“Who’s In?”

Acts 10:1-17, 34-48

April 23, 2023

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

This past week was one of those where it seemed almost impossible to get my head into these ancient stories we find in the Bible. The contemporary, 2023 world was just so very loud. No matter how I tried to refocus my attention, my heart kept thinking about Ralph Yarl. Just a few years older than my own son. Shot on a stranger’s front porch while doing the very typical teenage-kid thing of trying to be a good big brother. In case you missed the story, Ralph Yarl lives in Kansas City. He’s 16 years old. He went to pick up his younger brothers one evening but he accidentally went to the wrong house. When the man who lived there, Andrew Lester, came to the door, instead of talking to Ralph and helping him find the right house, he shot him. And then he shot him again. He said he was scared of him. Ralph is recovering in the hospital and I hope to God he’ll be okay. But regardless of how his body heals he will have deep emotional and spiritual wounds that stay with him for life. 

What must it feel like to inhabit a body that scares other people? Just because of how you’re perceived? God, have mercy on us because we have not yet rooted out the sin of white supremacy that causes psychic, spiritual, physical violence. 

And then - on Friday afternoon - I sat down with one of our representatives, Mike Dodson. I set up the meeting on behalf of Kansas Interfaith Action. I was accompanied by two colleagues, Katie Baker from True Colors and Dr. Rachel Levitt who is a scholar of queer studies at the university. As you likely know, there’s been an onslaught of anti-transgender legislation this year in Kansas and many other places. We are hoping that Dodson will vote to sustain the governor’s veto on SB 180 which will cause significant harm to trans and nonbinary people if it’s signed into law.

The four of us talked for almost two hours. And one of the things that came up again and again was fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of change. Fear of bodies that might not look like ours. 

What must it feel like to inhabit a body that scares other people? How can we find a way forward to a world where we are truly free from our ignorance and bias? Where we approach people unlike us with curiosity? Where we are no longer bound by the tribalism that seems to come all-too-easily to us as humans? 

Sitting with those questions, I finally found my way into the Book of Acts. 

Because this is one of those stories that, at first, kinda feels like a flyover text. We read it but there are so many place names we don’t know…. So many characters who feel obscure…. So many culturally-specific things that aren’t ours….we’re tempted to just ignore it. But this is actually a GREAT story and one that feels very relevant to those questions about belonging that have been resting heavy on my heart this week. So let’s dive in. 

First, a little geography lesson. You may have noticed a map on page 11 of your bulletin. Zoomers, I know it can be hard to juggle a bulletin and Zoom so I’m going to drop a link to it in the chat there. (https://bit.ly/41vJlIh) 

Geography is important in the Book of Acts, which is the account of the earliest days of what eventually became the Christian Church. It’s important to remember that Jesus was a Jew. And those early followers didn’t seek to create a new religion. They were following Jesus as a Jewish teacher. But Jesus’s teachings were so compelling that even non-Jews (Gentiles) wanted to learn more. And so these early followers spent a lot of time sorting through who was allowed to be in and who wasn’t. And how to welcome people who were very different from them into this Jesus movement. 

So the core conflict in Acts is about this. Who’s in and who’s out? How big, exactly, is the circle around this Jesus movement going to grow? 

Any high school English teacher would be proud of the author of Acts, because the author outlines the structure clearly at the beginning of the book. Chapter 1, verse 8 is the key to understanding what’s about to happen, ”You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” 

Looking on that map, you’ll see Jerusalem and then to the north Samaria. It’s labeled as Nablus on your map, as that is its current name. And then, of course, the ends of the earth beyond that. 

The literal geographical movement of the Book of Acts traces this key claim at the beginning of the book. Acts begins in Jerusalem with the Pentecost story. The gift of the Holy Spirit means that people can understand other people from vastly different cultures, people from other nations, people speaking other languages. A story of God tearing down walls between people.

In Acts 8, we’re in Samaria. Here, the main character is Simon the Magician. A definite outsider. But he becomes curious about the Way and asked to be baptized. Evidence of the Spirit moving in unexpected ways and among unexpected people outside Jerusalem. 

