Black, queer, kicked out by the church - God has your back
Sermon on Acts 8: 26-40
Today’s lessons are all about love and wine, which go really well together in my experience. And in the experience of the church and its liturgy since we drink wine to deeply feel God’s love for us. And then, there is this beautifully queer and disturbingly beautiful story about the Eunuch and Philip. A different kind of love story.
Philip, a young missionary who runs into a queer, black friend of the Jews. And they have a deep conversation and Philip baptizes the stranger. And the eunuch returns to their home in Ethiopia which becomes one of the very first Christian parts of the world.
Today, I want to tell the whole story of that travel. Or as much as I can imagine. This way of preaching has its roots in the Jewish Midrash. To tell the stories that were left out, to fill in the blanks. It has its roots in the Black church where this kind of storytelling is called sanctified imagination. Its purpose: To tell the whole story, to feel what was felt, to see and hear and smell what was. To understand the Gospel deeper. Also, to get a break from dogmatic preaching (:
In order to tell the story, I chose a name for the Eunuch. Because even though we don’t know it, they surely had one. I called them Dawit. Which means “Beloved” in the language spoken in Ethiopia at that time. And, as you might have already noticed, I chose to refer to the Eunuch using the pronouns “they/them”. Because that eunuch was a person who transcended binary gender norms. Hear the story.
St. George Church, Lalibela, Ethiopia
It’s a warm, pleasant day. A day made for travel. And Dawit travels. They have come all the way from Ethiopia to Jerusalem. To worship that God they had read about. They had spent hours and hours at night learning to read Greek. Just to be able to read the old scriptures written by prophets long gone.
One day, the queen of Ethiopia had finally given them the permission to visit Jerusalem. She had given Dawit some time off. Even though Dawit was in charge of the queen’s treasury. She had even allowed them to use one of the official carriages. And now, here they are. In the vital, multicultural, beautiful center of Jerusalem. Dawit takes a deep breath. The city smells holy to them, special, exciting, accepting. Like God.
The wheels of the carriage crunch in the sand. They stop to refill some water. People look at them, curious but not hostile. Most people aren’t as dark-skinned as they are, Dawit notices. Other than that they can’t see too much of a difference. Men are debating, women are dragging kids behind to get them out of the hot sun. Just a regular city with everyday people.
To Dawit, it’s a dream come true. Finally, they will see the temple. And they will try to enter it. Knowing that their chances are minimal. But maybe, someone will have mercy? Will turn a blind eye to them and just let them slip through the door? Maybe money will help? The Jewish law is very clear about people like them. Deuteronomy 23:1 states: “No one whose testes are crushed or whose member is cut off shall be admitted into the congregation of the Lord.” This injunction has been read as basically a prohibition against admitting eunuchs into the temple, into the sacred spaces of Israel. And yet, Dawit couldn’t resist but come and be close to God. As close as they will be allowed to get. By humans who simply don’t get God’s unconditional love. But Dawit knows, God has got their back!
Dawit finds a small hotel to stay the night. The host gives them a strange look but keeps quiet when being paid. Dawit realizes that people in Jerusalem aren’t used to seeing a Eunuch. In their home country, Dawit is honored and well respected. At least for their role as a treasurer and a loyal servant of the queen. They know that they are different from most other people in some ways. They know that most people look twice to double-check whether they are a man or a woman. How often have they had to answer that inappropriate question? Sometimes whispered, sometimes yelled out, sometimes just asked with questioning eyes. They can’t count the occurrences anymore. At home in Ethiopia they sometimes simply answer: I am who I am. Most people are content and will just keep walking. And Dawit smiles to themselves, knowing, that that is a truly godly answer. God’s answer.
Here in Jerusalem Dawit won’t use that answer though. They know that that would be seen as blasphemous. They will just say: I am Dawit, treasurer of the queen of Ethiopia. And hope that that will settle it.
Dawit has often wondered in their life why people seem to be so obsessed with a gender binary. Why only male and female are considered to be normal. Where can they fit in? They, the Eunuch, the one that doesn’t fit in. A black, effeminate, non-binary person, maybe a transgender person. The Eunuch who can’t procreate. Dawit knows that they will never have children. The greatest curse in the eyes of the people around them.
