Christian: First at Antioch
This morning we come to the last of the troublesome words we're going to look at this summer.
Christian.
Possibly the most troublesome word we've come across.
When we think of the word, “Christian,” any number of things come to mind. People may think of philanthropists – people guided by selflessness, who give to charity, who volunteer their time to make the world a better place. Christians have done wonders across the globe in helping to house the homeless, feed the hungry, care for the sick, build schools, and basically endeavor to lead a life of good works, as we believe Jesus asked us to do.
Or people may think of hypocrites. That to some people the word Christian has become synonymous with thief, adulterer, or pervert. That we preach against sin in the pulpit but that we're also some of the worst offenders in indulging in sin, and then sweeping it under the carpet when we get caught. That we're too motivated by protecting the institution of religion than actually practicing its teachings.
The word “Christian” these days gets caught up in a lot of connotations. When we hear someone say they're a Christian we might immediately jump to conclusions about their personality, or their politics, or their background, or how they treat others. And those connotations may be either positive or negative, depending on how the beholder has experienced Christianity.
Are we part of a religion that is, first and foremost, loving and charitable towards others?
Or part of a religion that is loving and charitable primarily towards itself?
How we respond to that word, “Christian,” often depends on whether we ourselves are one.
If we're in the group, if we're part of the in-crowd, if we ourselves are Christian, that influences how we react to that label. Because we may have been raised in the church. By Christian family members. With Christian friends. Who are good people. They're good people, they're Christian, I'm a Christian, and I think I'm a good person too.
If we're not part of the group. Or if we once were, and experienced trauma as a part of the group. If we suffered abuse, or if the church wasn't there for us when we needed them, or if we're just an outsider looking in, then the word Christian takes on a whole different meaning. It's a pejorative. It's an insult. It's something to be ashamed of.
The truth of the matter, as usual, lays somewhere in between.
The Church as a whole is made up of people. And Christians are like any other people – we're mostly good-intentioned, mostly loving, occasionally messy, we make mistakes. We are imperfect. And there are some among us, who identify as Christian, who simply do the wrong thing. But because we're an organization that strives to do and be better, when those wrong things get amplified. And they make the news. And so, even though there are over 2 and half billion of us on this planet, we all get painted with that same brush, to an extent.
And it may seem to be the case that “Christian” may once have been a good word – a word that was good and uplifting and something to be proud of, and that has now been dragged through the mud. Misunderstood and miscast by outsiders, and not lived up to by insiders.
But that's not really the case.
“Christian,” from the very beginning, has always been something of an insult.
Our reading from Acts this morning marks the first of only three times in the scriptures that the word, “Christian” is used. And the followers of Jesus Christ were first called that at Antioch, following a great series of persecutions following the death of Stephen, the first martyr. Stephen had been a deacon of the church, tasked with distributing food and aid to poorer members of the church community. He was captured by the Sanhedrin – the ruling religious council of Jerusalem – and charged with blasphemy. When he not only refused to admit to blasphemy, but then gave a speech attacking the judgment and authority of the council. He was then stoned to death.
He was the first martyr. The first one to die for following Christ.
For most of the early church, before Christians were called Christians, they thought of themselves as Jews. They were Jewish. They kept to Jewish customs. They followed Jewish law. They spoke the language, knew the history, they were a part of the culture as much as anyone else. And for them Jesus was not the end of their Jewish-ness, but rather the fulfillment of it.
So when this new word came about – this “Christian” label that they were suddenly given at Antioch, it marks a breaking point. This was the ruling class Sanhedrin and those who followed them saying to the ones who followed Jesus, “You're not with us anymore. You are something else. You're something other.”
If you spend your whole life thinking you're Jewish. And then the elders of your religion say that you're not anymore. That you're a blasphemer. That you're a Christian instead... that's got to sting a bit.
Judaism was the religion of the land and the people. They were Jewish because they were from Judea. Christian, at that time, meant that they just followed some guy named Jesus Christ. Who, if you weren't a follower, was just that – some guy. So to call someone a Christian was to accuse them of abandoning their people, their faith, their culture... for what? To go off an join some guy's cult? So yeah... in that time and at that place, it was something of an insult.
