The Wind of the Spirit Blows Communication! Pentecost, May 23rd 2021 Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Acts 2:1-21 Each week in our Order of Worship we pray the prayer of Invocation. That is, we invoke or we invite God’s Spirit to be with us in our worship. Some have said that this is inappropriate, because God’s Spirit is always with us – within and all around. It is up to us to notice her. I agree, and at the same time, I realize that I am not very good at noticing the Spirit, without having my attention drawn to her. On these days of outdoor services, my focus is on the weather, setting out the chairs and our makeshift altar, positioning the lectern and the tripod for my phone. With all that busy-ness I need a prayer of noticing to turn my attention to what God is doing here. I need to notice the Spirit of Christ. Today, I’m inviting us to approach the story of “the gift of the Holy Spirit” with the same lens as the prayer of invocation. Perhaps reframing Pentecost as the day the disciples and the crowds around noticed the Holy Spirit in particular. After all the Spirit made her debut millennia before this moment. Go back to Genesis chapter 1, and you will find her there, hovering over the waters. She appears again in chapter 2, breathing life into humankind. The dramatic event we read of this morning breathes life into the apostles again. It awakens them, and all those around them, to the powerful presence of the Spirit of Christ. We learn that this happens while they were “all together in one place.” The apostles are all together in a house in Jerusalem, on the festival of the Pentecost fifty days after Passover. This is another joyful Jewish holiday, a celebration of the first fruits of the wheat harvest. When I ponder this story, I’m often left wondering what kind of a house they were in. We hear that a sound, like the rush of a violent wind sweeps in, filling the entire house. And divided tongues, like fire, appear among them, and a tongue rested on each of the apostles. We learn that a great crowd gathers around – Jews of every nation. And so, I wonder, how the crowd witnesses this. How do they hear the sounds of the Spirit and see the divided tongues of fire? How do they smell a hint of burning, and feel the electricity in the air? I have to imagine that the apostles are not in a closed, contained kind of house. There must at least be open windows and doors. Perhaps they are assembled in an open-air courtyard, or on the house roof. This is not a private, invitation-only event. As the story is told, we notice, more and more, the involvement of those observing from outside. Once the sounds and sights of the Holy Spirit are noticed, there is another dramatic effect. The apostles begin speaking such that the Jews from every nation understand in their own languages. The people already know that the apostles are Galileans. They are considered simple country folk who wouldn’t have a knowledge of languages, certainly not Cretan, Arabic, or the Libyan dialect. The apostles speak about God’s deeds of power. Some members of the crowd are curious, they ask “what does this mean?” But not everyone is impressed. Others sneer, and accuse the apostles of being drunk. There are always sneer-ers when the Spirit of Christ is noticeable. They sneer to mask their fear of the power of God, manifest in the moment. Perhaps if they say the apostles are drunk, it will be true. Then they can get along with life, uninterrupted by this disturbing display of power. Peter is inspired to interpret the moment in the light of writings of the prophet Joel. Joel anticipates the “last days” when God’s Spirit pours out on “all flesh”: all genders, all ages, any social status. Almost five years ago, when I began as your minister here at the Wollaston Congregational Church I was inspired by the Wollaston ocean breeze. It was a beautiful September Sunday and the Deacons had kept open the doors, to help to cool the sanctuary. Suddenly, though, there was a violent gust of wind. The doors slammed, people turned around, startled. I couldn’t have wished for more. Yes! The Holy Spirit had showed up. I loved it, even if others in the congregation were not so sure. In some ways I feel the same about our outside services. We have to secure the white cloth on our little altar with clothes-pins to avoid having it blow away. We cannot light candles for more than a few seconds. And, I agree, the weather is often a pain. This time of year it is so changeable, and we can never be sure if it is going to be too hot or too cold. I know that there are people in the congregation who just want to get back inside the sanctuary as soon as we can. After all, the sanctuary was designed, created and crafted specifically for worship, unlike this lawn. And yet, there’s something about this outdoor space I want to hold on to. It gives us a sense of “all together in one place”. At the same time it is not private. And, of course, it exposes us to that unpredictable Wollaston ocean breeze. It enlivens us to the disturbing action of the Holy Spirit. A striking aspect of our story today, is the new ability of the apostles to speak so that people from many nations understand in their own languages. We might wonder what was the relationship between the Parthians and Medes, Elamites and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes. Perhaps relations between these many diverse peoples were harmonious, but I somehow doubt it. When diverse groups of people come together – even when they are supposed to have a common faith – conflict often emerges. I think of Jerusalem and Israel/Palestine today. The various sects of Judaism, the numerous branches and denominations of Christianity, and the Muslim residents. Israel/Palestine often seems to be more of a tinderbox than a melting