A Queer Baptism

Pr. Jasmine Waring

Pentecost 21 B October 17, 2021

The story of the Ethiopian Eunuch is a very queer story. Queer as in the original Webster’s Dictionary definition: odd, strange and peculiar. And yes, also queer as diverting from cultural norms around gender and sexuality. The word “queer” has historically been used as a slur in order to humiliate people. However over the past few decades, LGBT folks have de-weaponized this word by reclaiming it and redefining it in a way that describes our beautifully strange, left-of-center existence. A word that was intended to cause harm, has now become a word that liberates. Eunuchs are queer people we find in scripture. They were a gender and sexual minority, who lived outside their culture’s norms. Eunuchs typically served royalty, were trusted advisors, and were in charge of harems because they were viewed as not a threat to the royal bloodline. We see an example of this in the book of Esther, where a eunuch named Hegai gave the future queen a fabulous makeover, and dressed her up so that she may impress the king. This privilege and proximity to the most powerful people of their time came at a high price. They literally gave up parts of themselves and the potential to have a family of their own, in exchange for a comfortable living. People assigned male at birth would become eunuchs voluntarily or it was forced upon them as prisoners of war. Eunuchs were also excluded from worship at the Temple, due to commands of the Law. We don’t know the name of the eunuch in our reading today, but what we do know is they were a court official from Ethiopia, which is a bit different from the country we know today. They were on their way back from Jerusalem, riding through the wilderness in chariot belonging to their queen. I wonder if they made this whole journey to Jerusalem in order to worship at the Temple, only to be sent back home because their body was unacceptable in the eyes of the Law. Heartbroken, and trying to read through blurry tear-filled eyes, I wonder if they were searching through the scroll of the prophet Isaiah to find some comfort. To find something to give them answers, a loophole, that would allow him to worship with the community of God. Then a stranger comes up to him. “Do you know what you’re reading?” he says. Quickly wiping away their tears and clearing their throat, regaining their royal professionalism, they say, “How can I, unless someone guides me?” So they both read about a man of sorrows, a suffering servant, who was like a lamb silent before its sheerer. I would imagine this image of a lamb silently waiting in line to be shorn took on a deeper meaning to the eunuch. He was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities, upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed. The eunuch asked, “Is the prophet speaking of himself or someone else?” “What’s his name?…Jesus…what happened to him?…Crucified? Yikes! What did he do to deserve that?…Wow. It’s a shame he died. He could have changed the world… He did WHAT?…Are you serious?!…Where is he now?!…If God did that for Jesus, then can God do that for me too?…How does someone get in on this?” Just then they saw a body of water off into the distance. The eunuch’s chest thumping, their stomach fluttering with butterflies, thinking, “What if I’m excluded from this too?”. They took a deep breath and commanded the chariot to stop and said, “What is preventing me from becoming baptized?”. This was a rhetorical question, they were not taking no for an answer this time. The stranger agreed there was nothing preventing them, so they both waded in the water, and the eunuch was baptized. As they arose from the waters, eyes blurry again, but this time it was tears mixed with the waters that joined them with Christ, which no one can ever separate. The eunuch turns to thank the stranger, only to find that he had disappeared into thin air. They walked back to their chariot, dripping wet, with a full and joyful heart, laughing to themselves. They returned home with a different story than what they originally expected…a beautifully strange and bigger story than anyone could imagine. According to the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, one of the oldest sects of Christianity, they believe this person brought the Gospel to Ethiopia and North Africa. Queer people have been apart of the foundation of the early church. They are not a recent addendum or peripheral to the Church, or theology. Queer people are apart of our DNA as Christians. I believe that to deny the validity of Queer Theology is to deny a part of ourselves, and miss out on the radical inclusivity of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Not only are queer people apart of our history, they are also in our present and future. Recently, the ELCA has elected two new Bishops in California. Bishop Megan Rohr, the first transgender Bishop in the Sierra Pacific Synod, and Bishop Brenda Bos, the first out lesbian Bishop in the Southwest Synod. I would have never imagined I would be a part of a church who would champion queer people like we do, and I have the privilege to stand on their shoulders. The Church is queer, beloved…odd, strange, and peculiar; diverting from cultural norms. It takes the image of a cross, that was once used to harm others, and reclaims it as an image of hope and liberation. So no matter how you identify today, May you embrace your sacred strange, the parts of you in which society tries to shame you into a box. May you be reminded that in your baptism, no one or no thing can ever separate you from Christ. May God queer your imagination, and may you disarm and reclaim the very thing meant to harm you, and may it be a tool of your own liberation. Amen.