Pamela
was the most remarkable woman I’ve ever known. She died in 2011 and I still
miss her. She was a dear friend and member of a former congregation that I
served, although she was only with us a couple years before she died.
We
celebrated her for the gifts she brought to our community. Not despite the fact
that she looked so different than the rest of us. And not because it was fine
with us that she used to be a man and now she was a woman. But we celebrated her
because she was Pam, and a part of her being Pam was the fact that she was a transgender
person.
We had
other transgender people who worshiped with us, but they always sat in the
back, as if they were afraid to engage with the community gathered. Pam
worshiped from the center of the nave. She expected to be a part of the
community. And she was, fully.
That
was evident the day she received more votes to serve on our Congregation
Council than anyone else on the ballot, including the incumbents. We had a lay
preaching group in that congregation, much as we do here at Ascension. And it was
a transcendent moment for all of us the Sunday Pamela stood in our pulpit and
preached.
Pamela grew
up in a conservative Christian church. She had a dream of bridging the gap
between the LGBT community and faith community and she called a group of faith
leaders together to work on it. That’s how I first met her, and we became
friends. She was the kind of friend I’d go out for a drink with after a
meeting. One night, she asked me, “Would it be all right if I worship with
you?” Before she ever stepped foot in our worship space, Pamela asked if it
would be all right if she worshiped with us. Have you ever asked a pastor for
permission to worship in their church?
I can
only imagine what it must be like to be in a position where you feel like you
have to ask for permission to do something that other people take for granted. Would
it be all right if I worship with you? I think
of Pamela when I read this story from Acts.
If you
were with us last week, you may remember the story of Stephen, and how he was
one of seven guys appointed to take care of the widows. Well, another one of
those guys was Phillip. This is
the story of Phillip’s encounter with an Ethiopian eunuch.
This
eunuch was returning from Jerusalem, where he had gone to worship. And he was
reading from Isaiah. He was a student of the scriptures. No doubt, then, he was
also familiar with the book of Deuteronomy, where he had read in chapter 23:
“No one whose testicles are cut off or whose penis is cut off shall be admitted
to the assembly of the Lord.” That’s the first time I’ve ever said those words
in worship because that’s a verse we don’t ever read in worship. But it’s right
there in the book of Deuteronomy and you’d better believe the Ethiopian eunuch
was aware of it because it was talking about him.
This law
strictly forbids him from entering the assembly of the Lord. He’s clearly not a
woman and a clearly not man. There was no place for a person like that among
God’s people.
Well,
despite the fact that he knew he would be turned away by the religious
establishment, the eunuch went to Jerusalem to worship. He sought God anyway.
I’m
always amazed when I meet someone like Pamela and I hear stories about how they
have been excluded from the church in painful and often cruel ways. And yet
they continue to seek God anyway.
When
Phillip joined this person who was excluded from God’s people and yet, despite
that, sought to worship God, it was a transformative moment for both of them.
The Holy Spirit was in charge, sending Phillip to this place, with the directive:
“Go and join the other.”
The
text doesn’t say why the eunuch invited Phillip to sit with him. But it doesn’t
have to. The Spirit told him to invite this nice Jewish boy – one who
represents all those who cling to the law and reject him from God’s house… “Invite
him to sit with you,” the Spirit says. “Invite, ask questions.” And in the
process, Phillip learns from the Ethiopian eunuch what it really looks like to seek
the Lord with all your heart, mind and soul.
This
story has led the author Nadia Bolz-Weber to ask, “How can I know what it means
to follow Christ unless I learn it from someone who has done so despite every
obstacle possible?” We have
so much to learn from those who have heard again and again “there is no love
for you here unless you let us change you into who we feel comfortable with you
being.” This isn’t only true for LGBTQ folks, but also those who have the wrong
personality or the wrong socio-economic status or the wrong gender or the wrong
immigration status or the wrong politics or the wrong way of believing in God.
Nadia
writes: “… we can’t actually know what this Jesus following thing is about
unless we too have the stranger show us… The truth is that we need the
equivalent of the Ethiopian eunuch to show us the faith.” We need to hear the
stranger, the other ask us, “Here is water in the desert, so what is to prevent
me from being baptized?”
I
wonder what Phillip really thought when he was asked that question. Did a part
of him want to say, “Are you kidding me? You can’t be baptized! What is to
prevent you? Everything, that’s what!” I suspect that before his conversation
with the Ethiopian eunuch that would have been exactly what he said.
But he
wasn’t in change. The Holy Spirit did a number on him and there was conversion
in that conversation. “Here is water, what is to prevent me from being
baptized?” Phillip realized the answer to that question was, nothing.
Absolutely nothing is to prevent you from being baptized.
“Would
it be all right if I worship with you?” Pamela asked me. It turned out that it
was more than all right. The saints gathered in that place were blessed beyond
measure by her presence.
Our
open communion table is a visible reminder to us of all that God calls us to be.
When we come to the table, Jesus is the one who invites us. We are his guests.
And we don’t get to make the guest list. We come to the table with those who
accept us and those who don’t. We come with those we trust and those we don’t. We
come with those who are lovable and those who aren’t. And that’s where we find
our hope.
In the
waters of baptism, and when we worship together, and when we drink the wine and
eat the bread at Christ’s table, the Spirit is forming and transforming us
through one another, for sure, but especially through the “other.”
Through
those the Spirit places in our lives to teach us what it means to truly seek
God when God’s people haven’t made it easy. The Spirit calls us, not just to be
willing to let those we consider the other into our midst because it’s the nice
thing to do, but because we are diminished without them. They may challenge us and
we may wish they were like us so we could be more comfortable with them. But we
need them to be who God created them to be so we can grow into the people God
created us to be.
Very powerful. Thank you
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