Acts 3:1-11; Lev. 21:18-23; 2 Sam/1 Kingdoms 5:6-8; Matthew 21:14
Once Luke has narrated the glorious ascension of our Lord, established the powerful beginning of the Church in Pentecost, and described for us its astonishing unity and communion centered around the apostles, he goes on to describe their Spirit-inspired acts. The first takes place in the context of the temple, and at the hour of prayer, the ninth hour. At that time many Jewish worshippers prostrated themselves in the two outer of the men and the women, while the priests performed the twice-daily burnt sacrifice of the Tamid, a spotless lamb, and offered grain and incense. Even those outside the Temple, in Solomon’s Porch, would be aware of the solemn service going on because of the sounding of the trumpet, and the smoke of the sacrifice. Peter and James, as was the custom of the earliest Christians, participated in this service, which for them must have had a special meaning because their Master, the spotless Lamb, had died at this very hour. And waiting outside the Temple, asking for charity, was a beggar who had been unable to walk for his entire life, but whose friends put him at the glorious “Beautiful Gate” daily. There will be a dramatic exchange with him and the two apostles, followed by a second sermon by Peter, who takes this opportunity, as he did with the wonders at Pentecost, to include everyone present. Here is the passage of the first part, the healing of the man, from Acts 3:1-11.
Now Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, the ninth hour.2 And a man lame from his mother’s womb was being carried, and laid daily at the gate of the temple called the Beautiful Gate to ask for charity from those entering the temple. 3 Seeing Peter and John about to enter the temple, he asked to receive some charity. 4 And Peter directed his gaze at him, as did John, and said, “Look at us.” 5 And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. 6 But Peter said, “I have no silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!” 7 And he took him by his right hand and raised him up, and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong. 8 And leaping up, he stood and began to walk, and entered the temple with them, walking and leaping and praising God. 9 And all the people saw him walking and praising God, 10 and recognized him as the one who sat at the Beautiful Gate of the temple, asking for alms. And they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him. 11 While he clung to Peter and John, the whole crowd, utterly astonished, ran together to them in the portico called Solomon’s.
Our translations speak of the man asking for “alms”—an old-fashioned word, but still understood. Today we speak more frequently of giving someone “charity,” underserved loving kindness. Actually, though, our older word “alms” is a shortened form of the Greek word that is used in this passage, eleēmosynē (ἐλεημοσύνη), which means “a gift of pity or mercy,” and is, of course, related to our constant prayer Kyrie eleēson, “Lord, have mercy!”
And the man needed much mercy. Not only did he have to beg, because of his infirmity, but he was not allowed in the Temple precincts beyond the beautiful gate because of this. The actual Torah only said that no priest could be lame, or blind, or have other blemishes and serve in the Temple(Lev 21:18-23). However, ever since the story concerning a certain witty saying of King David that he uttered during a siege against his enemies, it had become custom not to allow ANYONE with obvious disabilities beyond the gate. King David was responding to the boast of the Jebusites that they could defend their great fortress of Jerusalem even with the blind and the lame. They were not successful, but David knew of a weakness in the fortifications, and commented, “Anyone who conquers the Jebusites will have to use the water shaft to reach those ‘lame and blind’ who are David’s enemies.” From his retort came a common proverb “The ‘blind and lame’ will not enter the house,” which was amplified in the Greek Old Testament into “they will not enter the house of the Lord” (2 Sam/1 Kingdoms 5:6-8). We can see this tradition put into actual law with one of the Jewish sects of the times, the Essenes, who wrote in their “Rule of the Congregation”: “No man smitten in his flesh, or paralyzed in his feet or hands, or lame, or blind, or deaf, or dumb, or smitten in his flesh with a visible blemish… none of these shall come to hold office among the congregation… for the Angels of Holiness are with their congregation” (1Q28a ). Not only the Essenes, but also those who guarded the actual Temple in Jerusalem retained prohibitions like this, and so the poor man had never joined any of the congregants in the Temple courts for prayer. And even if he had been allowed, he could not have managed the many stairs that led up to the court of the men.
Our Lord himself had pity upon such people who were excluded. We read in Matthew’s gospel that after cleansing the Temple of the money changers, “the blind and the lame came to him at the temple, and he healed them” (Matthew 21:14). First, Jesus shows his concern for the Gentiles and God-fearers who were worshipping in the outer court, because they weren’t allowed any further in, but couldn’t worship easily there because of the ruckus of the animals and money-changers; then, he shows mercy to the Jewish people who were not allowed within the gates because of disability, by healing them. The Temple, designed to be a house of prayer and the place where God’s people meet with Him, is returned to its original purpose by the One who is the actual Temple of the Holy Spirit, the one who is the true Lamb of sacrifice, the One who calls Jews and Gentiles to live and worship in Spirit and in truth.
