My inner response to this week’s
Scripture from Acts 16 is best described by the word disruptive. It’s troublesome
and unsettling. We move from fortune-telling slave girls to demons being cast
out, dark prisons of Philippi, Paul and Silas incongruently singing in chains,
earthquakes, and forgiveness for jailors. It almost makes you think that the Acts
of the Apostles may be patterned on Homer’s Odyssey, the epic journey coming
home from the Trojan War. This is the early Christian version of the epic
trials while spreading the gospel.
The passage starts with
disrupting injustice. What happens to this woman, who gets mentioned only as a
“slave girl”? I hate it when a character enters the story for a few sentences,
her already difficult life is turned upside down, and the scene moves on
without knowing what happened to her, let alone her name. She is literary
collateral damage. The slave’s disappearance from the story disturbs me because
of what I have observed, listened to and read about the work in homeless
shelters and with the homeless over my lifetime. Much of my response comes from
watching the work of the City Missions in Aotearoa (NZ), the Exodus Foundation
and the Wayside Chapel at Kings Cross.
If one involves oneself in
such work you can watch many people briefly emerge from homelessness or
addiction and then disappear from the scene. There sadly will be so many that you
will struggle to remember their names. They come from jail, rehab, psychiatric
hospitalisation, and fleeing domestic violence; their stories a cascade of
overlapping oppressions. Just as we would cast out one demon, another would
possess them and carry them back into the hopeless chaos. They would disappear
from the life of those working with them as did this slave woman in Acts.
Despite Paul’s intentions,
casting out the demon from this woman does not make her life better. He has
relieved his own anxiety, can now say he did something about “the problem,” but
she is worse off than before. We have done this enough to know that it is
impossible to go back and “fix” the situation, and the sufferers disappear too quickly
from the scene. I bet he never forgot her, even if Scripture does.
I wonder what other
behaviours we practice in our lives as humans that isolate others, ignore them
or just be there for a one off support as with the slave girl. I wonder why we
as humans but especially as Christians are unable to walk with those who are
broken as God calls us to and shows in the life of his Son, Jesus. You know, we
all know games of false righteousness: how men will hold the door for women but
keep them out of the boardroom; how churches will build ramps but find reasons
not to ask people in wheelchairs to be deacons; how sex becomes a commodity
rather than an intimacy; how races and cultures are considered grotesque by
people who love Jesus; how being good becomes a matter of looking good; how Sunday
becomes a looking-good day.
Our politicians can be masters
at this insincere fake if you like behaviour. We have just been through two
Elections in this state and got our fair share of it. Sadly, it has to be noted
that such behaviour seems often to win and the homeless and others are left
frozen our yet again.
The gospels present several
Sabbath (Holy Day like Sunday) healings: the bent-over woman, the woman with a
bleeding discharge, the man with dropsy, and this poor fellow, lying in the
Sheep’s Gate entry to a healing pool provided for the afflicted, yet no one
will help him into the pool. Each story is a version of Beauty and the Beast.
Beauty sees in the Beast what the rest of the world does not. True Beauty
refuses to see a being unlike herself. Jesus, who is Beauty in gospel tales,
embraces many who are considered grotesque, and presses us to see as he sees,
to love as he loves. Those in need carry the face of God whom we are to love deeply
and fully. This is the journey of the groups from our communities such as a
City Mission, the Wayside Chapel, and the Exodus Foundation exist to become. To
be the beauty of Jesus.
Jesus breaks Sabbath rules by
healing. In our culture, the rule-break would be “without a license.” Sabbath,
he struggles to make clear, is a day to recognise that our lives are not what
we make of them but what we find in them. Each life includes something
grotesque, something beastly. But that is not all we are. For Jesus, Sabbath is
a time to receive Beauty’s kiss, a time when distinctions fall away and the
blessing of God is heard. A time to become inclusive not exclusive. In the
final act of Jesus’ story, he will become the Beast, betrayed by a kiss. And in
his grotesque body, he will be set free by love, and on the Sabbath day.
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