May 20, 2007 - Easter 7, Year C
Saint James Episcopal Church, Saint James, NY

Today
is the last Sunday
of the Easter season.
For six weeks
we have been hearing the stories
of the resurrection,
hearing the stories
of the appearances of the risen Christ,
hearing the stories of the
very beginnings of the church
as people tried to work out
what difference Christ's resurrection made to them.
They are wonderful stories,
full of drama
and miracles
as the very first Christians
try to work out how it is
that they are going to carry on
the work of their Lord and Savior
Jesus Christ.

Can you imagine what it must have been like those first years?
Jesus has died, and astoundingly,
has risen to life again,
and now you've been given the job
of sharing this good news
with other people.
There's no manual, no plan for action, no schedule of events.
You don't have a corporate office
or letterhead,
let alone a budget;
you just have yourself and a few friends
and this incredible news
that no one with any sense
would believe.
That's how it all began,
just a few people,
and some good news.

And day by day, week by week, they went from town to town
telling their good news,
and hoping, praying
that someone would respond with faith
rather than ridicule.
And in each place that people responded in faith
they gathered a group, a community, a church we call it now,
people meeting to pray, and talk about Jesus,
and share in the meal that he shared with his disciples.

That's how it was in Philippi, the first place, as far as we know, in what we now call Europe,
to hear the good news of God in Christ.
Philippi is in Macedonia; it was one of the leading Roman colonies.
Most often when Paul arrived in a town, he went to the synagogue; I guess Philippi didn't have one, or not one that Paul was welcome in, because when Paul, with Silas along to help him, arrived in town
they found their way to a place by the river
where rumor had it,
people gathered to pray.
And there they found Lydia, a dealer in fine fabric,
who heard the good news and responded in faith,
and was baptized along with her whole household.
And she invited Paul and Silas to stay with her, so that eventually her house
became the center of the church
in Philippi.

But it didn't take long
to stir up opposition.
And of course, as seems to always be true,
a big part of it had to do
with money.
For the most part, people can say and do what they want,
until it begins to threaten us financially.
And that's how it was in Philippi.
There was a young girl, a slave, who made a lot of money for her owners
by telling fortunes.
And when she saw Paul and Silas going past
she began to rant and rave about God.
This was not, to put it mildly, good for business.
And it got worse.
Because after the tenth or so time of being accosted by her, Paul got sick of it all, and told her to be quiet. And not only did she stop her shouting,
but her ability to tell fortunes, whatever that was all about,
that ability was gone.
Thanks to Paul, instead of having a nice steady money earner, her owners were stuck with a young girl who was pretty much worthless.

We shouldn't be surprised then,
that the owners were pretty angry.
What right did these strangers have
to come and steal their best earner?
But you know, nothing Paul and Silas had done to the girl was illegal. So the owners
started asking around.
What are these guys doing here?
You say they meet down by the river? Secretly, it sounds?
And they stay with that woman Lydia? You know, I've always had my doubts about her. I mean, it's not right, her running that business. She needs a good man to look after her. But she won't give us the time of day.
And they do some strange ritual with water, and another one with bread and wine and talking about bodies and blood. It all sounds pretty strange to me.
And the rumors grew, as rumors do, and it didn't matter that what was at the root of it was a financial loss;
by the time it got to the magistrates' ears, it had become a full fledged attack.
These people are corrupting our children. They're bringing strange traditions in here; they're stirring up trouble; you don't want them in your town.

And next thing
Paul and Silas are dragged into court
and thrown into jail. Not, in fact, because of their faith, but because they messed with someone's money.
And if I'd been them, I'd have been about ready
to give up.
But instead, instead they seem to take it all quite calmly,
and decide to use it as an opportunity to tell a few more people about Jesus,
this time
with a literally captive
audience.

But suddenly there is an earthquake, and the jail begins to crumble, and there's nothing holding the prisoners in any more. And the jailer wakes up, and is about to kill himself, because he assumes they've all escaped and better to kill himself now and get it over with,
than to go through a trial and torture and a state execution.
He's about to kill himself, but then Paul calls out, "Wait! We're all here. No one has escaped."
And the jailer rushes in
and finds that what they say is true, and falls on his knees. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
And he suddenly remembers the prayers and hymns and stories he's overheard all evening, and looks at Paula nd Silas and realizes that they have chosen not to escape, they have chosen because of their faith,
and the words tumble out, "What must I do to be saved?"
And next thing we know
is that Paul and Silas are baptizing him, and being taken home for breakfast.

It's one of the most dramatic stories in the book of Acts, one of those ones
that we'd do almost anything to have witnessed.
But it's not just history.
It's a story
about what might happen
when we try to live out Jesus' command to preach the gospel,
it's a pattern that has recurred
time and time again
throughout history.

Not the jail and the earthquake and so on,
but the response to the message of Jesus Christ.
It's a pretty simple message.
"Believe in Jesus, and you will be saved."
That's it.
No exams, no hoops to jump through, just believe.

But for most people
it's not so easy.
Because the offer is so simple
we can't quite believe it's true.
Just believe? There's got to be some catch. You Christians,
you want something else, don't you? Money? Power? Influence?
It's can't be
this easy.
And if it is,
why bother. Why bother with this believing, this baptism thing? If it's so simple,
it can't be worth much.

And of course that is the irony of Christianity. Because it is free. There's no entrance fee. Everyone is welcome, who wants to come in the door.
But once you get inside, you realize
that while it's free, it's also costly.
It's costly, because once you've seen things from God's point of view, they'll never look the same again.
And your life will never be the same either.

Some things never change. The invitation
is always there, always open, always free.
And some people will hear it, and respond, sometimes
in spite of the rumors
that might hold them back.
And some people will reject it,
sometimes proclaiming their religious objections,
often, not quite sure, but deep down just too afraid of the commitment of time or money or
that might result from saying "yes."
We live
in the same world as Paul and Silas and the people of Philippi,
the same world where faith and finance and power
rub shoulders,
and where, even so, we're called to proclaim the resurrection.
Not just in this Easter season in the church calendar,
but every season, every week, every day.
Because we live, all the time, in Easter time, the time between Christ's resurrection and his coming again,
and we live with the call to faith
and the call to share that faith.

Alleluia, Christ is Risen!
The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!

©Raewynne J.Whiteley, 2007