pot, and the terrible violence over recent weeks has shown the worst of that. Carrie Ballenger, a pastor serving the English speaking congregation at the Church of the Redeemer in Jerusalem posted a report on life in Jerusalem this past week. She accompanies her report with a photograph of graffiti that says “stay human.” Rev. Ballenger writes: “Most of our church workers live in the West Bank … The Ramallah checkpoints have seen violence between Israeli soldiers and Palestinians in the last days—Fridays [Islam’s Sabbath] are worse. (My colleague who lives in Ramallah plans to stay home. ‘Maybe I could get to church, but I’m afraid I couldn’t get home.’) “Armenian priests were attacked by settlers near Jaffa Gate this week. When I hear this, I wonder at the ‘protection’ I thought my clergy collar gave me. My American-ness is probably much better armor. …. “In front of the falafel shop [someone calls out]: ‘Sister! Sister, do something, please to end this war, to make the people come back. Pray for us!’ … “It’s 90 degrees. A woman sits next to me on the train and unwraps her headscarf carefully from around her neck, attempting a cool breeze with her hand. She is the only Palestinian on this train, which is usually packed with a wild mix of religious Jews, Palestinians, schoolchildren, and soldiers. “Last night, the girls next door (23 and 22) walked to the nearby Jewish neighborhood for groceries. They told me, ‘We decided to speak only English to each other there, not Arabic. We were too afraid.’ “When this latest round of violence started, my dear Israeli friend wrote me to check in, and to say his young kids … want to be sure I know that I know that ‘not all Jews think this is right.’ I was so sad they would even need to worry about that. I’m so very sad—and angry!—that there is any reason for them, or any child, to be afraid. Fear is our true enemy. Fear of each other is what keeps this evil occupation alive. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. And stay human.” [1] We can give thanks that a ceasefire has been brokered in Israel. Even so, we are aware that tensions might easily flare again, until the underlying problems are solved. And, still, in Rev. Ballenger’s post, in the midst of fear, we notice evidence of the Holy Spirit inspiring human-to-human communication: friends checking in across cultural boundaries. Here in our corner of the United States, we can be grateful that we rarely experience that kind of violence, whether from rocket fire or missiles launched on vulnerable residential communities. And still, we know that we need to do better in our relationships with members of our own faith, and other faiths. We can do better with people who originated from different nations, both new immigrants and long-time residents. We can do better with those who look different from us, and with those who speak a different language from us. The bottom line is that we need to learn to talk with one another about the things that matter. I recall a parenting book titled: “how to talk so that kids will listen, and listen so that kids with talk.” That is what the Holy Spirit enables us to do, if we allow her: talk so that others will listen, listen so that others will talk. There are those who think that conflict in a church, or other community is a bad thing. And there are others who understand that conflict is inevitable in human relationships. How we acknowledge and communicate through conflict is what is important. Friends, these days perhaps we are like those people gathered in Jerusalem on Pentecost. Will we notice Spirit, about to sweep in disturb us, giving us the gifts we need to communicate, if we dare? Or will we sneer and turn away, like the fearful members of the crowd? Let’s pray that we will be the former. May all God’s people say, Amen If you read this far, whether you enjoyed the sermon or it provoked another response, please leave a comment. I'd love to be in conversation with you. [1] https://www.facebook.com/photo?fbid=10159609609733799&set=a.54296043798
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Coming to the Table Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church On Sunday June 9th, 2021 Scripture: Acts 10:44-48 This morning we continue our sermon series on the lectionary passages from the book of Acts. A name like “Acts” begs the question, “whose acts?” Traditionally the book has been known as the Acts of the Apostles, but many scholars say that it ought to be called “the Acts of the Holy Spirit” instead. In every story we have read over the past weeks, the main actor has been the Spirit of God. She has not been passive but very, very active. She has been disturbing, prodding, and interrupting the apostles to behave in powerful and dramatic new ways. Our passage from Acts for this week begins “while Peter was still speaking” … so we know right away that there is some background to the story. We have to start there. At the time of the story, the apostle Peter is staying in Joppa on the Mediterranean coast. One noontime Peter goes onto the roof of the house to pray. He is hungry and while he is praying he has a vision of food. He sees a large sheet coming down from the sky, carrying all kinds of creatures that Jewish people were not allowed to eat under the law. With the vision there is a voice “Get up Peter, kill and eat.” Peter objects saying “I have never eaten anything profane or unclean,” to which the voice replies “what God has made clean, you must not call profane.” The whole experience - vision and voice -happens a total of three times. This primes Peter for what is coming next. Peter’s prayer time is interrupted. There is a knock at the door, when he looks he sees three men. These men have been sent by a Roman Centurion, Cornelius, who lives in Caesarea. Cornelius is