In many cultures, a lot of value is given to storytelling; and it’s not just the women who do it. Several times, I have heard Ray Buckley, a storyteller of Lakota, Tlingit, and Scots descent, tell stories filled with incredible meaning, stories of the Creator’s love and compassion. I also know that, several times over the past year, a storyteller named Baba has enchanted the students at Burroughs Elementary School—where Tristan and James and Adam all attend—not to mention enchanting some of the teachers and parents as well. Baba’s style of storytelling is called Jaliyaa, and has been a part of life in West Africa going back countless generations.
Our scripture today tells a story; it features a man from East Africa—Ethiopia, to be exact—and it is a story that centers around a question:
“Why can’t I be baptized? What is to prevent me from being baptized?”
I used to think that this question, spoken by an Ethiopian eunuch, was rhetorical, that it was like a worship leader beginning the service by saying, “What is to prevent us from worshiping the Lord?”, or a sports coach saying to his team, “Are you ready?” You don’t need to wait for the answer; the answer is obvious.
I used to think that the Ethiopian eunuch’s question was like that; but then I learned what a eunuch was.
For some reason, my childhood Sunday school teachers never quite got around to defining the term eunuch. (Which, now that I think about it, makes me wonder what they’re talking about today upstairs in Worship and Wonder!) Well, a eunuch is, of course, a male who has been castrated; and I say “of course” because it makes it easier to talk about such things if we assume that it’s no big deal to talk about such things. But actually, it was a big deal.
Clark Williamson, one of my seminary professors, has said that “Luke [the author of the book of Acts] wants us to notice that this Ethiopian was sexually mutilated… [that] this Ethiopian breaks out of all our customary categories. He is neither gay nor straight, neither hetero- nor homo- sexual in any of our sense of those terms.”
Another theologian and interpreter of scripture, William Brosend, has his own description of the Ethiopian eunuch. I assume that, as a scholar and a writer, Brosend is usually more eloquent than this, but he says a eunuch is “a person of color, of, uh, complicated gender.”
Well. Because of this, there were some rather harsh implications. Even though he held a high public office, working in Ethiopia for Queen Candace, that did not conceal the marginalized social status he was forced to endure.
He was part of the Jewish diaspora, those Jews who lived away from Jerusalem, and who were often considered to be inferior to those in and around the City of David. At least, that’s how those in Jerusalem looked at things.
But when it came to temple worship, the fact that he was a eunuch was even more problematic. Those who held positions of power and influence in the temple were strict followers of Jewish law, and Jewish law did not look too kindly upon eunuchs. In fact, in the 23rd chapter of Deuteronomy, it says very clearly that no eunuch is allowed to enter the congregation of God.
As some young people would say, somewhat crudely, “It sucks to be him.”
The scripture says that the Ethiopian eunuch had come to Jerusalem to worship, and was now returning home. The scripture does not say what happened during his visit. Surely, he went to the temple, but what kind of reception did he get? Was he turned away, denied entrance into the house of God? Did people shout at him, “Go back to Africa!”? Did they hold up signs that said, “God hates eunuchs!”? Did they spit on him and curse him?
I don’t know. Perhaps they reacted more subtly, sending out the “greeters” to quietly escort him off the premises.
“What is to prevent me from being baptized?” It’s not a rhetorical question. There were many folks who had long lists of reasons why he couldn’t be baptized, why he couldn’t be part of the church.
On his way back home from Jerusalem, he was reading from the scroll of the prophet Isaiah; a passage about one who was humiliated, mocked, and denied justice. It’s easy to see why such a passage would interest him.
Suddenly a man (we know that his name was Philip) ran up to the chariot. This man asked the eunuch, “Do you understand what you are reading?”
The eunuch replied, “How can I, unless someone helps me?” Again, I am unsure what to make of the eunuch’s question. Was it meant rhetorically? After receiving no help in Jerusalem, was it asked in exasperation? Too bad ancient Greek didn’t include emoticons!
Anyway, the eunuch invited Philip into the chariot, and asked him about whom the scripture was speaking. Then Philip proclaimed to him all the good news about Jesus.
Jesus, who—like the Ethiopian eunuch—came not from Jerusalem, but (in Jesus’ case) from some far away town called Nazareth.
Jesus, who—like the Ethiopian eunuch—was not always welcome at the temple.
Jesus, who often associated with others who were not welcome, who even enjoyed table fellowship with the likes of Samaritans, Gentiles, lepers, tax collectors, and peasants.
Jesus, who was indeed humiliated, mocked, denied justice, and eventually executed by crucifixion.
This was indeed good news to the Ethiopian eunuch. It was proof that God cared about people like him, people who were marginalized. Not only that; it showed that God’s love was so great that God chose to identify with all the marginalized people of the world, that God in fact became one of them through Jesus.
What the Ethiopian eunuch understood that day, what he discovered while riding in his chariot, reading the book of Isaiah, and hearing the good news about Jesus, was (and is) the most meaningful aspect of the gospel’s message: its liberating and saving power for the marginalized people of the world.
The gospel is good news for the oppressed. It is good news for the broken-hearted. It is good news for those trapped in slavery or in the aftermath of slavery. It is good news for those who too often find the doors barred against them, and for those who are too often told that there is no place for them at the table. It is good news, because the gospel is all about opening the doors; it’s all about expanding the table.
There was only one thing left to do; only one question left unanswered. And so, when he spotted some water—a pond, or a stream—he ordered his chariot driver to stop. He said to Philip, “Look! Here’s some water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?”
Both he and Philip were aware of those who had lists full of reasons why he should not be baptized. One of those reasons came from scripture itself, from one of the books of Moses. It certainly was not a rhetorical question.
However, Philip knew that it was the Spirit of God that had brought these two together. Probably, Philip also knew that in the eunuch’s very hands, in the writings of the prophet Isaiah, were words of liberation that open up the invitation to all people.
For there, just a few chapters past the one which the eunuch was reading, are these words:
Do not let the foreigner joined to the Lord say, “The Lord will surely separate me from his people”; and do not let the eunuch say, “I am just a dry tree.” For thus says the Lord: To the eunuchs who keep my sabbaths, who choose the things that please me and hold fast my covenant, I will give, in my house and within my walls, a monument and a name better than sons and daughters; I will give them an everlasting name that shall not be cut off.
And the foreigners who join themselves to the Lord, to minister to him, to love the name of the Lord, and to be his servants, all who keep the sabbath, and do not profane it, and hold fast my covenant—these I will bring to my holy mountain, and make them joyful in my house of prayer; their burnt offerings and their sacrifices will be accepted on my altar; for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.
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