“It’s about timeline!” A Homily for the Feast of Saints Peter & Paul

“As for me, I am already being poured out as a libation.”

Pop quiz: Facebook. Blessing? Curse? Take it or leave it?

Newsflash: If you’re neutral, you might just be in the minority. Chances are, then, you’d have strong feelings about getting an unexpected request: “Paul wants to be your friend on Facebook.”

Paul ─ aka the Apostle to the Gentiles ─ on Facebook. Given the sheer magnitude of his unsolicited opinions on absolutely everything from meat to marriage, the mind boggles at the thought.

Picture it: Up-to-the-minute postings to Paul’s Timeline. A link to his brain-binged blog. The ‘places lived.’ The ‘likes.’ The ‘shares.’ The ‘friends.’ The invitations-without-end to ‘friend’ his friends. The comments commenting on comments.

Not to mention, at-long-last clarity re: his waffling takes on slavery, women in the Church, diet and dating.

And the frankly-implausible opportunity to see Paul ─ the poster-child of homophobia ─ evolve on same-sex orientation and rights.

Paul the Apostle ─ of all people ─ on Facebook. What could possibly go wrong?

A lot.      

Especially if folks not his ‘friends’ were to use his own data to do him in ─ or at best, silence him ─ or dry up the sweat equity he’s invested in the cause of Christ.

What data could be used against him?

Now, there are all sorts of incriminating things social media junkies tell Facebook:

§ What you look like in a bikini or scanty clothing. Or minus clothes altogether. (“Oh, my eyes!”)

§ How often you get trashed and with whom (selfies included).

§ The gender of the objects of your affection.

§ Where you go to church. How often. Or never.

§ The movies you see. The books you read. The music that fries your brain.

§ The pundits you worship. The causes you peddle. The politicians you cheer.

Just the regular Facebook fare.

The fallout? Vox.com blogger Dylan Matthews invites you to check out one of the most sobering apps you’re ever likely stumble upon. It’s called ‘Trial by Timeline’ (www.trialbytimeline.org.nz), created by Amnesty International to raise awareness of abuses of human rights around the globe.

Two principles underpinning ‘Trial by Timeline’: (1) As citizens of a western democracy, we tend to take human rights for granted, unaware to what extent abuses are occurring elsewhere. And (2) using Facebook as a data-source, let’s say the ‘Timeline’ function, anything you’ve ever said or done may be used against you by less-tolerant governments, should you ever find yourself under their jurisdiction.

In other words, the ‘Trial by Timeline’ app ─ with your consent ─ analyzes the public information you and your friends post on Facebook. But more than merely analyzing your data, the app creates a chilling on-screen sentencing simulation, first incarcerating you in a 6 x 6 cell, and then “interrogating” each of your Facebook friends using their published data, as garish barbed wire scrolls up your blackened screen. For example, using my info:

Interrogating Kim H______.

Interrogating Bill T______.

Interrogating Donna J______, Colin B______,  Marian K______ … high school friends … college chums … colleagues … family … and on and on, probing my entire ‘friends’ list.

The final profile? An intimidating map of the world with the number of crimes I’ve committed and the number of countries I’ve committed them in.

‘Trial by Timeline’ then shows the countries where my “criminal” activity took place and the punishment I can expect to incur.

This is just a partial listing of my many crimes, but as you can see, the results establish me as a criminal of the first order in regimes around the world intolerant of my politics, my religion, my sexual orientation, and whatever else may trip the wire of a human-rights-blind jurisdiction.

But what about Paul? Where could he run afoul of hostile constituencies and governments?

As a speculative entry point, take my ‘Trial by Timeline’ profile: 103 convictions … for 7 crimes … in 34 countries. Beaten 20 times. Tortured 15. Imprisoned 18. Lashed 5. Persecuted 72 times.

Now, you only live once, but according to the ‘Trial by Timeline’ app, I’ve been stoned to death twice. Hanged once. Killed by extremists 46 times.

Surprise: No beheading. But I haven’t thrown in the towel yet!

(Note to self: Think twice before vacationing in Afghanistan.)

And what about Paul, his stats? Obviously, with Facebook an anachronism and Mark Zuckerberg not even a micro-speck on the horizon, it’s hard to get Amnesty International numbers for Paul. And of course the borders and states are different, while ─ ominously ─ many of the cultures of human rights abuse are not.

