I am confused when I hear Christians speak of their faith as spiritual. I am not sure what is meant by that . . . but this much I can tell you: Christianity is not a “spiritual” faith. Because it was born in Judaism, it is a very physical kind of faith. Our holy texts begin with God creating a physical world and calling it good. And our stories are about a God who did not just create this world, but is involved in it. In our texts you will find stories of people, and all matters of the body . . . from the celebration of physical love in Song of Songs to violence and birth and the agony of infertility. We talk about sex quite a bit. We talk about healing bodies and feeding hungers, and a woman with a flow of blood. And this morning our text is about a eunuch. Not a very “spiritual” topic.

There are those who would rather we not discuss such things. Those who would prefer we not talk about all manner of uncomfortable material things: sex, money, and politics. But it is not Christian to ignore those things. Christianity, like Judaism, understands that all things fall under God’s rule – and that means things physical as well. There is not a division between things physical and things spiritual.

So, today, we talk about a eunuch.

When stories begin with angels, I pay attention.

Even if the story was written by the author of Luke and Acts, an author that is at the very least, fond of angels.

Angles that wake people up and shake people up and communicate God’s will to God’s people. Or,  those of God’s people who might listen.

This time, it is Philip who is awakened by an angel. We first meet Philip earlier in the book of Acts, (6:5) as one of those chosen to minister to the needs of the growing church. He was ordained to serve, as a deacon, along with six others, including Stephen. Later, he will be referred to as “the evangelist” in Acts (21:8) and is known far and wide for his ability to cast out demons and heal.

At the beginning of our story, Philip is in Samaria, where he has fled to escape the persecutions in Jerusalem. Stephen has been stoned to death, and Saul, we are told, “was ravaging the church by entering house after house; dragging off both men and women, (and) he committed them to prison.” (Acts 8:3)

            Now, in the midst of this persecution, Philip was proclaiming the good news of the kin-dom of God in the name of Jesus Christ, and many women and men were baptized.

            Presumably Philip was resting after a long day of proclaiming the gospel and baptizing people. That’s when the angel comes in, waking him and sending him to a wilderness area. He’s not told what he is to see there, or what he is to do there. He is just told to go there. So he does. Even though it means that he will have to go near, if not through, Jerusalem – the place he has just fled, because of the dangers of persecution in that area.

            Before Philip gets any further direction, we are introduced to the Ethiopian eunuch. Well, almost. We never learn his name. We learn of his job: he is a man of great power and prestige. He is a court official of the Candace, queen of the Ethiopians, and he is in charge of her entire treasury.  It was pretty common practice to employ castrated males in positions of authority, as it was thought they could be trusted not only with the females in the court, but were also less likely to become traitors, and were less competitive. Because they had no families, they would not be inclined to set up their own dynasties.

At Topkapi palace in Istanbul, a tour guide told us that the young men were quite willing to be castrated in order to have elevated positions within the palace. Those in our group were skeptical, to say the least. Poverty and desperation led many parents to surgically ‘alter’ their sons in order to get a higher price for them as ‘trusted servants.’ Many had been captured in war, and were born into slavery.  To choose to be castrated rather than starve is really not the same thing as free will.

            At any rate, this man did have some social standing and power. Eunuchs were often trusted and had great influence with the rulers. There is of course some irony here: he wa professionally powerful, and personally impotent.

This eunuch was among the God fearers, those drawn to the faith of the Hebrew people. He was among those who came to hear the teachings about the God of Abraham and Sarah, the Holy One of Israel.

            In that time, of course, “God fearers” were allowed to sit outside the inner circle, but foreigners or those unclean were not allowed to actually become fully a part of the worshipping people. To be an Ethiopian eunuch meant not only two strikes against him, but also three. Neither of those conditions could be changed. He could never really belong. He was a part of two marginalized groups. I cannot help but wonder why he would be drawn to a faith and a people in which he could never be fully accepted. Not that there were many choices for one with his condition.

I read recently a story Phyllis Trible told. You may know her book, Texts of Terror, in which she does a study of some of the biblical stories about dreadful violence against women. More than a few folks have been troubled not only by those texts, but by Trible’s focus on them. But after a presentation to a group of women, one woman approached her to say, “I have never heard of this story about gang rape in the bible. That’s my story, and I am moved to find that my story is in the bible. I am not alone. God must understand.”

