Saul and Ananias: Two Perspectives by Fr. Hamer
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Sermon Preached at Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford
Easter 3, April 14, 2013 by The Rev. Donald L. Hamer
Acts 9: 1-20
“Practicing Resurrection: Through the Eyes of Saul and Ananias”
St. Luke’s dramatic description of the conversion of Saul that we heard in today’s passage from the Book of Acts is one of the best known stories from the New Testament. The 180-degree turnaround of Saul from being one of the most zealous persecutors of Jesus’ followers to becoming their most zealous advocate under the new name of Paul is remarkable, indeed. I think the story can also make many of us uncomfortable and, therefore, lends itself to be misunderstood.
In the course of my discernment over my call to ordained ministry, I can’t tell you how many times, and in how many different contexts, I had to write what is sometimes known as a “spiritual autobiography.” Applying to the Diocesan Ministry Exploration Program in 1995, applying to be a postulant for Holy Orders in 1996, applying to Yale Divinity School and Berkeley Divinity Schools in 1997, writing for ordination approval, looking for positions at St. Mary’s and later here at Trinity, applying to Hartford Seminary in 2009 – every single one has involved me writing about my spiritual journey. And every single essay has included a line that goes something like: “I was baptized as an infant and have never really known a time when I was not a part of the Christian church. I have never really had a ‘Road to Damascus’ experience, but have always had a sense of God working in my life.” And it is the absolute truth.
My guess is that for many of you, the same sentence would be true. And while that speaks to a certain faithfulness and life-long connection to the Christian church, it can leave us feeling a little less than special in our faith. I mean, why haven’t I had some powerful experience like Saul had? Some experience that, following which, you would have no choice but to say, “Alleluia! Christ is Risen! The Lord is risen, indeed. Alleluia!” and to run out living your life in a way that everyone would know that something dramatic had happened to you. But my guess is most of us have not had that. And it can leave us feeling a little inferior, giving us, if you will, a “spiritual inferiority complex.” And we are then lured into the logical extension of that sort of thinking, that we don’t have anything special to offer the church in a way that does much to further God’s mission.
Since Easter day we have been talking here at Trinity about “Practicing Resurrection.” For those of you who were here on Easter you may recall that I described three steps that are necessary to the practice of resurrection: Removing or uprooting something, some aspect of our lives that leads us away from God or is not helpful to us in our relationship with God; second, replanting or transplanting something in a new place or in a new way that will feed us in that relationship; and third, being open to receiving the grace of God to strengthen us and guide us on that journey. So in the few moments we have this morning I would like us to look more closely at the practice of resurrection through the eyes of the characters, Saul and Ananias.
The early Christian writer Onesiphoros writes that Paul was ‘a man rather small in size, bald-headed, bow-legged, with meeting eyebrows, a large, red and somewhat hooked nose.’ (It doesn’t exactly bring up the image of a charismatic and powerful leader!) At the same time, he was ‘strong-built, full of grace, for at times he looked like a man, at times like an angel.’ In the Book of Acts, he is called by his Hebrew name, Saul, until his clash with the wizard Bar-Jesus on the island of Cyprus. In his letters, he always refers to himself as “Paul.”
Born in Tarsus in the first years of the Christian era, he inherited his Roman citizenship from his Jewish father. He was always proud of his birthplace, which was the provincial capital of the Roman empire. His citizenship gave him the right to vote, and a dignity which he was quick to claim when it served his purposes – Saul and later Paul was not averse to taking advantage of having the best of both worlds.
But Saul was above all a faithful Jew, a “Hebrew born of Hebrews” he wrote. Like his namesake King Saul, he was a member of the tribe of Benjamin. A Pharisee and the son of a Pharisee, destined to be a rabbi, he would have joined his father once he was old enough in the adult worship in the synagogue at Tarsus. About the year 28, when he was about 18, Saul went to Jerusalem to study theology, and by the time he was 30, he was an acknowledged defender of Judaism against the Greek-speaking element of the Jewish-Christian community. Paul was particularly incensed by the teaching of St. Stephen, the first martyr and a leader among the Hellenistic Jews, and participated in Stephen’s stoning to death and the persecution which followed.
And so we can picture Saul, having received a commission from the high priest, riding over the hills of Judea and Samaria, perhaps passing through the birthplace of the prophet-Messiah Jesus in Nazareth, through Capernaum and up the Jordan valley on the road to Damascus. His one focus is on tracking down any Jews who are leading fellow Jews astray with this crazy story about Jesus being the Messiah.
And then it happens. He has an encounter with the risen Jesus, who asks why Saul is persecuting him. The one who has been so strong, so self-righteous and violent in his attacks against the followers of Jesus, is struck blind and left helpless on a road far away from home. After fasting for three days, he is then visited by a Jewish Christian, Ananias who greets him, lays hands on him, ecomes an instrument of restoring his sight and invites him to be baptized. Saul embraces the invitation to “be a witness for Jesus to all men of what you have seen and heard.” (Acts 22:14-15).
In this story we see Saul letting something go – his rigid understanding of the Jewish Law and his zealous persecution of the Jewish followers of Christ. He replanted something – his newfound knowledge and understanding of Jesus as the Messiah – an understanding no doubt helped along by the fact that he was struck blind and spoke to Jesus directly. But what allowed this replanting to flourish was his openness to hear the voice of the Lord and to be enlightened and strengthened by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Ananias, on the other, hand, had a very different experience. He is, by the way, not to be confused with the False Christian in Jerusalem described earlier in the Book of Acts, nor is he the same person as the high priest in Jerusalem who would later chair the council at Paul’s trial. This Ananias was a Christian disciple in Damascus, a man whom Paul would later describe as “a devout man according to the Law, well spoken of by all the Jews who lived there.” But he lived kind of under cover – not unlike Paul, he claimed the best of two worlds, being a faithful Jew in public, and a quiet follower of Jesus in his private life. So, as God so often chooses the unlikely choice, it is not surprising that God chose Ananias to be the one to meet the recently-blinded great persecutor of the Christians and convey God’s message of forgiveness.
But if God’s choice of Ananias is not surprising, Ananias’ initial reaction to that task is not surprising, either. God’s instructions to him will require him to come out of the closet, if you will, and proclaim whom he really was – a follower of Jesus. So when Jesus in the vision tells him what he is to do, it is not surprising that his initial response is to protest, “Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints in Jerusalem, and here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who invoke your name.” Ananias isn’t thinking “Wow, Jesus talked to me and I’m gonna be a star!” He’s thinking, “No way! This is my ticket to being target practice for the next stoning.”
It would have been the easy thing for Ananias to say, “Thanks, Jesus, but I’m outta here.” It would have been more comfortable. But what did he do: He left the safe, closeted Ananias behind; he did what he was told and left the safe place to encounter the Christian killer in the name of Christ; and he had the trust that God was faithful to God’s promises – that events would unfold as Jesus promised. By pulling up, replanting, and receiving God’s grace, Ananias became the instrument that transformed the biggest threat to the early Church into its most brilliant architect and most prolific advocate.
You see, God was able to use both of these very different people to further God’s mission. Both of them had to give up the person they were and become the person God desired for them to become, and to do that they had to trust God to do some of the heavy lifting in the process. The fact is that the main actor in this story is neither Saul nor is it Ananias. The main actor, as is the case in every story of conversion, is the God who creates, the God who redeems that which needs conversion, and the God who sustains us in the process. God can work through a Saul, God can work through an Ananias, and God can work through you. May God grant us the openness to receive God’s wonder-working power, the strength to leave behind that which does not sustain Resurrection life, and the courage to welcome the new life that comes only through Resurrection hope. AMEN.