St. John Chrysostom is struck by the persistence of the lame man, who can be instructive even to us concerning the importance of continuing in prayer. He says,
Peter directed his gaze at him, with John, and said, ‘Look at us.” Yet not even so were the man’s thoughts elevated, but he persisted in his insistence. For such is poverty: it compels people to persist even in the face of refusal. Let this put us to shame, we who turn away in our prayers. …And the wonder is that he believed so readily. For those who are set free from diseases of long standing hardly believe their very eyesight. After he was healed, he remained with the apostles, giving thanks to God (Homilies on the Acts 8).
Even though this man was barred from the Temple, and could not walk, he did what he could—he continued to ask. And, indeed, he received more than he expected—a true life, conjoined with the apostles and the believing community, as well as his health.
St. John Chrysostom goes on to speak to us sensibly about poverty and wealth. In this day of the deceptive “prosperity gospel,” in which people are taught that a religious life will mean that they have a right to all the comforts of the world, the witness of fathers like Chrysostom and Basil is very salutary. Both fathers humbly lived an ascetic life, and encouraged their family and friends to do the same. Consider what St. John has to say about how riches are not actually freeing, as some think, but can weigh us down:
Let no one then be humiliated on account of his poverty: It is not poverty that humiliates, but wealth, which compels us to have need of many and forces us to be under obligations to many…. [I]n the case of the rich person: slaves, gold, lands, affairs innumerable, innumerable cares, difficult circumstances, necessities, make him an easy prey to all. (On the Epistle to the Hebrews 18.4)
So, then, Chrysostom teaches us to look with new eyes upon this poor, disabled man, and to learn from his situation. Clearly, Peter and John, on looking at him, did not see simply a pest in their way, but expressed the compassion of Christ, who had taught them to give to anyone who asks. And they give MORE than they had been asked, enacting a miracle that would speak to all of the resurrecting power of God. As St. John emphasizes the text for us, we see the man raised up by his right hand, just as in icons we see our LORD grasping Adam and Eve, and pulling them away from Hades. Peter speaks to the man, giving him hope that he can be healed in Jesus’ name, but then he acts upon this, and touches the man—in fact, holds his hand firmly, lifting him bodily up! The venerable Bede, an old English commentator, remarks, “The one whom he encouraged by word he also strengthened by his right hand, because the discourse of a teacher is less efficacious in the hearts of his hearers if it is not also recommended by the example of his own action” (Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles 3.7).
The story, then, is one of word and of action, of hope and fulfillment, of disease and health, of longing followed by faith. The man knows what he has found, and when he finally enters the temple in health, shows joy in his entire body and his ensuing actions—walking, leaping, and praising God, and clinging to the apostles, just as the whole community “gave themselves” to the apostles’ teaching and communion. But, of course, the apostles were not powerful in their own right. They were stand-ins for Jesus, living in Christ, and showing the mercy of God Himself, who came among us as the perfect Man. On wise ancient theologian, St. John Cassian, refutes Nestorius, who heretically divided up the human and divine nature of the one God-Man Jesus into two distinct persons. In making this argument, St. John speaks of the united power of the God-Man, who was truly human and truly divine. It is only because of a real, incarnate solidarity with His people, that they, too, can be empowered by divine strength, not of their own, but, as Peter said, “in the name of Jesus.” So Cassian remarks,
Those men who received power from God never used that power as if it were their own but referred the power to Him from whom they received it; for the power itself could never have any force except through the name of Him who gave it. And so both the apostles and all the servants of God never did anything in their own name but in the name and invocation of Christ. For the power itself derived its force from the same source as its origin, and it could not be given through the instrumentality of the ministers, unless it had come from the [divine] Author (In the Incarnation of the LORD against Nestorius 7.19).
Something being done “in the name of Jesus,” is even more powerful than simply saying we have Jesus’ permission to do something. It is not just a spiritual equivalent to a police officer shouting, “Stop! In the name of the law!” For something done in the name of Jesus invokes the holy Name, the great “I AM” of the One who is the source of all existence, all goodness, all health, all holiness. And the apostles were not simply name-dropping. Peter knew Jesus, and what is even more significant, Jesus knew him, and bequeathed to him a ministry among the other eleven. They did not claim their own power, but Jesus’ power became theirs, because He called Himself their brother and their friend—as well as being their God. In the Akathist to our sweetest Lord Jesus, we sing, with joy and sobriety: “All the angelic nature of heaven glorifies unceasingly your most Holy Name, O Jesus, crying ‘Holy, holy, holy!’ But we sinners on earth with lips of dust cry: Alleluia!”
This story, then, the first of the great acts of the Apostles after Pentecost, connects us back to the Old Testament and the Temple. It also shows the new era that has come when everyone will be incorporated and healed in the company of the Apostles. It shows us the compassion of the Apostles and the strength that they have received from the ascended LORD, through the Holy Spirit. And it gives us, without even offering his name, the example of a humble man who was raised up, included, given true riches, and clung to those who had shown him the true mercy, the eleēmosynē of Jesus, which we all need.
Edith M. Humphrey 