Closed Ears or Open Eyes
based on Acts 7:55-60
by Richard Gehring

From 1955 to 1961, there was a local show on WRC-TV in Washington, DC called Sam and Friends. It was only a five-minute show that ran as the lead-in to the nightly news report. The show featured several puppets including, of course, Sam—a bald, human-looking puppet with wide eyes, large ears and a big nose. The show's creator was a young college student at the University of Maryland. When the show began, it often featured Sam or one of his friends like Yorick or Harry the Hipster lip-synching to some popular song. As time went on, the brief plots became more sophisticated, often spoofing popular television shows of the day.

Since the show ran for only a few years in a single market more than 50 years ago, it may come as a surprise to learn that one of the original puppets from Sam and Friends is now a featured display in the Smithsonian. This friend of Sam is a sort of lizard-looking character named Kermit. And the college student who created him was Jim Henson. Eventually, of course, Kermit evolved into a frog. And Jim Henson created the Muppets, which have gone on to be featured in 11 full-length films, 25 TV series and 28 television specials. Kermit himself has made appearances in more than 35 TV shows and movies. Not too bad for a character that Henson originally created by gluing a pair of ping-pong balls onto fabric from a coat that his mother had thrown in the trash.
Sam and Friends was not a show about Kermit the Frog. But without it, he may never have been “born;” and the Muppets may never have become the huge phenomenon that they are.

In a similar fashion, our scripture for today is not really about Saul. He is a side character, a name only mentioned in passing. In fact, if this were the only passage in which Saul was mentioned, we probably wouldn't pay any more attention to him than we do to Aristarchus the Macedonian(Acts 27:2) or Alexander the coppersmith(2 Timothy 4:14) or Zenas the lawyer (Titus 3:13)--all individuals who are also mentioned somewhere in the New Testament. But, of course, this young man Saul eventually becomes the Apostle Paul—the great missionary leader of the early church.
The fact that Luke, the author of the book of Acts, chooses to mention his presence in this story is clearly a foreshadowing of who young Saul is going to become. Luke introduces Saul in this episode that stands in such contrast to what we know of him as Paul. This suggests to me that perhaps what happens here in chapter seven has something to do with what happens two chapters later when Saul has his famed “Damascus road” experience. From that point on, Saul—or Paul as he comes to be known—is the main character in the rest of the book, and in some sense for the rest of the New Testament.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves here. A I said, Acts seven is not about Saul. It's really about Stephen. Stephen is first introduced in the previous chapter as one of the seven “deacons” who are appointed to oversee the distribution of food to widows within the church. In order to receive this appointment, Stephen must be someone “of good standing, full of the Spirit and of wisdom”(Acts 6:3) Stephen himself is named first among these seven, and described as “a man full of faith and the Holy Spirit.”(Acts 6:5) We are told a few verses later that “Stephen, full of grace and power, did great wonders and signs among the people.”(Acts 6:8)

It is, apparently, because of these “great wonders and signs” that some members of a certain synagogue conspired against him. They tried to argue with him, but were unable to do so successfully. So instead they hatch a plan to have him arrested on trumped-up charges of blasphemy. They testified before the Sanhedrin in the temple, declaring, “we have heard him say that this Jesus of Nazareth will destroy this place and will change the customs that Moses handed on to us.”(Acts 6:14) It is in response to these accusations, then, that Stephen makes a lengthy speech that takes up most of chapter seven.

In this speech, Stephen summarizes the entire history of the Jewish people beginning with the call of Abraham. He has been brought before the Sanhedrin on charges of blasphemy against Moses and against God. Stephen, however, speaks in glowing terms of Moses in this speech that provides his defense. He concludes, then, by comparing the religious leaders of his day to those who had opposed Moses himself and persecuted God's prophets in the past.

Needless to say, this speech doesn't go over very well with those Jewish leaders. Our passage for today graphically reports their reaction. They act swiftly against Stephen, dragging him out of the city and carrying out the sentence for blasphemy: death by stoning.(Leviticus 24:16) In so doing, Stephen becomes the very first Christian martyr—the first individual put to death for being a follower of Jesus Christ.

