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Readings: Jeremiah 1: 4-10 and Acts 9: 1-22
So, today, the feast of the Conversion of St. Paul. As some wag has noted, “We nod to two concepts that have not often been popular among recent progressive Christians. ‘Conversion’ and ‘St. Paul.’ The word ‘conversion’ does not always have good associations. As that commentator says, ‘Some of us have been trained to think that conversion is for the simple-hearted, or for the emotional-hearted, not for the tough thinkers we consider ourselves to be.’
And – St. Paul! Some critics claim he distorted the original message of Jesus when he set up communities of faith across the Mediterranean. Critics claim that he was a prisoner to his cultural context, too; unable to grant women, for instance, their proper place in a progressive world. Just to offer a detail on the other side of that argument, it is noteworthy that Paul appointed the leader of the first Christian church in what is now Europe – Lydia, the purple-cloth seller, in Philippi.
It seems our Sunday readings this month have been urging us to think about calling, and vocation. Two weeks ago – the baptism of Jesus at the start of his ministry; last week the calling of the first disciples, and now, the conversion of St. Paul. And of that event, the measured writer Jane Williams says, “It not primarily a joyous occasion.” What I think we can say was that whatever happened to Saul on that Damascus Road was not something that happened in isolation.
Another writer has said that what happened to Paul was not so much a conversion, but a way of understanding who Christ really is. After Paul had been thrown to the ground, the voice said, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” Of course, it was the followers of Paul who had been persecuted. As far as we know, Paul never met Jesus in person. But something must have taking Paul’s thinking beyond those whom he was persecuting, whom he might have merely considered to be a troublesome sect, to the being that they were proclaiming. The new followers embodied the very being of Christ; they and their Lord were one.
The account of the Damascus drama incident occurs three times in Acts; the other two mentions are words of Paul relating what happened to him. In chapter 26, when he is making a defence before King Agrippa, he adds the detail that the voice he heard on the road said, “It hurts you to kick against the goads”, meaning, according to AI, “self-harmingly and futilely resisting something that is meant to guide or direct you, often causing more pain and trouble for yourself.” Another definition would be – resisting authority, conscience, or divine will, which is ultimately counterproductive and painful.”
So undoubtedly the Lord did appear to Saul on the Damascus road, but that revelation was probably a result of Paul knowing that he could no longer continue what he was doing – harmful to him as well as to those he was persecuting.
For a while, the dazzling light brought darkness. As we heard, Paul was blinded for several days, until he received his sight back through the laying-on of hands by Ananias. Acts may give the impression that Paul’s conversion was sudden and that he immediately began his vibrant and powerful ministry. But in Galatians, we get a slightly different picture. Paul recounts there that after his conversion he did not confer with any other human being, but went away at once to Arabia, and only after three years did he go up to Jerusalem to see Cephas – that is Peter.
Paul had to let go of all the things he thought he knew, and start again. One commentary for today is headed up “Where we do not wish to go.” When the Lord instructed Ananias to take Paul under his wing, Ananias hesitated, having heard all the bad stuff about Paul. But the Lord told Ananias that Paul was to be an instrument, chosen to bring his name before the Gentiles, then added “I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.” Slightly chilling words, which may be why Jane Williams commented that Paul’s conversion was not primarily a joyous occasion. The servant will not be above the Master.
Paul was a chosen instrument, and the going would be tough at times. We get the same idea of a calling from God prepared long before in the account of the Lord’s call to Jeremiah in the first reading. “The word of the Lord came to me, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you” – beautiful words which each of us might fruitfully meditate on. To Jeremiah the Lord adds, “Before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.” As with Paul, Jeremiah was to find that the going would be tough; he would suffer personally, and discover that his ministry, though God-given, would not always be fruitful.
But going back to the call of Paul, we may say that this has become a classic narrative of our culture, and a ‘Damascus Road experience’ has made its way into everyday vocabulary, signifying not just conversion, but also repentance, enlightenment, or change of mind.
Father Andrew, of the Society of Divine Compassion, saw four ‘marks’ as he calls them in the great story.
Firstly, there was the deliberate conviction in Paul’s mind that Christ was the spiritual King, in loyalty to whom he must live out his life. Secondly, he had to learn from the old priest Ananias, and make his submission to the visible Body of Christ, the Church, entering the kingdom by the lowly door of baptism. Father Andrew mde the point that, for most of us, conversion, or conviction, or whatever word you may like to use, isn’t done in a blinding flash, and that we need the gift of perseverance in our faith, and a willingness for constant renewal. Life has a habit of repeating itself. Things that we thought we had passed have a habit of returning. We think we are making progress, then suddenly we find ourselves back where we started. H. E. Bates compared life to a game of snakes and ladders; sometimes you are climbing ahead and suddenly you drop back almost to the beginning.
Going back to Fr Andrew’s ‘four’ marks: thirdly, he notes that Paul had to accept fellowship with other Christians; to discipline his own strong personality and make it something that could work with Peter and the others, which we know from his writings he found very difficult. It is pertinent to be thinking about that during this Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. Father Andrew goes on – ‘our religion must be a comradeship with others.
Then, fourthly, Paul was conscious all the while, that his conversion was part of the eternal purposes of God. He was to be a chosen instrument to bring the Lord’s name before Gentiles and kings. In that appearance before King Agrippa in Acts 26, Paul says, “I was not disobedient to the heavenly vision, but declared first to those in Damascus, then in Jerusalem and in Judea, and to the Gentiles, that they should repent and turn to God and do deeds consistent with repentance.”
Paul saw, and we should see, that there is a divine will ever at work in the world, clouded though it may sometimes be. Paul knew, as we should know, that he had to live in union with the divine faithfulness. God asks for the co-operation of his children.
Sir John Betjeman composed a poem on ‘The Conversion of St. Paul’ for the BBC in 1955. These are the closing lines.
What is conversion? Not at all
For me the experience of St Paul,
No blinding light, a fitful glow
Is all the light of faith I know
Which sometimes goes completely out
And leaves me plunging into doubt
Until I will myself to go
And worship in God’s house below –
My parish church – and even there
I find distractions everywhere.
What is Conversion? Turning round
To gaze upon a love profound.
For some of us see Jesus plain
And never once look back again,
And some of us have seen and known
And turned and gone away alone,
But most of us turn slow to see
The figure hanging on a tree
And stumble on and blindly grope
Upheld by intermittent hope.
God grant before we die we all
May see the light as did St Paul.