Perhaps that was what was going on with the Ethiopian eunuch, as he was reading that text in Isaiah.

The eunuch was reading these words:

“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 this generation? For his life was taken away from the earth.”

Perhaps he heard his story in those words. Perhaps he identified.

We are told that the Spirit moved Philip to enter in, to be near. And he must have been, for we are told the eunuch asked Philip, “About whom, may I ask you, does the prophet say this, about himself or about someone else?  

            Recently, Sojourners online had an article that said perhaps some of the appeal of the DaVinci code is the more human Jesus that is found there. One we can really identify with.

I wonder if the eunuch saw himself in those words in Isaiah. We don’t know what he was thinking and we don’t know what Philip said to this fellow.

At dinner the other night, some of us joked that perhaps Philip had healed him and he was restored physically.

            But not even God can change the past.

What we are told is that “starting with scripture he proclaimed to him the good news about Jesus.”  

I think William Countryman, in his book, The Truth about Love: Re-introducing the Good News  may have summed up what Philip said to this man and to others, for he sums up what the good news is:

“Too often, Christians have spoken as if God’s love were available only to those who respond to it in the ‘right’ way – by believing the doctrines of this creed or that confession, by following this or that rule of life (the more repressive the better), by having just the right kind of conversion experience, by being ‘born again,’ by belonging to the right denomination (taken by its members to be the only true church) or to some group of especially pious people, by reading the Bible in a certain way and drawing only the ‘right’ conclusions from it.

            Such teaching is a betrayal of the good news. Not because creeds or rules of life or conversions or theologies or pious associations are necessarily wrong. Some of them, in fact, may be admirable. They may help us think about what the good news really means for us. They may give guidance in shaping lives that reflect the good news. They may support us on our human journey of growth and change. But God’s love for us does not depend on our ‘getting it right.’

            “This is what love consists of, not that we have loved God, but that God loved us”  (1 John 4:10). God’s love is not conditional on anything. It is expressed in forgiveness. You can ignore or oppose God, if you really want to. It will probably do you no great good, but it won’t deprive you of God’s love, either. God’s love has already taken any possible wrong or error or failure on your part into account. You are loved anyway. You have been all along. You will be all along.

            It does make a difference, though, when you begin to suspect, however doubtingly and uncertainly, that this good news is true. It makes a difference not in God’s love, but in your awareness of yourself and your world. The difference it makes takes the form of two gifts that we receive along with the good news and that grow along with our acceptance of it: a gift of honesty and a gift of authentic and appropriate self-love.”

            I think Philip told the eunuch of God’s love for him. I think the eunuch may have realized that his condition was not God’s punishment, that it didn’t mean God didn’t love him, and that he need not live in shame, or as an outcast, because he could not be cast out of God’s love.

            I think the eunuch found a new personal power in God’s love. And that is a form of healing. A deeper form of healing.

            “Look,” he said, “ here is water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?”

            What is to prevent me from this sign that I belong, body and soul, to this God of love? Nothing. Baptism itself is a very physical act. An elemental act.

Water. And wonder. That is all that is required for a baptism.

            God first loved us. That is the reason Presbyterians dare to baptize infants. Every time we baptize an infant we claim this truth for the child and for ourselves.

            God first loved us. This love does not depend on our getting anything right or in our wrong-headed thinking that we can somehow deserve God’s love.

             God first loved us.

            When Stephanie and Travis bring little Isabelle to this font this morning, I want you to remember that God sees each of us as precious children.

            When we pour water over Isabelle’s head this morning, I want you to feel God’s love wash anew over you.

            I want you to remember that nothing you have done, nothing anyone has done to you, nothing, nothing, nothing can alter God’s deep and abiding love for you.

We make promises to God this morning when we baptize Isabelle. It is the only time we are asked to make a promise to God. We promise God that we will do everything in our power to remind Isabelle that she is loved unconditionally by God. That is our role with one another, as well. To remind one another that we are God’s beloved children. No matter what.

The Ethiopian went on his way rejoicing. To know the love of God is reason to rejoice. There is nothing greater in all the world.

            “Look, we have water!”

Let us all rejoice!