In dying, in fact, Stephen also emulates the example of Jesus himself. His words as the stones are being hurled at him are a clear echo of the same words that Jesus spoke from the cross. “Lord Jesus,” he says, “receive my spirit.”(v. 59; cf Luke 23:46) And the very last words of Stephen are words not of vengeance or anger, but—like Jesus—are a prayer of forgiveness for those who are killing him. “Lord,” Stephen prays, “do not hold this sin against them.”(v. 60)
In sharp contrast to Stephen's remarkably calm and gracious demeanor, however, there is the angry mob that brutally murders him. The death sentence imposed on Stephen is, to be sure, the one that the Law of Moses prescribes for blasphemers. But the swiftness and fury with which they carry it out is rather shocking. There is no careful deliberation, no due process, no cross examination of witnesses or investigation of evidence. There is merely violent, hateful anger that manifests itself in a savage act of lynching.

The attack on Stephen is particularly shocking given the identity of those who carry it out. As one commentator notes, “the people who kill Stephen are neither the local hooligans nor the Roman soldiers who nailed Jesus to a cross. They are, ostensibly at least, upstanding members of religious communities: regular members of synagogues, elders, religious professionals, priests. They are guardians of vital traditions. They are important people who possess a lot of leverage in religious discourse; political discourse, too.” Yet in this context, they degenerate into a “crowd crushing a man's skull, one hurled rock at a time.”(Matt Skinner at www.workingpreacher.org)
It's baffling. How is it that these upstanding citizens, these community leaders and teachers of God's law turn so quickly into a bloodthirsty lynch mob? The answer to this question may be found in verse 57 of our text: “they covered their ears, and with a loud shout all rushed together against him.” Did you catch that? They covered their ears. They refused to listen. They refused to be open to what Stephen was saying. They refused to accept that the voice of God might be speaking through him.

In fact, they didn't just cover their ears. They also shouted loudly. They wanted to make sure that nothing Stephen said could possibly get through to them. They actively worked to prevent even the remotest possibility that any words he spoke might be heard. This is not merely a passive ignorance of the work of God's Spirit. This is an active and deliberate denial that Stephen might possibly have anything of worth to say to them. It is this open defiance of the message that Stephen is declaring—this intentional opposition to God's voice—that transforms them from a thoughtful religious body into an angry mob.

Stephen himself, however, manages to keep from falling into this same trap. Even though the crowd refuses to listen to him, even though a violent mob is treating him unjustly, even though he is being pelted with stones, Stephen responds with forgiveness rather than fear. He reacts in compassion rather than condemnation. He seeks reconciliation rather than retaliation.
Just as it boggles our minds to consider how the religious elites could have become a murderous mob, so also we have to marvel at how it is that Stephen is able to remain so calm, focused and non-judgmental in the midst of such a violent situation. Again, the answer seems to be suggested by the text itself. Luke reports that, as the anger of the crowd was rising against him, Stephen “gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. 'Look,' he said, 'I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!'”(vv. 55-56)

