"Where's Your Heart?" A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church.

"Where's Your Heart?"

Mark 7:1-23; James 1:17-27

What’s at stake here?”

            Some biblical scholars argue that the conflict in this story mirrors a similar conflict in Mark’s community. Mark was a non-Palestinian Gentile, and he was writing to a mixed community of Jewish and Gentile Christians who were arguing over whether it was necessary to keep a kosher table at church gatherings.

            “’Don’t you understand?’” Mark asks. “’Don’t you see that whatever goes into a person from outside cannot defile, since it enters, not the heart but the stomach, and goes out into the sewer?’”  Thus, Mark says, Jesus declared all foods clean.”

            Other commentators have a different take on what the conflict is about. They say it’s about teaching humanly constructed religious ideas as God’s law. “You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition.”  These scholars say the main point is about obeying God’s commandments, rather than human traditions and rules.

            But I agree with Tom Long when he says this is about using moral posturing to sidestep the commandments, that it’s about keeping our hands ritually washed while being up to our elbows in evil.[1]

            To paraphrase Walker Percy, it’s like getting an A-plus in ethics class and flunking life.

            What might this look like in our time?   Some government officials quote a verse from Romans 13 out of context to justify separating children from their parents at our borders, saying we are to obey the laws of the government, which has been ordained by God--which is one of the verses that has been used in the past to defend slavery and other evils.  Some people twist Jesus’ statement that we will always have the poor with us to justify not working to alleviate extreme poverty. They might say we can’t afford safety net programs that address hunger or homelessness, even though the richest people have received generous tax cuts,

            Can we understand why Jesus got angry with the Pharisees and the scribes, exclaiming, “Isaiah prophesied rightly about you hypocrites, as it is written, and calling on the words of the prophet: ‘This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. In vain do they worship me, teaching human precepts as doctrines.’”[2]

            Jesus was calling out the Pharisees and scribes for passing off human ideas as God’s commandments. 

            Now, the Pharisees were people who took their religion very seriously.  I believe they sincerely wanted to serve God faithfully. They were criticizing Jesus’ disciples for not living according to the tradition of the elders.

            Let’s back up a minute and remember the context of this encounter.  Just before this, Mark has told how Jesus fed 5,000 people… and walked on the water… and healed the sick. 

            The Kingdom of God is breaking out around them, and the Pharisees don’t seem to notice.  The sick are being healed.  The hungry are being fed.  Good news is being preached to the poor.  These are the things that Isaiah had prophesied that would be signs of the coming of the Messiah, but the Pharisees and scribes want to talk about hand washing and tradition. 

            A moment of GRACE is breaking into the midst of time and space.   Not only can’t the Pharisees and scribes see it-- but they keep asking the wrong questions.  They’re asking, “How can we protect our tradition?  How can we get folk to do things our way?

            Too often in the church, we ask the wrong questions.  How do we keep everybody happy?  How do we avoid conflict?  How will we survive?  “How do we make everybody follow our rules? How do I get everybody to do what I want?

            In the meantime, there are people inside and outside the church--people with broken hearts… broken dreams… and broken lives.  People who are lonely.  People who need to be restored to community.  People who need to be fed…and healed…and loved.

            Now, the process of spiritual growth is hard.  Sometimes it can be downright scary.  So, it’s no wonder that sometimes we, like the Pharisees, feel safer clinging to rules or traditions or familiar ways of doing things, rather than look for ways God is trying to use us to bring the kingdom of love and justice into the world.

           

            Jesus accused the religious authorities of being “hypocrites.”     The Greek word Mark uses for hypocrite has a revealing history.  It literally means an actor—a person who acts out a set dialog or script.

            In accusing the Pharisees of being hypocrites, Jesus was inviting them to put down the mask of outward appearances.  In giving them a list of things that can defile people, things which come from within, Jesus was challenging them to examine their own hearts honestly, and to pay attention to what’s really important.   We have been set apart as a holy people for a holy purpose:  to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, and mind, and to love our neighbor as ourselves.

            It’s much easier to point a finger at the sins of others than to look inward at the things that can defile.    Yet today’s gospel lesson makes it clear that we need to pay attention to where our hearts are.  

            But what does that look like?

            In the epistle lesson we heard today, James fleshes out Jesus’ summary of the Law and giving some specific ways we need to live into “the perfect law of liberty.”