And then the Holy Spirit takes a little detour down south to the Gaza road between Jerusalem and Gaza. You’ll see it on your map there as a straight line but obviously I just drew it hastily and it doesn’t look like that in real life. On the road to Gaza, Jesus’s disciple Phillip encountered a man from Ethiopia who was a eunuch. In honor of Pride weekend I have to mention that this is one of the most affirming texts in the Bible when it comes to LGBTQ people. It’s a favorite story of mine. I don’t have time to go into it in detail today but this nameless man was an outsider in several ways - he was from another country, he was not Jewish, he would have looked very different than Phillip, and his gender and/or sexuality were not conventional. Even with all of these differences, he is welcomed into the movement. It’s a story that reminds us God is way more concerned with loving actions and hospitality than who is “in” and who is “out” (spoiler alert, no one is out.)

Then we have Saul on the road to Damascus in Chapter 11. Do you see Damascus? Wayyyyy up there to the north. Saul, who had been condemning and persecuting followers of the Way, was accosted by the Holy Spirit and realized God’s mercy and abundant grace was way bigger than he had ever imagined. His name was changed to Paul and he became one of the most influential followers of the Way. Paul really was a witness to the ends of the known earth. 

Finally we arrive at today’s text. Cornelius, who is a part of the Roman army and is not Jewish, has a vision of an angel who tells him to go and find a man named Peter who is staying in Joppa. Around the same time, Peter (a follower of Jesus) is in Joppa and has a vision that convinces him that God “shows no partiality” and there are no unclean people. Cornelius’s messengers arrive in Joppa and ask Peter to come with them to Cornelius’s house in Caesarea. 

So Peter and his Jewish friends go to this Gentile’s home. Once they got there, they remained open to the possibility that God was working in the lives of people outside their group. The Holy Spirit falls on them just like it did in Acts 2 in Jerusalem. Initially, Peter’s Jewish friends are shocked because they had thought God’s gift of the Holy Spirit was only for people like them. But Peter has been convicted by this vision he had where the Spirit revealed that nothing is unclean. And so his openness leads to the baptism of everyone present. And a movement that had previously been almost exclusively Jewish was suddenly blown wide open.

That’s why this hard-to-follow story matters. Because this story, sometimes referred to as the “Gentile Pentecost” is the moment where it becomes abundantly clear that God shows no partiality and absolutely everyone is invited to be a part of this movement. There are no insiders and outsiders. Everyone is in. No matter how much trouble we humans may have wrapping our head around that fact. 

And so this ancient story gives us courage and conviction to keep loving loudly. To continue boldly proclaiming that we are ALL in. To keep having the hard conversions that might move the  needle just a little. To call out microaggressions when we see them. Because little jokes and slights beget fear and bigotry which beget violence against sweet 16 year old Black boys on porches. Ignorance and careless comments beget legislation which seeks to erase trans and nonbinary people. Loving loudly matters. It can save lives. And it is our call as followers of the one who came to remind us that in God’s realm, we’re all in. Period. 

Next month we will celebrate the 20th anniversary of our decision to become and Open and Affirming congregation - a place that explicitly commits itself to welcoming LGBTQ+ people and advocating for their rights. As we prepare to celebrate this joyous occasion, let us remember that drawing the circle wide and wider still isn’t all bubblegum and rainbows. As much as we love a good rainbow. 

As the book of Acts reminds us, breaking down barriers is hard work. And controversial. It can result in knock-down-drag-out fights and the severing of relationships. Not everyone will want to accompany us on that journey of making the table bigger and making sure everyone has a seat. And we will often fail in being welcoming. The temptation to wallow in our failures is real and it can be difficult to show ourselves grace when we miss the mark. 

The work of being Open and Affirming isn’t like a scouting  merit badge you earn one time and then display proudly. It’s an everyday choice to look at the community we are creating here and ask ourselves, “Are we truly open? Are we truly affirming?” Who might not feel Christ’s radical hospitality that we seek to emulate?

Who are the people standing outside the fold today? Who are the groups that would cause us to ask, “Even them, God? You’re working through them, too?”

In a world where pain and grief is often all-too-palpable and real, this ancient story brings hope. We are not alone in seeking a more affirming and just world. We are a part of a long line of people who have listened for the Spirit’s whispers of love. We proclaim a God who continues to tear down walls and invite us into a world where we no longer fear one another, but see the face of the Divine in each and every person we encounter. 

May it be so. Please, God, may it be so.