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| The Rev. Denise Esslinger |
by the Rev. Denise Esslinger
Pastor, Gilead Congregational Church
United Church of Christ
Delivered at worship during the Annual Meeting of the Connecticut Conference
May 13, 2006
Text: Acts 8: 26-40
Well, it’s an honor and a privilege to be here, to be the conference preacher on this day. And I’ll be honest it’s also terrifying. It’s terrifying for me to preach before so many preachers and lay folks who perhaps know better than anyone what good preaching is all about. And I began having anxiety dreams about this moment two weeks ago. You probably know the kind of dream I mean. It’s the kind where you’re unprepared. It’s time to preach, but you don’t have a sermon or you can’t quite get to the church or there you are, there you are in the pulpit, inappropriately dressed.
One of the other things that’s hard for me about this moment is that when I preach at the church I love, the Gilead Church, for the most part I know the congregation and they know me. But here it’s different So, I thought I’d begin by telling you something about myself. And what I’d like to share with you, what I’d like you to know about me, is that I love parties. And I especially loved them when I was growing up. My parents remind me that it seemed like I was always organizing and orchestrating some occasion to have a party for. And the parties, when I was young, would most often be sleep overs. My girl friends and I would have pizza for dinner, we’d play some games, and sleep down in the basement in our sleeping bags… staying up all hours of the night giggling and talking and telling stories. And we wouldn’t go to sleep until finally my father would come down and threaten that the next person who made a peep would be banished to the garage.
I loved parties and being with my friends. I also remember though, that along with these good times often went hard feelings. Choosing who to invite was tough. There was a limit to the number of people that could comfortably be in our home, and lets be honest the real limit was the number of young girls my parents could tolerate. I always hoped those who didn’t get invited would understand, but I can’t ever remember understanding when it was my turn not to be invited.
Well, the Ethiopian, I imagine, in this mornings text was probably feeling like one excluded from the party as he rode in his chariot back to Ethiopia from Jerusalem. He had gone to Jerusalem to worship in the temple and probably also to conduct some business since he had responsibilities for the treasury of the Queen of Ethiopia.
This man, this nameless man, was also a eunuch -- the result of the barbaric practice in not so ancient times of castrating boys who were chosen to serve in the royal court of the queen. And because of this, he was probably feeling excluded for a eunuch was not allowed to be a member of the community of faith. The Bible in Deuteronomy 23:1 says: “No man who has been castrated may be included among the Lord’s people.” Can you imagine what that is like? To be excluded from the people of God? To be disallowed from the church?
But here he is, a high Ethiopian official-educated, wealthy -- you would think a good catch for any congregation -- riding down the road in his chariot, reading the prophet Isaiah about one who is also cast out.The passage he is reading says: “He was led like a lamb to the slaughter, like a sheep before its shearers is dumb. He didn’t open his mouth. Justice was denied him. He has been cut off from the land of the living. Who is going to declare his posterity?”
The eunuch asks Philip, whom God has sent via the Holy Spirit to meet this chariot, “Who is this one of whom the prophet speaks?” He wanted to know since the answer might shed some light upon his predicament as well. He has found a place, he has found a place in the Bible that offers him hope.
“Who is this?” he asked Philip. “Why that was Jesus of Nazareth,” said Philip. Note here, notice here, that Philip didn’t try to talk theology to this man. He didn’t say, let me share this creed, or this set of doctrines with you. He didn’t even say, I’m a member of such and such church, and you should come to my church. No. He said, I want to introduce you to someone -- to someone special -- Jesus.
Now, I have talked theology and debated the Bible with lots of people, but I can’t say that I have ever argued anybody into becoming a Christian. In fact, I had an interesting conversation a couple of years ago with a man who was sitting next to me on a plane ride from Chicago who -- when he found out that I was a minister -- proceeded to show me how through probability he could prove the existence of God. When he finished charting out his theory… he looked at me, and since I did not seem impressed, he asked “Don’t you get it?” I said “Yes,” which I kind of did, but it really didn’t make a difference to me. Logically proving God isn’t inspiring, but it is when we are introduced to Jesus by someone who loves him, whose life has been transformed and enriched, like Philips, that lives are changed.
And after hearing about Jesus, the eunuch asks Philip, “Can I be baptized? Can I be a part of this new family of God? Is there anything to prevent me?” You have to wonder if Philip was ready for the Eunuch’s question? Had he considered all the implications? What might have gone through Philip’s mind? “Let’s see now…what is to prevent you from being baptized? Well, there’s a long list of reasons not to baptize you. You are a Gentile. You are a foreigner. You are of a different race. You are a eunuch! And besides that, you haven’t studied enough about Jesus yet. Certainly, you first need to take a confirmation class, or at least an adult membership orientation. And if I were to baptize you, where would you go to church? I don’t think there is a chartered congregation in Ethiopia yet!” But Philip doesn’t bring up any of these reasons even if he thought them. Philip instead acts, he acts by baptizing him in a spring of water.
