The Ethiopian Eunuch

Easter V,   May 3, 2015

Isaiah 56:3-8   /   Acts 8:26-40

Every now and then in life we meet someone who is just a bit larger than life. Someone very different than ourselves, exotic and foreign, perhaps, but with a personality so big it reaches across the gap and touches us. Often it is just a brief encounter – perhaps someone we come across while travelling – but the impression they leave remains with us for years afterwards.

I think the Ethiopian eunuch we heard about in the second reading may be a personality like that. We have heard a number of readings from the book of Acts this Easter season, documenting the growth of the early church in the months and years after Jesus’s resurrection. But none of them, to me, capture the imagination quite as powerfully as this story of a chance encounter with a stranger.

Who was he, this Ethiopian eunuch? A traveller from an exotic land, a black African from the ancient kingdom of Ethiopia. A high official at the court of the queen, in charge of her treasury – clearly a position of great trust and power. A wealthy man, travelling in a chauffeur-driven chariot, reading a Bible scroll he has acquired in Jerusalem; in those days before printing, a fabulously expensive purchase. The equivalent today, I suppose, would be if we encountered the ambassador of an African nation, being driven back to the airport in his limousine.

Yet, for all his wealth and influence, he is also a slave. Only slaves were made eunuchs. A high-ranking slave, it is true, but a slave nonetheless. A slave who has been mutilated at the pleasure of his owner, who carries in his body the reminder that he is the property of another.

He is also a religious man. He has come to Jerusalem to worship. Presumably he is not a Jew, but one of the large group of people the New Testament refers to as “God-fearers” – that is, Gentiles of all different nations who are interested in and attracted to the Jewish faith, but who for one reason or another are unwilling to convert completely. We will hear more about these God-fearers later on in the book of Acts; for example, they will form the core of the churches Paul founds in Greece. Our Ethiopian friend feels called to worship the one God proclaimed by the Jews, his soul is stirred by what he has heard, but he has not become a Jew. Indeed, he cannot. Deuteronomy 23 is brutally clear: “No one whose testicles are crushed or whose penis is cut off shall be admitted to the assembly of the Lord.” When he worshipped in Jerusalem, he worshipped as an outsider, twice over: as a foreigner, and as a eunuch, he is not part of the assembly of Israel.

What does Philip see, when he is led by the Spirit to meet this man? Presumably someone indescribably exotic and strange: an African from fabled Ethiopia, a wealthy and powerful man, a eunuch. He would have known his Scripture, the verses from Deuteronomy that say that this man does not belong among the people of God, excluded for his race and his sexual identity. But Philip would have known other passages of Scripture, too, passages like the one from Isaiah we heard as our first reading, passages that talk about an inclusive community that welcomes and blesses both eunuchs and foreigners of all nations. Reading Scripture is never as straightforward as reading an instruction manual. Philip had to choose between different Scripture verses, expressing opposite views of the community of God. He chooses according to the Spirit, and he chooses welcome and inclusivity.

And so he comes alongside the chariot, and engages the stranger in conversation. He doesn’t barge in with a prepared speech, telling the stranger what he has to believe. Rather, he listens, takes seriously his questions, and responds to this one particular man in his situation. And the Ethiopian has questions. He speaks three times in this passage, and each time is a question. First question: “How can I understand what I am reading, if there is no one to explain it to me?” A wise question. Scripture is so rich and complex and contradictory, none of us can fully understand it on our own. A lot of damage has been done over the centuries by people who claim to understand Scripture on their own, and end up thinking that they alone have the right interpretation. We rely on one another, and on the understanding of those who have gone before us, to make sense of Scripture. That is why we gather here every Sunday, to hear the Bible together and to think it through together, in the context of a worship service that puts it all into perspective.

And what a passage it is that has caught this man’s attention! It is from the prophet Isaiah – not yet the passage we just heard about eunuchs being welcomed, perhaps he’ll come across that on the way home – but a few chapters before that. It is part of the great Servant Song in Isaiah, a familiar passage to us, one we read each Good Friday.

He was despised, rejected, a man of sorrow and acquainted with grief . . .
He was wounded for our transgressions, upon him was laid the punishment of us all .

.It is the passage in all of the Old Testament where Christians most clearly recognise the figure of Christ on the cross. And the particular verses that the eunuch is trying to understand are fascinating:

‘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 descendents?
For his life is taken away from the earth.’

