Yes, Lent is over, but I am on a mission; a
mission to impart church knowledge/trivia to this faithful flock. Today’s category: Churches named after a
saint. Here are the 10 most popular in
the United States:
#10 St.
Matthew (724)
#9 St.
Andrew (789)
#8 St.
Luke (1,053)
#7 St.
Mark (1,062)
#6 St.
Joseph (1,152)
#5 St.
James (1,270)
#4 St.
Peter (1,362)
#3 St.
Mary (1,832)
#2 St.
Paul (3,210)
#1 St.
John (3,713)
Now, as near as I can tell, there are only
two churches named after St. Ananias: one in New Jersey, the other in Indiana,
and both are Orthodox. Why so few
churches named after Ananias? Perhaps a
better question is “Who the heck is St. Ananias?”
According to tradition, when Jesus sends 70
of his followers in teams of two to preach and heal throughout the region of
Galilee, Ananias is one of them. Just a
handful of years after the Resurrection, he is leading a small house church in
the city of Damascus, some 140 miles north of Jerusalem.
No matter the size, it appears to be a
dynamic and effective congregation because a Pharisee bent on persecuting
Jesus’ followers makes the long journey north in order to do harm to the
members of this church. He bears
documents authorizing him to arrest those professing to be a disciple, to bind
them, and to bring them back to Jerusalem for trial. Truth be told, if he has his druthers, he prefers
to stone them to death on the spot.
The Pharisee’s name is Saul and, as we read
in today’s first lesson, something life-changing happens to him on the road to
Damascus. He is driven to his knees and
struck blind by an intense light. He
hears a voice in the light. It is the
voice of the Risen Jesus. Saul’s
travelling companions, witnesses to what has happened but unsure of what to
make of it, guide their comrade into Damascus where they leave him to ponder
what has happened.
Enter Ananias. The Lord appears to him in a vision,
instructing him to go to Saul and lay hands on him in order to restore his
sight. Ananias has heard of Saul and,
knowing how he has persecuted disciples in Jerusalem, questions the wisdom of
such an assignment.
Here is why I think St. Ananias should be a
popular name for a Christian church.
Show me a good parishioner who cannot identify with him. He is active and engaged in his faith
community, giving what he can and volunteering to do those things in his zone
of comfort. Without hesitation, I’d take
twelve people just like him to serve on a Vestry and count myself blessed as a
rector.
I look around the congregation and do my
best to access gifts, skills, and interests.
I then encourage each person to contribute in ways he or she is
naturally suited. I keep a mental list of
the comments I hear:
“I’ll fold
bulletins, but don’t ask me to read in public.”
“I’ll write check
to support such-and-such, but I can’t give my time to it.”
“I’ll visit folks
in a nursing home, but don’t ask me to teach in the Sunday School.”
For those of us who like to operate in a
church within our comfort zone, Ananias can be our patron saint. But here is the problem: God has a way of
asking us to do things which make us extremely uncomfortable!
Churches are famous for pot-luck dinners
and if there is one thing I’ve learned over 30+ years of ordained life while
serving in numerous congregations of varying size and makeup, we Episcopalians
discover a dish we are capable of preparing and then bring it to pot-luck
dinners over and over and over again. That
is why, years ago at another church, I took a perverse pleasure in announcing a
terrific new idea I’d had: a pot-luck brunch.
You have never seen such an uproar.
Why, no one had ever before prepared a dish for a pot-luck brunch. What to do?
What to do? You can’t imagine the anxiety created by
asking people to do something unfamiliar to them… or maybe you can.
Now, we can laugh at the challenge of
switching from bringing deviled eggs to cheese croissants, but each of us knows
following Christ places much more significant demands on us than this:
“Do you really want
me to love the person at work who continually stabs me in the back?”
“How am I supposed
to let go of the pain and bitterness I have carried for so long?”
“What do you mean I
must learn to master my destructive passions and cravings?”
Perhaps we have stumbled onto the reason so
few churches are named after Ananias. No
one wants to be reminded the Christian faith really is a costly and risky proposition. How could you enter a sanctuary every week
seeking peace and comfort if it was named after a saint who was called by God
to pray with (not for, with) a person
who wanted to arrest and kill him? I can
just imagine such a parish’s mission statement:
Here at St. Ananias,
we strive to make all people as uncomfortable as possible by asking them to do
what they feel least capable of doing.
Won’t you join us?
Umm, I think not.
Chapters 8-10 of the Book of Acts chronicle
four dramatic conversions, each essential to the unfolding work of God’s Spirit
in and through the church. Philip
preaches to hated Samaritans and in the process confronts a man who profits by
manipulating a child possessed by an evil spirit. Philip next approaches an Ethiopian who is
reading Scripture while riding in a chariot.
Then we read about Saul’s journey to Damascus and Ananias is
introduced. Finally, Peter is directed
to visit a Roman centurion in the coastal city of Caesarea. This soldier and his family become the first
Gentile converts to the Christian faith.
There is at least one common thread in each of these stories: God asks a
faithful person to do something unconventional, something outside of his
comfort zone.
Philip challenges the economic status
quo. Peter defies stringent social and
cultural convention. Ananias is asked to
do something absurdly dangerous. None
acts simply to go out on a limb. Each
responds after some understandable hesitation because God calls them to do so.
Has God ever called you to do difficult
things or to go to unexpected places?
Might God be calling you even now to some thing which, like Ananias,
gives you serious pause or concern?
Annie Dillard famously observed if we take
the Christian faith at its word, we wouldn’t hand out bulletins in church, we’d
hand out crash helmets. I have known
some people and some churches who acted as if faithfulness looked like jumping
from the frying pan into the fire and then back again in a continual feverish frenzy
of spiritual and emotional flagellation.
I don’t subscribe to this pattern of Christian living, nor do I
recommend it. However, as today’s
reading reminds us, God is about stirring up things until all things reflect
God’s dream for the world. And it would
seem when God sets out to stir, God calls on people like Ananias and you and
me.
Imagine how different the world would be if
Ananias had stayed in his comfort zone. A
person would have remained blind and wasted away in a house on a street called
Straight in the town of Damascus and the church would have been bereft of its
first great evangelist and deep thinker.
Imagine how the world – or at least your
life – might be different if you responded to God’s call to do that thing you
least want to do or go to that place you least want to go. The next time you feel hesitant, the next
time you are afraid, the next time every fiber in your being tells you to
resist, think about St. Ananias, the Patron Saint of Stepping Out of Your
Comfort Zone, and you will know what to do.