And yet, using the app’s criteria of offenses ─ examples: for being a Christian (triggering charges of blasphemy) … for engaging in unlawful assembly … for publishing his ahead-of-its-time manifesto advocating equal rights (“There is no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female for all are one in Christ”) ─ for this partial list of crimes and misdemeanors, the Apostle, under the thumb of several regimes, would have been:

Beaten. And he was. Over and over.

Tortured. And he was. Often.

Imprisoned. In fact, many, many times.

Lashed (or at least threatened with lashing). Check.

Persecuted. Frequent flyer miles in the persecution category.

Beheaded. Bingo!

An impressive rap sheet, if human rights abuses committed against Paul are predictive of fidelity to Jesus Christ.

But they point to more: the nature of Paul’s own radicalism and the consequences he knew would be his when he undertook the joy ─ and the responsibilities ─ of sharing the Gospel.

That’s another way of saying, Paul knew and accepted the fact that he was a marked man: marked for extinction not just by his natural enemies (those who sought to debunk his claims that Jesus was the Messiah, the Son of God), but even by those you would think would be his friends.

Case in point ─ a rather bizarre case in point ─ that gets lost in the glitzier markers of Paul’s career, like his Damascus Road conversion, the missionary journeys, his trials, the shipwrecks.

Paul is on one of his forays to Jerusalem well after he has launched several of his wildly-successful (and some not-so-successful) missions to convert non-Jews to Christ all over the eastern Mediterranean.

Ironically, in Jerusalem this time, the imminent threats to Paul come from fellow Jewish Christians. They accuse him of apostasy because he doesn’t force non-Jewish converts to adopt Jewish law and custom. To believe in Jesus, the Jewish Messiah, they say, you have to be a Jew or become a Jew. Much too fussy for Paul’s understanding of the benefits of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection available to all ─ without going through conversion-to-Judaism hoops.

So, to call off the hounds ─ or at least the extremists hounding Paul ─ the powers-that-be in the Church at Jerusalem come up with a looks-perfect-on-paper PR stunt. It involves signing up Paul for a “highly-visible public display of extreme Judaism” ─ one that will boost his already hefty Jew-of-the-Jews credentials.

They advise him to take ─ in the sight of as many people as possible, and yet, anonymously (as part of a larger group) ─ the vow to become a Nazirite.

The Nazirites: elite Jews ─ arguably, more elite even than the Pharisees. To become a Nazirite, you go to the Temple during peak hours and ─ with all the Temple-goers looking on ─ you sign on to strict Nazirite vows and make the required sacrifices. And to show just how serious you are, you get your head shaved right there in the sight of God and everybody. You burn the hair as a sacrificial offering.

“After all that,” Paul’s handlers argue, “who’s going to challenge ─ what Jewish Christian is going to challenge ─ your Jewish bona fides?”

Well, the scheme backfires. A cranky cohort of kibitzers catch word that there’s been a Paul-sighting in the Temple. They go postal. Nabbed, Paul is about to be torn limb-from-limb.

But he escapes by the skin of his teeth, thanks to the intervention of Roman soldiers ─ that’s right, Roman soldiers ─ who grant him safe conduct out of the Temple … and into house arrest, triggering a chain of events that eventually find Paul pleading his case ─ in Rome ─ before the emperor Nero, no less.

Spoiler alert: Does. Not. Go. As planned (see beheading above).

Once more, then ─ as ever ─ Paul being caught in the act of living dangerously by signing on to the mandate to follow Jesus, and by accepting the consequences.

Proof? “As for me,” Paul is said to have written, “I am already being poured out as a libation (a sacrifice).” Code for: “I don’t just accept the consequences , I embrace them as a condition of faith in Christ.”

But what do Paul’s personal decisions have to do with any of us?

They suggest that if we haven’t racked up a ‘Trial by Timeline’ rap sheet like Paul’s, what are we doing wrong?

Or, what right and good and noble and risky things are we not doing to bring the Good News of God in Christ to our neighbors here and everywhere?

Bottomline: What prevents each of us from ‘friending’ Paul ─ joining our name to his ─ in the festal hymn we sing today?

Paul floods the world with piercing light
to scatter shades of gathering night.
He puts to flight dark error’s stain,
convinced God’s truth alone will reign.

Amen.