Theological Truth: The work of discipleship is to make the Gospel of Jesus Christ known, not ourselves.
Alleluia! Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Do you ever wonder what became of some of your childhood friends or former classmates? Did that middle school class clown become a stand-up comedian or a convicted felon? Today a quick google search answers that, but before the internet, or Facebook, or Linked In, we were left to wonder how and who they turned out to be.
That is often our lot in life. People come together for a short time and then go their separate ways. Either because of time, distance, or desire, we lose touch and are left to wonder how things turned out for an old flame, or a memorable colleague. For instance, I wonder whatever became of that head stock clerk at T.G.&Y., the one who led me and a few other teen employees to walk out in protest at the outrageous, inhumane demands of management (we were required to come in early on a Saturday. Imagine the injustice!) The guy was inspirational, but ineffective. We were fired immediately, never to sweep the aisles of a five and dime store again. I wonder if he’s heading up the Teamsters now, or toiling away in an office cubicle? I guess I’ll never know.
Today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles makes me curious about another person we hear about briefly, but never again: Joseph called Barsabbas, also known as Justus. We don’t know that much about him, other than he’s one of two candidates who match Peter’s criteria for a successor to Judas. Apparently, he was “one of the men who … accompanied [them] during all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among [them], beginning from the baptism of John until the day when [Jesus] was taken up.” Peter must have trusted Barsabbas’ ability to witness to the resurrection. And yet, in a casting of lots (an Old Testament-sanctioned method of seeking God’s guidance on difficult decisions), Barsabbas loses out on apostolic fame. He fades from this moment in the spotlight into the darkness of history leaving us to wonder, “Whatever happened to that guy…what was his name again…??”
And yet, I don’t think for a minute that Barsabbas stopped witnessing to the good news of Christ’s victory over death. I can’t imagine a world where his conviction would diminish, and he’d go back to his pre-Jesus life. I see him laboring on with a joyful, grateful, astonished, committed faith. I envision a person motivated, animated, and inspired by the Holy Spirit. I picture someone sharing the marvelous truth that St. Paul proclaimed, “There is no longer Jew or Greek; there is no longer slave or free; there is no longer male and female, for all … are one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28).
And I marvel at the possibility of someone motivated by a selfless generosity to share freely what he has freely received. Someone more committed to God than himself. Someone more concerned with God’s glory, than his own.
That sort of acceptance of anonymity is not often celebrated in a world obsessed with celebrities and fixated on followers. I’m certainly not the first to notice that some people appear to be famous just for being famous … or infamous. And if infamy is the price of fame, then so be it. Oscar Wilde was ahead of his time when he stated, “The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.” The only seemingly unforgivable sin in today’s culture is being anonymous. But if, as Bishop Curry says, the opposite of love isn’t hate but selfishness, surely this obsession with self-promotion and insatiable notoriety is taking us down the wrong path.
So thank you, Barasabbas! Thank you and blessed are you for seeking not your own glory or name-recognition, but rather seeking to serve the will of God, as either an apostle to be remembered (were that to be your lot), or as an anonymous member of the glorious company of the saints in light. Thank you for reminding us that there is no such thing as an unknown child of God, no such possibility as an unnecessary laborer in the fields of God’s harvest. We all have a role to play in the bringing about of God’s kingdom.
Are we ready to serve with this sort of selflessness….without need of notoriety or attention? It helps to remember a couple of things.
First, we begin with awareness of and gratitude for God’s abundant grace and mercy towards us. We realize and react to the deep truth of God’s unearned favor towards us in Christ’s life, death, and resurrection. Accepting and abiding in God’s loving embrace, we no longer need the world’s acceptance.
We can live no longer for ourselves or the world’s approval, but only seeking to do God’s will and for God’s glory.
The second thing to remember is that what we do in private, when no one is watching, is the best proof of character. As someone who walks his dog quite often in the churchyard, I can tell you that I am grateful for the upstanding character of fellow pet-owners who, even when no one is around, do the right thing. Know what I mean? C.S. Lewis was right, “Integrity is doing the right thing when no one is watching.”
Doing the right thing because it is right, not because it will be recognized or rewarded, is particularly worth remembering on Mother’s Day. Mothering so often is undervalued and unappreciated. Many a mom has toiled in anonymity and without recognition. Blessed are they that do right by their kids despite not receiving a weekly paycheck or an end of the year trophy.
This commitment to doing right, even and especially when no one is watching, is a sign that we have internalized and prioritized our new life in Christ. We are committed to seeking God’s will rather than our own, pleasing God not the faceless general public. We are ready and willing to do what God asks, rather than what we may want. We put God first, and our ego last. We find our true selves by losing our attention-seeking selves.
And if years from now someone wonders, “What ever happened to them?”, it won’t matter. We’ll have taken our place with Barsabbas and Matthias, those known by us and those known to God alone, the glorious company of the saints in light. May we seek to shine not in the bright light of fame, but with and for God’s glory. It’s all we need and more than enough.
Sermon delivered by the Rev. AJ Heine on the Seventh Sunday of Easter, May 12, 2024, at Trinity Episcopal Church, Staunton, Va.