            If we are to love our neighbors, then we need to be engaged with them, relating to them, and caring for them. That long list of vices Jesus quotes defile us because they all divide us-- from God and from each other, our neighbors.

            What does it mean for us to be holy, and "undefiled"? James offers an interesting definition in his letter:  "Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for widows and orphans in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world."[3] James teaches that religious practice is judged on what we do.  Widows and orphans were the most vulnerable members of ancient societies; they had no means of support, no means of getting any, and no one to look out for them.  Caring for them means to attend to the needs of the poorest of the poor, those whom nobody else cares about or feels responsible for.  That is true religion, true holy conduct.  That is what we have been set apart to do.

            We know God partly through our traditions.  But we worship the one true God, the God of ever-ongoing creation… and new possibilities.   God overcomes sin and death with new life.
            Jesus came proclaiming that the Kingdom of God is near, calling people to repent, to change.
            In Jesus Christ, we have the perfect example of a person who is holy and whole.  The gospels tell us that Jesus went about preaching good news to the poor and release to the captives.  He taught by word and deed.  He blessed the children.  He healed the sick and ministered to the brokenhearted.  He ate with outcasts…forgave sinners…and called all to repent and believe the good news of God’s love and forgiveness.

            The world tries to set limits on what we believe is possible and sets boundaries that set us apart from “them.”   But Christ came breaking down the dividing walls and showing us that there is no such thing as a hopeless case.  There is nobody outside the circle of God’s love.   In Christ, there are no “others”—only neighbors.   Because God loves our neighbors, we are commanded to love them too.

            I like the way one of my colleagues puts it, in a sermon entitled, “Dirtiness is next to Godliness:” 

            Our hands are made clean and holy, not by washing them, but by getting them dirty.  Our hands have been set apart to reach out into the dirtiness of the world’s injustices and impurities on Christ’s behalf, to touch with compassion those considered untouchable or unclean by our social mores, cultural divisions, or political commitments. [4]

            As Teresa of Avila famously put it, "Christ has no body now on earth but yours… no hands but yours…  no feet but yours.  Yours are the eyes through which God’s compassion will look upon the world.  Yours are the feet with which God will go about doing good.  Yours are the hands with which God will bless others now."

            God has fully revealed God’s love for us in Jesus.  In response to that love, God wants us our love in return.  We are called to worship God through our total devotion…and through our ministry to all God’s children in need, as we love as Christ loves.  God’s way is a tradition of self-giving love.
            So, in the midst of the daily struggles and questions we face every day, may our hearts be in the right place.  May our hearts become more and more open to God’s love and life.  
            Amen.

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

September 2, 2018

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[1] Thomas G. Long, “Moral Words, Evil Deeds”, in The Christian Century. https://www.christiancentury.org/article/2009-08/moral-words-evil-deeds

[2] Isaiah 29:13, according to the Septuagint.

[3] James 1:27

[4] I’m indebted here to the Rev. J. C. Austin, in “Dirtiness is next to Godliness,” (Madison Avenue Pulpit, 2003), a sermon posted in the past at website that no longer exists.

"Holy Healing". A sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on Mark 7:24-37

          Jesus is exhausted and he tries to have some time to himself.   But then a desperate mother comes to Jesus, seeking healing for her sick daughter, literally throwing herself down at Jesus’ feet.  She risks her dignity…and risks being shamed—to enter a home where she isn’t wanted, to throw herself down in front of Jesus, who didn’t want to see her.

            And how does Jesus respond?  Not in the way we might have hoped.  This woman is literally begging for help for her daughter, and Jesus says, “Let the children be fed first, for it isn’t fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”

            If Jesus' words trouble you, you're in good company.  Biblical scholars have struggled with this saying for centuries, but especially, I think, the past few decades.

            In the parallel story in Matthew, Jesus doesn't even answer the woman.   When the disciples urge Jesus to send her away, Jesus says, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." 

`           It sounds like Jesus is dismissing and insulting this woman.  Mark uses the diminuitive form of the Greek word for “dog,” so we might want to soften the effect and think Jesus was talking about feeding cute little puppies.  But that wouldn’t really be an accurate translation. This story is troubling for a number of reasons. 

             It seems that Mark wants to be sure we know who this woman is.  He tells us, “the woman was a Greek, a Syrophoenician by descent.”  In other words, she’s NOT JEWISH.