a good, God-fearing man. He has also received a vision, from the angel of God, telling him to summon Peter. And so he has sent his servants. There is one problem: Cornelius and his household are Gentiles. The men are uncircumcised and they do not observe Jewish dietary laws. Jews, like Peter would not normally give or receive hospitality from such Gentiles. In spite of this, Peter invites the men in. He says “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.” The men stay overnight and then travel together to Caesarea to meet Cornelius and his family. Here Peter preaches his now familiar sermon on the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. He invites the family to believe in Jesus and receive the forgiveness of sins. Peter does not get to complete his sermon. The Holy Spirit interrupts, yet again, falling on the people so that they speak in tongues, praising God. At this Peter proclaims “can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit?” and he baptizes them all in the name of Jesus Christ. We may be inclined to put this passage aside as one of those strange Bible stories that doesn’t mean much in today’s world. And yet, this episode describes a major and incredibly significant event in the life of the early church. Up until this point, the apostles have been requiring Gentile converts to undergo circumcision and observe Jewish dietary laws. This is likely a major impediment to conversion. When Peter returns to Jerusalem he confidently tells the other apostles what has happened. They are shocked that Peter even associated with these Gentiles, never mind that he has baptized them. They ask “Why did you go to uncircumcised men and eat with them?” But, when they hear the story of the visions and the dramatic interruptions of the Spirit of God, they are amazed. They cannot deny that God has spoken, even to Gentiles. An enormous barrier to membership melts away. The church universal has begun. Peter’s visions and the Apostles’ reactions focus on the thing at the heart of the matter: food and hospitality. Peter gave and received hospitality to and from the Gentiles. What is more, he ate their food, whatever they were serving that day. He abandoned his culturally ingrained customs and religious regulations to expand the community of Christ. And doing so, he drew the circle much wider than it had been drawn before. The apostles are rightly disturbed, because they know that when people gather at a table, boundaries come down. Change happens. Peter and the Gentiles come together like a family that has been estranged. There is joy in the celebration. Those who were once “them” and “us” are now simply one family. They literally meet at the lunch table. Just this past week, I had another conversation with Will, the spouse of one of our members. You may remember that Will has begun a chapter of the “Coming to the Table” organization here in Quincy. This is the first such group in New England. Coming to the Table is an organization formed by descendants from two American families: the Hairstons and the descendants of Thomas Jefferson. [1] In both cases, black and white descendants have come together through family reunions. Jefferson’s family is directly descended from both his white wife, Martha, and the black mother of his children, who was enslaved on his plantation, Sally Hemings. “Coming to the Table” facilitates conversation about the deep history of slavery and racism in the United States: these the things that estranged these family members from one another. Whenever an estranged family reunites, there is a need to talk about things. It is necessary to confess hurts and to make amends. “Coming to the Table” provides for this conversation, figuratively at the table, by having individuals speak from their own experiences. Participants do not try to change or fix anyone else, but they work on their own personal barriers to reconciliation with “the other”. This requires honesty, vulnerability and work. Even if we are unaware of any connections we might have with those who enslaved Africans and other people of color, anyone who lives in our culture is a part of this division between “them” and “us.” Racial divides are not the only divisions in our culture. We are also divided by politics, abilities and disabilities, sexual orientation and gender identity, even religious differences. When someone appears different from us in any of these ways, they become “the other” in our minds. Earlier today, we talked about the history of our church, and how the church was founded following a split from the Wollaston Baptist Church. I imagine that the real reason for the split was because the former Congregationalists wanted their own church home with their own practices and customs. This kind of has split happened often, as well as new immigrant groups coming in, giving rise to a huge number of protestant denominations in the United States. People in this community who are curious about belonging to a church have a plethora of offerings. They can afford to be picky, choosing the one church that has just the right fit for their beliefs, their preferences in music, or their family’s needs. To be truthful, I don’t think this number of options serves Christ’s purposes for the global church. When small churches operate independently and in competition with one another they limit their ability to make God’s love and justice known in the community. Still, I remember going through a similar process when I moved away from home to college far from my home in suburban London. When I found churches that sang the same hymns, served the same food, preached the same kind of sermons as I was used to, I felt at home. These churches did their evangelism through food offered to hungry students. And it often worked. But the Holy Spirit wouldn’t