PLAYING SECOND FIDDLE
"The hardest instrument in the orchestra to play is second fiddle."
--Leonard Bernstein
Barnabas is an example of the good you can do if you don't care who
gets the credit for it. He was an uncelebrated man, eclipsed by his more
famous contemporaries---Peter, Stephan, Paul. Barnabas, nevertheless, he
left us an everlasting legacy of good. Without him there would have been
no Apostle Paul, no John Mark and no Gospel of Mark. It's an intriguing
story.
He's my patron saint. Recently one of my friends asked me whom I identified
with in the New Testament. "Barnabas," I said, without hesitation.
He's the man (other than Jesus) I most want to be like.
Jerusalem
Luke begins the story with a description of the mutual love and generosity
of the fledgling church in Jerusalem:
All the believers were one in heart and mind. No-one claimed
that any of his possessions was his own, but they shared everything they
had.... There were no needy persons among them. For from time to time those
who owned lands or houses sold them, brought the money from the sales and
put it at the apostles' feet, and it was distributed to anyone as he had
need. (Acts 4:32-35).
Unusual times demand unusual measures. Thousands of Jews from all over the
ancient world had become Christians and were settling into Jerusalem to
be instructed by the Apostles. There was an immediate need for food, housing
and clothing and the church was equal to the task. People brought money,
goods, and the proceeds of houses and lands to sustain those who lacked.
This continued until God was ready to send them out again.
Luke, who was inclined to give case histories, gives us an example of this
generosity:
Joseph, a Levite from Cyprus, whom the apostles called Barnabas
(which means Son of Encouragement), sold a field he owned and brought the
money and put it at the apostles' feet (Acts 4:36,37).
Luke singles out Barnabas for his lavish love and extravagant grace. He
sold a field and gave all the proceeds to the apostles so they could give
it away to the poor.
Luke supplies bits and pieces of Barnabas' biography here: He hailed from
the Island of Cyprus. Since he was a Levite, he had no portion, no distinct
inheritance in Israel. It's likely, therefore, that his piece of land was
on the island of Cyprus. If so, his gift was lavish indeed. To own land
on Cyprus was like owning a city block in downtown San Francisco.
Barnabas was a Levite, one of those "Sons of Levi" of whom Malachi
wrote. He looked at the corrupt clergy of his day and promised that God
would someday purify them (Malachi 4:4).
His original name was "Joseph" but he was nicknamed "Barnabas"
by the Apostles. For some reason I think of Barnabas as a big man: "Big
Barney" somehow fits.
Barnabas, as Luke tells us, means, "Son of Help." The Semitic
idiom, "son of" signifies one characterized by the noun that follows.
Barnabas was a man whose whole life was characterized by a penchant for
helping others along the way.
Barnabas was as good as his nickname, moving alongside others, walking with
them, consoling them in their sorrow, aiding them in their weakness, keeping
them out of mischief, strengthening their grip on God, inciting them to
noble deeds. He was never prominent; he was always a secondary figure, standing
in the background, helping others come into their own.
He was eclipsed by some of his illustrious contemporaries---Paul, for one,
the great evangelist and John Mark, for another, the author of the Gospel
of Mark. But, as we will see, if there had been no Barnabas there would
have been no Paul and no John Mark. Barnabas was one who understood koinonia---he
shared what he had to help others come into their own.
Would that more of us had that focus: that we would be content with a lowp;profile
ministry; that we would, as Paul puts it, "do nothing out of selfish
ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than (ourselves).
Each of us," he continued, "should look not to (our) own interests
but also to the interests of others." That was the attitude that characterized
Jesus who "made himself of nothing" in order to save us (Phil.
2: 3p;7).
I'm reminded of some lines from a Roman Catholic prayer book I sometimes
read.
That others may be loved more than I
That others may be esteemed more than I,
That in the opinion of the world,
others may increase and I may decrease,
That others may be chosen and I set aside,
That others may be praised and I unnoticed,
That others may be preferred before me in everything,
That others become holier than I,
provided that I may become as holy as I should
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
-A Litany of Humility
Judea and Samaria
As we read on in the Acts of the Apostles we're confronted with the tragic
story of Ananias and his wife Sapphira, whose greed and duplicity is set
in sharp contrast to Barnabas' sincerity and generosity (Acts 5:1-11). Ananias
and Sapphira are a negative example of the principle enunciated in Acts
4: 32p;35.
Luke reports the imprisonment and flogging of the apostles for their witness
in Jerusalem (5:12p;42); the story of Stephen and his martyrdom (6:1p;7:60);
the subsequent persecution of the church and its spread from Jerusalem to
Judea and Samaria (8:1).