            Contrast how Jesus responds to this un-named Gentile woman with the named male, Jewish leader earlier in Mark.  Jesus went with Jairus and healed his daughter.  No problem. 

            But now Jesus is in Tyre, which is Gentile territory, when he says “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” 

            I think Mark wants to make sure what a big deal it is when Jesus ultimately performs the miraculous healing. 

            So what do we do with this story? 

            Some scholars believe that Jesus had a long-range evangelistic plan to go to the Jews first...  and then later to the Gentiles.  In their thinking,  Jesus isn't so much saying no--    as he is saying, "First things first.  One thing at a time."

            But the language Jesus used!    "Dogs?"   From what I've read, it's a racist, derogatory term commonly used at the time by some Jews who wanted to put down gentiles.  A lot of people in that culture in Jesus' time thought this Gentile woman has no business being in the company of any Jew--  much less the Messiah. 

            But Jesus has been challenging a lot of the traditional religious beliefs and breaking through a lot of the barriers that separated people.

            Some scholars believe Jesus was giving voice to the traditional beliefs of the time as a test of the woman's faith.  Some believe he was voicing those narrow beliefs to let her make the point that needed to be made.

            Other scholars believe that this desperate, emboldened woman changed Jesus' mind about his mission and who he was called to save.

            I lean toward that understanding myself, as I remember the context.   In Mark’s narrative, this story is sandwiched in between the feeding of the five thousand and the feeding of the four thousand.    Is the bread of life that Jesus offers intended only for the children of Israel?  Or is there enough for everyone? 

            I know there are people who are troubled by the idea that Jesus would change his mind… as well as people who are troubled by the language Jesus used in this story.  Maybe we have to keep chewing on this bread for now.  Like Jacob at the River Jabbok—we need to keep wrestling with it  until we receive a blessing. 

            In any case, this woman doesn't back down.  I love the way one of my colleagues puts it:  "Dog indeed!  She keeps right on nipping at Jesus' heels." ^[1]   The woman dares to take his metaphor and turn it back on him.  Even on these terms, there still should be something from him--  some scrap of grace--  for someone like her,  someone who comes to him in faith.   The woman seems to trust in the abundance Jesus keeps teaching about.  She seems to be challenging him to judge her by what's in her heart. 

            Where the religious establishment and their traditions could only see an outsider--  Jesus sees the woman's heart of faith,  and her persistence, and he heals her child.   From this point on, Jesus continues to expand the circle of God's mercy to include those others consider outsiders.  He welcomes all who put their faith in him.  So, when you look at the big-picture story, it looks like Jesus changes his mind and his plan.

            That's good news for us.     We are all welcome.   We are all included in the circle of God’s mercy.   When Jesus opened himself up to mission to the whole world, it meant his church would be open to the world.  In response, as followers of Jesus, we are called to be open to those whom some people see as outsiders, outcasts, and sinners.  We are called to open ourselves to the whole world in mission.          

            I don’t want to ignore the other story we heard in today’s gospel lesson.  At first glance, they might not seem to have a lot to do with each other--  except that they’re both healing stories.  And I believe that is significant.

            Healing is one of the major themes in the New Testament.  One of my colleagues counted all the healing stories and found that there are forty-one healing stories, told in seventy-two different versions in the four gospels.  These healing stories take up twenty percent of the gospel material.[2]  I agree with Susan Andrews when she says that these healing stories tell us something very important about the nature of God.  God continues to be the creator of our lives—shaping us, mending us, healing us into wholeness.

            When people asked Jesus what the greatest commandment is, he said that the most important commandment is to love the Lord our God with all our heart, and all our soul, all our mind and all our strength… and to love our neighbor as ourselves.    As we grow into a more loving, trusting relationship with God, we become healthier in our hearts and souls and minds and strength.  All of those dimensions of who we are become more integrated…and we become more whole, as we grow into the life God desires for us. 

           

            In the gospel stories we’ve been hearing over a few weeks, we’ve heard Jesus challenging legalistic interpretions of God’s law and proclaiming that purity is not defined by law—but by the love in one's heart and the hospitality and compassion we live in our lives.

            The story about the Syrophoenician woman is a turning point in the gospel, as Jesus redefines who is acceptable in God’s eyes.  The healing turns out to include stories about social healing:  …strangers are welcomed and outsiders become part of the family of God. 