let me stay at the homey kinds of church I found. It would be years before I understood what true inclusion means, but I was prodded and pushed to a different kind of church. This was a merged congregation of Methodists, one of my “home” traditions, and the United Reformed Church. Yes, they were Congregationalists! To be truthful, the food they served at this church was really good too. And these church families invited students home to eat with them as well. But the overlap of the traditions meant that the preaching pushed and provoked me. I often pushed back. This was exactly the kind of place I needed to grow. It is my hope that Wollaston Congregational Church can be a place of belonging for us, and at the same time be a place when we encounter “the other” at our table and at theirs. I hope that we can explore other customs and traditions in our worship, remembering that the Spirit of God is always interrupting, pushing and prodding us to grow. When I talked with Will, we discussed beginning a kind of “Coming to the Table” group for our church and community. The thought was for a series of meetings to sit down and talk about the things that separate us from one another and from the people in our community. Things like political differences, race, disabilities, sexual orientation and gender identity. Will made the point that just as someone cannot recover from alcoholism by going to AA once, these conversations cannot be done just once. They need to become our practice. I told him I thought that maybe if we begin with 4 or 5 meetings people may enjoy them and want to come back. Will smiled and said that “enjoy” might not be the best word, but perhaps people would value the meetings. I believe he is right, I do hope we can do this, I hope you will come to the table and I hope you will value the conversation. And so, may the active Holy Spirit prod, push and cajole us, as necessary, to come to the table with those who seem different from us. so that the church universal may be more fully realized in this place. And perhaps so that all humanity will be invited into the ever-widening circle of grace that Jesus Christ himself draws. May all God’s people say: Amen. [1] https://comingtothetable.org/ What is to Keep Me From Being Baptized? Nothing, Nothing At All Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church On Sunday May 2nd, 2021 Scripture: Acts 11:1-18 What is to keep me from being baptized? Nothing, nothing at all. This morning we heard a weird and wonderful story, about the Apostle Philip, a traveling eunuch from Ethiopia, and God’s Spirit. We haven’t heard much about Philip, so far, either in the gospel of Luke or the book of Acts. He seems to have been a quiet disciple, traveling and learning with Jesus, but not getting much of the limelight. Now, though, Philip seems to come into his own. The apostles have received the gift of the Holy Spirit. They’ve been sent to be Christ’s witnesses “in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8) Philip, as a Greek speaking Jew, has been appointed to care for the members of the community in need who are also Greek speaking. He has also traveled to Samaria to preach the gospel and began a mission there. Now, the angel of God sends him to the desert road that runs from Jerusalem to Gaza. We have to imagine that Philip is quite athletic. I picture him sprinting for miles along this parched and dusty desert road. The Spirit prompts him to catch up with a chariot carrying an official of the Queen of Ethiopia’s treasury. This man, we are told, is a eunuch and he has been in Jerusalem to worship. He is reading from the scroll of Isaiah out loud, as was typical in ancient times. Having caught up with the chariot, Philip is not too winded to jog along and converse with the man. The eunuch does not understand what he is reading and needs some help. Finally he invites Philip to get into the chariot with him and interpret the scripture for him. It is notable that the eunuch is reading from the prophet Isaiah, who speaks tenderly to those who may feel like outcasts from the mainstream religion. The eunuch is not reading the books of law, like Deuteronomy, that declare that “No one who has been emasculated by crushing or cutting may enter the assembly of the Lord.” (Deut 23:1) He is reading Servant Song of Isaiah that proclaims that “eunuchs who keep [God’s] Sabbaths” will be welcome in the house of God and will receive “a name better than sons and daughters.” (Isaiah 56:4-5) And the passage the Ethiopian is reading right now says “He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.” Philip explains to the man that, for the followers of Christ, this passage has been related to Jesus himself. Jesus is seen as the suffering servant who identities with the suffering and the outcast, and so shows God’s great love for them. While the law determines who is in and who is out, the prophet simply expands the circle of who is in. Jesus stood in the position of anyone who might be considered “out”, so that his followers would be compelled to expand their circle to take them in. The Spirit of Christ is already present with the Ethiopian eunuch through the words of Isaiah. Now, he wants to be “in” with this infant sect of Judaism that will become Christianity. Low and behold the chariot reaches a place where there is water, and so he asks Philip: “What is to keep me from being baptized?” Nothing, nothing at all. They come down from the chariot and Philip takes the man to the waters of baptism. This morning a young woman came to the waters of baptism right here during our worship service. When this young woman first approached me and we began a conversation about her baptism, around Christmas time, the question was not posed in the negative. Rather it was something like “how might I be