Altered by the Spirit: Altered through God's creativity

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.

Now there were devout Jews from every people under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.” --Acts 2:1-13 (NRSVUE)

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from our God our Creator, from Jesus, our Savior, and Lord, and from the Holy Spirit - our Advocate and Spirit of Truth. Amen.

I want to share a story with you that happened this week with my male, alpha cat, Romeo. He’s a bugger. For the past few months, every time I open the door to my apartment, he is there, waiting to escape. I’m not sure what he thinks is on the other side of that door. Because - and if you’ve been to my apartment you know this - it’s one long hallway where every door looks the same. And that’s it. 

But, for some reason, he thinks something is exciting and magical on the other side of that door. So, earlier this week, I decided to give him his freedom. To let him out the door as I took a bag of trash to the garbage chute, down the hallway from my apartment. And to see how he would respond.

At first, his tail flicked and I could tell he was excited! And, perhaps, even a little stunned. Freedom. I could see it in his eyes as I walked down the hall, trying to convince him to come. And that was where his sense of adventure died. Quickly. By the time I got back to my apartment, he had moved away from me to my neighbor’s apartment - they all look the same so, perhaps, he thought it was mine. And he sat in front of it, crying to be let back in. It was the loudest cry from him I have heard.

So, I fetched him. And he was shaking. His body was tense. His claws dug into me. I brought him back inside, holding and petting him for a while until it seemed he was ready to be released, which I did. Yet, for the rest of the evening, he would startle at any noise from outside in the hallway or anything else unexpected. Poor little alpha Romeo.

Our story today is, actually, the exact opposite of Romeo’s experience. We’ve shifted backward in time from the stories of the past few weeks. Back to the time just after Jesus’ ascension. When the disciples were all gathered in the room together. Unlike Romeo, trying to get out of my apartment, the disciples are cowering in the room together. Small and afraid. Hiding inside a locked room. Fearful of what might happen to them in his absence. Knowing his promise to send his Spirit to be with them. Yet, also understanding their reality, and how they are perceived as rebels in their religious community. 

So, when they hear the sound of the wind and Jesus’ Spirit manifesting itself on them in the form of fire - one can only imagine how astounded they are by this. Who could possibly have expected that this is what it would be like - this promise of Jesus’ Spirit - poured out on them amid their fearful hiding? Leading them to open up the locked doors into the wideness and freedom of their community and to witness the miraculous. To be given the gift of language - that which connects us with other people. 

This part of the Pentecost story may remind us of the story of Babel in the Hebrew scriptures. They’re often connected to one another. Perhaps you remember the Old Testament story - where the people who at the time all spoke the same language wanted to build a tower to reach heaven for their own personal gain. Not such a good idea. It’s why the Lord scattered them and confused their language. Sometimes the story of Babel is taught as a curse. But, what if it isn’t? What if, when connected to our story today from Acts - it’s a correction? That God is correcting our human tendency to see the world through a single lens instead of through the blessing of diverse eyes? The God of Pentecost opts for difference. So, the miracle of Pentecost, then, is that the Holy Spirit provides understanding to this diverse group of people - each one hearing them speak in their native language. Because God is and always has been about the expansion of difference. It is finally, in this story of Pentecost, that God’s people are catching up!

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We’ve spent a lot of time over these past few weeks, leaning into some difficult topics. Thinking about disruption. About who is on the edge of belonging in our world. About our enemies. About those whose stories we don’t trust. 

Do we really understand, as the Pentecost community began to understand, that God loves God’s diverse creation? That we are called to lean into it, to love it - not to change everyone else to be like us, but to thrive in its messiness, to be drunk - not on new wine - but on the unbounded imagination of God’s creativity, manifested in the Spirit. Always on the loose. This free and widely-shared gift, that rushes ahead to alter the reality of our world with possibilities too often restricted by our imaginations. 

In some ways, we are exactly like my cat Romeo. Who deeply longs for freedom, but is terrified of it. What if we simply let go? And began to just love everyone? To celebrate difference? To wonder in the diversity of God's good creation? 

Perhaps, then, we - like the disciples on that Pentecost day so long ago - might also begin to catch up to the wild and wonderful work of the Spirit. So be it. Amen.

Preached Sunday, May 19, 2024, at Grace & Glory, Goshen, KY, and Third/MOSAIC, Louisville, KY.

