We hear the story of
Philip baptizing the Ethiopian eunuch today, and we might be tempted to make
some assumptions. The Ethiopian, we think, might be someone who has no
knowledge of the One God. He might be very different from Jews like Philip, and
perhaps even a little frightening to him. Philip might be particularly brave or
saintly, engaging this odd man on a wilderness road, simply because the Holy
Spirit told him to hit the road. Brave, holy Philip! Poor misguided Ethiopian!
If that’s the lens
through which we read this story, it simply becomes another tintype portrait in
a compilation of works of the early saints.
But like so many
stories in the Bible, it is so much more than that!
Let’s start out with
the Ethiopian eunuch.
He was a high
official in the court of the queen (the Candace, or kandakē in Greek). His appearance as a man with brown skin would
not be unusual to Philip, because the nation of Israel consisted of many
different racial and ethnic groups. Think back to the Queen of Sheba visiting
Solomon and being impressed with his wisdom and teachings about the One True
God. This Candace whom the Ethiopian eunuch served might well have been an
Ethiopian Jew.
This man is said to
be coming back home from Jerusalem where he had come to worship. He would not
be worshipping pagan gods from Ethiopian culture in Jerusalem – that was the
seat of worship for the God of Israel. And so this man was probably an
observant Jew.
As he rode on the
road in his chariot, he was reading aloud, as was the custom in those days.
Philip heard him and ran toward him. “Do you understand what you were reading,”
Philip asked. “How can I, unless someone explains it to me?” answered the
Ethiopian.
So Philip got in the
chariot with him – never mind that his mother probably taught him never to get
into a chariot with a stranger – to teach him and to tell him about the new
covenant foretold in the very scripture that the Ethiopian had been reading…a
passage from Isaiah.
“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.”
We hear that passage
and immediately think, “Wow, Isaiah is once again prophesying about what
happened to Jesus Christ!”
But the eunuch might
have heard it differently.
Think of what it is
to be a eunuch. Eunuchs were men who were castrated, usually before puberty.
They were neutered men, considered to be “safe” to work in the royal courts,
particularly to serve the royal women, because they had no sexual desire for
them.
Men who were, in
effect, shorn as lambs. Powerless in their loss of sexual identity. Considered
odd, different, half-men. Useful tools in a royal court because of their difference,
but unable to live fully because of the way they were shorn. Like a sheep,
silent, humiliated.
That eunuch might
have heard the passage from Isaiah, and felt like it was telling his story, the
story of another person who was powerless against the forces that sheared away
his manhood.
It’s an odd
juxtaposition, because in many ways the Ethiopian eunuch had power. He was akin
to the chief of staff for the queen of Ethiopia. No doubt his chariot was
beautiful, richly decorated, with the latest in shock absorbers to deal with
rough roads, with a stern soldier driving and a pair of powerful horses pulling
it. His clothing might be the most luxurious fabric, hand-embroidered,
bejeweled, and he might wear a pendant or ring denoting his office, set with diamonds
or rubies. But all that he had could not take away the fact that he had been
shorn like a young lamb many years before, and all knew his humiliation by his
hairless face and high voice.
Isaiah was speaking
to him.
It is a good thing
he was reading Isaiah and not Deuteronomy, where the ancient laws said that
anyone who was sexually mutilated was ritually unclean and could not enter the “assembly
of God.” (Deut. 23:1).
Deuteronomy would
have named him persona non grata in the temple. It would have humiliated him,
shorn him once again, by naming him imperfect and unworthy.
But it was Isaiah he
was reading, the same Isaiah who held particular promise to eunuchs, saying eunuchs
who “keep my Sabbaths will receive a name better than sons and daughters” (Isa
56:4-5). It was Isaiah who promised hope for the marginalized, the outcasts,
the captives, the same Isaiah whom Jesus preached so often. The eunuch might be
powerful, he might be rich, he might have jewels on his person and the ability
to command in the name of his queen, but he was still viewed as different,
unlike other men, snickered at when he spoke in that high voice. He needed to
hear some of that hopeful promise.
And along came
Philip. The eunuch would be surprised by this strange fellow on the road,
asking him, “do you understand what you’re reading?” Sounds a little
presumptuous, doesn’t it? Imagine, as Barbara Brown Taylor has done, the eunuch
as a rich foreign diplomat riding through Washington DC in a Lexus, and
suddenly this street preacher in shabby clothes runs up to the vehicle. In
Washington, the diplomat would ignore the fellow. In this story, though, the
eunuch invited Philip into the vehicle for some conversation.
And the eunuch,
perhaps inspired by the Holy Spirit as Philip was, or perhaps just curious,
asked Philip “This passage I was just reading – is it just about Isaiah and his
situation, or is it about something or someone else?” Philip couldn’t have
asked for a better opening…he told him about Jesus, and how this passage
described Jesus, that suffering servant king, so perfectly. And somewhere in
his conversation, he must have told the eunuch about baptism, because when they
came up to a place where there was water, the eunuch said “what is there to
stop me from being baptized?”
Perhaps the eunuch
did have familiarity with the passage from Deuteronomy that forbade him from
entering the temple. Perhaps his question to Philip at that moment was not “Sure,
why shouldn’t we do this thing that you have talked about?” Perhaps it was more
like, “Will you, too, deny me God’s grace by saying I am unworthy, because of
my sexual status?”
But Philip had no
desire to keep this man away from sacramental blessing. To him, the man’s
status as a eunuch was irrelevant. All that mattered was that he was a child of
God, and sought to affirm his belief through baptism. And so the chariot
halted, they two men hopped out, ran to the water, and Philip baptized him. And
they parted ways, the Ethiopian going back to his country rejoicing, Philip
going to Caesarea Phillipi proclaiming the good news.
Philip would no more
deny this man a sacramental blessing because of what had been done to him than
he would deny a Jew who was the father of ten children such a blessing.
He would no more deny a prostitute such a blessing than he would deny a woman in a stable household such a blessing. He would no more deny a gay man or a
lesbian woman a sacramental blessing than he would a straight one. Just like
Jesus.
Why? Because Jesus
said we are all eligible to be part of God’s kingdom. We are all shorn in some
way. We are all missing parts of our bodies and our hearts and our souls, and
if that’s the criteria for entrance into the kingdom, we all fail.
But Jesus Christ,
the lamb who was shorn and slaughtered, is clear that all are welcome. And only
he gets to be the judge of who stays forever. And based upon his teachings in
the gospel, I suspect that sexual status is not the prime litmus test for
faithfulness – in fact, it may have little bearing at all in his judgment…it is
simply loving God and loving each other.
So as we continue
forward on our journey to be faithful to the One in whom we were baptized, here’s
the lesson from Philip: share God’s love without making assumptions about whether
or not they are worthy of God’s love. Be
grateful for the opportunity to welcome newcomers of all stripes into God’s
family. Ask for God’s blessings on all God’s people. Trust that God knows your
heart, and the heart and soul of those you meet, and, like the Ethiopian
eunuch, go on your way rejoicing.
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment