Hilton Head Island, SC – January 15
The Chapel Without Walls
Acts 3:1-10; Acts 3:11-16
A Sermon by John M. Miller
The Great Texts Series – Text – But Peter said, “I have no silver or gold, but I give you what I have; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.” – Acts 3:6 (RSV)
The same person who wrote the Gospel of Luke also wrote the Book of the Acts of the Apostles. In the opening paragraph of each of these books, the author says that he wrote what he did for the benefit of someone he calls Theophilus. The name “Theophilus” is Greek, and it literally means “God Lover” or “Lover of God.” Was this Theophilus for whom Luke wrote his Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles a particular individual, or was it anyone who loved God and who wanted to know more about what God had done by means of Jesus Christ and his earliest followers? Nobody knows. But certainly the Church of Jesus Christ has benefited greatly from both of these outstanding biblical books, and we would be much the poorer without them.
If the Book of the Acts of the Apostles were not included in the canon of the New Testament, the list of 27 writings which received the approval of the Early Church, we would lack some vital information which tells us much about the first few years of the Church’s existence. Indeed, we would be almost completely in the dark about the earliest evolution of the Christian religion without Acts. “Acts,” as the book is called in short form, describes crucial incidents in how Christianity came to exist, and what the first followers of Jesus did to spread the Gospel of Jesus Christ. If we didn’t have the record of these early episodes, we Christians would not be able sufficiently to understand how we have come to the place where we find ourselves now.
Luke does not give us a specific chronology for the first few chapters of Acts. Nonetheless, we may deduce from what he does say that the initial five chapters or so tell of events that occurred within a few weeks or at most a few months of the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus.
In order to comprehend the amazing things the apostles did, we need first to know who they were. None of the original twelve disciples would have been listed in Who’s Who in Judea, if there had been a Judean Who’s Who. To a man they were all socially and religiously completely unknown and unrecognized. In the first place, all but one of them, and perhaps even all twelve of them, were from the region of the Galilee, not from Jerusalem. Jerusalem was the center of the Jewish people and the Jewish religion. The only place more at the periphery of Judea than the Galilee would have been the southern Negev Desert, far to the south of Jerusalem. To get a proper perspective on Jesus and his disciples, Christians must understand that they were what in very recent years would be called “outliers,” those who live away from the center of what really matters. They were all unknown outsiders.
After the resurrection, according to Acts, the apostles stayed in Jerusalem, instead of going home to the Galilee. Intuitively they seemed to know that if Jesus were to become widely known, it would have to begin in Jerusalem. Otherwise the Gospel would be dead before it had even been given birth. So we learn in Acts, Chapter One, that there were about 120 followers of Jesus in the wake of the crucifixion. Then, after a sermon Simon Peter preached in Jerusalem, which is recorded in the second chapter, three thousand new converts were baptized, presumably all at one time, although Luke doesn’t tell us where or how that happened. But what is being conveyed in these early chapters is that the message of Jesus Christ seemed to catch hold very quickly, even if the numbers of converts was still extremely small.
Then comes the episode reported in the first verses of the third chapter. It says that Peter and John were going to the temple to pray. A man who had been lame from birth was carried to a gate of the temple, so that he could beg for alms. When the man saw the two apostles, he asked them for some coins. Peter said to the man, “I have no silver and gold, but I give you what I have; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.” The narrative declares, “And leaping up he stood and walked and entered the temple with them, walking and leaping and praising God.”
It is so wonderfully ironic! Peter couldn’t give the man what he wanted, money, because Peter had no money. “Silver and gold have I none,” it says in the King James Version; “I have no silver or gold” (RSV: same idea, much more prosaic). Peter was a poor fisherman, and it had been a few months since he had been back on the Sea of Galilee to practice his trade. However, he could give the paralyzed man something he didn’t ask for; he could enable him to walk. And that, Luke tells us, is what happened.
Now, two thousand years later, the Church is not a few hundred or a few thousand people; it is 2+ billion people. It has become a huge institution, with numerous branches and denominations and sub-groups.
What enables it to operate? How does the Church carry out its mission? How does this church do that, The Chapel Without Walls? In many respects, we are much more like the New Testament church in the earliest years of its existence. We are a small congregation of believers who meet for worship in this synagogue each Sunday morning. Silver and gold we don’t have a lot of. But like every other congregation, we need at least some money in order to operate. If we want to continue our existence, we must keep that in mind.
But we have a far greater treasury from which to draw. We have us. We have each of us. We have all of us.
We can’t miraculously enable lame people to walk. Or at least I don’t think we can. Speaking for myself, I am quite certain I can’t do that.
But I and you and each of us can do other things. Giving money to this congregation is not only helpful but necessary for it to continue as a community of faith. But our best gift is the time we are able to expend on behalf of others. As Peter represented the healing hands of Jesus, we can be Jesus’ hands in reaching out to particular individuals who have particular needs. We probably won’t be able to heal their bodies, but we can be very effective in repairing worn or torn spirits.
What do I mean - - - specifically? How can you or I give meaningfully to anyone? What kinds of things might we do which would significantly improve the lives of others?