Altered by the Spirit: Altered through stories we don't trust

The very night before Herod was going to bring him out, Peter, bound with two chains, was sleeping between two soldiers, while guards in front of the door were keeping watch over the prison. Suddenly an angel of the Lord appeared, and a light shone in the cell. He tapped Peter on the side and woke him, saying, “Get up quickly.” And the chains fell off his wrists. The angel said to him, “Fasten your belt and put on your sandals.” He did so. Then he said to him, “Wrap your cloak around you and follow me.” Peter went out and followed him; he did not realize that what was happening with the angel’s help was real; he thought he was seeing a vision. After they had passed the first and the second guard, they came before the iron gate leading into the city. It opened for them of its own accord, and they went outside and walked along a lane, when suddenly the angel left him. Then Peter came to himself and said, “Now I am sure that the Lord has sent his angel and rescued me from the hands of Herod and from all that the Jewish people were expecting.”

As soon as he realized this, he went to the house of Mary, the mother of John whose other name was Mark, where many had gathered and were praying. When he knocked at the outer gate, a maid named Rhoda came to answer. On recognizing Peter’s voice, she was so overjoyed that, instead of opening the gate, she ran in and announced that Peter was standing at the gate. They said to her, “You are out of your mind!” But she insisted that it was so. They said, “It is his angel.” Meanwhile Peter continued knocking, and when they opened the gate they saw him and were amazed. He motioned to them with his hand to be silent and described for them how the Lord had brought him out of the prison. And he added, “Tell this to James and to the brothers and sisters.” Then he left and went to another place. --Acts 12:6-17 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from God our Creator, and from our risen Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Who do we trust? Or rather, whose stories do we trust?

I pretty much grew up a redneck in a state that, at that time, was probably 98% white and very religiously and ideologically conservative. So, many things were declared sinful, untrustworthy, or even evil. People of color. Queer people. Immigrants. Native Americans. People of other religious beliefs. If you didn’t fit into the nice, neat box I had been taught to create, well, then there was something wrong with you. 

I also grew up very naive. I believed that the leaders in our community were trustworthy. That they did the right things for our community, never acting in their own self-interest. I believed that they treated everyone the same, treating all people equally. I believed that, if there was income disparity or any other kind of inequality - in my hometown, especially with Native Americans - then that was because of what someone did or didn’t do, or the choices they made - but, not because they had been treated inequitably. 

There were stories of people I trusted. And stories of people I didn’t trust. 

When I moved to Los Angeles, you can imagine the mind-blowing experience I had. All of a sudden, I was surrounded by people who were gay, people of color, people of other ethnicities and nationalities, people of other religions, and on and on. The diversity there was all new to me, fascinating, and yet, at times, overwhelming. It was not long after I moved there that Los Angeles County became a place where there was no majority ethnic group. No longer did white people have majority status. No group had majority status. 

Over the years, I built a diverse group of friends. One of those included a fellow organizer - a Mexican-American from Wisconsin. He shared stories with me about being stopped numerous times driving while brown. I argued with him. I challenged his perception, that perhaps he had a chip on his shoulder. I didn’t believe him. For years. Until videos started popping up on social media sharing the real-life experiences of people of color, how often they are stopped by the police for bogus or very minor issues - things for which you and I would probably never be stopped. And I was ashamed. Ashamed that I had not believed him. My good friend. 

I felt similarly about a friend who was queer. I’d moved from believing that being gay was a sin. But, I had not yet moved to a place of understanding that being gay for him was his identity. It was who he was. It wasn’t a lifestyle choice. But I didn’t fully trust his story. Until one day we had a deep conversation about this and he said to me, “Who would choose this as a lifestyle? Who would choose a lifestyle in which one would be despised, humiliated, shamed or shunned? Who in their right mind would choose to be gay?” Finally, I got it - and began to trust his story.

Our story today, while it may be a little outlandish and a little humorous, has underneath it this question of whose stories we trust. It starts with Peter in prison and the empire pushing back - these empirical institutions in place in our world that we trust to use power that isn't abusive. That’s clearly not what we see in this text. Here, the government and religious leaders are cracking down on these renegade Jewish Christ-followers. Arresting them. Persecuting them. And even, if we move a few verses earlier in the chapter, murdering them. Under the guise of keeping order, of maintaining the status quo, when the truth is that it is about keeping power. At any cost.