Interesting, isn’t it, that a eunuch, a man who has been shorn, led silently to the shearer, a man to whom justice has been denied in his humiliation, a man who will not have descendants, should keep coming back to this verse. When he asks his second question: “To whom is the prophet referring?”, it is not out of merely academic interest. He has recognized himself in these verses, and he needs to understand what they mean.

And so Philip, beginning with this verse, proclaimed the gospel to him. He told him about Jesus, who was the suffering servant of God, who in grace and mercy came to share in the suffering and shame of all who are oppressed and marginalized, and who by this compassion has redeemed the outcasts and made them part of God’s new community. The Ethiopian hears what Philip has to say, because his words are not some abstract theory. They speak directly to his life and his pain.

And then comes his third question: “What is to prevent me from being baptised?” It sounds almost like a throwaway line, until we remember that this is coming from a man who all his life has been prevented from truly belonging. When we remember that, we can hear the wonder in his voice, that he is finally accepted, that he finally belongs. And so he gets down from his chariot, is baptised by Philip, and goes on his way rejoicing.

It is a powerful and beautiful story, an example of evangelism at its best, of one person telling another about Jesus in a way that is liberating, life-transforming, joyous. So I wonder, what does this story have to teach us, as we think about ourselves as potential evangelists? Because that is what we are, whether we are comfortable with that or not. It is part of our duty as Christians, part of our service of love to others, that we should be ready to tell them the good news of Jesus whenever appropriate. We all promised that together, most recently on Easter Sunday, in the words of the baptismal covenant: “Will you proclaim by word and example the good news of God in Christ?”

Yes, I know this is hard and embarrassing and so often seems inappropriate, and we don’t want to alienate our friends by going off talking about Jesus all the time. So let us conclude by drawing a few observations from this story that might encourage and equip us in our ministry of evangelism. Six brief points.

First of all, it seems that it is sometimes the most unexpected person we may be called to evangelize. The foreigner, the sexually different, the rich and powerful, the slave – the Ethiopian was all these things. He may have been the last person Philip would have thought to try to include in the household of God. But he is one God was calling. We too undoubtably have our preconceptions about who is likely to join our church and who isn’t. But it may be that God is calling the last person we would expect.

Secondly, note that Philip is led by the Spirit to approach this man. He isn’t carrying out a program, randomly accosting strangers. He is responding to the Spirit’s call. We too should listen for the Spirit’s prompting. However, you probably shouldn’t be waiting for the voice of an angel, as Philip heard – you’ll likely be waiting a long time. The Spirit speaks to us in quieter, less obvious ways. If you are praying for the people around you in your life, if you are attuned to their needs, then you may get a sense in your heart that it might be helpful to share something of your faith with them – that is the voice of the Spirit we can be listening for.

Thirdly, Philip does not approach the man with a rehearsed spiel, or a tract, or any kind of one size fits all. He does not talk at the man, he talks with him, engages in conversation, asks questions and listens to the other’s questions. And he lets what he has to say about his faith flow from that conversation.

Fourthly, when Philip addresses the man, he is not bringing God to him. God is already very present with the Ethiopian, in his faith, his longing that has brought him to Jerusalem to worship, in his wrestling with Scripture, in his questions. I think we too often tend to assume that if people are not church-goers, they don’t have a relationship with God. Yet very often, nothing could be further than the truth. So evangelism is not about trying to convince someone to believe in God. That is probably a pointless conversation. It is more about helping someone with their doubts and questions and pain – or maybe letting them experience that they are accepted with their doubts and questions and pain.

When Philip comes to speak of his faith, he begins with the man’s questions. He then links these questions directly with the central point: with the good news of God in Christ. He does not make this a teaching session, laying on a whole list of doctrinal and ethical teachings. He proclaims the gospel, telling in simple and straightforward words why Jesus is good news to the eunuch.

And finally, note how the story ends. The Ethiopian does not come back with him, he doesn’t join Philip’s church and become a regular attender, he doesn’t ask for envelopes. All these things might be nice, but they are not the measure of successful evangelism. What matters is that the man went on his way rejoicing. He had heard the gospel, it had touched his heart, he had experienced liberation and acceptance and joy. That is all that matters. And that is perhaps why this big, glad, exotic man touches us so deeply. In this brief encounter, before he disappears again on the road to Ethiopia, he has reminded us what really matters.