This American Life
Acts 4:32-35
Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need.
Last week, Paul was desperately trying to convince a group of new Jesus followers in Corinth that not only did the resurrection happen, but to call oneself a Christian and not believe in Jesus rising from the dead, was to not be a Christian at all. It was years after the first Easter occurred, and those who did not witness it were skeptical. But today we’re basking In the glow of the resurrection. We’re in the golden age of early Christianity, the honeymoon period. The apostles have witnessed Jesus’ resurrection and ascension and they’re working together as one body, one heart and soul, to continue to spread the news of this miraculous event, and to do the work of lifting up the needy that Jesus called them to do by selflessly pooling their resources together. It’s truly a little utopia.
So what happened? What could have happened between this incredible time of unity and trust Luke is writing about in the book of Acts, and the division, skepticism and cynicism of 1 Corinthians? Well, people have short memories. People are impatient. So as the memory of resurrection faded, as its witnesses died, as people became impatient waiting for Jesus to come back, which many were told would be imminent, things got less rosy. People get discouraged and disappointed. And they get frustrated and disagreements happen, people lose their way—but that was last week’s passage.
This week, they’re still unified by this experience. The Apostles are unified by the horrific trauma and grief they went through, watching their beloved tortured and assassinated on the cross; they’re united by their disbelief and euphoria upon seeing Jesus risen again, and they’re united by Jesus’ command directly to them to spread the good news and do good work.
Luke, the writer of his gospel, and also the book of Acts, was very focused on economics and a just society for all, so it’s no accident that he’s emphasizing these principles of distribution of wealth. After all, Lukan parables are the ones that often deal with money and resources—the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, the parable of the rich fool, the Pharisee and the tax collector… the list goes on. Combine this with his notion of this community of being one heart and soul, and you have this ultimate completeness in Christian obedience that Luke is trying to portray here—complete freedom from possessions and private property, living as one for Christ and therefore for one another.
It's a far cry from last week’s passage about the divided Corinthians and the desperate and frustrated Paul. And it’s an even farther cry from today.
Church, I’ll confess, I was got so upset on Friday morning—and the thing that made me upset was the infamous Hartland listserv. For those of you who spare yourselves from the drama and the rage, there has been an ongoing and very heated debate going on about the school budget that passed by just 9 votes—granted there was very low voter turnout. We now have people trying to petition for a re-vote, we have people wanting more budget cuts to our schools, even though that’s proved to be impossible; we have a local school board in an impossible position, hands tied because of regulations and formulas only fixable at the state, even national level to a degree—but people are so angry and scared (and let me tell you, I share the fear about tax increases); some seem to almost be willfully misunderstanding the situation, and seem to believe that voting down a school budget will send some kind of message, when all it will really do is hurt the youth of this community—some of the most vulnerable among us.
On Friday morning, I found myself feeling anxious about Frances’s future growing up here. I found myself nervous about our youth’s education, and on a bigger scale, I found myself nervous about how we, in this small community, still crawling our way back from the isolation and trauma of covid, how we are really looking out for each other—for the young, the old, for everyone in between. I just felt… discouraged.
And then I found myself thinking about our passage for today— I found myself wishing that we had something so awe-inspiring as witnessing a miracle to band us together. I found myself wishing that this town, this state, this country, didn’t have such a rabidly individualistic culture, one in which looking out for ourselves seems to be the only way to live.
At the very beginning of his book Community, author Peter Block writes, “The essential challenge is to transform the isolation and self-interest within our communities into connectedness and caring for the whole… We…need to acknowledge that our wisdom about individual transformation is not enough when it comes to community transformation.”