Incidentally, that word, Christ, I'm sure we've all heard, comes from a Greek word, meaning “anointed one.” That's true. But it's also closely related to the Greek word, chrestos, which meant “good” or “kind.”
So that sounds like a positive, I'm certainly not offended when anyone calls me good or kind. I'll take it as a compliment. But in the tone and meaning of the day, it was more like calling someone a goody two-shoes. At that time Christians were some of the only people in the ancient world to include women, not only in the congregation, but in the leadership of the church. They were some of the only people to include foreigners in their religious practices – the joining together of Greek and Jewish believers is one of the miracles of the early church. They were some of the only people to embrace adopting unwanted children – leaving unwanted babies in the wilderness to die of exposure was a heartbreakingly common practice. And they rejected earthly wealth and pooled their resources for the good of the community.
All of these things went against the grain of the Jewish religion as it was practiced then, of the culture, of all the norms and expectations.
So when people were called Christians – there was an element in there of calling them goody-goodies, straight-laced, holier-than-thou, however you want to call it.
But then something happened.
Because certainly “Christian” had been used, and thrown around as an epithet long before Antioch.
But then after the stoning of Stephen, when many followers of Christ fled Jerusalem, during a time of crackdowns and persecutions, many of them went to Antioch. Which is where that word Christian first appears in the scriptures.
And in this passage it appears not as an insult or a pejorative, but as a word they embrace themselves.
It's the formation of a new identity for a new people.
It no longer makes sense to think of themselves first and foremost as Jews who follow Jesus. The Jewish authorities are the ones chasing after them and trying to arrest them. And besides that, there are all these new Greek believers as well, who have no connections to Judaism or Jewish culture, except that they've heard of this Jesus guy and seen the good works his followers have done and want to be a part of that community.
So they take that insult, “Christian,” and they say, “Yes. This is who we are.”
They reject their old identity – as part of a people who have rejected them. No longer are they Jews of Judea. But they are followers first and foremost of Jesus Christ. And they forge a new community of many peoples, based not on bonds of affinity, nationality, or even family. But on faith. And if we remember our Pentecost story, we know this is not a new people of just Jews, or even Jews and Greeks; but Jews and Greeks, Parthians, Medes, and Elamites; Mesopotamians, Cappadocians, Egyptians, Romans, and so many more.
Called into the goodness of Chrestos, doing the good works that Jesus taught, but more than that, living into the life and faith of the Christ.
All other identities, philosophies, attitudes, cultural affiliations – everything else immediately became secondary to their new life in Jesus Christ.
That's been the Christian ideal for the last 2,000 years. Not that we're necessarily inherently good or better than anyone else. But that we put everything else aside to live as closely as we can into our faith. That our faith in Christ informs our actions and our attitudes. It gives us direction on how to treat others; on how to seek forgiveness and reconciliation. It teaches us how to love and show compassion, as Jesus loved and had compassion for us.
And not everyone will get it. We know that. We know that the sins of the church and the sins of many Christians have been great. And we understand when people might hear Christians speak of love and kindness and charity, and they might raise an eyebrow and be skeptical – even cynical.
But we know that it's not incumbent on us to be perfect. None of us are blameless. We're not holier-than-thou, or holier-than-anybody. That's not our purpose here.
Our purpose, as Christians, is to say that we know of Jesus's love for us. And it doesn't make us better.
It makes us part of something much, much larger than ourselves.
It makes us forgiven of all our many, many faults.
To be a Christian. Is to know we are loved. Amen.
Let us pray.
Gracious God, we pray in gratitude for the love you have shown us in calling us to follow your Son, Jesus Christ. Through him we are given your eternal grace and shown the endless mercy of your love. Lord, we pray that all people who are brought into your community of Christians may be made worthy of that name, through your strength and wisdom. We pray this in thanksgiving for the new life you have given us through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
This morning we come to the last of the troublesome words we're going to look at this summer.
