"Into the Water"

Acts 8: 26-40

May 5, 2012

Easter 5

First United Church – Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

We’ve had a whole slew of infant baptisms happening around here lately and it’s been wonderful. As a congregation that comes out of both the American Baptist and United Church of Christ traditions, we’re happy to be a part of pretty much any kind of baptism you can think of. Baby sprinkling? Yup. Adult sprinkling? We do that. Adult dunking? We do that, too. I suppose we wouldn’t dunk a baby but that’s more of a practical thing – not a theological statement.

I remember well my own baptism. I was about five years old and my entire family was baptized together at Wallulua Christian Church in Lansing, Kansas. We were dunked, all four of us. Even at that young age, I had a sense that what was happening to me was important. My memories of that event are so strong that it actually took me many years to come around to the practice of infant baptism. I didn’t want to take away that memory from my children. Ultimately, we decided that infant baptism was the best choice for our family and I take it as my parental duty to tell my sons about it so often that they’ll grow up feeling like they remember it happening – even though they were barely a week old when they were baptized.

Baptism – no matter how or when it happens – is a special event. In the ancient Church it was an event that happened once a year, during Easter season, so it’s no surprise that we have a story of baptism in today’s text from Acts. As we continue to move through Eastertide, we grapple with the ideas of death and resurrection, closure and renewal, brokenness and wholeness. And, my friends, if you’re brave enough to grapple with those concepts, you can hardly find better companions than Philip and the nameless man from Ethiopia in Acts 8.

The story begins, “Then an angel of the Lord said to Philip, ‘Get up and go…” so right away you know you have to back up a bit and figure out where Philip is. Turns out he’s in Samaria – that area to the north of Jerusalem that most of us remember from stories like the Good Samaritan. Folks from Samaria were considered pretty unsavory by Jews in Jerusalem, so what was Philip doing up there in the hill country?

Back up a few chapters and we have the death of Stephen, one of the early Christian martyrs. Immediately after his death there was an uprising against the followers of Christ in Jerusalem and they fled the city to seek safely. Philip ended up in Samaria and, like a good little apostle-in-training, he decided to hold a revival.

And this revival is a doozy. Philip not only converted the people of Samaria but he bested a local magician, Simon, and converted him, too. This was Philip’s first time out and about, evangelizing. Before this, he had been hanging with the other apostles back in Jerusalem and had left the preaching up to some of the other leaders. In fact, he was one of the seven selected to serve at table – so he was specifically set aside to serve through action, not by preaching. And yet – here he is up in Samaria doing a bang-up job.

And suddenly an angel of the Lord appears to him and says….what? “Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful in small things, I will put you in charge of many things?” Nope. This angel says, “Hey, Philip, you know that dirt road on the way to Gaza? The one in the middle of nowhere? Go there. Now.”

So he goes. We don’t know why, but he goes. And I can only guess that he was feeling a little cranky while he went. No recognition for his hard work? No promotion? I’m not gonna lie, I’d pout a little, if it were me.

And then, lo and behold, in this middle of this tiny, dusty, typically-deserted road, there sits a chariot. A chariot, folks. And in this chariot is a man from an exotic land – Ethiopia. And not just any man – this man is rich and powerful, a servant to the Queen and in charge of her treasury. And he’s sitting there – in a chariot – reading aloud from the prophet Isaiah. And so you’d think maybe Philip would wise up that something important is about to happen to him because, I mean, this just screams burning bush, am I right? [1]

But, no, sadly, he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he’s got to get poked by the Holy Spirit. And note that, this time, it’s not just an angel, it’s the Spirit herself. The stakes have been raised.

And the Spirit says, “Go join that chariot.” Not, “Go talk to that guy.” Not, “Go preach to that guy.” Not, “Go convert that guy.” It’s a command to go and join the man in the chariot.

So, in a flash of brilliant pedagogical skill and insight, Philip says, “Do you understand what you’re reading?” So much for joining him where he’s at. I guess you could take this question many different ways, but when I hear Philip say it, he sort of says it with a sneer. Or at least a tone of superiority. After all, he’s the apostle. He’s the one who just converted the whole city of Samaria. And who is this guy? Just some Ethiopian, and a eunuch at that, sitting in his chariot in the middle of nowhere.

Maybe a better question would have been, “Who are you?”  Because, after all, what does it mean to be a eunuch from Ethiopia on this road between Jerusalem and Gaza?