                       

            So what does all this mean for us today?      

            The Syrophoenician woman and the friends of the deaf and mute man refused to believe that God’s mercy and healing are limited to insiders and people like us.  They believed that Jesus could immediately meet their need.  They embodied a faith that trusts in God’s goodness and abundance—a faith that pushes past legalism and exclusivity. 

            When we allow our ears and our hearts to be open to the images of people leaving everything they have, everything they know, desperately seeking safety and freedom for their families—refugees seeking refuge—the Syrophoenician woman can teach us that, in God’s abundant economy, there is enough for everybody.  There is enough, if we reach out and share.

            My friends, this is GOOD NEWS!  So, like the people in the gospel story, may we be astounded and say, “He has done everything well!

            As followers of Jesus, may we embody God’s abundant compassion, so that people will look at us and be astounded with us and say, “They do everything well!

            So be it!   Amen!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

September 6, 2015

           

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^[1]I am grateful to Heidi Husted for this imagery,  in "Living by the Word" in Christian Century (Aug. 16-23), p. 829.

[2] I am indebted to Susan Andrews for this insight, as well as the sermon title, in  “Holy Healing,” at www.sermonmall.com

"Your Faith Has Made You Whole." A sermon on Mark 5:21-43. Two stories in which Jesus heals people. But listen to the stories and pay attention to who is being healed and how Jesus is challenging first century Jewish purity regulations. And listen for the good news for us.

The gospel story we just heard is actually two stories, in which one story is interrupted by another story.  In the story that comes before these stories in chapter five of Mark, one that the lectionary skips over, Jesus has been over on the other side of the Sea of Galilee, in Gentile territory, where he performs an exorcism and interferes with the local swine-based economy, until the local folk beg him to get out of town. 

            Now, people who are comfortable with a nice, domesticated Jesus might find the stories in this part of Mark‘s gospel pretty uncomfortable—if they get what the stories are about.  

Some folk would like to hear these stories from Mark as stories about how Jesus was able to miraculously cure people that nobody else was able to heal.  But the stories aren’t just about Jesus’ power to heal.  It’s also about whom he chooses to heal.

            Jesus has crossed back across the lake to the western side of the Sea of Galilee, and a great crowd gathers around him.  One of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus comes and falls down at Jesus’ feet and begs him repeatedly to come home with him and heal his young daughter.  “She is at the point of death.  Come and lay your hands on her so that she may be made well and live! 

            Jesus sets off to go with him.  A large crowd follows along and is pressing in on him. 

            But then that story gets interrupted.  As Jesus is making his way through the crowd, he senses that power has gone forth from him, and he turns to find out who has touched him.

            It wasn’t just the crowd pressing in on him, but a woman—a very specific woman.  This woman had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years.  She’d gone to doctor after doctor, and had spent all her money on them, trying the treatments they prescribed.  But none of it had done any good, and she still bled. 

            In addition to the effects on her physical health, her bleeding had other profound effects on her life.   It made her ritually unclean.  She couldn’t go to the Temple to worship.  Anyone who touched her, or lay on a bed in which she had slept, or sat on a chair where she sat would be considered unclean as well. 

            Imagine the kind of isolation this woman must have experienced over those twelve long years.  Imagine being unable to attend services and rituals in the Temple.  Imagine people shying away from you, being unwilling to touch you.  This woman was an outcast.

Unlike Jairus’ daughter,  she apparently has no male relative to plead her case.    

            If this nameless woman had pushed through a crowd to touch a scribe or a priest or a Pharisee, I imagine she might have gotten a different reaction.  “Get away from us, you unclean old woman!  Why aren’t you more careful?  Now I’m going to have to waste hours getting purified before I can continue my religious duties!”

            But this woman has heard reports of the power at work in Jesus, and that has given birth to hope and faith.  So—in desperation and great faith—she works her way through the jostling crowd and approaches  Jesus from behind and touches his garments.

            She might have thought, “I don’t need to bother him.  I don’t need to slow him down with a lot of chatter.  All I need to do is touch the edge of his garment.  Then I will be healed.”

            But things don’t go exactly as she planned.  No sooner does she touch his clothes than Jesus turns around and says, “Who touched me?” 

            Jesus refuses to let the woman remain invisible.  He insists on personal contact and on drawing the woman into relationship.    And so the woman falls down before him and tells him the whole truth.