baptized?” The one thing in the way was the pandemic. We discussed a virtual baptism, one in which I would say the words and lead the prayers over Zoom, and maybe her partner would administer the water to her at home. We decided against that, though, in favor of waiting a while so that we could do a real in-person, hands on baptism. What qualifies our baptismal candidates to be baptized? Basically a desire to be baptized, or in the case of an infant the desire of their parent. It takes a short while to go through the promises of baptism, and for the candidate to decide whether they want to make those promises. Usually, by the time someone has approached me, they have already made up their mind. This is what they want. I think one of the reasons why each baptism fills us with so much hope, is that we are encouraged by new people coming to faith. We are moved by their willingness to join us in Christ’s family, even when that family has shown itself to be imperfect in so many ways. These days, the question “what is to keep me from being baptized?” might be answered simply “the Church.” Philip showed an extravagant welcome by including a man who, according to the law, was excluded from the house of God. Philip heeded Isaiah over Deuteronomy, he expanded who is “in” over deciding who is “out.” This decision surely began to shape the church of Jesus Christ in new exciting ways. It expanded the church to “the ends of the earth” places like northern Africa to include people who looked quite different from the Jerusalem Jews. The Church has not always done well with this, though. Over centuries we’ve created systems and structures around our beloved sacraments. Churches say things like “when you understand, then you can receive communion” or “when you’ve turned your heart over to Jesus Christ, then you can be baptized.” In the early 90’s I traveled with my husband to Seattle Washington to visit my great uncle, George Barry. He was my grandmother’s beloved younger brother and they exchange correspondence regularly across the miles, in little blue airmail envelopes, until the end of their lives. Uncle GB had reputation in the family for being a rebel. I was intrigued to meet him. During the wartime, GB had befriended Italian prisoners of war who were commissioned to work the farm in our home village. And he brought some of these prisoners home for tea with my great-grandmother on a regular basis. I suspect she was also something of a rebel. I’ve been told that for years after the prisoners returned home to Italy, one of them would write to my great grandmother, addressing her as “my English mother.” Shortly after the end of World War II Uncle GB left the United Kingdom to start a new life on the West Coast of the United States. Uncle George Barry, told me that he had always been open and inclusive of every kind of person. Since the 1950’s he had developed wide circle of friends in Seattle, including many people of color and from all walks of life. If he were alive today he may say that he had no racism in him at all. I don’t know if that’s true, but I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt. Uncle GB actually had a gift for seeking out those, like the Ethiopian eunuch, who did not fit in. After all, he had some experience with not fitting in. Although he never officially came out to the family, it was clear that he was gay. When I visited he was living very happily with his partner, John. I’ve told you before, that I experienced a strong sense of belonging in the village Methodist chapel, where I grew up. Uncle GB told me he did not have fond memories of that same chapel. Of course, he was there a couple of generations before me, when the Methodists’ attitude was much stricter than in my time. Still, he experienced a feeling of being “out” while I experienced a feeling of being “in.” It was an oppressive environment for him. I realized that my place of belonging looked different through GB’s eyes. I wondered what church had looked like for my Sunday School friends, Mike and Devon, who came out as gay later in life. Their sense of belonging in the chapel I loved may not have been as straight forward as mine. I’m proud that in 2011, Wollaston Congregational Church modified our bylaws to clarify that “Membership is open to all and the church does not discriminate against persons based on race, color, previous religion or denomination, sex, disability, marital status, national origin or ancestry, age, sexual orientation, gender identity or expression … or any other protected class as designated by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, or as determined by the United Church of Christ. But, of course, the work of creating a church where everyone is “in” and no one is “out”, is not only a matter of words. It is an ongoing work, led by the prodding, stirring Holy Spirit, who sends us to uncomfortable places. And so, my friends of this church, as we begin the gradual process of re-gathering in person, may we be reminded that this is our work. We are called like Philip, to hear the Spirit’s prompting, to go to the weird and wild places. To discover that Spirit of Christ has gone there ahead of us. And when someone asks “What is to keep me from being baptized?” may we answer “Nothing … nothing at all.” May all God’s people say, Amen What is to Keep Me From Being Baptized? Nothing, Nothing At All Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church On Sunday May 2nd, 2021 Scripture: Acts 11:1-18 What is to keep me from being baptized? Nothing, nothing at all. This morning we heard a weird and wonderful story, about the Apostle Philip, a traveling eunuch from Ethiopia, and God’s Spirit. We haven’t heard much about Philip, so far, either in the gospel of Luke or the book of Acts. He seems to have been a quiet disciple, traveling