Well, it means that you occupy an odd space in the culture. You’re from Ethiopia, so you’re an outsider – but Ethiopia is also considered to be quite glamorous, so I guess it’s a bit like being from Britain. You’ve got a cool accent that always earns you points, but you’ll never understand the appeal of American football, no matter how hard you try.

And you work in the court – so you are both a servant but also have a great deal of power and authority, so I guess it’s a bit like being Lady Gaga’s chef. No one cares much about you, but they do think you keep pretty fascinating company.

And, finally, you’re a eunuch, so that means you are the kind of guy who can be trusted around women – that’s how you got this gig in the court.

Now there were several types of eunuchs in the ancient world – some who had been physically castrated and some who simply showed no interest in women and some who were unable to father children. We don’t know which kind of eunuch this man was, but all of these eunuchs were socially suspect. In a culture that doles out respect based on your ability to procreate, there wasn’t anything very respectable about being a eunuch. Regardless of your sexual orientation, you were suspect. [2]

And maybe that’s why Philip isn’t the friendliest when he steps up to the chariot and sees the man inside. Maybe that’s why he isn’t so keen to actually join the man and, instead, asks him a question that demeans his worth.

But this nameless man follows in the tradition of so many other nameless ones in the Bible. He may not have a name, but he ensures we will not forget his face.

He says to Philip, “How can I understand what I’m reading if I do not have a teacher?”

Philip would have – or at least should have – felt this question like a punch in the gut. This man in the chariot is on his way home from Jerusalem. He traveled all the way there to worship and we can be fairly certain he did not receive a warm welcome there. Because of their oddness – their otherness – eunuchs were not welcome at the Temple. How many times had he made this journey before, only to be turned away at the gate?

“How can I understand what I’m reading if I do not have a teacher?”

And then, the man goes one step further – out here, in the middle of nowhere, even though he is the one who is lower in social stature, he invites Philip into his chariot. He extends hospitality.

And, in doing so, he does what the Holy Spirit was unable to do. He convinces Philip to take a chance and truly join him, not just preach at him from afar.

And when he does, things really get moving. The man reads to Philip from the scroll and Philip begins telling him about the gospel – the good news he’s found through the life of Jesus Christ. And before they even know what is happening, they’re rolling down the road together in that chariot. I can just see them, sitting close together, peering at the scroll, swapping stories and laughter – just two humans out there in the middle of nowhere realizing how incredibly lost and found they are all at the same time.

And that’s when it happens.

Water in the desert.

All the best stories have water in the desert, right? Why is that?

The man from Ethiopia sees it first. He says, “Look! There’s water here? What would prevent me from being baptized?” and he is so sure that Philip will say yes that he’s already stopped the chariot and jumped out before Philip has a chance to respond.

And here’s the best part of the story – they both go down into that water together.

Now I’ve been baptized by immersion and I can promise you that the man who baptized me did not go down into the water with me. He wore his waders and his fancy robe and he dunked me carefully and kept himself as dry as possible.

And I can tell you that I went to a Disciples of Christ seminary where we were trained on how to baptize people by immersion because that’s the only kind of baptizing they do – and, yes, there are secrets that we clergy share about how to do that without actually falling into the water yourself.

Because to fall into the water yourself, to descend, as that Greek verb is better translated – is to die a bit. To go down into the water for baptism is to lose yourself just a little. And Philip does that with this nameless man on this road in the middle of nowhere.  He goes into that water with him. He casts his lot with the other – a man despised by the powers-that-be.

And when he allows himself to descend with the other, he comes up out of the water born anew.

English translations say that they went down into the water and “Philip baptized him” but the Greek isn’t actually that clear. The Greek says they went down into the water and “he baptized him.”

Who baptized who here? I’m not sure.

Maybe that angel knew best when he said to Philip, “You think Samaria is awesome? Go into the middle of nowhere…you won’t believe what happens there!”

Or maybe the Holy Spirit knew best when she said, “See that man in the chariot? The one who turns your stomach because he’s unclean? Join him. And don’t just talk at him this time, kid, JOIN HIM.”

Join him. Go into the water together.

It makes me wonder – who are we supposed to join? What would it take for us to go into the water one more time?

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[1] I am indebted to Anna Carter Florenece and her 2004 sermon on this text, “Do you really understand what you’re reading?” for the observation that Philip would have been expecting a “promotion” after his revival in Samaria and her observation that the idea of a chariot in the desert surely would have appeared to be something God was up to.

[2] This information on eunuchs comes from the book The Children Are Free by Jeff Miner and Tyler Connolly. It’s the best book I’ve read on what the Bible says about GLBT people. You should read it.