Then, there is Rhoda. Not a maid or an attendant, but a slave. She shares the news of Peter’s arrival and no. one. listens to her. No one believes her story. Not until they experience it or witness Peter at the door themselves. Why don’t they believe her? Why does this community - this Christian community - dismiss her witness? Is it because she’s a slave - not viewed as a living being, but as chattel, as property to be owned? Is it because she’s a woman, viewed similarly - again, as property? Or is it because her story, too, is about empire? About power and control. About who is on top. Or not. And about whose stories we trust in our communities. And whose we don’t.

Whose stories do you trust? Whose stories don’t you trust?

We may not be able to do much about empire - just as the early Christian community could do little about Herod. But, what is most threatening to empire is the power of the resurrection - something we know vividly from the story of Jesus, his crucifixion and his resurrection, which is the ultimate resistance story. Our job isn’t to topple the empires - that work lies in the hands of our Creator. But our job - as followers of Christ - is to live lives that bear witness to the power of the resurrection. To lean towards those, as Jesus did, who are without power and control. To listen to their stories. To trust their truths.

Years later, I went back to my Mexican-American friend and apologized for dismissing his story, for not believing him. He graciously accepted it. I thank God for that and, especially, that we are still friends. And as the days pass, I’m grateful that I still get to hear and learn more about his truth and to continue learning to trust his story as much as I trust my own. He and so many of my other friends have taught me the beauty in trusting each other’s stories and in trusting each other in all our God-given diversity.

May God give us the courage to listen and to believe. Amen.

Preached May 12, 2024, at Grace & Glory, Goshen, KY, and Third/MOSAIC, Louisville, KY.

Altered by the Spirit: Altered by disruption

 In Caesarea there was a man named Cornelius, a centurion of the Italian Cohort, as it was called. He was a devout man who feared God with all his household; he gave alms generously to the people and prayed constantly to God. One afternoon at about three o’clock he had a vision in which he clearly saw an angel of God coming in and saying to him, “Cornelius.” He stared at him in terror and said, “What is it, Lord?” He answered, “Your prayers and your alms have ascended as a memorial before God. Now send men to Joppa for a certain Simon who is called Peter; he is lodging with Simon, a tanner, whose house is by the seaside.” When the angel who spoke to him had left, he called two of his slaves and a devout soldier from the ranks of those who served him, and after telling them everything he sent them to Joppa.

About noon the next day, as they were on their journey and approaching the city, Peter went up on the roof to pray. He became hungry and wanted something to eat, and while it was being prepared he fell into a trance. He saw the heaven opened and something like a large sheet coming down, being lowered to the ground by its four corners. In it were all kinds of four-footed creatures and reptiles and birds of the air. Then he heard a voice saying, “Get up, Peter; kill and eat.” But Peter said, “By no means, Lord, for I have never eaten anything that is profane or unclean.” The voice said to him again, a second time, “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.” This happened three times, and the thing was suddenly taken up to heaven.

Now while Peter was greatly puzzled about what to make of the vision that he had seen, suddenly the men sent by Cornelius appeared. They were asking for Simon’s house and were standing by the gate. They called out to ask whether Simon, who was called Peter, was staying there. While Peter was still thinking about the vision, the Spirit said to him, “Look, three men are searching for you. Now get up, go down, and go with them without hesitation, for I have sent them.” So Peter went down to the men and said, “I am the one you are looking for; what is the reason for your coming?” They answered, “Cornelius, a centurion, a righteous and God-fearing man who is well spoken of by the whole Jewish people, was directed by a holy angel to send for you to come to his house and to hear what you have to say.” So Peter invited them in and gave them lodging.

The next day he got up and went with them, and some of the brothers and sisters from Joppa accompanied him. The following day they came to Caesarea. Cornelius was expecting them and had called together his relatives and close friends. On Peter’s arrival, Cornelius met him and, falling at his feet, worshiped him. But Peter made him get up, saying, “Stand up; I am only a mortal.” And as he talked with him, he went in and found that many had assembled, and he said to them, “You yourselves know that it is improper for a Jew to associate with or to visit an outsider, but God has shown me that I should not call anyone profane or unclean.

Then Peter began to speak to them: “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every people anyone who fears him and practices righteousness is acceptable to him.