In other words, Stephen is able to remain faithful to God's will because he is able to recognize God's presence even in the midst of such a dangerous setting. He is able to see Jesus at work even when his own life is hanging by a thread. For while the crowds closes their ears, Stephen opens his eyes. While the crowds refuse to listen, Stephen keeps looking for God's will. While the crowds shut themselves out from hearing anything but their own anger and fear, Stephen opens himself to the presence and promise of Christ.
The question that we must ultimately face, then, is “Where do we see ourselves in this story?” Are we closing our ears like the mob, rushing forward to retaliate with violence? Surely we don't want to think of ourselves being part of this crowd. Or are we keeping our eyes open like Stephen, intent on God's glory and looking for God's guidance? Much as we might like to say that this is where we want to be, the truth is that most of us are probably not really there, either. Neither the angry mob nor the saintly martyr really seem to fit us very well—at least not most of the time.
But then there's Saul. Remember him? He's standing there on the sidelines watching the coats. He doesn't throw any stones himself. He isn't covering his ears and yelling to drown out voices that might disagree with him. He is not participating directly in the angry mob. Then again, he's also not doing anything to intervene. He's not stepping in and demanding that Stephen be given a fair hearing. He's not asking that the others take a moment to thoughtfully consider what they're doing. He's just standing and watching while the crowd is carrying out the “dirty work” on his behalf. Perhaps that's where many of us find ourselves as well.
We are not the ones out in front, the ones acting in violence or cheering on others who do so. We are, after all, Christians. We believe in love and peace and harmony. Clearly we do not identify with the rock-throwing, ear-closing, loudly yelling crowd.
Yet we do often seem to be standing on the sidelines. Like Saul, we may not be participating in the acts of violence ourselves. But we do not intervene to stop them. We do not leave our comfort zones in order to try to bring an end to the bloodshed. We, in fact, reap some benefit from the acts of aggression ourselves. We accept the violence with our silent approval.
For most of the last decade the United States military was directly involved in wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. Tens of thousands of our fellow citizens fought in these wars in our name, supported by hundreds of billions of our tax dollars.
No, we're not throwing the stones ourselves. We'll let our neighbors do that while we stand here on the sidelines watching their coats and paying for the rocks.
It is an imperfect analogy, to be sure. By using it, I do not mean to suggest that the targets of U.S. military operations are anywhere near as blameless as Stephen. Saddam Hussein and Osama bin Laden were by no means innocent men. Each engaged in brutal violence of their own. They clearly do not represent what it means to have your eyes open to the movement of God's Spirit.
Yet while it is appropriate to seek justice against these perpetrators of evil, we as a nation have acted in much the same way as the crowds of religious leaders in Acts 7. We have closed our ears to the voices of compassion. We have drowned out the cries for reconciliation with loud shouts. We have moved forward in violence and retribution.
And while most of us gathered here may not have participated directly in that violence, neither have we done much to stop it. We may not have purposely closed our ears, but neither have we acted with our eyes wide open to what God is doing. We may not have shouted down the voices of mercy and forgiveness, but neither have we raised our own voices in full-volume solidarity with those who are dying. And while the brutal leaders whose names we recognize may not be blameless, there are countless numbers of innocent victims in each of these wars whose names we will never know as we stand here on the sidelines, giving our tacit, silent approval—just like Saul.
But, of course, that's not where Saul stayed. He did not remain on the sidelines. Two chapters later, Saul is on his way to Damascus to find more of those who are followers of Jesus. He carries with him orders to search the synagogues there for men and women like Stephen. If he finds some, he is to arrest them and bring them back to Jerusalem where they can be dealt with just as Stephen was.
It is on the road to Damascus where Saul is temporarily blinded by the light—where his ears are opened to the voice of Jesus asking why Saul is persecuting him. And after a few days among the believers in the city, his eyes are literally opened. He is a changed man. He turns from being Saul the persecutor to Paul the missionary; from the young man who stood on the sidelines to the one who radically widens the circle of those who follow Jesus; from the one who looked on at the stoning of Stephen to one who is himself stoned and beaten and whipped and jailed for the cause of Christ.

And I have to think that maybe—just maybe—the seeds of that radical transformation are planted on the day that he stands on the sidelines watching the coats while Stephen responds with such mercy and grace and forgiveness. The church continues to practice that same forgiveness with Saul himself. They could have reacted with vengeance and retribution. They could have let the synagogue leaders in Damascus kill him when they plotted against him.(Acts 9:22-25) They could have kept him from becoming a part of the group. Indeed, at least some were understandably skeptical of him at first.(Acts 9:26) But ultimately, the forgiveness shown by Stephen to his persecutors is shown by the entire church to Saul.(Acts 9:27-28) And because of that mercy and forgiveness shown to him, he is remembered not as the young man who stood by while Stephen was stoned. He is remembered as the apostle to the Gentiles, the author of more books of the Bible than any other person, the persistent missionary who remained undaunted by persecution.
That forgiveness that Stephen showed to his persecutors—and that the early church showed to Saul—is the same forgiveness that is offered to us as well. And as we accept that forgiveness, we—like Stephen and like Saul—find not only our eyes and ears opened, but our hearts and minds as well. We see the presence of God in our own lives and in the world around us. In experiencing forgiveness for our actions—or for our inaction—we are moved to live out that forgiveness through mercy and compassion towards others.

Through the presence of our merciful God, we are able to stand with those who are victims of violence today. Through the power of the risen Christ, we are empowered to lift up our voices on behalf of the voiceless. Through the movement of the Holy Spirit, we are taken from the sidelines and thrust into the midst of the sufferings of our world. For it is the Spirit of the risen Christ that goes before us and with us and through us into this violent world, bringing healing and hope and peace.