One hundred and seventy-five years ago—

in May eighteen forty-eight— 

a group of people left the Ebenezer Baptist Chapel in Kermode Street…

and formed a new church.

Two years later, they built a chapel on Le Fevre Terrace.

And, twenty years later…

when that chapel grew too small…

this building was built… 

and the North Adelaide Baptist Church has worshipped here ever since.

 

But what was it that inspired that small band of souls to set out on such a grand adventure?

 

The ‘traditional’ story—

which I have heard told several times…

and which features on hour webpage— 

seems to go something like this… 

a group… 

who were uncomfortable with the closed-mindedness of the majority of the Ebenezer congregation…

and who thought that membership—

and participation in Holy Communion—

should be open to all believers regardless of denomination…

left to form a more open-minded church.

More than that…

our intrepid forebears in the faith are said to have been “free-thinking, liberal, dissenting, non-conformists”.

And yet…

if any of those founding forebears were to be… somehow…

teleported one hundred and seventy-five years into the future…

and they took their place in one of these hallowed pews for one of our Sunday services…

do you imagine that they would sing lustily…

pray fervently…

and nod along approvingly?

On the contrary…

I think that they would probably walk out in a huff of righteous indignation…

and…

upon returning to the safety of their own time…

would probably announce that they had made a huge mistake.

After all…

according to the original minute book, this church was 

“formed of the Particular Baptist Denomination, holding similar views in Regard to Faith and practice to those held by the same denomination in England”.

 

So, what were those views?

 

Yes, unlike the so-called ‘General Baptists’…

‘Particular Baptists’ were more ecumenically minded—

they did not consider members of the Church of England to be non-Christians…

and they did accept members from all denominations.

But the greatest difference between the ‘Particular’ Baptists and the ‘General’ Baptists was theological.

The General Baptists were Arminian.

In other words, they rejected the doctrine of predestination:

namely…

they believed that God’s grace was universal;

that Christ died for all people—

that is, a “general” atonement;

and that all people are free to choose whether to respond to that or not.

‘Particular’ Baptists, on the other hand, were strict Calvinists.

They fervently believed in predestination…

namely… 

that Christ had not died for all people but only for an elect—

in other words, a “particular” few— 

whom God had chosen and had willed to save.

As such, people were not free to choose one way or the other;

people only came to saving faith at God’s behest.

So…

if our forebears were ‘Particular Baptists’—

as they themselves claim—

then, far from being “free-thinking” and “liberal”…

they would…

today…

be classed as out-and-out fundamentalists.

Now, that certainly was not the case later—

certainly not at the time of the great A. N. Marshall, at the start of the twentieth century—

when terms like “free-thinking” and “liberal” are, indeed, most appropriate.

Dare I say it—

and today of all days—

but our forebears are not necessarily who we make them out to be…

or even who we would like them to be.

And that so often happens with history.

So often, we interpret and shape the past according to how we would like it to be;

and according to who we are and how we see the world;

or how we would like to see the world.

 

The author of the book of Acts was…

in all probability…

writing in the early second century…

perhaps some seventy or eighty years after the events that he narrates…

if, in fact, they actually happened.

And that’s important to keep in mind with regard to the brief story that we heard read this morning…

which comes straight after his story of Pentecost…

and in which he describes the nature and way of life of that first, embryonic church.

“All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions…and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people”. 

Now, if that all sounds unrealistic and idealistic…

then, you would be absolutely right.

Because it is.

It never happened.

This is a case of the author projecting back onto the forebears of the church…

what he thinks that their life must have been like…

given what he believes that church ought to be.

Now, to be honest, for many of us—

perhaps most of us—

his description is both confronting and frightening.

Shades of a non-secular communism perhaps spring to mind.

After all…

while we don’t mind making the odd donation to charity—

or giving the odd handout of food to those in need—

we would all baulk at the thought of selling our family homes…

so that the proceeds could be pooled and distributed;

and few of us could afford to go to church every day even if—

for some perverse reason—

we actually wanted to.

Rather, as I said, the author is constructing a picture of the nascent church…

as he thought it might have been…

given what he believes church should be.

And, clearly, he believes that the essence of ‘church’ is a community that actually…

genuinely…

and practically… 

puts love and compassion into action.

Because the way that he describes the life of the church here…

is the way that families operated in the ancient world;

and still do in traditional societies.

If someone needs something, then they simply ask.

And it is given.

No strings attached.

It’s a system of exchange that’s otherwise known as “generalised reciprocity”.

What’s unusual, here, is that he’s taken what was standard practice within family-groups…

and extended it more broadly to non-relatives.

Now, he wasn’t the first to conceive of such a broader extension of generalised reciprocity.

A number of the ancient philosophers had also imagined it among their followers.

In fact… 

some of what the author imagines the earliest church members practicing…

formed the core of what we might call a “utopian” tradition in the ancient world—

what many (although perhaps not the elite) thought would happen in some future “golden age”.

In other words…

what the author is describing here… 

is the fulfilment of the deepest hopes, dreams, and yearnings of their society.

And these, he suggests, can be fulfilled when people put their faith in Jesus…

and seek to embody his love.

This story is, then, an aspirational statement.

It holds up for his readers what they should aspire to be as church.

 

Of course, we live in a very different time and world…

not just from the second century…

but also from eighteen forty-eight.

And most of us are at a different point in our lives compared to them…

and so too our church.

But what we must never lose is a commitment to an aspirational faith—

the desire that we might embody the best of the hopes and dreams of our society;

and of the God revealed to us in Jesus Christ.