While Peter was still speaking, the Holy Spirit fell upon all who heard the word. The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the gentiles, for they heard them speaking in tongues and extolling God. Then Peter said, “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?”

Acts 10:1-28, 34-35, 44-47 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from God our Creator, and from our risen Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Stigma. 

I want to talk today about this word, stigma. It’s a word that has many meanings, but, generally, it’s a set of negative and often unfair beliefs that a society or group of people have about something. Can you think of any stigmas that exist in our society today? 

There are many stigmas in our world today. In the time of the early Church there were many stigmas, too. Of course, it depended on one’s perspective. If you were Jewish, for example, anyone who wasn’t Jewish would, in your perspective, have a mark against (or on) them. Gentiles, for example. Who were considered unclean.

That’s the situation with Cornelius in today’s story. From Peter’s perspective, any association with a Gentile or anyone or anything else identified as unclean would, under Levitical law, require a process of ritual purification. Cornelius, an officer in the Roman guard, was a Gentile. Thus, he was ritually unclean.

Except for one thing. The Holy Spirit. The story of Peter and Cornelius is a story - like that of Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch - about catching up to where the Spirit is always moving. It might surprise us - that the Spirit is always nudging us outward. Always redrawing the lines. Always disrupting the things we always thought were true.

But, it shouldn’t surprise us, should it? Because isn’t this exactly what Jesus did, while here on earth? Always moving towards the edges of our world? To those who have been stigmatized, pushed away, deemed abnormal according to our standards?

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May is Mental Health Awareness month. It no surprise to you, I’m fairly sure, that this is an important subject for me. Both personally and as a pastor. The statistics are pretty stunning. Nearly 1 in 5 adults in the U.S. experiences mental illness in a give year. That’s 20% of our adult population. To quantify it, that would be every adult over the age of 65 in our country. It is a huge number. And, yet, too many are afraid to seek assistance because they fear being stigmatized. Being marked as having something wrong with them. So, they don’t get help.

The consequences of this are devastating. Suicide is the tenth leading cause of death in the United States. And it is the second leading cause of death for people ages 10-34. More than 90% of people who die by suicide show symptoms of a mental health condition. And half of all chronic mental illness begins by age 14, three-quarters by age 24. Yet, despite the availability of effective treatment, there are long delays - sometimes decades of delay - between the first appearance of symptoms and when people get help.

So, what can we do? Rather, what are we called to do as people of a Savior who was always moving toward the edges of our world to draw people in?

Here are five simple things we can do to make the world a better place for people with mental illnesses, and for their families.

• First, be a friend. Provide judgment-free companionship and compassion on the road to recovery. Listen without judgment. Pray for those you know with mental health conditions, and for their family members. And recognize that mental illness isn’t a sign of weak faith or lack of spiritual willpower, or anything that should humiliate anyone.
• Second, be an inspiration. If you are suffering from mental illness, share your story. Has mental illness impacted you or your family in some way? Your story may empower others to seek treatment or to have hope.
• Third, watch your language. Words matter. Pay attention to the words you use and avoid stigmatizing labels. Don’t refer to people as “crazy,” “psycho,” “lunatic,” or “mental.”
• Fourth, be a “Stigmabuster.” Challenge negative attitudes toward mental illness among your friends and acquaintances and in the media. 
• Finally, learn the facts. Educate yourself about the various mental illnesses. Attend a lecture or class or use the internet. 

And, if you are experiencing grief, anxiety, depression, or any other kind of mental health issue, seek help, if you haven’t already. Talk to me. Talk to your spouse or family. Talk to your doctor. And ask for help. There are a whole bunch of us out there ready and waiting to help, who want to love and support you through your journey.

Peter’s life was disrupted by the vision he received from God in a way he could never have expected. From this vision and then from his experience with Cornelius, he began to truly understand the expansiveness of God’s grace. That God’s grace is bigger, wider and greater than we can ever truly know. That God’s grace encompasses everyone. Stigmatizes no one. That it is a disruptive force - not destructive, but disruptive. A force that shows us how an encounter with someone who is so sure and certain of their boundaries, their rules, their doctrine, their beliefs or whatever - how a disruptive encounter with a gracious God can change everything. And mostly, change us.

Amen.