Let me first provide an answer by giving you an illustration. The New York Times Magazine has a regular column called “The Ethicist.” A woman named Ariel Kaminer writes responses to letters which are sent in describing various ethical dilemmas.
A couple of months ago Ms. Kaminer received this brief message: “My boyfriend of one year has been given a diagnosis of terminal cancer. He has no family around, and I have been his primary caretaker. We had a wonderful relationship, but we had not discussed long-term plans, and his declining health has changed much between us. It is becoming harder for me to continue at this level. My desire to look after my own needs, personal and professional, and my guilt for feeling that I could be deserting him are becoming overwhelming. What is my responsibility?” The letter was signed “Anonymous.”
After giving some excellent advice, Ariel Kaminer ended her article with these words: “If you simply believe that we are all free agents… – well, at least you know you could leave while being true to your principles (idiosyncratic as they might be) rather than just taking the easy way out. And at least your boyfriend would have had a fair warning about the degree to which he could rely on you. Even so, though caring for a sick person can be exhausting, it also can be exhilarating, a chance to rise to your greatest potential, to mean more to another human being than you otherwise could. Strange as it may sound, your boyfriend’s illness could be the best chance you ever get to experience that. Don’t cast it – or him – aside.”
Silver and gold have I none, but what I have I give you: myself, my time, my care, my love, my support. And I do it knowing this is the worst time in your life, when you need someone the most. I shall be that someone.
For countless numbers of people, this giving of the self happens the most fully in taking care of an ill or incapacitated spouse at some point along the line. Standing before some member of the clergy somewhere, most couples promise to be with and for the other “in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live.” It is probably fortunate that nobody really knows what that means until the crunch comes, if it ever does actually come. Then, either people come through or they don’t. If they do, it is because they choose to do so. And if they don’t, they also choose to leave their sick spouse in the lurch. But of course such loving care can also be given to a relative or a very close friend.
The Chapel Without Walls is what might be described as “a minimum-services church.” That is, we intentionally have very few activities outside of Sunday worship and the forum which follows. We always can use more volunteers to help with the coffee hour (which is a simple assignment), and we can use more volunteers for when we take our turn with Family Promises once every two or three months. Chris Kirtley and Jim Ferree are here on almost all Sundays as our greeters and bulletin-passers-outers, but on occasion we need someone to fill in for them. If you want to help with any of these volunteers services, please let me know; we always can use more people to volunteer their time. But that little bit is the sum and substance of what we do. None of these activities requires very much time or energy.
For members of a congregation such as ours, most activities involving voluntary hours will be devoted to community organizations, not to Chapel organizations, because we have almost none. And realistically, because of our average age, many of our folks are no longer capable of giving lots of hours to things like Volunteers in Medicine or Habitat for Humanity or to the library or hospital or other such organizations. Nevertheless, where all of us also can be of service to God is by giving ourselves in various ways to various individuals around us: family members, neighbors, friends, acquaintances, complete strangers.
What, in practical terms, does that mean? We recently went through another Christmas season. During it I suspect most of us heard the beautiful Christmas song, “In the bleak midwinter.” Adrian Austin sang it as a solo during Advent. The tune is by the great 20th century composer Gustav Holst, and the text is by the 19th century poet Christina Rossetti. Its final stanza asks, “What can I give Him/ Poor as I am?/ If I were a shepherd/ I would bring a lamb/ If I were a wise man/ I would do my part/ Yet what can I give Him/ Give my heart.”
In the literature of most cultures and societies, “the heart” is synonymous with “the self.”
Our heart represents us. To give our heart to the newborn Messiah or to anyone else is to give ourselves in service to the needs of others.
When Peter told the lame man at the temple that he had no silver or gold, he was telling him the truth. But he gave him what he could, which was something much better; Peter enabled him to stand up and walk.
Figuratively, though almost certainly not literally, we can do that for everyone to one degree or another. We really can. But if it is to happen, we must make it happen. It won’t happen by itself. It all depends on whether we are willing to give up ourselves on behalf of someone outside ourselves.
Selfishness may be described as an excessive concern for our own personal wellbeing at the expense of others. God did not put us in this world only for ourselves. He put us here primarily for others, and for one another. Whenever we are asked to give, there is one thing all of us can give, regardless of whatever else we might give; we can give our self, our heart; we can give us. Everyone can do that.
Once, when discussing with his disciples what is required to be genuine followers of God and Jesus, Jesus said, “Whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Mt. 16:25). It sounds so antithetical, so illogical. But it is so profoundly true. Only by giving ourselves up for others can we redeem ourselves. Only by giving ourselves away can we find ourselves. This is not to be taken literally; it is figurative, metaphorical, even poetic. If we act too selfishly, we shall lose ourselves altogether, but if we give ourselves away, we will protect and nourish and strengthen ourselves. It is the ironic recipe of God for true health.
I have no silver or gold, but I give you what I have; me. I give you myself. I am not the answer to all your needs, but I know I can meet some of your needs. I may not be much, but I am me, and I offer you myself for whatever I can do to make your life – and the world – better.
No one can do more than that. But everyone can do that. If we can, we should, because the self we have, we have from God. It isn’t for our selves; it is for others. Therefore, “Take my life, and let it be consecrated, Lord, to Thee.”