by Connie Frierson
Our scripture today is about Stephen, the first martyr of the church. I have always had a bit of trouble warming up to this story. I mean Stephen seemed such a goody two shoes and preachy. Right before this little passage about the stoning, Stephen has preached 50 verses of a sermon. He is hauled before the Jewish authorities and accused of blasphemy both God and Moses. So he responds with a sermon that recounts God’s interaction from Abraham to Jacob to Moses to David to the Prophets. We don’t know anything bad about Stephen. He is almost too good to be true. So it is easy to turn Stephen into a cardboard saint, not so real as to touch us. But then I remembered one of the things we do know about Stephen. He was a waiter.
Who here as ever was a waiter or waitress? Who has ever said the words, “Hello, my name is Connie and I will be your server this evening”? Long before the term “wait staff” was in use I was just a plain waitress. It was my first paying job. I was 17. Stephen was a waiter too. The early church was growing by leaps and bounds and the believers were sharing their goods and food. But there were complaints that some of the widows weren’t receiving their share. So the disciples and the community called seven people to help serve. Stephen and six others were picked. Do you think this is significant enough to put that on a martyr’s resume? If you have been a waiter, do you put having been a waiter on your resume? I don’t. Waiting tables is humble work. Our society puts waitressing way down low on the important job list. It is not heroic or daring or brainy. It is just service. “What can I get for you today? You want fries with that? To go from waiter to martyred hero of God is quite a jump. It is an amazing reversal. The first shall be last and the last first. Or did the early church know how important service is. The disciples didn’t just tie an apron around Stephen. They laid hands on him and prayed. This is like a waiter ordination. “Here Stephen go touch people with God’s love while you wait tables.”
I will always remember my very first customer, of my very first night, of my very first job. A guy with a wiry build and dirty work clothes came in. He sat down at my counter. He ordered the special, a hot roast beef sandwich with mash potatoes and gravy. He ate his meal. He set out the exact change beside his plate, no tip. And then he put his head down on his plate and passed out. There he was with the mash potatoes on his eyebrows and gravy on his nose, dead drunk. Welcome to the service industry. I wonder did I do my best for this guy? I was probably chipper and oblivious. But here was a guy who needed care. But I didn’t know about being an ordained waitress. How different our lives would be if we didn’t just ordain ministers, elders and deacons, but we also ordained waitresses, accountants, teachers, firemen and electricians. How could we change the world if we thought of every aspect of our lives as ordained, sacred service to God?
I worked seven at night to seven in the morning at an all night diner. So I had the evening rush and the bar crowd after two o’clock. You learn a lot when you waitress the graveyard shift. Surprisingly, you learn a lot about death and resurrection. You learn a lot about the resurrection, when you have gone through the dark of the night, after the bar crowd rush is gone and the night is long and the diner is empty and stale and you are so tired. When the diner is empty in the dark of the night it seems sometimes as though the whole world is empty. Minutes drag. Feet ache. It is a lonely time. But when the dawn comes and the first of the early morning crowd comes in and the pancakes and coffee suddenly smell good and comforting again you feel you know a little bit about death and resurrection. They don’t call it the graveyard shift for nothing.
I wonder if this is what Stephen learned as he looked into the eyes of his accuser. When he had told the story of all of Hebrew history and God history to a crowd that couldn’t or wouldn’t hear, when their spiritual sense was stale, when their interest in God was dead, as hatred and violence darkened everything, did Stephen sense that death that comes before resurrection, the dark night that comes before the dawn.
What we do know is that Stephen experienced the risen Christ. Stephen looked up and there the Glory of God was with Jesus standing on the right hand of God. There is something unique about Stephen’s vision. It is not quite right liturgically. Stephen sees Jesus as standing at the right hand of God. The Apostles Creed intones that Jesus is sitting at the right hand of God the Father, almighty. The Apostles Creed is quoting Jesus statements from Luke 22. But Stephen sees Jesus standing. The scripture in Acts says it twice. Jesus is standing. Jesus is standing because sitting is just too passive. The living Christ would stand with Stephen. The living Christ would be Stephen’s courage for him. The living Christ would stand to welcome Stephen as he steps into eternity. The difference between the humble waiter and this extraordinary courage was Stephen’s vision of who was with him. Stephen was loved and supported and encouraged by the resurrected Lord who stands with him. And Jesus stands with and beside us.
We don’t know if this was Stephen’s first sermon but we know it was his last. And by our standards I would say Stephen was a failure as a preacher. He didn’t convince his audience. He didn’t win friends and influence people. My husband used to say that the first requirement of a good pilot is that you have an equal number of take off’s to landings. Any flight that has both a take off and a landing can’t be all bad. In the same way a preacher should stand up deliver the sermon and then return to her seat. This is a minimally successful sermon. It is also helpful if you entertain, enlighten, inspire and collect enough money to cover payroll, the mortgage and some mission giving. All our standards have to do with survival. By these standards Stephen failed. He didn’t make it back to the pew. He was dragged out and stoned.
Stephen wasn’t a successful preacher, but he was a wonderful follower of Christ. Perhaps, Stephen learned a counterintuitive lesson from ‘Our Lord’s Gospel of Holy Wait Staff.” For Stephen, there is a higher prerogative than survival. Stephen was trying to live a life that was shaped and formed by knowing a living God. So Stephen’s priority was love and integrity and a true witness. Stephen starts his sermon addressing his accusers as ‘Brothers and Fathers”. To address the accusers as family is a love language. Stephen loved with the agape kind of love Jesus described. Martin Luther King called this agape kind of love, disinterested love. He said, “Agape does not begin by discriminating between worthy and unworthy people, or any qualities people possess. It begins by loving others for their sakes. Therefore agape makes no distinction between friend and enemy; it is directed to both.” So Stephen’s agape love poured out whether or not the audience smiled and nodded or scowled and threw stones. This kind of love is heard in Stephen’s last words when he says, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” Stephen is following Christ right down to the last words of Christ. “Forgive them for they know not what they do.”
Stephen is held up as a model of courage and certainly he had that. But Stephen is more than courage; he experienced a transcendent life and death. Humans are capable of great courage in the face of death. I have read many accounts of soldiers acting with tremendous bravery. When interviewed later many say that in the midst of war they counted themselves already dead. So counting themselves as dead they could act often with risk and amazing bravery. But Stephen didn’t just count himself as already dead. He counted himself as already resurrected. The brave soldiers I read about acted out of fatalism and desperation. Stephen looked up and spoke out of trust and hope. As a witness to the resurrection Stephen could act not only with courage and passive resistance but also with forgiveness. This is transcendent living.
You know there is one other figure in this passage. Saul stands watching and approving the killing of Stephen. This was Saul before his transforming encounter with the risen Christ, Saul who was willing to defend his own system of beliefs with violence. When there are two such opposite figures it is helpful to ask in this story who are you? Are you the courageous visionary with eyes on Christ or the orthodox enforcer approving violence to defend your principals? Are you Stephen or Saul? The truth is that probably you don’t see yourself in either. We all are much too sensible to be caught up in such extremes. We steer clear of mobs and martyrs. But I wonder if Stephen and Saul would have said the same thing of themselves before these events. Each life has it’s moments of horror and decision, if not stoning by a mob, then the quiet struggle to maintain a marriage, or rebuild a life after job loss or illness, or the death of a loved one. There are lots of opportunities to live with the hope and courage of a resurrected people or the bitterness and anger of defending your own system.
You choose whom you will serve. Serve with the vision of Christ standing with you. Amen
