So, years and years ago, I was a co-op student in chemical engineering, living in Midland, Michigan, working at Dow Chemical. And I had this roommate from the University of Cincinnati, Rob Schmidt, who was this awesome guy. Gregarious, fun, friendly. But he had this one fault. Well, not really a fault. Just a thing, I guess.
If we were watching anything on TV – and I mean ANYTHING – he would spend the entire time asking questions: What's going on? Why did he say that? What's she doing that for? Who killed that guy? And I would spend my time gritting my teeth, trying to pay attention to the show while trying to answer him: I don't know, Rob. I couldn't hear what he said. I don't know who did it, Rob; we're watching it together. We'll find out later, I hope.
For Rob, everything in life generated questions. Lot's of them. I'm more of a “Well, huh, there you go” kinda guy, but Rob wanted to know what was happening and why.
And today, I find myself in his shoes. Because this story in Acts is really weird. I mean really, really weird. And I'm overflowing with questions. Why is the Spirit forcing Philip on a mission? Why an Ethiopian? Why a eunuch? Why is he in Judea worshipping? Why is he reading Isaiah? Why a chariot? Why did Philip, POOF!, disappear? And what the heck is a Candice? What is this story all about?
Just to recap, The Holy Spirit jostles Philip and drives him out of Jerusalem to Gaza. When he gets there, the Spirit tells him to go up to the dude in the chariot and strike up a conversation. The dude, an Ethiopian official, is there reading, of all things, the prophet Isaiah. And Philip strikes up a conversation with him and connects Isaiah's Suffering Servant to Jesus. Convinced of this, the Ethiopian asks to be baptized, and POOF! there's water. Philip baptizes him. There's another POOF! And he's snatched away, leaving, we can assume, a bewildered Ethiopian.
And generally, we are supposed to take this reading to mean that God is opening salvation up to everyone, not just the Jews. That God wants everyone evangelized and baptized and brought into the sheepfold we heard about last week. And that's a pretty darned good interpretation. And I believe it, and I believe it is our mission as Christians to be active in loving God, loving our neighbor, proclaiming the gospel...all of that.
But I'm stuck here in the details. There are a lot of details here for us to digest. And they don't really matter to the story...unless there's more to the story. And ironically, something happened the other night. I had started a new podcast called, “The History of Africa.” Essentially it is about ALL of Africa, not just Egypt. All of the empires that developed on that continent. And one of them is the Kushite empire which included Upper Egypt, Nubia, and what we now call Ethiopia. And that got me to digging.
Here's the scoop. The Greeks, being kinda snooty, just called everything south of Egypt “Ethiopia.” And the kings of Ethiopia kept their lineage pure by marrying their sisters, who would then bear them children. These sisters were called Kandake, or as we say today, Candace. And the men who worked on their staff were most always eunuchs, castrated officials who were given great administrative responsibility and trust (for obvious reasons).
And get this: Ethiopia, even during Jesus' day, was known to be an outpost of Judaism. Apparently, the story in Ethiopia is that the Queen of Sheba, on visiting Solomon, bore him a son, Menelik. And when Solomon's other sons in Israel turned out to be bad seeds, he sent the Ark of the Covenant to Menelik for safe keeping. Menelik (who really existed), became the first king of Aksum which later included Ethiopia. But the important thing was that Aksum was created to be a Jewish nation.
Now, frankly, this is all complicated, and I've left out lots of salacious details and it's hard to separate fact from legend. But the point is, when Philip meets the Ethiopian eunuch all of this is known to the average Judean, and this guy is just about everything Philip would hate.
I mean, Philip is a poor Jew's poor Jew. He would probably be a populist today. Followed John the Baptist before he took up with Jesus, was there to see foreign powers destroy his messiah, had been in hiding for weeks. Insular, closed in, afraid, and probably a bit paternalistic and xenophobic.
The Ethiopian, on the other hand: 1) works for a woman, 2) works for an incestuous woman, 3) is unclean due to his castration, 4) is a foreigner, 5) is a rich foreigner from a nation allied to Rome, 6) claims Judaism through another line, 7) and is from a place that claims to have the sacred Ark of the Covenant kept protected and secret.
I can imagine Philip, hearing the Holy Spirit about going out of town to do some work, thinking, “OK, it's time to get to work. There are lot's of Jews out there who still need to hear about Jesus.” Then he rounds the corner, and the Spirit points to the Ethiopian and says, “Here's where you begin. And Philip cringes and says, “No. Just no.” And the Spirit just nudges Philip forward with a “Yup.”
And I think the story isn't that Philip converts that Ethiopian, but that when Philip evangelizes, when Philip witnesses, when Philip talks to the Ethiopian as a person, he doesn't convert an Ethiopian. He converts a brother. In fact, I think the point of the story here isn't the conversion of the Ethiopian at all.
It's all about the conversion of Philip.
Because when we speak about Christ to others, we change, too. Because speaking about Jesus is not our doing, really, it's the work of the Spirit, and when the Spirit moves in us, we can't help but change. Philip goes from someone being prodded to jump up on the chariot with the Ethiopian to eagerly helping that same Ethiopian down when he spots the stream of water. And when the Ethiopian gets wet, Philip gets wet, too.
Legend has it that Philip goes on to evangelize in the most Roman parts of Judea, preaching the gospel to rich and powerful foreigners, to wives of kings, to the bureaucrats of mighty kingdoms. And he could only do that after he overcame the prejudice of a small town boy in the backwater of an oppressed land.
Y'all, that's what this is all about. Every time we live for Jesus, every time we tell others about Jesus, every time we share about Jesus, we get wet, too. Just like with Jesus in the Jordan, the Spirit smiles at Philip...and at us... and says, “This is my beloved child with whom I am will pleased.”
It was only by confronting himself and his bigotry that Philip was able fully live into the calling of Jesus to love our neighbor. And it was only then that he was prepared to become a true apostle. We all have that calling, and we all have that chance. And we can all be changed.