Preached Sunday, May 5, 2024, at Grace & Glory Lutheran, Goshen, KY and Third Lutheran/MOSAIC, Louisville, KY.

Altered by the Spirit: Altered alongside our enemies

 Meanwhile Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any who belonged to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem. Now as he was going along and approaching Damascus, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” He asked, “Who are you, Lord?” The reply came, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. But get up and enter the city, and you will be told what you are to do.” The men who were traveling with him stood speechless because they heard the voice but saw no one. Saul got up from the ground, and though his eyes were open, he could see nothing; so they led him by the hand and brought him into Damascus. For three days he was without sight and neither ate nor drank.

Now there was a disciple in Damascus named Ananias. The Lord said to him in a vision, “Ananias.” He answered, “Here I am, Lord.” The Lord said to him, “Get up and go to the street called Straight, and at the house of Judas look for a man of Tarsus named Saul. At this moment he is praying, and he has seen in a vision a man named Ananias come in and lay his hands on him so that he might regain his sight.” But Ananias answered, “Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints in Jerusalem, and here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who invoke your name.” But the Lord said to him, “Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel; I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.” So Ananias went and entered the house. He laid his hands on Saul and said, “Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus, who appeared to you on your way here, has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” And immediately something like scales fell from his eyes, and his sight was restored. Then he got up and was baptized, and after taking some food, he regained his strength.

For several days he was with the disciples in Damascus, and immediately he began to proclaim Jesus in the synagogues, saying, “He is the Son of God.” All who heard him were amazed and said, “Is not this the man who made havoc in Jerusalem among those who invoked this name? And has he not come here for the purpose of bringing them bound before the chief priests?” Saul became increasingly more powerful and confounded the Jews who lived in Damascus by proving that Jesus was the Messiah.

--Acts 9:1-22 (NRSV)

Grace, mercy, and peace to you, from God our Creator, and our risen Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen. Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia! (Just checking to make sure you remember that we are in Easter!)

Have you ever found yourself in conflict with someone with whom you deeply disagreed?

In 1989, F. W. de Klerk became president of South Africa. He was an Afrikaner - a white ethnic group in South Africa descended from Dutch and Huguenot ancestors. He was a member of the National Party, which was the majority party in South Africa from 1948 to 1994. This party - also known as the Nationalist Party - was responsible for the implementation of apartheid rule. Apartheid was a system of institutionalized racial segregation that existed, beginning in 1948. It ensured that South Africa was dominated politically, socially, and economically by the nation’s minority white population. It barred the vote of non-white citizens. It prohibited mixed-race marriages. It required all citizens to register into one of four racial groups based on appearance. It also removed black Africans from their homes and forced them into segregated neighborhoods, some of the largest mass evictions in modern history. 

By the time de Klerk was elected in 1989, white citizens represented around 15% of the population but had 100% domination politically, socially, and economically. Yet, the handwriting was on the wall. De Klerk recognized that apartheid was unsustainable. International pressure was mounting. His election was a recognition of these realities. His election was a mandate for change.

But, change was not easy. A key first step was de Klerk’s decision to release Nelson Mandela. Mandela had been active in the anti-apartheid movement since the age of 25, when he joined the African National Congress, an organization seeking to overthrow the rule of the Nationalists. Mandela had been repeatedly arrested for seditious activities, eventually sentenced at 44 years old to life in prison. By the time of de Klerk’s election, Mandela was 71 years old. De Klerk knew that his good faith act to release Mandela from prison in 1990 would signal a willingness to move away from the past.

This is not like our story today. :) This text in Acts is the story of a man, a zealot really, who was on a warpath, to seek out and destroy every follower of The Way - what the early Christians were called. He was dogged in his search. So dogged that he had sought and received papers from the Jewish leaders that gave him the authority to extradite Christians from Damascus back to Jerusalem for punishment. Likely the same punishment meted out to Stephen, whose stoning he had witnessed, as noted in the previous chapter. As our story today begins, he - Saul - is on the hunt, on his way to Damascus. There will be no compromise on Saul’s part, no will to engage in good-faith action to reach any agreement. Only arrest and punishment. 

How is it that these two men can come from similar backgrounds, steeped in the respective systems in which they had grown up, yet each eventually moving into such different directions? One, a leader who can envision a different future, a more inclusive future. The other who can only envision a future where he is right. Where his belief systems reign. And who will stop at nothing to ensure it. 

