephen - albeit a well-deserved one – as well as a model for the faithful imitation of Christ. And that makes sense, because we encounter a Stephen who has been so “conformed to Christ”… so “caught up in the life of Christ”[1] that he faithfully, courageously, and even joyfully died for what he believed to be true. And that is a profound thing for us to consider for our own lives. Yes, our primary baptismal calling is to be imitators of Christ – so that “the pattern of Christ’s life and the living reality of Christ are reproduced in the Church’s members.”[2] And Stephen indeed fulfilled that calling, so much so that his death – even his last words – almost exactly mirrors Christ’s death on the cross. 

But if we’re not careful, we run the risk of overly spiritualizing – even glamorizing – Stephen’s horrific death. And Luke doesn’t really help us with this. He tells us that as Stephen was being brutally murdered by a mob, his face was shining and he was filled with the Holy Spirit – so much so that the last words out of his mouth were, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” So the first thing that we feel when we hear today’s lesson is likely to be inspiration, not horror. And so the sermons that follow are usually about how we should strive to emulate Stephen, just as he emulated Christ. We should be bold in our faith, and not be afraid to proclaim the truth, no matter what the consequences. Oftentimes the actual takeaway is that Stephen – and all the Christian martyrs who followed – were called to a higher calling than most of us cannot emulate. We simply aren't as faithful and courageous as Stephen, and so we give thanks for the witness of Stephen and all other martyrs, while we pray for forgiveness for how we fall short of our calling to imitate Christ.

 But rarely do I hear sermons on this day that focus on the mob. That is likely because we cannot see ourselves in the mob. We may not be as faithful and courageous as Stephen, but we certainly aren't as irrational, bloodthirsty, and horrible as the mob that drug him out of town and stoned him to death for preaching an offensive sermon. Some of us may have participated in petitions, email smear campaigns, or clandestine meetings to have a clergyperson removed, but we would never drag him out of town and kill him. We’re just not as violent and barbaric as people used to be. So we quickly pass over wondering what the mob in today’s lesson might have to teach us. Just as we’ll never be as faithful and courageous as Stephen, we’ll never be as bloodthirsty and barbaric as the mob that murdered him.

But then there is Saul. Luke subtly introduces Saul at the end of today’s lesson – almost as if he is an afterthought. But this ends up being the turning point in the Acts of the Apostles, as Saul’s conversion follows shortly thereafter. But before his dramatic conversion experience on the road to Damascus, Saul was a notorious, and perhaps the most feared persecutor of that first generation of Christians. But in today’s lesson, Saul doesn’t appear to be a part of the mob – at least not one of those actually dragging Stephen out of town or throwing stones on him. Instead, Saul is simply there to watch the coats of those who are engaged in the mob. If Saul were to have said something, it easily could have been, “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t throw a stone.” 

But actually, Saul doesn’t say anything - and that is how I am able to connect with our lesson today. I am not as faithful and courageous as Stephen, though I pray that I might become more so as I strive to imitate Christ. I am not as irrational and barbaric as those in the mob, and I pray that I’ll never fall prey to the lack of personal accountability that comes with the “mob mentality.” But sadly, like Saul, I do stand by and keep my mouth shut – far too often. And sometimes, keeping my mouth shut is simply the right thing to do. Lord knows we have enough mediums where people can air their opinions these days – social media, podcasts, blogs, you name it. It is easier now than ever before to broadcast yourself and your opinion, and quite frankly I find it tiresome. 

But I can’t help but to draw a connection between today’s story of the murder of Stephen by a fearful, angry mob and the murder of Ahmaud Aubrey – an African American - by two fearful, angry white men in Brunswick, Georgia last February. And in an effort to not be like Saul, rather than standing by and not saying anything at all, I could comment on how sad this situation is, and wonder why folks do horrible things like that, and ask that we pray for all involved, and leave it at that. And that wouldn’t be terrible… at least I acknowledged it. 

But as I said before, I don’t think today’s lesson from Acts is primarily about the heroism of Stephen or the wickedness of the mob. Heroes and villains are easy to identify – comic books and Hollywood have helped to solidify the “black and white” depiction of good and evil. 