Luke's history shifts from the outward expansion of the church to the opposition
of Saul of Tarsus who ranged throughout Syria and Palestine, "breathing
out murderous threats against the Lord's disciples" (9:1).
Luke then reports Saul's conversion on the way to Damascus, his subsequent
ministry there and his humiliating flight from the city, an event he later
claimed was, at the same time, the most inglorious and ennobling event of
his life (2 Cor. 11:30p;33).
Soon after, Saul sought asylum in Jerusalem where he thought he would be
sheltered by his fellowp;Christians, but "when he came to Jerusalem,
(and) tried to join the disciples, they were all afraid of him, not believing
that he really was a disciple" (9:26).
Not long before, Saul had been the most hated and feared man in Jerusalem.
Now he appears at the door of the church asking for inclusion. Is it any
wonder that the disciples wanted nothing to do with him? Clearly he could
not be the friend of God. He was a spy, sent to cause trouble, an agent
provocateur. Saul, a disciple of Christ? Saul preaching Christ? Who are
we trying to kid?!
But Barnabas took him and brought him to the apostles. He told them how
Saul on his journey had seen the Lord and that the Lord had spoken to him,
and how in Damascus he had preached fearlessly in the name of Jesus. So
Saul stayed with them and moved about freely in Jerusalem, speaking boldly
in the name of the Lord. (Acts 9:27,28).
Barnabas alone opened his home and his heart to the friendless Saul. Convinced
of the reality of his conversion, he brought him to the Peter, who was eventually
convinced of his sincerity and brought him into his home (Gal. 1:18). Saul
was sheltered through Barnabas' intervention.
Luke's account of Barnabas' mediation is so prosaic it's easy to miss the
significance of it: There would be no Paul without Barnabas. The greatest
missionary the world has ever known would have been lost to the church if
not for this good man's sponsorship.
Yet, few Christians are even aware of his deed. As Alexander Whyte said
"Barnabas was never destined to shine in the service of Christ like
the Apostle Paul; but Paul himself never did a more shining deed than Barnabas
did when he took Saul into his heart at a time when every other heart in
Jerusalem was hardened against him. Everlastingly well done, thou true Son
of Consolation."
Luke goes on to summarize Saul's shortp;lived ministry in Jerusalem:
"So Saul stayed with them and moved about freely in Jerusalem, speaking
boldly in the name of the Lord" (9:28), but once more his preaching
stirred up more trouble for Christians in the city and so they packed him
up and shipped him off to Tarsus where he lived in obscurity for several
years. The church in Jerusalem went on while Saul was left behind (9:30,31).
Antioch
Halfp;way through Luke's narrative the scene shifts from the Mother
Church in Jerusalem to the city of Antioch, the third largest city in the
Roman Empire.
Antioch was a large, bustling metropolitan center, a meeting place for East
and West, "an Oriental Rome in which all the forms of the civilized
life of the empire found some representation" (F.B. Meyers).
It is forever famous in Christian annals because a number of unsung Jewishp;Christian
heroes, fleeing from Jerusalem in the face of Paul's persecution, dared
to preach the Gospel to uncircumcised Greeks in utter disregard to the sectarianism
of Judaism. Many responded to the gospel and were gathered into a church.
Now those who had been scattered by the persecution in connection with Stephen
traveled as far as Phoenicia, Cyprus and Antioch, telling the message only
to Jews. Some of them, however, men from Cyprus and Cyrene, went to Antioch
and began to speak to Greeks also, telling them the good news about the
Lord Jesus. The Lord's hand was with them, and a great number of people
believed and turned to the Lord. (Acts 11:19-21).
When news of this new and novel church reached Jerusalem, the apostles were
suspicious and dispatched Barnabas, their chief troubleshooter, to make
inquiries and report (11:22). His verdict was immediate and reassuring:
"When he arrived and saw the evidence of the grace of God, he was glad
and encouraged them all to remain true to the Lord with all their hearts.
(Acts 11:23)."
Barnabas saw "the grace of God"---the beauty of men and women's
character as it had been transformed by the grace of God---and had no hesitation
about affirming the effort. Though Jewish to the core, raised in a Levitical
family, he did not let his prejudices prevail.
"No one damns like the orthodox," they say. Censoriousness has
always been the most unpleasant of evangelical weakness, but Barnabas' judgment
wasn't clouded by racial or social prejudice or the small considerations
of politics and national pride. He saw God's grace at work, turning riotous,
unholy men and women into sober, righteous, godly followers of Jesus. He
couldn't deny that God's grace was at work.