            Jesus says to her, ‘Daughter, your faith has made you well.  Go in peace, and be healed of your disease.’”  The New RSV translates this verb in terms of healing.  But, as some scholars note, this translation of the verb fails to capture the sense in which the physical cure results in a fuller restoration.[1]  It might be a better translation to hear Jesus saying, “Daughter, your faith has saved you.”   Your faith has made you whole.

            As we reach the conclusion of the inner story, we can discern that the miracle involves far more than physical healing.[2]  It includes entry into a ‘saving’ relationship with Jesus himself.  The woman is no longer alone.  Jesus calls her “Daughter,” claiming her as  family, and restoring her to community.  She is told to “go in peace”—shalom, which involves health… wholeness…  and salvation.

            Jesus doesn’t seem to mind that the woman has touched him.  He also doesn’t  seem to worry about the ritual purification.  After he sends the woman on her way, healed and whole, he doesn’t stop off at the baths or send the disciples off for water, so he can wash.  It doesn’t seem to matter to him. 

            For Jesus, there is no such thing as an unclean person.  The society he lives in may try to keep certain people outside of their boundaries, but Jesus keeps reaching out to them.  He keeps welcoming people back inside the circle of God’s love and healing and community.  Time and time again, he welcomes people who have been cast out…or he moves outside the boundary himself, to meet them where they are.

            The other story in today’s gospel lesson shows a similar pattern.

            Some people come from Jairus’ house to say, “Your daughter is dead.  Why trouble the teacher any further?” 

            After all, you could hardly ask Jesus to deal with a dead body.  Dead bodies were considered unclean.  Touch a dead body, and you become unclean.

            But Jesus overhears and says to Jairus, “Do not fear-- only believe.’  He takes Peter, James, and John and they go to Jairus’ house where they find a commotion of loud weeping and lamenting.  They’ve already started mourning .

             “Why do you make a commotion and weep?” Jesus says.  “The child is not dead but sleeping.”   Jesus sends them all outside.  Then he takes the child’s parents and the three  disciples  and takes the child by the hand and tells her to get up.  The girl begins to walk.  Everybody is amazed!   Jesus gives them orders not to tell anybody about this, and tells them to give the girl something to eat.

            So--  what’s going on here, in these two stories, one story sandwiched inside the other in typical Mark fashion?   As I reviewed some of the stories that come before them in the gospel, I became convinced that purity regulations are an important backdrop to the story.  The distinction between “clean” and “unclean” is an aspect of first-century Jewish consciousness that our modern minds may have trouble grasping, but I think they can help us understand what’s going on in the story.

            The biblical laws of purity, which are set forth in Leviticus and Numbers, sought to preserve the holiness of the Temple—the dwelling place of God on earth and the center of the Jewish religious life.  They spelled out the conditions under which persons could approach the divine presence.  A person became ritually impure through contact with a human corpse, certain unclean animals, or genital discharges.         Observing the purity laws was an effort to preserve proper worship in the Temple   and holiness of the community of faith.  Some sectarian groups within first-century Judaism promoted observance of the purity laws at all times and places. 

            In the Gospel stories, we hear how Jesus repeatedly does things that seem to transgress biblical purity regulations and holiness codes.    He touches a leper.  He heals on the Sabbath. 

            So… it’s’ hard to avoid the impression that a lot of Mark’s story has to do with ritual impurity.  Earlier in chapter 5 of Mark, Jesus goes into Gentile—and therefore unclean--  territory and enters a graveyard.  There he encounters a demoniac with a legion of unclean spirits, whom he drives into a herd of two thousand pigs.  

            Then Jesus is touched by a woman with a continuous flow of blood…and takes a dead girl by the hand.  I agree with scholar David Rhoads when he argues that “The issues of purity are writ large across the pages of Mark’s story.”[3]   Rhoads maintains that Mark believes that God is holy, but represents an alternative view:  “In contrast to the view that people are to attain holiness by separation from the threatening force of impurity, Mark presents the view that people are to overcome uncleanness by spreading wholeness.” 

            The religious community in Jesus’ day and through much of history has often gotten in the way of healing.  But the gospel story we heard today from Mark tells how God works through Jesus, who is empowered by the Holy Spirit to touch impurity—to reach out with a healing touch.