and learning with Jesus, but not getting much of the limelight. Now, though, Philip seems to come into his own. The apostles have received the gift of the Holy Spirit. They’ve been sent to be Christ’s witnesses “in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8) Philip, as a Greek speaking Jew, has been appointed to care for the members of the community in need who are also Greek speaking. He has also traveled to Samaria to preach the gospel and began a mission there. Now, the angel of God sends him to the desert road that runs from Jerusalem to Gaza. We have to imagine that Philip is quite athletic. I picture him sprinting for miles along this parched and dusty desert road. The Spirit prompts him to catch up with a chariot carrying an official of the Queen of Ethiopia’s treasury. This man, we are told, is a eunuch and he has been in Jerusalem to worship. He is reading from the scroll of Isaiah out loud, as was typical in ancient times. Having caught up with the chariot, Philip is not too winded to jog along and converse with the man. The eunuch does not understand what he is reading and needs some help. Finally he invites Philip to get into the chariot with him and interpret the scripture for him. It is notable that the eunuch is reading from the prophet Isaiah, who speaks tenderly to those who may feel like outcasts from the mainstream religion. The eunuch is not reading the books of law, like Deuteronomy, that declare that “No one who has been emasculated by crushing or cutting may enter the assembly of the Lord.” (Deut 23:1) He is reading Servant Song of Isaiah that proclaims that “eunuchs who keep [God’s] Sabbaths” will be welcome in the house of God and will receive “a name better than sons and daughters.” (Isaiah 56:4-5) And the passage the Ethiopian is reading right now says “He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.” Philip explains to the man that, for the followers of Christ, this passage has been related to Jesus himself. Jesus is seen as the suffering servant who identities with the suffering and the outcast, and so shows God’s great love for them. While the law determines who is in and who is out, the prophet simply expands the circle of who is in. Jesus stood in the position of anyone who might be considered “out”, so that his followers would be compelled to expand their circle to take them in. The Spirit of Christ is already present with the Ethiopian eunuch through the words of Isaiah. Now, he wants to be “in” with this infant sect of Judaism that will become Christianity. Low and behold the chariot reaches a place where there is water, and so he asks Philip: “What is to keep me from being baptized?” Nothing, nothing at all. They come down from the chariot and Philip takes the man to the waters of baptism. This morning a young woman came to the waters of baptism right here during our worship service. When this young woman first approached me and we began a conversation about her baptism, around Christmas time, the question was not posed in the negative. Rather it was something like “how might I be baptized?” The one thing in the way was the pandemic. We discussed a virtual baptism, one in which I would say the words and lead the prayers over Zoom, and maybe her partner would administer the water to her at home. We decided against that, though, in favor of waiting a while so that we could do a real in-person, hands on baptism. What qualifies our baptismal candidates to be baptized? Basically a desire to be baptized, or in the case of an infant the desire of their parent. It takes a short while to go through the promises of baptism, and for the candidate to decide whether they want to make those promises. Usually, by the time someone has approached me, they have already made up their mind. This is what they want. I think one of the reasons why each baptism fills us with so much hope, is that we are encouraged by new people coming to faith. We are moved by their willingness to join us in Christ’s family, even when that family has shown itself to be imperfect in so many ways. These days, the question “what is to keep me from being baptized?” might be answered simply “the Church.” Philip showed an extravagant welcome by including a man who, according to the law, was excluded from the house of God. Philip heeded Isaiah over Deuteronomy, he expanded who is “in” over deciding who is “out.” This decision surely began to shape the church of Jesus Christ in new exciting ways. It expanded the church to “the ends of the earth” places like northern Africa to include people who looked quite different from the Jerusalem Jews. The Church has not always done well with this, though. Over centuries we’ve created systems and structures around our beloved sacraments. Churches say things like “when you understand, then you can receive communion” or “when you’ve turned your heart over to Jesus Christ, then you can be baptized.” In the early 90’s I traveled with my husband to Seattle Washington to visit my great uncle, George Barry. He was my grandmother’s beloved younger brother and they exchange correspondence regularly across the miles, in little blue airmail envelopes, until the end of their lives. Uncle GB had reputation in the family for being a rebel. I was intrigued to meet him. During the wartime, GB had befriended Italian prisoners of war who were commissioned to work the farm in our home village. And he brought some of these prisoners home for tea with my great-grandmother on a regular basis. I suspect she was also something of a rebel. I’ve been told that for years after the prisoners returned home to Italy, one of them would write to my great grandmother, addressing her as “my English mother.” Shortly after the end of World War II Uncle GB left the United Kingdom to start a new life on the West Coast