To be without children is considered a curse. Because who will continue their family’s legacy? Dawit’s name? Their memory? By the gender norms of the ancient world, in which procreation is everything and gender is largely defined around that, Eunuchs are basically neither male or female. They are doomed to die because their name is doomed to die.
Dawit doesn’t remember how they became who they are. And it’s not even important to them because whatever the answer. Now, they are who they are. They didn’t choose this life. They didn’t ask to be who they are. They simply are. They never knew anything else. And if they did, they have forgotten.
The next morning they wake up early and dress carefully. Not too extravagant, not too slobby. They want to blend in. To pass the protected gates to the temple. Dawit knows all the stories about the Jewish God. All about that God who welcomes the stranger and frees the enslaved and leads the people through a valley of death and a desert of sand. Ever since Dawit started reading those scriptures, their heart has been burning with the desire to be close to this God. To be at peace with the world that is not at peace with them. Knowing that the world might not understand their life. But that God does, that God made them and loves them, leads and frees them.
They know and feel deeply that this trip will change their life. That God will open the door for them and stand with them. Dawit’s favorite passages are in the book of Isaiah. It often feels as if that old prophet had written his texts just for them.
Dawit opens the text scroll and starts reading: Isaiah 53: “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 descendants? For his life is taken away from the earth.”
This is about them. About a person cut off from society simply because they didn’t fit the limited human imagination. To be without descendants is, in a way, to have your life taken from this earth as soon as you die.
Dawit truly feels cut off from the people of God. They loved God but were rejected by God’s people for simply being.
Dawit drives up to the temple, excited and scared to be rejected at the same time. They can see the open gates and the multitude of people walking in and out. Nobody seems to be questioned or stopped. Dawit starts hoping. They park the carriage, noticing the admiring looks and walk into the outer courts. Dawit tries to remember their education and status. They hold their head up high and try to breathe calmly. Don’t let those guards see how nervous they are, how afraid, how small they feel despite their beautiful clothes.
Then, a guard walks up to them. They shiver and then freeze. Any confidence is blown away. All the humiliations come back to mind. The guard looks at them, asks questions, Dawit feels like being in a tunnel of fog and wind. They don’t know what they said. Just that they wanted to disappear, to escape. Within minutes it was over and they were back in their carriage, flying away from the place they had so wanted to be at.
When Dawit finally takes a deep breath, they are stunned. How on earth did that just happen? They were sure that God would break down the barriers and accompany them personally into the temple. The God of great power and mercy who sets captives free and claims the outcast… but not them? All the shame, fear and loneliness of their live came rushing back.
It is crazy. Back at home they know they matter. They have a place. Until they came to the temple, where they were greeted as “no man” and denied access. Where is God here? Will that one hurtful verse from Deuteronomy 23:1 win? Despite all the other words that affirm them and give hope?
While Dawit rides home, deep in their thoughts, reading Scripture again as to find God in the midst of their pain, suddenly a man comes running behind the carriage. Dawit takes pity with this sweaty stranger. He might be a good distraction to their dooming thoughts.
“What are you reading?”, the man named Philip asks. Dawit tells him, looks at him and suddenly wonders: maybe this guy will have an answer? Or be the answer? It’s been a strange day already after all. Within minutes the two of them are into a deep conversation. Philip talks about another man named Jesus. Who just like Dawit didn’t have children and was single. A man who was also allowed to enter women’s spaces and men’s spaces, and was despised and shamed by the Romans. And Dawit thinks: Oh, I get it. I know how that feels.
And Philip goes on talking about how Jesus lived for others, gave his reputation for others, shared what he had, and died. And how he then resurrected against any hope his friends and family had had.
There is a little pause. Dawit looks at their scripture role and Philip points to Isaiah chapter 56 and reads:
Let no foreigner who is bound to the Lord say,
“The Lord will surely exclude me from his people.”
And let no eunuch complain,
“I am only a dry tree.”
For this is what the Lord says:
“To the eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths,
who choose what pleases me
and hold fast to my covenant—
to them I will give within my temple and its walls
a memorial and a name
better than sons and daughters;
I will give them an everlasting name
that will endure forever.
