Sabbath Day Thoughts — “You Are Welcome” Acts 8:26-38
Not everyone feels welcome in church.
Visitors or newcomers to churches can feel uncomfortable. On Sunday mornings as the church fills and old friends turn to one another in the pews to chat and catch up on the latest news, visitors may feel like socially awkward outsiders who have crashed a private party. A national survey found that over 70% of newcomers say that being singled out as a visitor in a church service is deeply uncomfortable. Asked to stand and introduce themselves or to turn and greet their neighbors with the peace of Christ, they feel the painful discomfort of public scrutiny as every eye checks them out or complete strangers want to shake their hands—or worse—hug them.
Lord, forbid that someone new sits in our pew. One Sunday a number of years ago, I spotted those golden girls Dot Shene and Norma Neese, sitting in a different place in the sanctuary. During the passing of the peace, I congratulated them on trying a seat near the front. Dot, clearly irritated, said, “We had to.” Then, Norma turned and pointed to a couple of guests, seated in their beloved back pew. “They took our seats!” she lamented loudly.
I thought that was pretty bad until I had a Sunday off and went to worship at the Tupper Lake church, where I have served as the moderator for many years. I arrived a little early and chose a seat. Then during the opening hymn, two late arrivers came and stood next to my pew. I smiled at them. “You’re in our seat,” I was told. Although I offered to move over or let them by, they weren’t happy until I had moved to a different pew.
It’s not unusual for church signs out front to bear the words, “All are welcome,” but are they really?
The Ethiopian Eunuch knew how it feels to be unwelcome in church. He was a man of status and power. In an ancient world that prized the beauty of black skin above all else, he was gorgeous. He served in the royal court of his homeland, managing the great wealth of his queen, the Candace. In a world where few people were literate, he was cultured, fluent in Greek, and a student of the Torah. He had spent a small fortune on the scroll of the Prophet Isaiah. He had come to Jerusalem on a great pilgrimage of many miles with a retinue of servants to worship and pray.
The Bible scholars point out that when the eunuch arrived at the Jerusalem Temple, he would have been denied entry. We don’t know how he came to be a eunuch, whether he was born that way, was injured in some horrible accident, or had to say goodbye to his “manhood” before he could become the Treasury Secretary, but it was who he was. He couldn’t do anything about it. He probably heard some less than welcoming scripture quoted to him in Jerusalem, like Deuteronomy 23 and Leviticus 21, which say that anyone with his “problem” cannot be admitted to the assembly or approach God with an offering because it would profane the sanctuary.
I wonder if we can imagine what it would feel like to be the Ethiopian eunuch, to love God and fear that God did not love him, would never love him, no matter how many pilgrimages he made or prayers he said. As the Ethiopian Eunuch rattled home in his chariot, he read the words of Isaiah 53, which tell of God’s servant who silently suffers in humiliation. Those words must have tugged at his heartstrings, as if they were written about him.
Of course, we don’t have to be a church visitor sitting in the “wrong” pew or the Ethiopian eunuch to wonder if God loves us. Our feelings of welcome and acceptance are also shaped by who we are. The church universal has historically been less than hospitable to some people more than others. Many have had bad church experiences in which they feel judged and condemned. Those who have been divorced may not feel welcome. Those who choose to live together outside of marriage may not feel welcome. Those who are single parents may not feel welcome. My LGBTQ friends and family all have painful stories to share of leaving churches where they were not accepted unless they stayed in the closet. Young people with blue hair, plenty of piercings, or an abundance of tattoos describe the shocked stares and alienating whispers of people in the pews. Even when we look like everyone else, we may harbor secret hurts or shame or bad experiences that make us wonder along with the Ethiopian eunuch, “Is God’s love for me? Is God’s love for us?”
The Ethiopian Eunuch might have stayed an outsider if the Holy Spirit hadn’t stepped in and taken some bold action. The Spirit found the right man for the job, Philip. He wasn’t afraid of those who had been labeled outsiders. In fact, Philip got his start as an evangelist by taking the gospel to the Samaritans, traditional enemies of Israel. So, when the Holy Spirit sent him running down the Gaza Road, Philip was ready. He climbed into the Ethiopian man’s chariot, caught his breath, and began to tell his new friend about Jesus of Nazareth, the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy about a holy servant who was rejected by those he was sent to redeem and suffered for the world’s sins.