            God’s holiness comes to remove and overcome uncleanness, working through Jesus and his followers to spread the life-giving power of the kingdom into the world wherever people are receptive to it.[4]

            So…when Jesus welcomes the woman who has been hemorrhaging as “daughter”—a term of endearment--  and touches a dead girl, we have what Marcus Borg has summarized as “The politics of purity” being replaced by  “a politics of compassion.”[5]

            Instead of drawing back from the unclean woman, Jesus deliberately reaches out to her, welcoming her back into the human family, back into the community from which she had been isolated.  Instead of avoiding contact with the dead girl, Jesus reaches out and takes her hand and restores her to life. 

            Jesus reaches out in an invitation of pure love…an invitation to bring our own bleeding bodies and spirits to the only One who can offer us true healing…the only One who can welcome us into true community when our ties with that community have been broken.

            The story invites us to follow Jesus’ example.  It invites us to look at the suffering ones in our own midst, the ones who have been shunned or marginalized or turned away…to listen to their stories, to reach out and touch them, and lift them up.   It invites us to call them “daughter”… “Son”… “Sister”…  “Brother.”  Above all,  it invites them to welcome them home.

            It seems to me that Jesus did some of his best work with the people whom his society was trying to exclude—the people who were outside of the boundaries that were meant to separate the good, religious people from those who were outcasts:  tax collectors, lepers, prostitutes, the poor, and anyone the purity laws deemed to be unclean.

            The good news of the gospel calls us to live out our faith in ways that invite all-- not just some--  to be touched and healed by God’s love… and to become a real part of the community. 

            The good news calls us to become a community that in its wholeness truly embodies the shalom that Jesus bids the woman when he says “your faith has made you well…go in peace…”

            So… what do we hear this passage saying to us today? 

            Many of us have been grieving what happened in Charleston, SC and other events in what some have called a season of racial unrest, and some of us are very concerned about gun violence.  Now we hear there are at least three predominately African-American churches in the South that have burned down   Some of us are tired of grieving the latest loss and would like to find ways to join together to work for a more just and peaceful world. 

            Last week, Colleen Nieman—the pastor at St. Paul Lutheran-- and I met for lunch and were sharing our pain, our hopes, and a few ideas. 

            One idea we talked about as a possibility would be to form a group of people of goodwill from our various faith communities that would meet maybe once a month-- people who share our concerns and want to do something more than mourn the latest deaths.  Perhaps we would prepare and share a very simple meal together, and then have intentional conversations.

            We thought we might start by gathering some people for an informal bring-your-own sandwich supper at a local park,  to talk about our hopes and ideas for how we might make a difference together.  The first gathering is just to get some ideas and plan for another gathering in the near future.

            If you’re interested, let’s talk.

            Jesus calls us to live out our faith out to live our faith in ways that invite all to be touched and healed by God’s love… and to embody God’s peace.

            And so… may we never be content to rest within our safe walls.  May we move out to where ministry with Jesus takes place, where we receive God’s blessings, and where we can be a blessing to those who need to know that God’s love is even for them.

            May our faith make us all well and whole.

            Amen!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

June 28, 2015

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[1] Donald Juel, Mark.  Augsburg Commentary on the New Testament (Augsburg, 1990),  p. 84.

[2] James L. Bailey and Lyle D. Vander Brock, Literary Forms in the New Testament: A Handbook (Westminster/John Knox, 1992), p. 142.

[3] David Rhoads, “Social Criticism: Crossing Boundaries,” in Mark and Method, p. 147, cited in Frances Taylor Gench, Back to the Well: Women’s Encounters with Jesus in the Gospels (Westminster John Knox, 2004), p. 40.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Marcus Borg, Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time: The Historical Jesus and the Heart of Contemporary Faith (Harper, 1994), p. 58.

"What Is to Prevent?" A Sermon preached at Littlefield Presbyterian Church on sunday, May 3, 2015, on Acts 8:26-39

"What Is To Prevent?"
A sermon preached at Littlefield Presbyterian Church Sunday, May 3, on Acts 8:26-39.

What happens in the story we heard in Acts chapter 8 sounds like something from the Old Testament: an angel of the Lord comes to Philip and tells him to go to the road to Gaza.  So Philip is traveling down the road from Jerusalem to Gaza—a wilderness road—when he encounters an Ethiopian riding in a chariot. 