Except there is one thing that this second person - Saul - does not consider. Or I should say one person that Saul does not consider. Christ. His encounter with Christ on the road to Damascus changes everything.

We need to note, though, that it was not only Saul who was changed. Because this text is about Saul AND Ananias. Ananias, who, when told by God to go to Saul, blind and helpless in a house on Straight Street (I love that analogy!), it was Ananias who said, “Whoa! Wait a minute here! Isn’t this the one who has been chasing us, persecuting us, breathing “threats and murder” against us? You want me to go where?” And, yet, Ananias, in faith, goes. 

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You and I are living in a world of division. Perhaps you, like me, have been at times the cause of some of that division. Disagreeing with family members or friends over political or ideological stances, even over issues of faith. Insisting that we are right. And, while we might not say the word aloud, there are those whom we might consider enemies. Because they don’t think like us. Because they don’t look like us. Because they don’t live like us. Or because of any other reason we can find to separate us, to keep us divided. So, that we can be right. Just like Paul. And even Ananias.

It is when Saul encounters Christ that he is transformed - not just by his interaction with Christ, but also by his interaction with one of the very people he is working against. Ananias is changed as well by his call and by his interaction with Saul. Through it, Ananias learns that there is no limit to who God can work in and through. His initial distrust of Saul is well-placed. But it cannot stand against God’s action working in and through both of them. It is in their relationship, through the work of the Spirit, that they are both changed.

The work of F. W. de Klerk and Nelson Mandela would change themselves - and a nation. The work of Paul and Ananias would change themselves - and the church. The work of Christ and of Christ’s Spirit will change all creation as they continue to nudge us toward shalom. May we be a part of this work. In faith. Trusting in the power of God - and God’s unexpected and often messy ways - to create and re-create our world. 

And may we be transformed in the process.

Amen.

Preached Sunday, April 28, 2024, at Grace & Glory, Goshen, KY, and Third/MOSAIC, Louisville, KY.

Altered by the Spirit: Altered on the edge of belonging

Then an angel of the Lord said to Philip, “Get up and go toward the south to the road that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza.” (This is a wilderness road.) So he got up and went. Now there was an Ethiopian eunuch, a court official of the Candace, the queen of the Ethiopians, in charge of her entire treasury. He had come to Jerusalem to worship and was returning home; seated in his chariot, he was reading the prophet Isaiah. Then the Spirit said to Philip, “Go over to this chariot and join it.” So Philip ran up to it and heard him reading the prophet Isaiah. He asked, “Do you understand what you are reading?” He replied, “How can I, unless someone guides me?” And he invited Philip to get in and sit beside him. Now the passage of the scripture that he was reading was this:

“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.”

The eunuch asked Philip, “About whom, may I ask you, does the prophet say this, about himself or about someone else?” Then Philip began to speak, and starting with this scripture he proclaimed to him the good news about Jesus. As they were going along the road, they came to some water, and the eunuch said, “Look, here is water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?” He commanded the chariot to stop, and both of them, Philip and the eunuch, went down into the water, and Philip baptized him. When they came up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord snatched Philip away; the eunuch saw him no more and went on his way rejoicing. But Philip found himself at Azotus, and as he was passing through the region he proclaimed the good news to all the towns until he came to Caesarea. 

--Acts 8:26-40 NRSV

Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Creator and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Do we suffer? Really. Do we suffer? 

For a long time and as a result of much life experience, I thought I did. And, yet, I’m not really sure I have truly suffered. I see images of children in Gaza, war-torn and devastated, who have lost everything, often including their parents and siblings. Whose eyes seem empty from the trauma they’ve experienced. I hear stories of women brutalized by Russian soldiers in Ukraine, husbands killed, their country decimated from two years of war. And I wonder whether I have even begun to know what it feels like to suffer. In all my privilege. Perhaps you feel the same.

Do we really know suffering?

Perhaps the closest I’ve truly been to suffering has been an experience that has been, for the most part, vicarious. Through the suffering of someone else. As you know, my son and daughter-in-law were divorced last year. That was hard. What you may not know, however, is that a few months afterward, my daughter-in-law, whom I love dearly, came out as a lesbian. And, in the process, was completely shunned and abandoned by her entire family. People who claim to be devout Christians. I have witnessed in her the deep pain this has caused. The sense of abandonment she has felt. The way in which she has been shunned. How the people who claimed to love her have pushed her to the edge of belonging. And how she has suffered. Deeply. Because of it. 