of the United States. Uncle George Barry, told me that he had always been open and inclusive of every kind of person. Since the 1950’s he had developed wide circle of friends in Seattle, including many people of color and from all walks of life. If he were alive today he may say that he had no racism in him at all. I don’t know if that’s true, but I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt. Uncle GB actually had a gift for seeking out those, like the Ethiopian eunuch, who did not fit in. After all, he had some experience with not fitting in. Although he never officially came out to the family, it was clear that he was gay. When I visited he was living very happily with his partner, John. I’ve told you before, that I experienced a strong sense of belonging in the village Methodist chapel, where I grew up. Uncle GB told me he did not have fond memories of that same chapel. Of course, he was there a couple of generations before me, when the Methodists’ attitude was much stricter than in my time. Still, he experienced a feeling of being “out” while I experienced a feeling of being “in.” It was an oppressive environment for him. I realized that my place of belonging looked different through GB’s eyes. I wondered what church had looked like for my Sunday School friends, Mark and Debbie, who came out as gay later in life. Their sense of belonging in the chapel I loved may not have been as straight forward as mine. I’m proud that in 2011, Wollaston Congregational Church modified our bylaws to clarify that “Membership is open to all and the church does not discriminate against persons based on race, color, previous religion or denomination, sex, disability, marital status, national origin or ancestry, age, sexual orientation, gender identity or expression … or any other protected class as designated by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, or as determined by the United Church of Christ. But, of course, the work of creating a church where everyone is “in” and no one is “out”, is not only a matter of words. It is an ongoing work, led by the prodding, stirring Holy Spirit, who sends us to uncomfortable places. And so, my friends of this church, as we begin the gradual process of re-gathering in person, may we be reminded that this is our work. We are called like Philip, to hear the Spirit’s prompting, to go to the weird and wild places. To discover that Spirit of Christ has gone there ahead of us. And when someone asks “What is to keep me from being baptized?” may we answer “Nothing … nothing at all.” May all God’s people say, Amen What is to Keep Me From Being Baptized? Nothing, Nothing At All Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church On Sunday May 2nd, 2021 Scripture: Acts 11:1-18 What is to keep me from being baptized? Nothing, nothing at all. This morning we heard a weird and wonderful story, about the Apostle Philip, a traveling eunuch from Ethiopia, and God’s Spirit. We haven’t heard much about Philip, so far, either in the gospel of Luke or the book of Acts. He seems to have been a quiet disciple, traveling and learning with Jesus, but not getting much of the limelight. Now, though, Philip seems to come into his own. The apostles have received the gift of the Holy Spirit. They’ve been sent to be Christ’s witnesses “in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8) Philip, as a Greek speaking Jew, has been appointed to care for the members of the community in need who are also Greek speaking. He has also traveled to Samaria to preach the gospel and began a mission there. Now, the angel of God sends him to the desert road that runs from Jerusalem to Gaza. We have to imagine that Philip is quite athletic. I picture him sprinting for miles along this parched and dusty desert road. The Spirit prompts him to catch up with a chariot carrying an official of the Queen of Ethiopia’s treasury. This man, we are told, is a eunuch and he has been in Jerusalem to worship. He is reading from the scroll of Isaiah out loud, as was typical in ancient times. Having caught up with the chariot, Philip is not too winded to jog along and converse with the man. The eunuch does not understand what he is reading and needs some help. Finally he invites Philip to get into the chariot with him and interpret the scripture for him. It is notable that the eunuch is reading from the prophet Isaiah, who speaks tenderly to those who may feel like outcasts from the mainstream religion. The eunuch is not reading the books of law, like Deuteronomy, that declare that “No one who has been emasculated by crushing or cutting may enter the assembly of the Lord.” (Deut 23:1) He is reading Servant Song of Isaiah that proclaims that “eunuchs who keep [God’s] Sabbaths” will be welcome in the house of God and will receive “a name better than sons and daughters.” (Isaiah 56:4-5) And the passage the Ethiopian is reading right now says “He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.” Philip explains to the man that, for the followers of Christ, this passage has been related to Jesus himself. Jesus is seen as the suffering servant who identities with the suffering and the outcast, and so shows God’s great love for them. While the law determines who is in and who is out, the prophet simply expands the circle of who is in. Jesus stood in the position of anyone who might be considered “out”, so that his followers would be compelled to expand their circle to take them in. The Spirit of Christ is already present with the Ethiopian eunuch through the words of Isaiah. Now, he wants to be “in” with this infant sect of Judaism that will become Christianity. Low and behold the chariot reaches a place where there is water, and so he asks Philip: “What is to keep me from being baptized?” Nothing, nothing at all. They come down from