Sermons

“With Glad and Generous Hearts”

Acts 2:43-47 – Rev. Rebecca Littlejohn

Vista La Mesa Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), La Mesa, California – March 12, 2017

Holy God, be in the speaking and the hearing of these words, that our hearts might be softened and our spirits receptive to the wonder of your abundant love. We pray in Jesus’ name, Amen.

As we move through the season of Lent this year, we are taking a look at what it means to make this journey together, as the Body of Christ. We often think of Lent as a solitary journey, a time when we retreat to our separate prayer closets for reflection and penitent conversation with God. And it is true, as the old song says, that “Jesus walked this lonesome valley” and “he had to walk it be himself.” It is also true “nobody else can walk it for us.” But it is, in fact, not true that “we have to walk it by ourselves.” We don’t have to walk it by ourselves. We can walk it together. When we’re tempted to take our eye off the ball and seek our own physical comfort instead, when we’re tempted to forget that we are God’s beloved children and we don’t need to prove anything to anyone, when we’re tempted to take the easy way out instead of doing things God’s way, we can be there for each other, to remind, to reassure, to re-set our expectations.

But even just being the Body of Christ is not an easy thing. In our divided times, it is so important to remember that we are brought into unity by Christ, despite what things may look like, and that we are called to seek to restore that unity however we can. It is vital to continue proclaiming our belief that each one here has an important gift to offer, something that makes the unity of the Body of Christ richer and more complete. Each one of us must learn to share our gifts, and all of us have to work at accepting the gifts of others. And so today I want to talk about one of the things that I believe most gets in the way of us being the Body of Christ together.

As we get started, I want to thank our Talking Faith class, because our scripture today is one that we used in our practice of lectio divina a few weeks ago. It was one that we sat with every day for a week, opening our hearts to whatever message God might be giving us from these words. And there were many rich gifts there. Some of what you will hear today is influenced by the class’s recollected reflections on that experience of praying scripture.

There is so much packed into this short description of the early church. But mostly today, I just want us to consider the impact of the very first line. “Awe came upon everyone,” it says. “Awe came upon everyone.” How does that hit you? Does it feel pleasant, positive, surprising, unlikely? “Awe came upon everyone?” Every single one? Awe? Really? Is there anyone else here for whom this sentence is hard to relate to? I’ve spent some time in the last couple days thinking about the concept of “awe”. Up at Founders Day at Chapman University these past two days, Michael gave wonderfully informative lectures on the topic of his new book, fear. And you can’t responsibly discuss fear, of course, without noting the appropriate forms of it, foremost of which, in multiple religious traditions including our own, is the fear of God, which is often more helpfully translated “awe”. Awe, the state of humble, overwhelmed wonder in the face of the infinite majesty, eternal love and abundant grace of God, is, as scripture tells us, “the beginning of wisdom.” So it’s a highly suitable state of mind for launching the church. But it seems to be in short supply these days. “Awe came upon everyone,” I read, and the commentator in my mind starts saying things like “Really? Everyone? Awe? Yeah, right.” And so it is that I come to realize I am infected with the most popular sin of our age: cynicism. If the church is the Body of Christ, cynicism is like a wasting disease, hollowing us out from the inside.

It’s not just the first line. A cynic reading Acts 2:43-47 will repeatedly be muttering “yeah, right”. They had all things in common. Yeah, right. They sold their possessions and gave the proceeds to any who had need. Yeah, right. They spent much time together and ate their bread with glad and generous hearts. Yeah, right. The cynic is convinced that someone somewhere in that community was faking, not really sharing all their worldly goods, or pretending to have needs when they didn’t really, or at least grumbling when it was their turn to host dinner, instead of having a glad and generous heart. And because the cynic is convinced these fakers exist, the cynic becomes more interested in finding them and proving the positivity wrong than in hearing the actual point of the passage. Fine, you want to prove those fakers exist? Flip over to chapter five and read about Ananias and Sapphira. Perhaps you’ll find it very satisfying. But I doubt it. Because cynics aren’t really interested in satisfaction, are they?

Let’s come at it another way for a moment. Think for a moment, of someone – a particular someone or just an abstract category of people – that you could call your enemy. Now, I know, we’re Christians and we’re not supposed to have enemies, but I’m guessing none of us have to work too hard to identify someone we could put in that category if only to know who to think about when Jesus talks about how to treat our enemies. So what does Jesus say to do with our enemies? Love them, of course. And what does he say not to do? Hate them. That’s pretty clear. I would argue, though, that even hating our enemies maintains a connection to God, because at least that is a clearly identifiable sin that we can confess and repent of. Cynicism, on the other hand, doesn’t love or hate enemies; it dismisses them. Cynicism is indifferent to enemies, because it’s given up on anything changing or even mattering. Cynicism declares God irrelevant. God’s commands are dismissed. God’s forgiveness is not sought. God’s power to transform is rejected. This is a whole new level of sin. And it is incredibly destructive to the health of the Body of Christ.