Dawit nods. Those are the verses they had been reading over and over on their way to Jerusalem. Hoping that if they just believed them enough, those words would open the doors of the temple to them. Which didn’t happen. And yet, Gods promise is here. Right in front of their eyes. The great promise of belonging. Not that God will miraculously enable them to procreate and fit in with everyone else, but rather that God will give them something “better than sons and daughters.” God is not trying to fit non-binary people into the dominant paradigm of procreation; God is saying, I’m going to give you something better. This is not entirely a story of inclusion by way of assimilation, where those on the outside are granted access to the inside so long as they conform to the dominant power. Dawit knows, they have to abide by God’s covenant and observe the Sabbath, but they are included as themselves in their bodies, and in their own skins, without having to change a thing. They are beloved.
While they are driving, they are passing by some water. Nothing fancy, just a pod with a couple of ducks swimming around. And Dawit thinks: There’s water. I’m gonna get baptized. There’s nothing stopping me. I’m blessed, I’m a child of God exactly as I am, and you know it. So, baptize me. I mean: What is to prevent me?
Philip is startled, overwhelmed. He didn’t expect this to happen. Plus, this would be his very first baptism. Plus, he has no idea whether this is how it’s supposed to be. A long stretched silence lingers above them. Seconds of pure possibility. “The silence is thundering, and gorgeous, and seismic, and right. Because the answer to the question is silence. The answer — the only answer — is “nothing.” In the post-resurrection world, in the world where the Spirit of God moves where and how she will, drawing all of creation to herself, in the world where the Word lives to defeat death, alienation, isolation, and fear, there is nothing to prevent a beloved image-bearer of God from entering into the fullness of Christ’s salvation. Nothing whatsoever.” [1]
And then, Philip jumps out and into the water with Dawit. It’s refreshing, not cold. For a quick moment, Dawit worries about their beautiful and expensive rope. But then, hey, you only live and get baptized once. The two of them wade into the water, unsure how deep to go, how to exactly do this. There are no witnesses. Dawit hasn’t yet confessed their faith. They haven’t attended baptismal classes. Philip isn’t an ordained minister, this is not an emergency and he doesn’t even know how to baptize. Also, the church hasn’t yet approved the baptism of gentiles let alone foreign black eunuchs. Surely, we can’t just baptize anyone and everyone who asks for baptism? Besides the bible says…
And then, Philip starts splashing water over Dawit’s head. The first one comes as a surprise. For a second Dawit is inclined to splashback and turn this into a water fight. Then, he hears the words. “Dawit, I baptize you in the name of the father and the son and the holy spirit.” Water and tears flow down their cheeks. Their chest opens up in a huge sense of relief and joy. God is here, God has worked the miracle they have been praying for. God has opened the gates and torn down any boundaries. Dawit wants to scream and dance and hug Philip and celebrate and sing and… They open their eyes. Philip is gone. The sun is shining. This is surreal, this is real. This is God’s work.
Dawit returns home. Everyone can see that something has happened. They are changed, they look like they truly love themselves. The way one loves oneself when one knows that one is fully accepted. Without strings attached. Without lessons to attend and duties to do. Dawit starts telling everyone with ears to hear their story. Of how God broke down the barriers, broke the temple open for Dawit by calling on the heavens to bless them. How God sent this funny little fella Philip who was brave enough to baptize Dawit. The stranger with the black skin, the non-Jew, the gender non-binary queer person. Dawit, the beloved. And people love hearing their story, ask Dawit to repeat it over and over again. Until Ethiopia becomes the very first Christian nation in Africa. When in Rome Christians were still being eaten by lions.
The Gospel is not a respecter of boundaries. God doesn’t care for our human-made boundaries. The question is not about the wideness of God’s embrace. The question is not about God’s capacity or readiness to lead God’s beloved ones to baptism. As this story makes abundantly clear, the Spirit will do what the Spirit will do. The only question that remains is whether we’ll participate in the joyful post-resurrection work of God or not. What is to prevent us? Amen.
[1] Debie Thomas, When All Are Welcome
