What an odd little story we have here. Our first lesson for today, the story of Paul's initial foray into Phillipi is full of bizarre characters, strange occurrences, and perplexing outcomes. The narrator relates that Paul and his compatriots were going to a place of prayer. On their way they meet up with an unfortunate woman whose fortune telling abilities have made her a valuable commodity. She is a slave girl, a piece of property, and her affliction have made a lot of money for her owners. The powers that possess her recognize in Paul the enemy. She attaches herself to their entourage loudly and annoyingly, blaring out advertisements for their message. Now this may seem like a good thing, but Paul had no time for this kind of vulgar religion which resembled the superstitions hawked in the market place by unscrupulous quacks. Paul puts up with her for several days but when he can stand it no more he intones an exorcism. The real source of her gifts, as he has discerned, is a demon.
Obviously now, her owners are not happy. They have just lost a valuable asset. Veiling their own callous greed with a heady dose of racism and nationalism they incite the population to such a degree that Paul and company are brought before the magistrates. Faced with this outburst of civic unrest, the helpless magistrates seek to cast oil on the waters by having the troublemakers viciously whipped and put in custody. The jailer chains them in the farthest corners of his dungeon. Far from the groans and laments such injustice and abuse would justify, Paul and his compatriots give themselves to prayer and hymns of praise. So moving is their devotion that the other prisoners are brought to silence. While they are singing and praying the earth begins to shake. The earth quakes so violently that the gates are opened and the chains are loosed.
The jailer awakes. Spying the open doors he comes to an obvious conclusion. His charges have escaped. Rather than stand trial he decides to do away with himself. With the blade poised ominously he is halted by the reassuring words from Paul. The jailor realizing this is a divine visitation rushes into the cell, throws himself at his rescuers feet. Taking them home and cleaning them up he poses the important question, "What must I do to be saved?" He and his family are baptized. So much for a remarkable night. Our lesson ends there but the story doesn't. Daylight comes and the magistrates come to their senses. An emissary comes with word to release the prisoners. But Paul isn't finished yet. He announces to the officials that he and Silas are Roman citizens and that their rights have been violated. They have been illegally beaten and imprisoned. He demands an official escort out of the city. So the mission to Phillipi ends with a splendid triumphal procession.
A strange and remarkable story. There are in fact, four miracles in this little scenario. Four miracles! The first and most obvious is, of course, the exorcism. One would think this would get the most attention but the narrator skips through it like it were an everyday occurrence born of Paul's annoyance and irritation. Like the third miracle, the earthquake, which shakes the prison and opens the chains and doors, the narrator is unimpressed and uninspired by these supernatural events.
What moves and inspires our narrator, and I dare say the things that impress us most are the two additional miracles. There is, of course, the miracle of belief. How is it that the jailor comes to believe? What works in his head and his heart to bring him to ask, "What must I do to be saved?" Perhaps it was reflection on the supernatural occurrences; the exorcism, the earthquake. Perhaps in his own fearful moment of distress his heart is moved with human sympathy for the bleeding prisoner, Paul. Why do people come to believe? We are aware that when people are surveyed for why they have come to a particular church 72 to 90 % will say it's because they have been invited by a friend. Perhaps people come to believe because they see something in other people that inspires them. Perhaps it has something to do with the witness of Christian character, with the fact that our words and our life are giving the same message and that that message is life giving and hopeful. For the jailor, it might have even had something to do with the fact that he went to sleep that night with "songs in the darkness" ringing in his ears.
"Songs in the darkness." In this whole story that might be the most striking wonder, the miracle of hope. Paul and Silas are arrested, beaten and thrown into the dungeon and chained. Their darkness was doubtless more than physical. It was, I am sure, phychological and spiritual as well. More than the pain and discomfort, fear must have been an ever present reality. Uncertainty, doubt, the disheartening feeling that doing the right thing, the good thing, is just the very thing that has brought about your current predicament must have weighed on Paul and Silas thinking, as it often does on ours. And yet, and yet in the midst of this Paul and Silas are praying and singing. Singing songs in the darkness. What a wonder. What a miracle.
As many of you know I was in Isreal this past week. I would testify to you that there are probably few places where the darkness is more a present reality. Yes, people still go about their daily activities, children go to school, there are still weddings and births. Life goes on. But there is an overwhelming feeling of gloom and depression. An end to the conflict, a chance for peace had seemed so real and so tangible just a year ago. Having such optimism dashed just seems to make the darkness that much more real.
On the last day in Isreal we visited an organization called Seeds of Peace. This organization works to bring Palestinian, Arab Isreali , Isreali and Jordanian teenagers together. Every summer since 1993 they have brought a group of young people to a camp in Maine for 40 days. For two hours each day they discuss their differences, sometimes we are told not in whispers. The rest of the time they do camp things and they come to know that the enemy has a human face. It is a wonderful program. When their time together is over the young people go back to their communities to be Seeds for peace.
On Oct. 2 of this year, Asel Asleh, a seventeen year old Seed of Peace, from the Arab Village of Arabeh in the Galilee area of Israel died of a gunshot wound to the neck. He was killed by Israeli security forces less than a mile from his home at the scene of a demonstration by Arab citizens of Isreal. Asel's father and other eyewitnesses, testify that Asel took no part in any confrontation and was standing alone when three officers attacked and shot him. The Isreali government has convened a Governmental Commission of Inquiry into the events in which Asel and 12 others were killed. Asel had spoken for peace in his community. He had urged his friends to see the struggle from another point of view. He had written over the internet to his friends from Seeds these words, "Enemy, it's just a word that everyone uses, an excuse for hate. I just want to change my world so that it will become a better place, with no need for such a word."
In the darkness of mourning and questioning one can imagine that his fellow Seeds would be disillusioned. One can imagine that the fear and the hate, the accusations and recriminations would take over. Instead his friends have written, "Everyone mourns you Asel. Rest knowing that we will pursue peace with more vigor and passion because of you. Your spirit will live in us." And, "We promise you that we will keep ourselves safe and carefully continue what you started for all of us. We promise you Asel that NO matter what, one day our dream of peace will become true."
To sing songs in the darkness is indeed a miracle.
To hope when it is unreasonable to hope. To trust when conditions
appear most bleak. This morning in the Tribune, in recognition
of Memorial Day there is a listing of all the conflicts of the
20th century. 46 wars, including two world wars. 12 conflicts
going on now, this day, as we speak. God must think these warring
children will never learn. Certainly left to our own devices we
won't. But we are here today singing songs in the darkness. Perhaps
that's a miracle that can bring one to belief.
Amen.