As Philip told the good news of Jesus’ ministry, of how Jesus welcomed the outsider, healed the sick, blessed the children, and counted women among his disciples, his Ethiopian neighbor began to get excited. Really excited. He imagined the possibility that if Jesus had anything to say about it, God might just welcome him, might welcome a person who looked and felt like he did. If the eunuch or Philip questioned what the Holy Spirit intended for them, those questions disappeared as a strange sight shimmered on the desert horizon: a pool of water, sparkling in the midday sun. It was unthinkable, impossible even, but there it was, a big baptismal pool in the middle of that dry and dusty landscape.
Finally, the Ethiopian Eunuch could contain himself no longer, this man who had been excluded from the Temple and made to feel unwelcome in God’s House dared to imagine that he, too, was loved. “Look, here is water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?” And in response, Philip did not quote Deuteronomy 23 or Leviticus 21. Instead, by the power of the Holy Spirit that had sent him running down the Gaza Road, Philip knew that no one is ever beyond the limits of God’s unfathomably big love. All were welcomed. All might be claimed in the waters of baptism as God’s beloved children. The driver reined in the horses. The chariot came to a halt. And Philip with his new Ethiopian friend waded into the waters of a love that would not let them go.
It’s a wild and scandalous story that tugs at our heartstrings. It tells the simple truth that God welcomes us when the world—or the church—will not. All are welcome to these waters and claimed as sons and daughters of a holy parent who has a place for us at the table and a home for us in the kingdom. It’s a story that invites us to know our belovedness. It’s a story that dares us to be a more loving people. The Holy Spirit calls to us, as the Spirit did to Philip, setting our feet on the path to welcome and inclusion, to meet people where they are at, to open our eyes and hearts to those who are new. The Spirit calls us to judge less and welcome more. Perhaps we’ll even loosen our death grip on that favorite pew. Perhaps one day all churches will be as welcoming as Jesus.
The freshly baptized Ethiopian Eunuch rode off down the Gaza Road, full of joy and alleluias. They say that he became the great evangelist of Africa, telling the Candace—and anyone who would listen—all about a God who loves limitlessly, who became flesh, lived and taught, healed and suffered, died and rose again to make that limitless holy love known to all people—a God who is still trying to get that message out even now.
Resources
Matt Skinner. “Commentary on Acts 8:26-40” in Preaching This Week, May 2, 2021. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fifth-sunday-of-easter-2/commentary-on-acts-826-40
Mitzi Smith. “Commentary on Acts 8:26-40” in Preaching This Week, May 6, 2012. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fifth-sunday-of-easter-2/commentary-on-acts-826-40-2
Richard Jensen. “Commentary on Acts 8:26-40” in Preaching This Week, May 10, 2009. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fifth-sunday-of-easter-2/commentary-on-acts-826-40-3
F. Scott Spencer. “Commentary on Acts 8:26-40” in Preaching This Week, April 28, 2024. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fifth-sunday-of-easter-2/commentary-on-acts-826-40-5
Acts 8:26-38
26 Then an angel of the Lord said to Philip, “Get up and go toward the south to the road that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza.” (This is a wilderness road.) 27 So he got up and went. Now there was an Ethiopian eunuch, a court official of the Candace, the queen of the Ethiopians, in charge of her entire treasury. He had come to Jerusalem to worship 28 and was returning home; seated in his chariot, he was reading the prophet Isaiah. 29 Then the Spirit said to Philip, “Go over to this chariot and join it.” 30 So Philip ran up to it and heard him reading the prophet Isaiah. He asked, “Do you understand what you are reading?” 31 He replied, “How can I, unless someone guides me?” And he invited Philip to get in and sit beside him. 32 Now the passage of the scripture that he was reading was this:
“Like a sheep he was led to the slaughter,
and like a lamb silent before its shearer,
so he does not open his mouth.
33 In his humiliation justice was denied him.
Who can describe his generation?
For his life is taken away from the earth.”
34 The eunuch asked Philip, “About whom, may I ask you, does the prophet say this, about himself or about someone else?” 35 Then Philip began to speak, and starting with this scripture he proclaimed to him the good news about Jesus. 36 As they were going along the road, they came to some water, and the eunuch said, “Look, here is water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?” 38 He commanded the chariot to stop, and both of them, Philip and the eunuch, went down into the water, and Philip baptized him.
Joann White 