Luke tells us quite a lot about both of these men.  Philip is one of seven Greek-speaking Jewish Christians appointed by the Twelve to tend to the needs of others, especially widows, in the Greek-speaking part of the Christian community.  He is known as Philip the Evangelist, who eventually settled in Caesarea, and has four daughters who were considered prophets in this Christian community.[1]

Embedded in this story are a number of interesting details.  We’re told that the Ethiopian—a black African—was the treasurer of “The Candace,” the official title of the queen mother and real head of government in Ethiopia.[2] 

Since he’s traveling in a chariot, we know he’s a person of status.   That he possesses a scroll of the prophet Isaiah shows that he is wealthy. 

Luke tells us that the Ethiopian is a eunuch, which was not unusual for someone in that time and culture whose life was devoted to serving in the queen’s court.  He had probably been castrated, probably as a child, so that he would be considered trustworthy around all the women in the queen’s court.

That this man was a eunuch was an important detail to Luke, because he mentions it five times.

This man may have been an Ethiopian Jew, or I think more probably a “God-worshiper” returning from a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.  God-worshipers, or God-fearers, were Gentiles who accepted the theological and ethical teachings of Judaism and worshiped with Jews in the synagogue without becoming full converts.   

Philip hears the Ethiopian reading aloud from the book of Isaiah and asks him if he understands what he’s reading.  The Ethiopian says, “How can I, unless someone guides me?”  Then he invites Philip to get into the chariot and ride beside him.  

The passage he’s reading is one of what we may recognize as one of the “Suffering Servant” songs:

"Like a lamb led to slaughter, in humiliation justice was denied him and he was cut off from the land of the living, cut off from all progeny." 

Now, according to Deuteronomy 23, castrated males were not to be accepted into the Jewish community.  The different translations of that passage have interesting ways of describing this category of people who were excluded:  “No one who has been emasculated by cutting or cutting may enter the assembly of the LORD.”  You can look up the other translations for yourself if you’re interested.

The Ethiopian may have experienced exclusion as he tried to worship at the temple in Jerusalem, if Deuteronomy 23 was being enforced in a rigid manor.  We don’t know. If so, he may still have had his experience of rejection in mind as he was reading Isaiah:  “In his humiliation, justice was denied him.”   No matter how much this man may have longed to be a full member of the Jewish community, the religious rules would have excluded him because of his physical condition.[3]  Scripture makes it clear that eunuchs were not allowed in the Temple—not even in the Court of the Gentiles, which was an outer court.[4] 

Here is someone else who has been denied a full life, cut off from God and people, condemned to have no generations to follow and remember him. And so the eunuch is curious. Who is this being described? What has he done? What is going to happen to him? Of course, what he probably really wants to know is what is going to happen to him-- the eunuch. Yes, it is as if the scripture has become a mirror, and the eunuch recognizes himself in it.

Now, before Philip was sent down this wilderness road, he has been preaching “the good news about the kingdom of God and the name of Jesus Christ” in Samaria, and as a result, many Samaritans “were baptized, both men and women.”  By preaching in Samaria, Philip has broken through two important barriers:  religion and race.  He is convinced that God loves even the Samaritans, and that they are welcome to join this new inclusive Jewish sect—the community of the Messiah. 

Even though Jesus had commissioned his followers to be his witness in Samaria,[5] this breakthrough had apparently raised eyebrows among the Jewish-Christian leaders in Jerusalem.  Can you imagine them saying, “But we’ve never done that before!  We’ve always believed that the Samaritans were heretics… “

The enforcers of the religious boundaries sent Peter and John to Samaria to look into the matter of including the Samaritans, and they prayed for them, and they received the gift of the Holy Spirit.  Peter and John preached the gospel to many villages of Samaritans on their way back to Jerusalem.

The Spirit was on the move!  So I think there are three characters in this story.  The Spirit of God brought Philip to the eunuch, so that he can interpret the scripture to him.  He tells him that the suffering servant as described by Isaiah has been fully embodied in the life and ministry of Jesus… and that Jesus’ death and resurrection has led to new life for all people.

Can you imagine how the eunuch would have responded to that news?  All people? Does Philip really mean that?  New life for all people?

As they’re traveling along that wilderness road, they come to some water. The eunuch impulsively jumps up and with great excitement, proclaims, "Look, here is water!  What is to prevent me from being baptized?"

