Sermon for 5th Sunday of Easter – Acts 8:26-40

Most of you know I’ve been in the candidacy process for a long time. A really long time. Like, I think there was life before candidacy and seminary but I can’t really remember what that was like anymore. Now, we have a great candidacy committee, and the process has been good. But it started out in a rocky way. You interview with a panel who asks you really personal questions like “Tell us about your prayer life.” “What does Jesus mean to you?” They just want to get to know you, but it feel like a test. It’s been too long ago to remember everything, except what one person asked me. What will you do if no congregation will call you? Since you’re gay? Wasn’t ready for that question. It was such a shock that I don’t remember what I said.

Our reading from Acts reminds me of that question. Peter and the Ethiopian eunuch. This story always catches the attention of a lot of LGBTQ folks, because a eunuch was someone who didn’t fit into society’s conventions for gender or sexuality. We know what that feels like. Folks in every age have always had rigid ideas of what it means to be a man or woman, and that there can only be 2 categories. So when those rules are broken there’s always a cost. Persecution. Stereotypes. Biases. Condemnation. So, this story catches our attention because we want to know what happens with this guy. And we especially want to know what God thinks about him. Is he accepted or rejected? That’s a really telling question, isn’t it? Because it says we’re not sure. If faith is about confidence, but we’re not so confident, then what?

Except we remember God’s commandments from Deuteronomy and Leviticus. “No one whose genitals are crushed or cut off will be admitted to the assembly of the Lord” (Deut 23:1; Lev 21:16-23). Such people are permanently cut off from the congregation because they’re impure. People like this guy, a eunuch. No exceptions. No consideration for circumstances. It doesn’t care WHY he’s a eunuch. It just says “no.” So, it’s interesting that he’s on the way back from worshiping in Jerusalem. What happened when he got to the temple? Did they let him in? We don’t know. But we’ve heard a lot of stories about the priests and scribes that suggest they’re a bunch of hardliners. The kind of folks who would just repeat God’s unconditional “no.” Now, we know this guy’s smart. I mean, he’s in charge of the entire treasury of Ethiopia. And he’s literate. He reads the same scriptures. So it’s hard to imagine that he hasn’t read the prohibitions against folks like him. Yet, he goes to Jerusalem anyway. What drives someone to go to temple if you know they won’t let you in? Which sounds a lot like the question I was asked in candidacy.

Evidently he must have a lot of faith to show up where he knows he’s not wanted. But listen to what happens next. He’s sitting in his chariot reading the prophet Isaiah. The apostle Philip shows up out of nowhere and asks him if he understands what he’s reading. He invites Philip to join him and he reads this passage. “Like a sheep he was led to the slaughter, and like a lamb silent before its shearer, so he does not open his mouth. In his humiliation justice was denied him. Who can describe his generation? For his life is taken away from the earth.” Then he turns to Philip and asks “Who’s the prophet talking about? Himself or someone else?” Now, he doesn’t know about Jesus yet, otherwise the Spirit wouldn’t have sent Philip. So, he’s sitting there struggling with this passage, and what if he hears something in it that reminds him of his own suffering? All the humiliation and injustice he suffers, even though he’s a royal official back home. There’s not enough privilege in the world to protect him from that ongoing trauma. And when you’re a person of faith who faces that kind of daily strife you want to know what God really thinks of you. So when he asks Philip to explain the passage, do you think Philip heard trembling in his voice? A little bit of desperation to know that maybe Deuteronomy and Leviticus got it wrong?

Folks still ask that same question today. Folks condemned by so many congregations simply because of who they are, with Deuteronomy and Leviticus ringing in their ears. Most of you know I usually preach at First Trinity on Sunday mornings. A few weeks ago we had a visitor. A transwoman came with her young son. I talked with her before worship and she told me about the church she used to go to. Where she grew up. Where she’d always been known. But when she finally came out as trans, they let her know she no longer belonged with them. So she was looking for a church where she and her son might feel safe. And I could tell that she was on edge because maybe coming in our door would be a huge mistake.

What do you say about that kind of spiritual malpractice? It’s interesting that the eunuch was reading Isaiah, because guess what else Isaiah says. “To the eunuchs who keep my sabbaths, who choose the things that please me and hold fast my covenant, I will give a name better than sons and daughters; I will give an everlasting name that shall not be cut off.” So, what kind of God do we have? A God who excludes or a God who gathers and welcomes home the despised and the rejected? That’s the kind of question that can either end a life or save one.

Well, we know exactly what kind of God we have. The one who gave us Jesus, God’s only son. Like a sheep he was led to the slaughter. In his humiliation justice was denied him. He was crucified and his life was taken away from the earth. But still he rises after three days, in the glory of his resurrection. To show the world that God will have what God wants, and what God wants is all of us. So in the waters of baptism, God calls us and gives us a new name – child of God. Just like when Jesus rose from the waters of his own baptism and heard a voice from heaven call out “This is my Son, the Beloved.” So it goes for Jesus, so it goes for us. And this is an eternal name. A name that can never be taken away from us. Because neither death, nor life, nor anything else in all creation, will ever be able to separate us from the love of God.

That’s quite a proclamation. To hear that God has chosen us in Jesus unconditionally and stops at nothing to get us. So Peter and our eunuch continue upon this wilderness road and guess what? Water! And our eunuch says “Look! Here’s water! Let’s just do it right now!” So they get right to it. Philip baptizes him. But then a strange thing happens. The Spirit snatches Peter away. Why? Well, our eunuch doesn’t need Peter to legitimize him. He knows the truth about God, and it’s so life-changing that he can’t help but tell others. And that’s what you do if no congregation calls you or no one wants to listen. You tell it anyway, because it gives you life in the telling.

Besides, folks are dying to hear it. Folks like our LGBTQ siblings, and especially trans-folk who are always under attack. We get to welcome them into the body of Christ, to share their lives as beloved children of God, to speak out for their God-given dignity. Of course, it’s not easy. Some folks won’t like it very much. They’ll challenge us and question our faith. But at the end of the day, we know this is living proof that God really is reconciling all things to God’s own self. And that will be enough for us.