May 10, 2009: Easter V

The Rev. Connie Reinhardt

So what's the deal with this story? The one from Acts, I mean, the story of Philip and this Ethiopian court official.

Here's the outline of this story, the highlights:

So what strikes you about this story? What stands out the most to you?

I see a few things in this story. One is about Philip. He must have been an interesting guy. He's not the same Philip from the gospels, the disciple of Jesus; this Philip is another one, who shows up in a few stories from Acts. Including the story that immediately precedes this one, when Philip, we're told, went to Samaria. You might remember Samaria from the gospels, when Jesus tells the parable of the Good Samaritan, and has a conversation with a Samaritan woman at a well. These stories don't particularly stand out to us, really. But they spoke strongly to Jesus' original hearers because they didn't like the country of Samaria or its people. Samaritans were considered heretics; it was a country where there was a lot of racial mixing; Jesus' listeners generally didn't like Samaria or its people.

But Philip has already gone and preached the gospel there; and now here he is with the Ethiopian man. Philip seems to be a 'circle ever wider' kind of a guy.

Then there's the Ethiopian man himself. He too is a pretty interesting character. He is both insider and outsider at the same time. There are the ways his is an insider: He is wealthy (he rides in a chariot); he is educated (he's reading a Greek translation of the Bible). He is 'devout enough to study the prophet Isaiah.' and he's 'humble enough to know that he can't (fully) understand what he is reading without help.' He himself expresses hospitality to Philip, inviting Philip to join him in his chariot. But he's also an outsider. As one commentator says, 'He belonged to the wrong nation, held the wrong job, possessed the wrong sexuality.'

So we can wonder Is the Ethiopian man in or is he out? Is he welcome in the household of God, or is he not? Will Philip see beyond the surface of who he is - his country, his personal status, his race? Will Philip see a heart that is seeking God in this man? Or won't he? Well, Philip does. And that's what's meaningful and powerful in this story. Philip baptizes him. Philip welcomes into the faith, just like that.

It's worth reflecting on the deeper meaning of this story, the wider context, its place in the bigger picture. One commentator has called what is going on in the Acts story a 'holy reorienting.' And that's something to consider. We see this holy re-orienting throughout the book of Acts, including in our story. Consider:

A holy re-orienting. Paul has a vision of Jesus and changes his life, becoming the face of the newly forming Christian community, a personal transformation which is representative of the reach of Jesus Christ. Paul does something new. Peter also has a personal transformation, and he lets go of his previous beliefs and starts to live his newly-found truth, resulting in the wider sharing of the gospel. Peter does something new. Philip seems to have already gotten it; he is in the right place at the right time to share the gospel with this man - offering the baptism of Jesus to this Gentile, this foreigner. Philip does something new.

It's really quite striking. What is to keep me from being baptized? the Ethiopian man asks. And taken on the face of it, the answer could be - a lot. His country of origin. His race. His status. But that's not what Philip acts from. He could have, but he didn't. Philip hears the Holy Spirit offering a different answer to that question, what is to keep me from being baptized? The answer Philip hears? Absolutely nothing. Let's do it. And in the process, the Holy Spirit blows down some more walls.

This is, indeed, a 'holy re-orienting.' It is a widening of the circle. It is a direct line from these stories of the Acts of the Apostles, and Philip and the Ethiopian man, to us. They are doing a new thing, and because they did, we are here worshipping God together, being moved by the Holy Spirit, and seeking and finding the presence of Christ.

As I was reflecting on this story this week, I was thinking about the Anglican Communion. I know, kind of strange. The Anglican Communion is the somewhat loose affiliation of churches that trace their roots back to the Church of England. It, and the Episcopal Church, have made some headlines in recent years as the church . . . reckons with how inclusive it is or wants to be, particularly though not exclusively with gay and lesbian people. This, of course, is old news to most of us. The wider goings-on may or may not have had any effect on the way we do church here in the Diocese of Washington and in our parishes.

But what interests me in this reckoning that some parts of the church are doing is this: those who are unhappy with the full inclusion of gay and lesbian people in the Episcopal Church regularly call this inclusion 'recent innovations.' Have you noticed this? Recent innovations. Like this is a bad thing.

I interpret it as their way of being dismissive - it's a 'recent innovation,' and therefore suspect. Their intent, I think, is to stake out their position as the 'traditional' ones, and therefore the 'better' ones - from their point of view. This word 'innovation' for them is a dirty word, that's what I've noticed. Like we who have embraced this position of inclusion and welcome are somehow less Episcopalian or less Christian. Specifically because they consider us to be embracing of 'innovation.'

Okay: am I missing something here? Since when did innovation become a negative? Since when did our tradition not include reason, experience, and the Holy Spirit? Since when did the God who says ÒBehold, I am about to do a new thing,Ó and ÒBehold, I am making all things newÓ become bad news? Innovation is bad? What? Because I sure didn't get the memo. Bishop Chane didn't get it. Many of you might not have gotten it. And I'm not sure that Philip did either.

In this story from Acts, and in the part immediately preceding it, Philip first brings the good news of Jesus Christ to the Samaritans, and then to this Ethiopian official. Both outside of the line that the early Christian community had started to set. What is Philip doing by baptizing this man if not an innovation?

What did Peter do in understanding that God shows no partiality, baptizing Cornelius the centurion, if not an innovation?

What did Jesus do in offering the living water of the gospel to the Samaritan woman, if not an innovation?

Of course there's a place for tradition. Of course tradition should be valued. Of course our history is important. But God is still speaking. The Holy Spirit is still moving. That didn't stop with Jesus, or with the Apostle Paul, or with the early church, or with the middle ages, or with the 1928 prayer book.

I say, let's embrace innovation as the gift it is. Because here's a news flash: for a God who says 'Behold I am making all things new,' innovation is another way of saying the movement of the Holy Spirit. The God who says, 'Behold, I am about to do a new thing' sends that Holy Spirit to open up doors that may be closed, to blow through even the cracks and the crevices that have become covered with dust and cobwebs.

I think innovation is a word that is of God, and an action that is of God. And stories like today's from Acts highlights that reality. Maybe that's the lesson, and that's the challenge, for us to take with us this morning, as we pray to a God who is making all things new. Amen.