The Ethiopian not only heard the good news but was accepted into the people of God through baptism. No longer was he excluded, but was included fully into the family of God.
Brothers and sisters, we live in a world that puts great value on exclusivity, and which is full of people dying to be included. I believe youth join gangs because they want to belong -- they want to be included -- and although they are surrounded by walls and barriers with obvious signs saying, “You can’t get in here,” there is a group standing on the street corner ready to take them in. Our communities are full of young people who probably know that smoking or taking drugs or drinking alcohol or meeting up with folks they’ve chatted with on internet are bad choices, but who, in their loneliness, can not resist the invitation.
The story is told, perhaps you’ve heard it, of a woman who dies and goes to heaven and is greeted at the pearly gates by St. Peter. “Which religion?” asks Peter. “Episcopalian” answers the woman. “This way please.” So they begin to walk down a very long hallway with a series of closed doors. Going by the first, the woman hears the ringing of bells and smells sweet incense. “That’s the Catholics,” says Peter. “They love their liturgy.” In passing the next door, they hear the strains of gospel music and old time hymns. “That’s the Baptists,” notes Peter. “I always love to sing with them.”Passing the next door she hears a debate about important theological issues. “That’s the Unitarian-Universalists,” says Peter. “When I want to talk about theology I always attend their sessions.” But before going by the next door, Peter turns to the woman, and motions for her to be very quiet, to take off her shoes and to tip-toe. When they are well past that room, the woman asks, “What gives -- who was that?” “Oh,” says Peter, “That’s the congregationalists from the United Church of Christ -- and they think they’re the only ones here!”
I wonder if it’s the truth in this joke that makes it funny to us, while it is also the sad truth. We are split as different denominations and different faiths, living as closed door communities. Although we may pray together “thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” religion, it seems, is often the main cause of war and hate in our world. And we fall short of living inclusively not only among denominations or faiths but even within our own churches.
This week there were two items in the news which struck me with their exclusivity. The first was the passage by both the House and Senate on Capitol Hill of a tax cut bill, which Bush is to sign next week. The idea of this bill, as I understand it is, if you provide tax cuts to the tune of $70 billion over five years to investors and those with above average incomes that economic gains will be realized for our nation. So you’ll probably see some benefit if your household earns over $100,000 a year. Otherwise, the majority of us, probably won’t. And perhaps this trickle down theory of giving more to the rich to stimulate the economy is good economic theory, but it is lousy Christian theology.
And the second was that our House of Representatives in Washington voted this week 408 to 3 to restrict demonstrations at military funerals. I was appalled to read why. Because protesters, led by Rev. Fred Phelps of Topeka, Kansas, who has also picketed our United Church of Christ, has been organizing demonstrations at funeral services to make the claim that U.S. military deaths in Iraq are a sign of divine punishment for America’s tolerance of homosexuals. It’s hard to even believe. And we may want to distance ourselves by saying that this kind of exclusive thinking is the mind set of a more conservative part of our country, but I can tell you that I don’t think it is.
Right here in Connecticut, I have been told by our colleagues in Christ that women should not be leaders in the church -- let alone ordained. For people to want to exclude women -- not based on a sense of God’s calling, or on the abilities God has given them, but simply on the basis of gender. This is how the Ethiopian eunuch was excluded.
For human limits… whether based on religion, skin color, culture, language, age, politics, economics, sexual orientation, gender are not relevant. The apostle Paul wrote in Galatians “As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one-one -- in Christ Jesus.
Too often we close our doors. You might say that’s not so at my church, our doors are open to anyone who enters… but are they? You see that’s how God’s invitation to follow Christ differs from my invitation to parties growing up. There are no limits to God’s invitation. And we are called, like Philip, to extend this invitation. To go beyond the bounds… the limits… set by society… or set by our own fears.
Still to this day, Sunday morning is said to be the most segregated time in our country. But Jesus said, I am the vine and you are the branches. He didn’t say only whites are the branches or only blacks, or only liberals or conservatives, or Republicans or Democrats, or only those who are straight or gay.
No, Jesus said, I am the vine and you are the branches. The invitation to be part of the community of Christ is open to all. And we are called to embrace and to struggle and to figure out how to become as diverse as the world in which we live. For if we do not do so, we are not being faithful to the Gospel which calls us to love… to love not only those who look like us and act like us, and not only those who are different, but our very enemies.
Well, the story of the Ethiopian Eunuch ends as quickly as it began, and we don’t encounter the Eunuch again so we do not know what happens to him after “he went on his way rejoicing.” Perhaps on his return to Ethiopia he shared with others the story of Jesus and extended the ministry of Christ into Africa. May we be so empowered to be partners in Christ’ service, sharing the story of Jesus, how he has touched and changed our lives. And may we, as the body of Christ, extend an extravagant welcome and invitation to all. Amen.