What is to prevent him from being baptized?  A lot of people would want to say, “God says no.   God says you’re not even allowed in the Temple, because you’re a eunuch.  We’ve got a couple of Bible verses we can quote to prove it.  Like in Deuteronomy chapter 23.   It’s what we’ve always believed.  God says no.”

But that isn’t what happened.  An angel of the Lord had sent Philip to encounter this Ethiopian eunuch.  This God-fearing eunuch who was studying the prophet Isaiah invites Philip to ride with him and lead him in Bible study. 

I wonder if, during the course of their Bible study in the chariot, Philip and the eunuch read the next few chapters in the scroll of Isaiah.  I wonder if they got to chapter 56, where Isaiah proclaims:

“Thus says the LORD: maintain justice, and do what is right, 

for soon my salvation will come,and my deliverance will be revealed….

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 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 or daughters;

   I will give them an everlasting name

   that shall not be cut off. “[6]

Over the years, scholars have wondered how Isaiah could have said such a thing.  Surely he knew the holiness code as written in Deuteronomy.  A eunuch was excluded from the assembly of the LORD.[7]  Why would Isaiah have said this after the exile, when the survival of the remnant of the people of Israel was at stake?  This was a time when having children would have been a priority… and when purity and boundaries seemed critically important.  And yet, in just such a time, Isaiah wrote that foreigners and eunuchs would be welcome in the household of God.

Could it be that the Spirit of God was hovering over the text and over the prophet, bringing forth a different word to overturn the word of exclusion?  

The Spirit of God has been on the move.  Surely it was no coincidence that the story in Acts 8 of an Ethiopian eunuch brings together the two categories of Isaiah 56 together in this one person.  Luke is steeped in the writings of Isaiah from the day in Nazareth when Jesus read from Isaiah’s scroll[8] to this day on the wilderness road. 

The work the risen Jesus began on the Emmaus road, opening and interpreting the scriptures, Philip is continuing. 

Through his storytelling and his actions, through his relationships with people, Jesus proclaimed the gospel of the kingdom of God—the gospel of love.

When people asked Jesus what the most important commandment was, Jesus said:  “Love God with your whole being.  Love your neighbor as yourself.  On this hang the whole of the Law.” 

Jesus’ teaching and ministry were all about love and compassion and healing.  He reached out to people on the margins of society—people the good religious people of his day thought of as sinners and outcasts.

The eunuch listens to Philip as he shares the good news of Jesus.  And then with longing and excitement, he asks:  What is to prevent me from becoming part of this living, welcoming Body of Christ?

What does Philip do?   He sets aside the narrow confines of purity laws and exclusion… and throws open the wide doors of God’s love and mercy.  He embraces the spirit of the law, and baptizes the eunuch. 

This is gospel in action.  That’s what happens when we really study the Bible.  It’s transformative. It changes our minds. It changes our lives. And, like the Ethiopian eunuch, we go on our way rejoicing.

That’s a very different thing from when people pick a verse or two or three to support what they already “know” and say, “No. God says no.”

He went on his way rejoicing!   Tradition tells us that the Ethiopian eunuch was the first one to take the gospel to Ethiopia, and that makes sense to me.  He went on his way rejoicing—so full of joy and gratitude that he would have wanted to share the good news.

The eunuch goes on his way rejoicing, for he has become a full member of the household of faith.  Then the Spirit sends Philip on to share the good news in new places.  The Spirit is on the move.

There is good news for us and for all God’s people today.  God continues to come to us and to work in the lives of women and men who abide in Christ.   By that same Spirit, God unites us to Christ in the waters of baptism. 

 God gives us grace to abide in Christ, so that we can rejoice and grow in grace and produce the fruit of God’s reign in our lives.   We are sent forth to share the amazing wideness of God’s love…  to make everyone feel welcome in the heart of God.

This is the Good News of the Gospel.  May it be so for you and for me.

Amen!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor
Littlefield Presbyterian Church
Dearborn, Michigan 

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[1] Acts 21:8-9.

[2] Paul W. Walaskay, Acts  (Westminster John Knox Press, 1998), p. 86.

[3] Walaskay, p. 86.

[4] Deuteronomy 23

[5] Acts 1:8

[6] Isaiah 56:3-5

[7] Deuteronomy 23:1.

[8] Luke 4