Be a Scofflaw

Acts 4:5-13

The next day their rulers, elders, and scribes assembled in Jerusalem, with Annas the high priest, Caiaphas, John, and Alexander, and all who were of the high-priestly family. When they had made the prisoners stand in their midst, they inquired, ‘By what power or by what name did you do this?’ Then Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, said to them, ‘Rulers of the people and elders, if we are questioned today because of a good deed done to someone who was sick and are asked how this man has been healed, let it be known to all of you, and to all the people of Israel, that this man is standing before you in good health by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead. This Jesus is
“the stone that was rejected by you, the builders;
   it has become the cornerstone.”
There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved.’

Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John and realized that they were uneducated and ordinary men, they were amazed and recognized them as companions of Jesus.

This passage requires a little extra explanation, because it’s middle of a pretty involved story. The story is one in which Peter and John find a disabled beggar by the temple where they were praying. Peter miraculously heals this beggar in the name of Jesus using the power of the Holy Spirit. This “good deed” as Peter very simply refers to it, inspires five-thousand people to join this brand new Jesus movement. A group of thousands of people joining a new movement that bends towards social justice, that focuses on the have-nots, that helps to up lift the less fortunate—naturally this is going to bring about some unwanted attention from the local political and religious authorities. This brings us to the scene we get in the passage Lorinda just read for us. Peter and John are arrested and questioned by said authorities, and Peter, guided by the Holy Spirit, pretty much just tells them exactly what happened in a pretty genius way, bringing even more positive attention to the power of Jesus, exactly what het Romans do not want: “Sure, I guess we’re being questioned because we did this wonderfully good deed that was all thanks to Jesus Christ. So be it, I guess.” ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ The way this story ends, what comes after the scripture passage for today, is that the Romans are pretty much backed into a corner. What are they gonna do, punish these two “uneducated and ordinary men” for healing a poor, sick man? They realize they’ll have an uprising on their hands if they do this. So they pretty much just threaten Peter and John, tell them to shut up, or else, and send them on their way.

I just love picturing the Roman authorities totally agitated and bewildered, feeling like that absolutely had to do something to stop this movement from getting any bigger, but knowing that if they did anything, they’d have a bunch of angry commoners storming the castle. Because if they took the kind of action they wanted to, it would mean they were criminalizing helping people. It would mean they were criminalizing healing. Talk about bad PR. So the Romans were left with an unfamiliar feeling—relative powerlessness. I’m always a sucker for stories about stickin’ it to the man.

But you know, when I was reading this passage, there was a story that came to my head immediately. It wasn’t a recent story—in fact, that was a pretty minor news story from Florida that went somewhat viral back in 2014. But clearly it stuck with me. It was a story about pastors from two churches in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, and the food kitchen they run out of the church basement—the kitchen was headed by Arnold Abbot who was the 90-year-old founder and leader of the nonprofit Love Thy Neighbor that works with the two churches. They would set up shop along the beach and gave meals and food to the homeless and hungry. But a new ordinance at the time made this suddenly illegal. It put draconian stipulations and rules in place that made it virtually impossible to legally feed the homeless and hungry the way they had been safely doing for years. The pastors, along with Mr. Abbott were arrested and fined for feeding the homeless when they disregarded the new ordinance and went out to feed the needy has they did every Wednesday. In the article, Abbott is quoted as saying, “I know I will be arrested again, I’m prepared for that. I am my brother’s keeper and what they are doing is just heartless. They are trying to sweep the poorest of the poor under the rug.”

I then got curious and I did some googling to see what became of Mr. Abbott and to see if I could find any follow up to the story. What I found was Mr. Abbott’s obituary from just two years ago—he died in 2019 at the age of 94. The obituary went into more detail of Mr. Abbott’s life—he was a Jewish WWII veteran who had always had a passion for helping the hungry and the homeless. As it turns out, he and the two churches he worked with continued to go out on Wednesdays to feed the homeless, they continued to fight for their cause. Abbott inspired over 100 protestors to come to the Ft. Lauderdale courthouse in support of him and his case. During this time at one of the rallies, Abbott made a statement: “We’re all here for a common cause and we shall beat them. I have no fear whatsoever.” Reading that statement, I was amazed at how reminiscent it was of Peter’s calm, articulate and brave statement to the Roman authorities: “…we are questioned today because of a good deed done to someone who was sick…”. There’s a such a confidence and passion in these statements. And for Mr. Abbott, it turns out he was right. He won his criminal case; and in 2017, he was quoted saying “I’m a scofflaw. I’ve been a fighter for the underdog all my life.” He considered this to be his religious calling.