Barnabas' response to the work evoked a rare, personal eulogy from Luke:
"He was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and faith" (11: 24).
I assume Barnabas was dead when Luke wrote this tribute since he uses the
past tense verb, "was," but his memory lingered on. Barnabas was
a winsome man. (Luke uses the word "good" that in Greek suggests
someone easyp;going, cheerful, affable. As Paul would say, the kind
of man for whom someone would be willing to die.)
Furthermore, he was "filled with the Holy Spirit and faith"---a
man solely controlled by the Spirit of God and by his word, which is surely
why he was so good.
I recall an incident many years ago when I was ministering to students on
a West Coast university campus. It was the 1960s and most students, including
the Christian students on campus, had enough hair to stuff a mattress.
My father, who was then pastor of Scofield Memorial Church (of C.I. Scofield
and Scofield Bible fame), came to visit our family. In the course of his
stay, I arranged for him to visit a fraternity Bible study on campus. He
was very thoughtful during the study and listened intently to what was being
said. On the way home he confided in me that he had long wrestled with his
prejudice against "hirsute hippies," but he had clearly see the
grace of God in the lives of these students and intended to announce to
his congregation that they must take them in.
He, like Barnabas was a good man, governed by the Spirit of God and his
gracious word and thus able to overp;ride tradition and bias and receive
those whom God had received. That's the attitude that comes from being touched
by the grace of God.
Growing a Church
The church in Antioch grew rapidly and in a short time surpassed the church
in Jerusalem in size and influence, but the success of the church only burdened
Barnabas. The job was too big for him. Then he thought of his old friend
Saul, who had been especially commissioned by God to preach the gospel to
the Gentiles, and so, "went to Tarsus to look for him" (11:25).
Barnabas had a hard time finding Saul, or so the Greek verb translated "look"
suggests. But when he finally located him, he brought him to Antioch, where
the two of them met with the church for a year and"a great number of
people were brought to the Lord. So for a whole year Barnabas and Saul met
with the church and taught great numbers of people. The disciples were called
Christians first at Antioch" (11:24p;26).
Early Christians rarely referred to themselves as Christians. They said
they were "disciples of Christ," "believers," "brothers"
or "saints" or followers of "The Way." The Jews referred
to them as "Nazarenes," a pejorative term. The Greeks coined a
new word "Christians" to describe the movement because it was
Christ's name that was on everyone's lips. Barnabas and Paul taught the
believers at Antioch this simplicity: Christianity is nothing more or less
than Christ.
The significant point to be made here is that Barnabas once more set aside
his own ambition to encourage another in the use of his gifts. Barnabas
could have remained center stage at Antioch, growing a church around himself,
insisting that everyone follow him. But he knew he did not have the ability
to bring the saints in Antioch to full maturity, so he went looking for
another person more gifted than he.
To the Ends of the Earth
Barnabas and Saul journeyed from Antioch to Jerusalem to deliver a contribution
from the church, then returned home shortly after, bringing with them Barnabas'
cousin, John Mark (11:27p;30). For a time they continued their ministry
at Antioch along with the other leaders in the church there. In Acts 13:1-4,
Luke supplies a list of those who were "prophets and teachers"
at Antioch (Acts 13:1). The order of names implies that Barnabas was the
acknowledged leader of the group.
As these men continued in ministry, the Holy Spirit spoke to the church
saying: "Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I
have called them" (13:2). (Note the order of names.) The Spirit's call
was corroborated and the two were sent out to evangelize the West. John
Mark was their baggage handler (13:3p;5).
Saul and Barnabas began their ministry on the Island of Cyprus with Barnabas
as the acknowledged leader, but as the journey progressed, Barnabas recognized
almost at once Saul's superior gifts and qualifications for leadership.
He stepped aside and let Saul lead.
His emergence is plainly indicated by Luke's expression, "Paul and
his company" (13:13) and by the order of names, "Paul and Barnabas"
(13: 43, 46, 50) for the remainder of the journey.2
There is one notable exception to the order. When the two men healed a cripple
in Lystra, the excited citizens of that city regarded Paul and Barnabas
as visiting deities.
Here's the way Luke describes the event:
And at Lystra there was sitting a certain man, without strength
in his feet, lame from his mother's womb, who had never walked. This man
was listening to Paul as he spoke, who, when he had fixed his gaze upon
him, and had seen that he had faith to be made well, said with a loud voice,
"Stand upright on your feet." And he leaped up and {began} to
walk. And when the multitudes saw what Paul had done, they raised their
voice, saying in the Lycaonian language, "The gods have become like
men and have come down to us. And they {began} calling Barnabas, Zeus, and
Paul, Hermes, because he was the chief speaker (14:8p;14).
