One of the most striking features of the early Christian Church was what we have come to know as Christian Communism, or as the historian describes it in Acts iv, 32:  “And the multitude of them that believed were of one heart and soul:  and not one of them said that aught of the things which he possessed was his own; but they had all things common.”  It is a bright and a pleasing picture that is thus presented.  Nor is it difficult to understand how such a spirit should arise amongst men whose hearts were full to overflowing with the new Christian graces of brotherhood and peace.  For we must not imagine that there was anything compulsory about this communism.  It was entirely voluntary, and was due to the eager desire on the part of the wealthier members of the Church to do all that they could for their poorer brethren.  In this particular alone, we can at once see how widely it differed from what is generally known as communism or socialism in the present day.  The spirit of much at any rate of our present-day socialism—­so the distinction has been cleverly drawn—­is, “What is thine, is mine”:  but the spirit of those early believers was rather, “What is mine, is thine.”

At the same time, we can readily understand that in a large and mixed community like the early Church, all members would not think exactly alike, and that while many, we may believe most, would cheerfully obey this unwritten law of love, and share and share alike, others would give in to it—­if they did give in, for, let me again emphasise, there was no compulsion upon any—­more grudgingly and hesitatingly.

Of these two classes the writer of the Book of Acts presents us with individual examples—­of the former class, in the case of Joseph, or Barnabas, a wealthy Cypriot, who “having a field, sold it, and brought the money, and laid it at the apostles’ feet” (Acts iv. 37)—­of the latter, in the case of Ananias with Sapphira his wife, whose melancholy story is now before us.

That story is very familiar, and is often regarded simply as an instance of the sinfulness of lying.  And that undoubtedly it is; but it warns us also against other equally dangerous and insidious errors, as a little consideration will, I think, show.  For what were Ananias’s motives in acting as he did?  If we can discover them, we shall have the key to the whole story.

And here, it seems to me, they must, in the first instance at any rate, have been of a sufficiently generous character.  Ananias had seen what was going on around him, and he had determined that he must not be behindhand in this ministry of love.  But—­and now we get a little deeper into his character—­ambition to stand well with his fellow-members evidently mingled with the pure spirit of charity:  though we do not need to suppose that there was as yet any conscious intention to deceive.  Acting, then, on these somewhat mixed motives of charity and ambition, Ananias