A lot of what I saw on the listserv was people only thinking of themselves. And I don’t fault a lot of folks for that—the system is broken and people are scared of not being able to afford to live here anymore. But when we let that fear manifest in this way, by not thinking about the whole, we end up with these short-sighted petitions on re-votes that ultimately won’t transform anything. And it seems to be setting up this generational divide. People on fixed incomes are rightly anxious; young people struggling with their kids in schools are rightly anxious; but what many don’t seem to be able to willing to understand is that these are all symptoms of the same problem. So why aren’t we unified in trying to fix the brokenness? Why aren’t we working together to figure out a solution to help the whole community, not just one faction of people? How do we get back to acting as, to truly being one heart and one soul?
What connects us at this point? Is there anything that can bring people together to work for the good of all? Is there anything short of seeing the savior rise from the dead that can possibly unite us to become one heart and soul like these apostles in our passage today?
And last week I asked you all to think about if you really believe in the resurrection—this week I’m asking you to think about what is maybe an equally as difficult question… even if there was some huge uniting event to bring us together, in this day and age, in this culture, would we be willing to give everything away— your house, your land, your wealth—to the needy among you so that there is ultimately no needy among you? Are you willing to do that? These are Christian principles—no idols, no hierarchies, no private property—everything and everyone working together, one body, one heart, one soul. And so I wonder—is Christian life actually compatible with American life? Church—it might not be. At least not American life the way we know it now.
All this individualism leads to isolation. We were isolated before the pandemic, and of course that pandemic made it so much worse. How do we transform into a collective of people who really and truly care for one another? How do we find the time and the space, the motivation to pool our resources, to make sure no one among us is lacking for anything? Is it even possible in this world?
Truthfully, I don’t think the Christian life that Luke writes of is possible for us barring some kind of incredible revolution. But I do believe that we can work for a kinder and closer community. I do believe there are enough compassionate and caring people among us that things will get better. And though I spent the first couple hours of Friday morning quietly raging, my spirits were buoyed later on by the very same listserv that had made me so angry earlier. One participant I can thank for that was out very own Rob Sangster, who put his own two cents in to say that wouldn’t our efforts be better spent collectively petitioning our reps at the state level, as that’s the only way we can bring about real change, rather than putting efforts into something that can only hurt people. And a few other people piped in, making similar points. I felt a little less alone after reading those; I was relieved.
I’ve talked about this before—the fact that after the years of isolation and uncertainty we went through during the pandemic, that nothing really changed. Shouldn’t that have been the collective, unbelievable, earth-shattering event that set us straight? Shouldn’t that have been the event that made everyone, the most powerful among us to the meekest, say ‘oh, things really need change, we really need to take care of one another.’ If a worldwide pandemic won’t do it, what will?
Resurrection, I guess. I guess that’s why we really do need to believe in the resurrection. I guess that’s why we do really need to act in the spirit of resurrection always, we need to believe in the unbelievable. We need to believe that freedom from death is possible, and we need to believe that people are capable of caring for each other; that people are capable of putting their own anxieties and fear aside, that people are capable of putting their own needs and wants aside for the betterment of all.
If we backtrack a little, to chapter two of Acts, there’s another description of what life was like for the apostles during this time
Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.
There was still this feeling of awe among the apostles and everyone they met—performing miracles—wonders and signs—will definitely help, but more than that, they were bound together by this amazing thing that had experienced, and so they used that as their motivation for doing good. And by pooling their resources and giving to anyone who had any need, they were able to share the good news and the spirit of resurrection.
These days, people looking out for one another, being concerned about all people, young and old, not just themselves feels as impossible and unbelievable as rising from the dead. This country worships individualism above all else; so many seem to not understand that it takes a robust and thriving community, not a group of isolated individuals pulling themselves up by their bootstraps, for everyone to flourish.
Together, let’s keep rebuilding trust and faith in community with our faith in the work Christ and the call of Christ. Let’s rebuild trust and faith in one another. Let’s show that we don’t have to be selfish and uncaring to get by—and rather, by being thoughtful, compassionate, and giving, we can do more than get by—we can thrive, working as one heart and soul, together. This is the Easter spirit—the spirit of resurrection. Amen.