Christian.
Possibly the most troublesome word we've come across.
When we think of the word, “Christian,” any number of things come to mind. People may think of philanthropists – people guided by selflessness, who give to charity, who volunteer their time to make the world a better place. Christians have done wonders across the globe in helping to house the homeless, feed the hungry, care for the sick, build schools, and basically endeavor to lead a life of good works, as we believe Jesus asked us to do.
Or people may think of hypocrites. That to some people the word Christian has become synonymous with thief, adulterer, or pervert. That we preach against sin in the pulpit but that we're also some of the worst offenders in indulging in sin, and then sweeping it under the carpet when we get caught. That we're too motivated by protecting the institution of religion than actually practicing its teachings.
The word “Christian” these days gets caught up in a lot of connotations. When we hear someone say they're a Christian we might immediately jump to conclusions about their personality, or their politics, or their background, or how they treat others. And those connotations may be either positive or negative, depending on how the beholder has experienced Christianity.
Are we part of a religion that is, first and foremost, loving and charitable towards others?
Or part of a religion that is loving and charitable primarily towards itself?
How we respond to that word, “Christian,” often depends on whether we ourselves are one.
If we're in the group, if we're part of the in-crowd, if we ourselves are Christian, that influences how we react to that label. Because we may have been raised in the church. By Christian family members. With Christian friends. Who are good people. They're good people, they're Christian, I'm a Christian, and I think I'm a good person too.
If we're not part of the group. Or if we once were, and experienced trauma as a part of the group. If we suffered abuse, or if the church wasn't there for us when we needed them, or if we're just an outsider looking in, then the word Christian takes on a whole different meaning. It's a pejorative. It's an insult. It's something to be ashamed of.
The truth of the matter, as usual, lays somewhere in between.
The Church as a whole is made up of people. And Christians are like any other people – we're mostly good-intentioned, mostly loving, occasionally messy, we make mistakes. We are imperfect. And there are some among us, who identify as Christian, who simply do the wrong thing. But because we're an organization that strives to do and be better, when those wrong things get amplified. And they make the news. And so, even though there are over 2 and half billion of us on this planet, we all get painted with that same brush, to an extent.
And it may seem to be the case that “Christian” may once have been a good word – a word that was good and uplifting and something to be proud of, and that has now been dragged through the mud. Misunderstood and miscast by outsiders, and not lived up to by insiders.
But that's not really the case.
“Christian,” from the very beginning, has always been something of an insult.
Our reading from Acts this morning marks the first of only three times in the scriptures that the word, “Christian” is used. And the followers of Jesus Christ were first called that at Antioch, following a great series of persecutions following the death of Stephen, the first martyr. Stephen had been a deacon of the church, tasked with distributing food and aid to poorer members of the church community. He was captured by the Sanhedrin – the ruling religious council of Jerusalem – and charged with blasphemy. When he not only refused to admit to blasphemy, but then gave a speech attacking the judgment and authority of the council. He was then stoned to death.
He was the first martyr. The first one to die for following Christ.
For most of the early church, before Christians were called Christians, they thought of themselves as Jews. They were Jewish. They kept to Jewish customs. They followed Jewish law. They spoke the language, knew the history, they were a part of the culture as much as anyone else. And for them Jesus was not the end of their Jewish-ness, but rather the fulfillment of it.
So when this new word came about – this “Christian” label that they were suddenly given at Antioch, it marks a breaking point. This was the ruling class Sanhedrin and those who followed them saying to the ones who followed Jesus, “You're not with us anymore. You are something else. You're something other.”
If you spend your whole life thinking you're Jewish. And then the elders of your religion say that you're not anymore. That you're a blasphemer. That you're a Christian instead... that's got to sting a bit.
Judaism was the religion of the land and the people. They were Jewish because they were from Judea. Christian, at that time, meant that they just followed some guy named Jesus Christ. Who, if you weren't a follower, was just that – some guy. So to call someone a Christian was to accuse them of abandoning their people, their faith, their culture... for what? To go off an join some guy's cult? So yeah... in that time and at that place, it was something of an insult.