So what do we do about it? I know that I am not the only one struggling with cynicism these days. The prayers we shared on Ash Wednesday found many seeking release from cynicism. We live in cynical times. It’s so much easier to dismiss our enemies than to spend all the required energy it takes to hate them, especially when they’re wrong in so many different ways. Cynicism is an escape that lets us out with our arrogance intact.

At this point, I must remind you that I’m not up here speaking as an expert, but rather someone who is fumbling along a spiritual path with maybe just a few more tools than some. Cynicism is a treacherous, insidious beast, and I am as vulnerable as the next person. But I do think we can find some hints about how to counter cynicism in this very passage that brought it to mind. At root, cynicism is rooted in skepticism. If our first impulse is to de-bunk, we are likely not far from falling into the traps of cynicism. Returning to that first verse is instructive here: “Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles.” What if we were to cultivate the capacity to watch for what God is doing in our midst? Even if you don’t subscribe to a conception that has God actively intervening in daily affairs, it is possible to see signs of grace emerging in unlikely places and love transforming situations in unexpected ways, simply by paying closer attention while maintaining a particular state of heart. Reflective prayer is a good way to grow in this practice. If we don’t just pray for things in the future, but spend time in our prayers recalling the events of the day or week where God’s presence was manifest, we begin to see such things more and more clearly. Awe is something that can be cultivated. For that, let us give thanks to God.

As we begin to notice God’s workings more often, we can also develop a stronger awareness of God’s care for ourselves and for all others. If we are cynical about the early church sharing all things in common, perhaps we need to do more sharing. If we begin to notice God’s action, we can be drawn into it. As we remember more and more constantly God’s care for each person, that care rubs off on us. We care for others because God loves them, even if we don’t yet love them ourselves. As we grow in love, we grow in generosity. We grow in our capacity to appreciate the things about others that originally turned us off. Jesus is right when he warned us that where we put our treasure, our hearts will follow. If we share with others because we know God loves them, we will eventually find ourselves loving them as God does. The communal lifestyle of the early church becomes easier and easier to imagine, as we develop relationships in which we realize how much we really would give for someone else’s wellbeing.

Finally, as it so often does for us People of the Table, it comes back to food. You noticed when Tracy read the scripture passage that she didn’t read exactly the version that is in the pew Bibles. Instead, she added in the alternate wording suggested by text note q. We discussed this at Talking Faith this past week. The main translation in the pew Bibles says “they broke bread at home.” But the alternate text suggests it should say “they broke bread from house to house.” Those are two very different things. The first suggests a separateness that seems out of place in this passage so focused on togetherness. What seems much more likely is the reality implied by breaking bread “from house to house,” namely, that they took turns hosting one another in their homes. There is no reason to get hung up on the ones who didn’t have homes that could accommodate the crowd. I’m sure they assisted when others were hosting. The point is that they entered into one another’s lives in this very tangible way. When we share meals in one another’s homes, we get to know each other in new and deeper ways. The things we were using to dismiss each other’s perspectives fall away. As we share a common loaf, we discover common ground, or even if we don’t, we’ve still shared the common loaf, and that changes us.

One class member this week noted how much trust seems present in this Acts church. They were going through this powerful experience together, having come from a variety of previous places. But because of their shared experience, bonds were formed that were stronger than the things that had separated them before. When someone has fed you, and when they have eaten a meal you prepared, trust becomes easier to share. It becomes impossible to dismiss them or give up on them or to consider them beyond the power of God’s transformative Spirit. As we open our hearts to one another, we are changed, and it becomes impossible to consider ourselves beyond the power of God’s transformative Spirit. Dare I suggest that cynicism cannot survive a lifestyle of shared meals? What else are we doing here, if not coming to this Table together in hopes that our hardened hearts will be broken open to receive the Body of Christ?

It is not easy to walk the Lenten road. It is not even easy to walk it together. But for many of us, the hardest part is simply choosing to walk it with others at all. Let us be bold. Let us open our hearts to awe. Let us gather together with glad and generous hearts, that the Body of Christ might come alive in our midst! Amen.