the chariot and Philip takes the man to the waters of baptism. This morning a young woman came to the waters of baptism right here during our worship service. When this young woman first approached me and we began a conversation about her baptism, around Christmas time, the question was not posed in the negative. Rather it was something like “how might I be baptized?” The one thing in the way was the pandemic. We discussed a virtual baptism, one in which I would say the words and lead the prayers over Zoom, and maybe her partner would administer the water to her at home. We decided against that, though, in favor of waiting a while so that we could do a real in-person, hands on baptism. What qualifies our baptismal candidates to be baptized? Basically a desire to be baptized, or in the case of an infant the desire of their parent. It takes a short while to go through the promises of baptism, and for the candidate to decide whether they want to make those promises. Usually, by the time someone has approached me, they have already made up their mind. This is what they want. I think one of the reasons why each baptism fills us with so much hope, is that we are encouraged by new people coming to faith. We are moved by their willingness to join us in Christ’s family, even when that family has shown itself to be imperfect in so many ways. These days, the question “what is to keep me from being baptized?” might be answered simply “the Church.” Philip showed an extravagant welcome by including a man who, according to the law, was excluded from the house of God. Philip heeded Isaiah over Deuteronomy, he expanded who is “in” over deciding who is “out.” This decision surely began to shape the church of Jesus Christ in new exciting ways. It expanded the church to “the ends of the earth” places like northern Africa to include people who looked quite different from the Jerusalem Jews. The Church has not always done well with this, though. Over centuries we’ve created systems and structures around our beloved sacraments. Churches say things like “when you understand, then you can receive communion” or “when you’ve turned your heart over to Jesus Christ, then you can be baptized.” In the early 90’s I traveled with my husband to Seattle Washington to visit my great uncle, George Barry. He was my grandmother’s beloved younger brother and they exchange correspondence regularly across the miles, in little blue airmail envelopes, until the end of their lives. Uncle GB had reputation in the family for being a rebel. I was intrigued to meet him. During the wartime, GB had befriended Italian prisoners of war who were commissioned to work the farm in our home village. And he brought some of these prisoners home for tea with my great-grandmother on a regular basis. I suspect she was also something of a rebel. I’ve been told that for years after the prisoners returned home to Italy, one of them would write to my great grandmother, addressing her as “my English mother.” Shortly after the end of World War II Uncle GB left the United Kingdom to start a new life on the West Coast of the United States. Uncle George Barry, told me that he had always been open and inclusive of every kind of person. Since the 1950’s he had developed wide circle of friends in Seattle, including many people of color and from all walks of life. If he were alive today he may say that he had no racism in him at all. I don’t know if that’s true, but I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt. Uncle GB actually had a gift for seeking out those, like the Ethiopian eunuch, who did not fit in. After all, he had some experience with not fitting in. Although he never officially came out to the family, it was clear that he was gay. When I visited he was living very happily with his partner, John. I’ve told you before, that I experienced a strong sense of belonging in the village Methodist chapel, where I grew up. Uncle GB told me he did not have fond memories of that same chapel. Of course, he was there a couple of generations before me, when the Methodists’ attitude was much stricter than in my time. Still, he experienced a feeling of being “out” while I experienced a feeling of being “in.” It was an oppressive environment for him. I realized that my place of belonging looked different through GB’s eyes. I wondered what church had looked like for my Sunday School friends, Mark and Debbie, who came out as gay later in life. Their sense of belonging in the chapel I loved may not have been as straight forward as mine. I’m proud that in 2011, Wollaston Congregational Church modified our bylaws to clarify that “Membership is open to all and the church does not discriminate against persons based on race, color, previous religion or denomination, sex, disability, marital status, national origin or ancestry, age, sexual orientation, gender identity or expression … or any other protected class as designated by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, or as determined by the United Church of Christ. But, of course, the work of creating a church where everyone is “in” and no one is “out”, is not only a matter of words. It is an ongoing work, led by the prodding, stirring Holy Spirit, who sends us to uncomfortable places. And so, my friends of this church, as we begin the gradual process of re-gathering in person, may we be reminded that this is our work. We are called like Philip, to hear the Spirit’s prompting, to go to the weird and wild places. To discover that Spirit of Christ has gone there ahead of us. And when someone asks “What is to keep me from being baptized?” may we answer “Nothing … nothing at all.” May all God’s people say, Amen https://www.waterwomensalliance.org/july-august-ritual-hand-in-hand-by-diann-l-neu/ |
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