The Lyconians, I suppose, identified Barnabas with Zeus because he was the
larger, more imposing fellow. They thought Paul was Hermes, the messenger
of the gods, because he was little and did all the talking.
The poet Ovid mentions an old Phrygian tradition that Zeus and Hermes often
appeared in disguise. On one occasion they came to a city looking for hospitality
and were turned away by everyone but an old couple, Philemon and Baucus.
In their anger the two gods killed everyone in the region except these two.
Apparently, the residents of Lystra didn't want to repeat that error and
accorded Paul and Barnabas suitable honors. To the credit of these two men
they cast off the adulation and pointed the Lyconians to God (15:15).
Back to Antioch
Upon returning from this first missionary journey, Paul and Barnabas returned
to Antioch, "gathered the church together and reported all that God
had done through them and how he had opened the door of faith to the Gentiles.
And they stayed there a long time with the disciples" (14:27,28).
Unfortunately, not everyone was enthusiastic about the Gentile mission:
"Some men came down from Judea to Antioch" (15:1) and tried to
yoke these new converts to the Law. It was probably during this time that
the incident in Galatians 2:11-14 occurred.
When these "lawp;abiding" citizens came to Antioch to visit
the church Peter "began to draw back and separate himself from the
Gentiles because he was afraid of those who joined him in his hypocrisy,
so that by their hypocrisy even Barnabas was carried away."
It heartens me to know that the most rugged saints get knocked off their
feet once in awhile. Someone once observed that though Walter Payton accumulated
9 miles of rushing yardage in his career, he fell down every 4.6 yards.
Somehow that gives us the courage to get up and get going again.
Once Barnabas got back on his feet, he and Paul engaged these visitors in
heated debate and in time "were appointed, with some other believers,
to go up to Jerusalem to see the apostles and elders about this question"
(15:2). The issue was hotly debated in Jerusalem, but in time was resolved
in favor of grace.
The Separation
Following the vindication of their ministry Paul and Barnabas returned to
their ministry at Antioch (Acts 15:35), and after a brief respite, Paul,
proposed that they revisit the churches in Asia. This was the beginning
of Paul's second missionary journey that was to have such farp;reaching
results, and through which Paul gained his great reputation.
Barnabas readily accepted the proposal to undertake the venture, but suggested
that they take John Mark along, a proposal that Paul stoutly resisted. Mark
had deserted them on the way from Cyprus to Asia Minor, a failure of nerve
Paul found it hard to excuse (cf., Acts 13:13).
Barnabas insisted that Mark get another chance. Paul argued vigorously against
it. The disagreement turned into an impasse that only separation could resolve:
Paul chose a new associate, Silas, and went back to the Asia Minor and on
to Europe. Barnabas took Mark under his wing and sailed off to Cyprus and
passes from the story (Acts 15:36p;39).
Barnabas gave up his chance for fame to help others become great. (Silas
will go down in history as Paul's companion.) He thought of John Mark rather
than himself.
Mark was a loser in Paul's eyes, but through Barnabas' love he became one
who was "useful for ministry" as the great apostle later admitted
(2 Timothy 4:11). But for Barnabas' vision Mark would have passed into history
as a cruel example of failure. But Barnabas saw to it that he had another
chance.
John Mark later came to Rome as Paul's associate. After Paul's martyrdom
he became Peter's colleague, cop;authored with him the Gospel that bears
Mark's name, and, if tradition serves us well, became the founder and bishop
of the church in Alexandria, North Africa.
After the separation from Paul the biblical references to Barnabas cease,
but there's a wellp;established tradition that he continued in his quiet
way to encourage others until some years later when he was martyred in his
home town of Salamis.
In A.D. 477 when his remains were discovered, his hands were clutching a
battered copy of the book that Mark had written---The Gospel of Mark. To
excerpt Shakespeare, the good that men do is often interred with their bones.
Barnabas "was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and faith."
People come and go and most of their achievements are forgotten. But the
good that Barnabas did went on forever.
There's comfort in knowing that we don't have to be important to be important.
We don't have to be significant to have significance. We can be nothing.
We can hidden and anonymous and know that our lives matter. There's no end
of good we can do if we don't care who gets the credit for it. It's all
a matter of perspective.
I'm fond of Emily Dickinson's bit of doggerel
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you---Nobody---too?
Then there's a pair of us?
Don't tell! They'd advertise---you know
How dreary---to be---Somebody!
How public---like a frog---
To tell one's name---the livelong June
To an admiring Bog!
I ask myself: "Am I content to be nobody as long as I can help someone
else become somebody?"
David Roper
