A club…

which caters to the needs of “pagans, witches, and Satanists”…

applied for affiliation with the Adelaide University Union;

but its membership was rejected…

based on a single complaint…

alleging that “occultists are always involved in criminal activity”…

and that the club “wanted to summon Satan to the University of Adelaide”.

That isn’t true––

according to the club’s president––

claiming that it’s doubtful that any of the members believed in “the literal Satan existing”…

and they didn’t practice any rituals…

because the thirty club members had such varying beliefs.

In any case…

they added…

“Even if we did want to summon Satan, it’s not against university or union policy to do so”…

and it shouldn’t be grounds to reject them.

The club is currently appealing the decision.

And, although the report in the media didn’t identify which group had made the complaint…

I’m sure you can probably make a pretty educated guess.

 

In our story this morning from the Book of Acts…

we seem to have…

at least on the surface of it…

a confrontation between God and a demonic power––

what, in our translation is described as a “spirit of divination”.

In the Greek, however, it’s actually referred to as a “Python–Spirit”…

with the python, in this case, being a symbol of the Greek god, Apollo.

The priestess of Apollo at Delphi––

otherwise known as the ‘Delphic Oracle’––

who was supposedly inhabited and inspired by the spirit of Apollo…

was a famous prophetess who could see the future…

although she usually issued her prophecies in cryptically poetic riddles.

But that whole myth and tradition is what’s being referred to here.

According to the author…

while wandering around the town of Philippi…

Paul and his companions are followed by a young woman…

who possessed such a ‘Python-Spirit’…

that is…

we’re told that she operated as a fortune-teller.

And, apparently, she earned a tidy income for her owners…

because she was a slave.

Now, I don’t want to get bogged down in the historicity or the mechanics of this story––

trying to explain how she might have done what she did…

or how it was perceived and understood by the author’s intended audience.

Because, in a sense, that’s actually not really important to the story in its context.

Rather, the significance is how the story functions narratively.

The author…

as I suggested before…

seems to present this as a confrontation between God and a pagan god…

between God…

and, if you like, demonic forces––

at least on the surface.

And yet, it’s all a bit murky.

The ‘Python girl’ proclaims loudly that Paul and his companions are: 

“slaves of the Most-High God, who proclaim to you a way of salvation”. 

And, what she says, is actually quite true.

Within the narrative of Acts, that’s precisely who they are and what they’re doing.

I mean…

it’s not like there’s anything theologically suspect in what she says.

And, in fact, the language the author draws on here is exactly that used by Zechariah…

at the birth of his son, John the Baptist…

back in chapter one of Luke’s Gospel.

 

But, after several days of this happening… 

Paul, seemingly, is fed up with it––

the text describes his reaction as “very much annoyed”…

although, in the Greek, the word means either “bored with” or “tired of”.

And so he performs an exorcism––

casting out the spirit…

and rendering her unable to predict the future…

and, thus, unable to earn her owners an income.

Narratively-speaking…

this little story is simply a plot device.

The author is using it because he knew from Paul’s letters––

and probably from sources and traditions that he’d encountered in his ‘research’––

that Paul ran into trouble with the authorities in Philippi…

and was beaten and jailed…

and he needed to orchestrate that.

And that’s what this is really about.

It’s setting up that story arc.

And we know that because, in a sense, he hasn’t really thought through this whole little story.

Like a minor character in a Shakespearian play…

the young Pythonic-slave-girl enters the stage from nowhere…

moves the narrative in a certain direction…

and then completely disappears…

no longer being relevant or necessary to the unfolding drama.

 

And yet…

there’s so much about the story that’s simply unedifying.

It begins, in effect, with a testy and impatient Paul having a brain snap.

He doesn’t act from some noble motivation.

He’s not guided by some deep theological conviction or missional objective.

He’s tired and cranky because…

having had a vision to come over and “help” the Macedonians…

it’s all turned out to be a bit of a fizzer.

He’s seen precious little result from all his efforts.

It certainly hasn’t turned out as he expected.

But even if he had a good theological reason for casting out the Python-spirit from the girl…

he’s done so without any consideration of the consequences.

Despite the author’s suggestion that she earned her owners “a great deal of money”…

it’s clear from the framing of the story that they’re not otherwise prosperous or well-to-do…

or else they wouldn’t be doing what they do.

In fact…

she’s probably their only possession…

and their only source of income.

Without her ability, what are they to do now?

How are they to make a living?

And what of the girl, herself?

Without this ability, her value has plummeted.

Even if her owners could sell her…

it wouldn’t be for much.

And it’s most unlikely that she had any other skill or training.

In reality, the only option would have been for her to be sold to a pimp as a prostitute.

But the author was too busy trying to set up the next phase of the story…

with the trial of the apostles…

their imprisonment…

and their miraculous gaol escape––

and…

I mean…

who doesn’t love a good legal drama, tied into a prison break?

Especially when that’s such a good vehicle for proclaiming the power and providential protection of God…

and how nothing…

certainly not any belligerent legal and political forces…

can stop the progress of the gospel.

 

And hasn’t that…

so often…

been the sorry story of the church?

How many innocent people have been harmed along the way?

How many people down the centuries have lost their lives––

or their livelihoods––

and been treated as expendable…

because of the “civilising” and colonising progress of religious propagation.

And, in a sense…

is this not also the story of victims of clerical paedophilia;

or LGBTI+ people;

or women in the church?

Too often, the proselytising of the church has been seen as an all-holy end in itself…

justifying any means to achieve it.

 

And yet…

perhaps, subtly, the author is suggesting that Paul’s actions…

at least in relation to the slave girl…

weren’t noble or laudatory.

And while Paul couldn’t change what he had done…

he could do better next time.

And maybe, in a sense, we see that in how he responds to the gaoler.

 

So, perhaps, this whole sordid saga is a reminder… 

that the end never justifies the means;

and if our proclamation of the gospel of Jesus Christ is not infused with–– 

and founded upon–– 

the love of God…

then it’s not Jesus Christ whom we’re serving;

and it’s not the gospel that we’re proclaiming.