Incidentally, that word, Christ, I'm sure we've all heard, comes from a Greek word, meaning “anointed one.” That's true. But it's also closely related to the Greek word, chrestos, which meant “good” or “kind.”
So that sounds like a positive, I'm certainly not offended when anyone calls me good or kind. I'll take it as a compliment. But in the tone and meaning of the day, it was more like calling someone a goody two-shoes. At that time Christians were some of the only people in the ancient world to include women, not only in the congregation, but in the leadership of the church. They were some of the only people to include foreigners in their religious practices – the joining together of Greek and Jewish believers is one of the miracles of the early church. They were some of the only people to embrace adopting unwanted children – leaving unwanted babies in the wilderness to die of exposure was a heartbreakingly common practice. And they rejected earthly wealth and pooled their resources for the good of the community.
All of these things went against the grain of the Jewish religion as it was practiced then, of the culture, of all the norms and expectations.
So when people were called Christians – there was an element in there of calling them goody-goodies, straight-laced, holier-than-thou, however you want to call it.
But then something happened.
Because certainly “Christian” had been used, and thrown around as an epithet long before Antioch.
But then after the stoning of Stephen, when many followers of Christ fled Jerusalem, during a time of crackdowns and persecutions, many of them went to Antioch. Which is where that word Christian first appears in the scriptures.
And in this passage it appears not as an insult or a pejorative, but as a word they embrace themselves.
It's the formation of a new identity for a new people.
It no longer makes sense to think of themselves first and foremost as Jews who follow Jesus. The Jewish authorities are the ones chasing after them and trying to arrest them. And besides that, there are all these new Greek believers as well, who have no connections to Judaism or Jewish culture, except that they've heard of this Jesus guy and seen the good works his followers have done and want to be a part of that community.
So they take that insult, “Christian,” and they say, “Yes. This is who we are.”
They reject their old identity – as part of a people who have rejected them. No longer are they Jews of Judea. But they are followers first and foremost of Jesus Christ. And they forge a new community of many peoples, based not on bonds of affinity, nationality, or even family. But on faith. And if we remember our Pentecost story, we know this is not a new people of just Jews, or even Jews and Greeks; but Jews and Greeks, Parthians, Medes, and Elamites; Mesopotamians, Cappadocians, Egyptians, Romans, and so many more.
Called into the goodness of Chrestos, doing the good works that Jesus taught, but more than that, living into the life and faith of the Christ.
All other identities, philosophies, attitudes, cultural affiliations – everything else immediately became secondary to their new life in Jesus Christ.
That's been the Christian ideal for the last 2,000 years. Not that we're necessarily inherently good or better than anyone else. But that we put everything else aside to live as closely as we can into our faith. That our faith in Christ informs our actions and our attitudes. It gives us direction on how to treat others; on how to seek forgiveness and reconciliation. It teaches us how to love and show compassion, as Jesus loved and had compassion for us.
And not everyone will get it. We know that. We know that the sins of the church and the sins of many Christians have been great. And we understand when people might hear Christians speak of love and kindness and charity, and they might raise an eyebrow and be skeptical – even cynical.
But we know that it's not incumbent on us to be perfect. None of us are blameless. We're not holier-than-thou, or holier-than-anybody. That's not our purpose here.
Our purpose, as Christians, is to say that we know of Jesus's love for us. And it doesn't make us better.
It makes us part of something much, much larger than ourselves.
It makes us forgiven of all our many, many faults.
To be a Christian. Is to know we are loved. Amen.
Let us pray.
Gracious God, we pray in gratitude for the love you have shown us in calling us to follow your Son, Jesus Christ. Through him we are given your eternal grace and shown the endless mercy of your love. Lord, we pray that all people who are brought into your community of Christians may be made worthy of that name, through your strength and wisdom. We pray this in thanksgiving for the new life you have given us through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
