Acts 9:1-20 Commentary

The reliable Jewish world of the 1st century is showing unfamiliar cracks.  It has always had a tenuous relationship with Rome and there were always pipsqueaks on a soapbox teaching this or that quirky take on the Torah.  But the seismic activity rippling out from the teaching and death of Jesus has got the establishment rocking back on their heels.  The stories circulating that he didn’t really die or he came alive again after he’d died or something like that. Stories of his ascension to heaven like an OG prophet. Now these upstarts are putting structure in place around their beliefs — appointing leaders, launching feeding programs, telling a story rooted in Judaism but extending well beyond.

Against this backdrop a young man named Saul is mad — his religion is being co-opted. The people who used to listen to his sermons in synagogue are drifting away to worship in small groups at home.  Folks who used to be zealous for law and ritual centralized in the Temple and within Judaism, are also now eating a fellowship meal, being baptized, learning unfamiliar songs.

He looks on with approval when Stephen is killed.  He participates in the work of persecuting the church, threatening, jailing, using the system to persecute.  Hearing that persecution has disbursed the church but has not shut them up, Saul gets letters from the high priests who are almost certainly thrilled to have this young upstart handle their problem for them, allowing them the illusion of innocence, keeping their distance from the dirty work.

And so Saul sets off, with permission in hand, to round up the followers of the way and bring them to his version of justice.  Of Saul’s character, theologian Willie Jennings writes: “Saul is a killer. We must never forget this fact. He kills in the name of righteousness, and now he wants legal permission to do so…no one is more dangerous than the one with the power to take life and who already has mind and sight set on those who are a threat to a safe future. Such a person is a closed circle relying on the inner coherence of their logic. Their authority confirms their argument and their argument justifies their actions and their actions reinforce the appropriateness of their authority. Violence, in order to be smooth, elegant, and seemingly natural, needs people who are closed circles.”

He is so certain that his cause is righteous.  That he is on God’s side. He just wants to do something to make it better, to put the world right again. To make the pain stop and the disruption of religious life go away. Making a game plan for which houses to hit first, Saul hopes that this burst of activity will help him to feel just a little less powerless.

Meanwhile, in Damascus, the church “knows a truth about Saul, an indisputable truth. Saul is a killer of disciples.”   This is the backdrop of their lives as they scramble to hide, to get out of town for a few days, to prepare themselves for arrest if it comes to that.  They know what Saul has done to their fellow believers in Jerusalem. They have every reason to believe he will do the same to them.  They are mad and sad and more than a little scared too.

It is against the backdrop of fear and powerlessness, of power and scheming, of mistrust, anger and sadness that God speaks.  A bright light shines, blinding Saul so that the man of great bravado finds himself knocked sideways, cowering in confusion.

“Who are you, Sir?”  Saul knows he is speaking to someone of higher rank — not a position he finds himself in often. Most likely a position he works diligently to avoid.  Novelist Flannery O’Connor writes of this scene: “I reckon the Lord knew that the only way to make a Christian out of that one was to knock him off his horse.”

In this moment, says Jennings, “Saul, the closed circle, is broken open by God.”  He is made powerless — broken open.  Lying there in the middle of the dirt road, he learns that everything he thought was righteous was wrong, His version of justice was unjust.  Persecuting “those trouble-makers” turns out to be a persecution of the very God he thought he was protecting. Up is down, right is wrong, light is darkness.  Broken open, powerless, he is led into the city to wait.

In the waiting, God speaks into another scene of anger, sadness, powerlessness and fear.  Only this time, when God speaks, he does not startle.  God is welcomed as a familiar friend.

“Ananias!” “Yes, Lord?” But the instruction given hardly feels friendly to the recipient.  Go to Saul, touch him, heal him with my power.

But remember “Ananias … knows a truth about Saul, an indisputable truth. Saul is a killer of disciples … (In this, Ananias) was honest with God. We must not run past his honesty with God. He reminds God that Saul is a killer.”

This seems like a very bad idea on the surface — to go toward one who poses danger, to enter into his world, to walk into the fear, the anger, the sadness.  Who would do that? I know I wouldn’t want to. For all the miracles in this story — flashing lights, voices from heaven, God giving instruction to his own disciple — the greatest miracle seems to me to be in these two words:  “Brother Saul.”  Think of all that Saul has been. “Brother Saul.”  Think of all the legitimate grievance, misgiving and anger that Ananias has held.  “Brother Saul.”

Given the backdrop of fear, of anger and sadness.  Ananias walks into God’s invitation.  Once more from Jennings, the invitation to Ananias and to us is this:

“Can we see with God? Can we see those who are in rumor or truth dangerous as God sees them — with a future drenched in divine desire? … The truth we know of a person or people must move to the background, and what we know of God’s desire for them must move to the foreground. The danger we imagine inscribed on their bodies must be read against the delight we know God takes in their life. That same divine delight covers us.”

Illustration/Worship Idea:

Some churches offer communion weekly, others only monthly but often on the first Sunday of the month.  If this is a communion Sunday in your congregation consider offering a time of reflection between the sermon and the table.  Find a way to pass out blank, tented/two-sided place cards to the congregation.  Invite them to put their own name on one side as a reminder of God’s generous invitation to them but then challenge them to put the name of someone they don’t want to share the table with (initials are fine!) Someone they consider not just a personal nemesis but an actual enemy of God. Someone who has power, influence to actually harm the church. Challenge them to write that name on the card and wonder what it would be like for God to not just reconcile this person to God but also to God’s people through Christ.