I believe that today’s story is about the subtle-yet-equally-evil sin of silence and apathy that infected Saul on that day. And that same sin infects so many of us who are in a position of power and privilege, myself being a prime example. So I think today’s lesson is calling us to explore how we might actually relate more to Saul than Stephen or the mob that killed him. As such, I think today’s lesson is calling us to explore our tendency to stand by silently and apathetically in the face of injustice.

The sins of racism and hate are what caused the murder of Ahmaud Arbery. But it was the sins of silence and apathy that allowed the murder of Ahmaud Arbery to go relatively unnoticed in the national news for several months. And I believe that it is the sins of silence and apathy that allow the sin of racism to continue to be so prevalent in our country today. 

 At the time of the murder, the two suspects were questioned and released, and no charges were filed. But Arbery’s mother and others wouldn’t let it rest, and demanded justice for Ahmaud. But they were initially met with silence and apathy. Finally, the Georgia Bureau of Investigation got involved once corruption was suspected, and the two suspects have now been arrested. 

Of course it would be easy to say that this was a tragic event, the GBI is now handling it, justice will hopefully be served, and leave it at that. And we could also say that church is not the place to discuss matters like this. I think that is likely how most Episcopalians feel, and I understand that. And at some level, I feel that way too. The fact is, I’m a lousy prophet. I like being liked way too much! 

But the truth is, most of us don’t like for our preachers to discuss topics that might make us feel uncomfortable, or ones that might be divisive. Most of us prefer a pastoral sermon to a prophetic one. This uneasiness with discomfort lies deep within our DNA as Episcopalians. But if talking about the murder of Ahmaud Arbery is too divisive or uncomfortable for us, what does that say about us?

I am not seeking to be a prophet or a martyr. As I said before, I’m lousy at both. What I amseeking to do is to try to faithfully engage our scripture lesson for today. I am trying to help us make sense out of the story of the martyrdom of Stephen – a story that I have always had a difficult time connecting with. I struggle to connect with it because I’ll never be as faithful and courageous as Stephen and I’ll hopefully never be as violent and barbaric as the mob that murdered him. I’m not that good and I’m not that bad.

But I am like Saul, who stood by silently when Stephen was being killed. No, I have never literally been standing around when a person with little power is being killed by persons with a lot of power. But as long as we live in a country where it is still not safe for black men to jog through a predominantly white neighborhood, and I say or do nothing, I am Saul. As long as we live in a country where African American male teenagers are caught in a school to prison pipeline, and I say or do nothing, I am Saul. 

I must admit, I have found it to be much more difficult to “do something about it” since moving here to Santa Rosa Beach. When I lived in Atlanta, I worshipped in a mixed-race church, and served as a chaplain for an inner-city summer camp. When Emily and I lived in Baltimore and Jacksonville, we were involved in community organizing efforts that allowed us to be in relationship and partnerships with predominantly African American colleagues and churches. But there isn’t that sort of diversity here in Santa Rosa Beach. There isn’t a local black neighborhood, black school, or black church where I can go and seek meaningful relationships and partnerships.

So I come to you today with as many or more questions than I do answers. How might I actively participate in God’s desire for us to reconcile the chasm that remains between the black and white communities in our country? How might we as church make a difference? How on earth can we as God’s children – red, yellow, black, and white  - live in harmony with one another? And how can our churches help?

I speak to you today simultaneously aware of and oftentimes completely oblivious of my privilege as an educated white male, and what it affords me in this country. And I come to you as someone who is broken by the human condition of sin as well as my own personal sins. I am not Stephen. And I am not the mob. But I am Saul.  

But the good news is that the Saul that we encounter in today’s lesson isn’t the last that we will hear of Saul. God wasn’t close to being finished with him on that day when Stephen was martyred. After today’s story, Saul heads to Damascus to oversee the persecution of the Christian community there. But on his way, he has a profound, life-changing encounter with the living Christ. Saul the notorious persecutor of Christians became Paul, perhaps the greatest Christian evangelist and theologian of all time. If God can do that with Saul, imagine what he can do with us. I am Saul. Lord, help me to be Paul.

[1] Christian Century Magazine

[2] The Living Church Magazine