The two volumes of Church history commonly called the Gospel According to (St.) Luke and the Acts of the Apostles seem to have no limit to the surprises found therein. Jesus appears to Peter, but we don't hear about it. Instead, the story has us walking to Emmaus with Cleopas and some unnamed disciple. Random stories that don't advance the plot carry with them a Sacramental theology. And then there is an aspect to one story that I have been chewing on for almost a year now.
There are two great traitors in the story of Christianity. One is very famous: Judas. His betrayal sets the benchmark for nearly every other betrayal in history. Dante has him in the mouth of Satan, next to Brutus and Cassius (also traitor-murderers), slowly being chewed upon by the Prince of Darkness. The other is less popular: Ananais, who has a brief appearance in Acts as one who withholds some of his money from the idyllic community that is the Jerusalem church. Upon accusal, he dies, and so does Sapphira, his wife.
Here is where you may be disputing my point. Judas is the great betrayer, or so the history of Christianity tends towards, while Ananais is a mere blip on the radar. And that's fine. But death is not a sentence meted out often in the Gospels. Something about "the one without sin cast[ing] the first stone." But these two crimes both warranted death. Judas receives his death by, ostensibly, tripping and "falling headlong" so that his blood waters the field he bought with his reward. Ananais seems to have some sort of heart attack when the truth comes out. Both deaths seem to walk the line of the will of God, as Luke portrays them.
However, in a Bible Study last year, we were reading Acts 9, the story of Saul's conversion into Paul, where the adversary of the church becomes its surest champion. A wonderful story, that is the topic of many a sermon. But there is a twist in the text. When Paul arrives in Damascus, blind and befuddled, a disciple called Ananias goes to see him at the house of a man called Judas. Two infamous names in close proximity in a story of a baptismal rite.
And that's what it is. Saul/Paul's conversion is really a theology of baptism. He is blind. He fasts. The promise of Jesus and the Holy Spirit are presented to him. Healing hands are placed upon him. Sight returns. He is baptized. He eats. Is this not a spiritual dying and rising with Christ? I think the Paul presented in the epistles would have been proud of this telling of his story, though he doesn't ever allude to it.
I now have the heretical theory in my mind that this story is about redemption in the lives of more than one character. Paul is redeemed from his adversarial role. Ananais, who we have heard is dead but may have actually been exiled from the Jerusalem church, has the chance to hear God's call again. Judas, who also was reported dead, serves as host to the miraculous restoration. The church in Damascus could have been the church of followers of the Way who were thrown out because of their actions. They were dead to the Jerusalem church, but still alive to God.
I completely acknowledge that you should consider this take on the story as problematic. If Luke is speaking figuratively about the death of two disciples, then we may have trouble discerning when he is reliable. But think of it like this: Luke is gathering stories of the Christ and the Church and weaving them into a bigger narrative that makes sense to him and conveys his theology. In telling this story of the conversion of Saul, who will become the hero of the book, he could have changed the names of the characters, altered the forms, or given secondary names, such as often happens in the writings of the New Testament. But instead, the story of the conversion of the great Apostle to the Gentiles involves the names of two traitors to the Church. Maybe if Judas's friends Herod and Pilate had stopped by, then we could have had a complete collection of names of church enemies all involved in the church's forward movement.
I like it ... theories, whether they eventually pan out or not, are good for our theological imagination. Thanks.
Posted by: Chris | May 06, 2009 at 01:11 PM