Arnold Abbott, Church, was so clearly a man who had the Holy Spirit running through him. He had the passion, the compassion to keep fighting for what he knew was right, regardless of what laws or ordinances or those in power said. During Abbott’s initial arrest, the then-mayor of Ft. Lauderdale said, “Just because of media attention, we don’t stop enforcing the law. We enforce the laws here in Fort Lauderdale.” Well, enforced laws or not, Abbott won his case, partly, it seems because of the national attention this case spurred. Like the Romans, it seems the powers that be were backed into a corner— what are they gonna do? Throw a 90-year-old WWII vet in jail for feeding the homeless? Again, talk about bad PR.

While this story has a happy ending, there was something that bummed me out a little when we were talking about this in Bible study—several different participants in Bible study immediately came up with other examples of instances in which people were arrested for being kind and compassionate, or where the threat of arrest was present. Why are instances of criminalizing the acts that we are called to do by Jesus—why are they so easy to come up with? Why are these so prevalent? One person reminded me of the case in which a young man, Scott Warren, was arrested in the desert of Arizona on felony charges for volunteering with a faith-based nonprofit No More Deaths. The crime was giving would-be immigrants seeking refuge jugs of water and basic medical assistance in the desert where thousands and thousands of migrants fleeing unsustainable living situations over the years have died of dehydration and heat stroke. Warren’s last criminal charge was finally dropped in 2020. But it took a lot of bad press, a long court battle, and a lot of legal and financial support for this to finally happen. Outside the courthouse in January of 2018, to supporters and the press, Warren is quoted as saying, “The government’s plan, in the midst of this humanitarian crisis? Policies to target undocumented people, refugees, and their families; prosecutions to criminalize humanitarian aid, kindness, and solidarity.” Yet another instance of an ordinary person, speaking truth to power, the Holy Spirit running through him.

And Church, I think we all know these attempts to criminalize compassion, and basic help and aid aren’t going anywhere. Last month, it was announced that a new restrictive voting bill in Georgia makes is a misdemeanor crime to give food or water to those waiting in long lines voting lines.

These laws, these criminal charges, they’re about power, they’re about exclusion. They’re about further excluding the already outcast. They’re about maintaining the status-quo, they’re about maintaining power structures. That’s why I love this quote Peter uses from Psalm 118: that “Jesus is the stone that was rejected by you, the builders. It has become the cornerstone.” Jesus always stands is solidarity with the rejected, with the outcast. The builders of Peter’s world have rejected Jesus and the ideals of Jesus—they have therefore rejected compassion, kindness, and love. They have rejected these things in the name of power and oppression. And because they have rejected the love and the compassion that Jesus preaches, the empire that they’ve built on the backs of those they’ve oppressed—it will come crumbling down because the very fabric of society is about to change because of the teachings of Jesus’ unconditional love.

Now, in Peter’s early days of evangelizing, the Romans were kind of in uncharted territory. They were dealing with a whole new monster—this new Jesus movement that was blowing everyone’s mind, that was lifting up ordinary and the uneducated, that was telling every single person that they were worth of love and comfort—so they were a little flummoxed, which seems to be why they’re left feeling like they have no other option but to threaten them and let them go. But today, the builders, the powerful have had a couple millennia of practice working to bring the ordinary down. They’ve had centuries to perfect their strategies and they’re now working to codify oppression, to set the criminalization of compassion in stone. They think now, that if they prosecute the people doing good, if they make absolutely basic things like feeding those who need food and giving water to those who are thirst officially illegal, that they can point to a piece of paper and tell them that what they’re doing is wrong. It’s infuriating and discouraging, but the outcomes of the cases of Arnold Abbott and Scott Warren give me hope. Now granted, it should not take legal teams and thousands of dollars to get these do-gooders out of trouble, but the fact that they had so many people across the country coming to support them in so many different ways is amazing.

And you won’t be able to convince me that the protests and rallies in support of civil rights this past summer, in reaction to the murder of George Floyd, didn’t have an effect on the outcome of the Chauvin trial. In the face of tear gas and batons, protestors let the Holy Spirit run through them and made their voices heard, shouting that this can’t go on any longer.

Our voices have power, church. Our voices have the most power when we allow the Holy Spirit to fill us, when we allow the Holy Spirit to guide us to do the work that Jesus commands of us. Peter, you may remember from previous scripture lessons, was not known as an articulate or especially intelligent person. He was impulsive, he didn’t always think things through—he meant well, but he didn’t always totally get it. But in this passage, church, he lets himself be filled with the Holy Spirit. He knows the Romans have the power to enforce whatever laws they want, he knows he could be in very serious, even mortal trouble here—he not so long ago watched Jesus be crucified for building this movement and doing good deeds, after all. But he knows the exact right thing to say to these powerful men. And he knows how to get the people on his side—by doing good deeds for the lowliest among us. By doing the good works we are all called to do.

So church, let the Holy Spirit flow through you. Let the Holy Spirit fill you. This could lead to some risky situations. It could lead to breaking some rules here and there. It could lead to being somewhat of a scofflaw, in the name of Jesus, in the name of His good works, in the name of helping people. And you know what? Good. So be it. Amen.