I wonder if, in part, that has been the experience of the Ethiopian eunuch in our story today. They - and I use that pronoun because they do not fit neatly in any of the binaries we have created in our world - they, too, have likely experienced what it feels like to be at the edge of belonging. Simultaneously man and non-man. Neither male nor female. Sexually impotent. Powerless. Scorned by society, especially according to Roman constructions of masculinity and virility. Lacking any kind of social standing, more so if they might have been enslaved. Yet, one with power. An official. In charge of the queen’s treasury. They are literate and wealthy enough to have an Isaiah scroll and use of a chariot. But, having gone to Jerusalem to worship, if they are Jewish, likely unable to ever do this in the temple - banned according to Deuteronomic law. Then, from Ethiopia - south of Egypt - or, as writers of the time would refer to as being from the fringes of the inhabited world. With darker skin color. Viewed as coming from a very different place than that of Israel - a place both romanticized, yet also viewed as completely inferior - a reflection of Roman xenophobia. They are, for many, an unfamiliar, complex, fluid identity, especially when placed beside the norms of the culture in which Acts was written. Likely viewed as an oddity. Or even gawked at. 

That, my friends, is suffering. Suffering that most of us may never experience.

It’s why, perhaps, they are stuck on the passage in Isaiah 53. As they read it aloud, Philip, nudged to this place and this person by the Holy Spirit, hears them reading it aloud, over and over. And asks, “Do you understand what you are reading?”

Philip uses this passage in Isaiah as a springboard for telling the eunuch about Jesus. And while the author of Acts doesn’t tell us exactly what Philip says, it is interesting to note what he does and does not cite from Isaiah 53. 

He cites the portions of the text about the servant’s silence and the part emphasizing that the servant was unjustly condemned. Innocent. Philip draws the connection to Jesus, whom human leaders judge worthy of death, but whom God judges to be innocent and worthy of an eternal throne. Isaiah 53 underscores that innocence. Philip, however, doesn’t include the very end of the Isaiah passage where it says that the Servant was “stricken for the transgression of my people.” Philip - and the author of Acts - do not develop a theology of substitutionary atonement, of Jesus dying for our sin. But, instead, depict Israel as complicit in an injustice with the death of Jesus. That Jesus, unjustly condemned, knows human suffering, because he has experienced it. And that this puts him in sympathetic solidarity with all victims of violence and stigmatization. Like Isaiah’s slaughtered lamb. And, especially, like the Ethiopian eunuch.

This good news that Philip shares with them - the good news of a Jesus who suffers in solidarity with them - acknowledges their own worth and dignity. It leads them - and not Philip - to raise the topic of baptism. Because they see that because of the worth and dignity inherent in them as a child of God, their outcome can only be one of inclusiveness. Of participation. And belonging.

Justo Gonzalez, a Cuban-American liberation theologian writes that “in studying the history of the Church and its missionary progress, we repeatedly see that the great movements, the most notable discoveries of unsuspected dimensions of the gospel and of obedience to it, usually appear not at the center, but at the margins, at the periphery.” 

Perhaps, for us as for the Ethiopian eunuch, this lesson on Isaiah 53 is also a lesson for us. A lesson that calls us to resist easy answers. To resist the categorization of human beings into neat binaries. To resist categorization in its entirety. And to simply move closer - not to those at the center, but to those on the edges. Of belonging. And to notice the Holy Spirit there, already at work.

Because the good news will not travel to our community and to the ends of the earth primarily because of focus groups, strategic plans and demographic analyses. It will do so because individuals - we - carry it there gladly. Because they recognize that it speaks to them, no matter who they are or how others may measure them. And because they recognize that the good news acknowledges their own worth and dignity and thwarts the prejudices that societies - and religions - keep falling into.

This, my friends, is not about a call to go out into the world and suffer, but more about how our own suffering - which may be minor in comparison - is a way in which we are called into the work of God in the world. 

May we be courageous in our call. Amen.

Preached Sunday, April 21, 2024, at Grace & Glory, Goshen, KY, and Third/MOSAIC, Louisville, KY.