Gazing Along the Beam

But filled with the Holy Spirit, [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!” But they covered their ears, and with a loud shout all rushed together against him [Acts 7:55-57].

In his short but weighty piece, “Meditation in a Toolshed” [from God in the Dock: Essays on Theology and Ethics], C.S. Lewis describes an unusual, enlightening encounter that occurred while he was standing in a dark toolshed. Outside, the sun was shining brightly. Through the crack at the top of the door there came a sunbeam. Lewis said that from his position within the toolshed, the beam of light, with a myriad of dust particles suspended within, was “the most striking thing in the place.” Lewis continues that everything else was almost pitch black. Lewis concluded that he was “seeing the beam, not seeing things by it.”

Lewis allows that he then repositioned himself so that the beam fell upon his eyes.

Instantly the whole previous picture vanished. I saw no toolshed, and (above all) no beam. Instead I saw, framed in the irregular cranny at the top of the door, green leaves moving on the branches of a tree outside and beyond that, 90 odd million miles away, the sun.

Lewis observes, “Looking along the beam, and looking at the beam are very different experiences” (emphasis added).

In the first lesson assigned for this upcoming Sunday, Acts 7:55-60 [the Fifth Sunday of Easter, RCL, Year A], we’re confronted by an example of what it’s like to look “along the beam” at Christ.

The central character in this week’s narrative is Stephen. Some of us may need a short refresher course on the church’s first martyr. Luke, the author of Acts, has introduced him in the previous chapter. A dispute had arisen in the early church regarding equitable care for the widows. The Hellenists (i.e., the Greek/Gentile Christians) and the Hebrews (the Jewish Christians) had differing views. Faced with an important issue of adequate treatment for those in need, the early church was inspired to appoint its first group of “deacons” —seven men of good standing to tend to the “widow issue” so that the Twelve (Judas had been replaced) would not “neglect the word in order to wait on tables” [Acts 6:2].

While all seven chosen were full of Spirit and wisdom [6:3], Stephen stood out among them. Luke lists his name first and notes that Stephen performed signs and wonders among the people [6:8]. Many commentators have offered that in Luke’s eyes, Stephen is a Christ figure. Just as the signs/miracles performed by Jesus got him into trouble with the religious leaders of Jerusalem, so Stephen’s extraordinary diaconal efforts draw the ire of the Sanhedrin.

In Acts, Luke describes Stephen’s final encounter with authorities—an encounter that echoes the arrest and trial of Jesus told in Luke’s Gospel. Both men are subjects of a secret plot to arrest them [Luke 22:2; Acts 6:11]. Each is seized by representatives of the authorities [Luke 22:54; Acts 6:12]. Each is brought before the council [Luke 22:54, 66; Acts 6:12]. Each is stripped of his garments (Luke 23:34b; Acts 7:58b). In Jesus’ story, the people are “stirred up” against him [Luke 23:5]. The same occurs in the story of Stephen [Acts 6:12]. Each is accused of blasphemy [Luke 22:71; Acts 6:11]. As in the case with Jesus, Stephen must face false witnesses [Acts 6:13]. Like Jesus, Stephen is accused of wanting to destroy the temple [Acts 6:14].

There are, to be sure, significant differences in the Jesus/Stephen stories. For one thing, the world needs but one Savior. Beyond that, however, we recall that during Jesus’ trial, our Lord offers what a pastor friend describes as “twitter-length” rejoinders to His accusers and to Pilate. Unlike his Lord, Stephen launches a lengthy sermon in his own defense. It’s more than twice the length of any of Peter’s sermons that are reproduced in scripture. In his Gospel, Luke doesn’t even relate a sermon or proclamation by Jesus that is as long as Stephen’s harangue to the Sanhedrin recorded in Acts 7.

It is at the end of Stephen’s sermon that this week’s first lesson picks up the story. From other texts, we know that Jesus is the light of the world [John 8:12]. Looking along the beam of Jesus, and not merely at that beam, Stephen gazes all the way into heaven [7:55]. Moreover, he invites his detractors and opponents to do the same.

In the background, we may hear the Gospel refrain, “those who have eyes to see” [Matthew 13:15]. Alas, those in the Sanhedrin have eyes, but they will not see. They will not look along the beam of Christ. They will not gaze upon “Jesus standing at the right hand of God” [Acts 7:55]. They gaze only upon their opponent, the one whose truth opposes their vested interests.

Unwilling to do what Stephen suggests—to look along the beam of Jesus—they do what people who feel threatened often do. They move to silence him, to cancel him. And so, they pick up stones to cut and wound his body. They throw rocks to stop his prophetic voice. The one who has spoken Truth to power must die.

All the while, because he has stepped inside the light of Jesus, Stephen’s gaze remains along that beam. Echoing the sentiment and words of Jesus, Stephen will not look upon his opponents, but instead upon his Lord, repeating Christ’s own words, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them” [Acts 7:60]. And just as Jesus on Golgotha gave up his spirit to the Living God, so also Stephen commends his own spirit to the risen Christ [Acts 7:59].

Gazing along the beam—in the face of such pain and bitter opposition, how is Stephen able to do this? It’s all in his positioning. Stephen is inside the beam of Christ. He isn’t looking at the Light of Christ; he is looking along its beam. The beam dominates his vision. It clarifies his surroundings, his past, his present—what little there is left of it—and his glorious future.

While everyone around him is upset and angry, Stephen refuses to allow his detractors to define his moment. He does not stare at those whose arms are hurling stones; he maintains a steady focus beyond the fray, beyond—yes, above—the noise, his eyes fixed on Jesus. He gazes, not to some escapist other-world, but to the One who stands at the right hand of God [7:55]. The risen Christ, who stands aside His throne, does so to acknowledge His oneness with those who suffer. The One who is not only the Light, but who is known as Emmanuel—God-with-us—returns Stephen’s gaze and stands ready to return your gaze as well.

When we encounter Stephen’s story, many of us—arguably, most of us—see ourselves in Stephen’s role. We imagine that the only way to learn from the story is if we are at the center. But what if we aren’t Stephen? What if we’re part of the Sanhedrin? What if we’re part of the crowd?

Gazing along the beam—what if we are among those who hurl the stones? What if we are the ones who are angry because the Stephens around us have enraged us with their truth? To be sure, in this day and time, we don’t literally kill anyone—at least those who have successfully made it through gestation—but if we examine our lives—and our hearts—we often do harm to others because we don’t like what they have said to us. We disagree with the causes for which they stand.

Sometimes—more often than we would like to admit—their visions of God threaten our own. We see our role as guarding the theological truths. We may hear our opponents’ witness as blasphemy because we already know how God works. Moreover, we already know when and to whom God reveals God’s self. And it isn’t to folks who disagree with us.

All too often, we find ourselves trapped. We’re trapped within reactive cycles. We focus, not along the path of Jesus’ beam of Light, but rather upon the “wrong-doers” whom we are convinced surround us. Here’s the sad and tragic part: we give them power as we focus our thoughts and our energies upon them instead of upon Jesus Christ.

Gazing along the beam—Stephen shows us another way. If, instead of gazing at our opponents (be they real or only imagined), we turned our gaze to Jesus, what might we see? If we stepped into his Light beam, what might we learn? What if we gazed, not at, but along the beam of Jesus? What larger, more expansive vision of God’s redemptive life might we gain?