Sermon Preached at St. Mark's Episcopal Church
Easter 7C: Acts 16:16-34
Susan
Bock’s dramatic reading continues with these words:
Easter 7C: Acts 16:16-34
This morning’s story from the Acts of the Apostles has
always fascinated me. Here we have the
tale of Paul and Silas being dragged before the magistrates and accused of
“advocating customs that are not lawful for us as Romans.” They get thrown into prison, into the
innermost cell with their feet fastened in the stocks. But this is not what fascinates me. What really gets my attention is what happens
next. “About midnight Paul and Silas
were praying and singing hymns to God”[1]
Now we are not told what songs Paul and Silas were
singing nor are we given insight into the words of their prayers. We can
perhaps imagine the prayers we might have been saying that night. If you or I were in that prison, convicted
for doing what we knew in our hearts to be the right thing, to be the very
thing that God required of us, we might also be found offering up prayers to
God. My prayer might sound something
like this, “Dear God, you got me into this mess, now please, get me out of
here!” And then, when a violent
earthquake shook the foundations of my prison and threw open the doors and
released my chains, I suspect I might get the heck out of their – as fast and
as far as I could run.
But that’s not the story of Paul and Silas. No, in this story, Paul and Silas are praying
and singing and, we are told, the other prisoners were listening to them. Then the great earthquake happens and the
prisoners are free. [2]
The jailer when he sees what has
happened assumes that everyone in that prison has done exactly what I would
have done and he is prepared to take his own life to avoid the punishment that
will surely come upon him when the authorities discover that all the prisoners
have escaped. But that is not what
happens in this story. In fact, Paul
shouts out to the jailer, “Do not harm yourself, for we are all here.” Are you kidding me? They don’t take this opportunity to run? Apparently the prayers they were praying and
the songs they were singing were not the same prayers I would have offered.
Susan Bock in her book Liturgy for the Whole Church
wrote a dramatic reading called “A Story of Freedom” based on this story. I’d like to read a short bit of the dialogue:
Paul and Silas and the other prisoners don’t flee. Perhaps it is because they are already free. They are already free.“Paul: Freedom, you know, is a funny thing. Because it’s possible to be locked away in the innermost cell of a prison, and yet still, somehow, your heart can sing, like a stream running free!
Jailer: And it’s possible to believe you’re free, but you might just as well be bound hand and foot, because you can’t seem to choose for yourself what’s really right and good.
Paul: Like the slave girl who followed Silas and me through the streets of Philippi. Talk about bondage! Even her thoughts weren’t her own!
Slave Girl: But my owners were even less free than I, they were so bound by greed, which steals your heart and makes you treat others as things to be used . . . ”[3]
My brothers and sisters in Christ, are you free this
day? If not, what is holding you
captive? What prevents you from
responding to Christ’s invitation? What
will it take for you to hold out your hands and let go?
I’d like to walk you through a simple meditation. It
is a meditation I have sometimes used with youth groups. It might make you uncomfortable. It might not
feel “Episcopalian.” It might make you feel a bit self-conscious. But I invite you to be open to the experience
this morning.
I invite you to
close your eyes. Clench your hands
together in a fist.
What is it you are
holding on to? Is there something that is knotting you up inside? Is there something you don’t want to let go of? Is
there something you are struggling with? Is there something you don’t want anyone to see? Is
there something you don’t want God to see? Whatever it is, notice that it is
there. Notice what it feels like, without judgment or blame, simply observing and allowing the knowledge of what you are
holding to come to the surface. And if you are not sure what it is, that is
fine. Simply notice whatever is there.
Now, if you wish, open
your hands.
It may be that you
don’t feel ready to do that, and that’s O.K. You can go through this whole
meditation with your fist clenched. We recognize that in God’s eyes, whatever
is hidden in our clenched fist is already known and seen and loved. At the same time, we recognize that this is a
gift to be received willingly. The
invitation is there for you to open your hands, whenever you are ready. When
you have unclenched your fist, notice what that feels like. Does it feel
freeing? Does it feel scary? Does it feel like nothing is there? What is in
your hand now?
Push whatever
your hands are holding toward God.
Whatever was
worrying you or scaring you or tying you up in knots, whatever you were
carrying with you, whatever you were afraid to let other people see, push it
toward God and let God catch it. Let God take whatever it was from you. Let
your hands be empty.
Now, hold your
open hands in front of you again with the palm facing upwards.
Now that your hands
are empty, allow God to put a gift into your hands. This may be a gift of
encouragement. It may be a challenge or an instruction. It may be a new
perspective. It may be a message of love. Maybe you don’t know what it is or
you’re not sure anything is there, and that’s O.K. But whatever it is that God
wants to give you, allow God to place it in your hand. What does it feel like?
And how does it make
you feel? Take a few moments and simply notice whatever is going on for you.
See this gift
entering into your body, traveling through your bloodstream. What does it feel
like? Allow God’s gift to spread through you. If you don’t feel like you have received
a gift, or are not sure if you want to receive the gift, you can keep standing
with your hands open, or, if you wish, press your open hand to your heart. It
may be that you discover something in that movement that you didn’t find in
your open hand.
Finally, hold out
your hands to offer your thanks to God.
Whether it is for a
gift you have received this morning, or for anything else, use this gesture to
offer your thanks to God for anything you wish. When you have offered whatever
thanks you wish, you may open your eyes.[4]
“Freedom, indeed, is a strange and wonderful thing,
coming, as it does, from someone, or something, outside all our locked doors, .
. . or from someplace deep inside, where no one can touch it, or steal it away.
God wants us free! And when we are all bound up in the deepest innermost cells
of our darkest prisons, . . . convinced we are hopeless, abandoned, and lost, .
. . God will come find us, bringing light to our darkness, and whispering love
to our hungry hearts. God will find us in our chains and break their hold, and
bring us again to the light of day.”[5]
Freedom is a gift from
God. Come and take the gift.
[1]
Acts 16:25.
[2]
Acts 16:26.
[3]
Susan Bock, “A Story of Freedom: A Dramatic Reading for Three People,” Liturgy
for the Whole Church: Multigenerational Resources for Worship (New York:
Church Publishing, 2008), 128.
[4]
“Hand Meditation,” Confirm not Conform Weekend Retreat, (Cincinnati:
Forward Movement, 2009, 2012), 18-20.
[5]
Bock, 129.
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