Week 6—Let the Last Word Be Love
The Center of It All
The Center of It All
“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you... I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another. – John 15:12, 17, NRSVue
Love is at the center of the gospel. When we withhold love, withhold acceptance, there is a hole in our gospel. The message becomes incomprehensible nonsense if we add asterisks, exceptions, qualifications that keep some people out. Inclusion intuitively fits our picture of Jesus as loving, and embracing the full diversity of humanity. It fits the gospel record, in which Jesus is always busting through the boundaries, opening the doors wider, challenging us to love deeper.
Affirming and inclusive theology is a consistent theology, a theology centered in love. When we feel bound to a theology that doesn't make sense of our knowledge or experience of the world, we experience cognitive dissonance. This tends to distance us from God as unknowable. It tends to separate our heart from our head.
But when we adopt a consistent theology—one that makes sense of our experience of both God and our world—our faith becomes real and invigorating. You can see your faith lived out in real life, in ways that matter.
The Widening of God’s Mercy
As we come to the end of our study, we explore three chapters (7, 12, and 14) from the Hays’ book, not sequential but all focused around the same great and powerful message from intertwined Old and New Testament passages. We begin with a bit of framing from ch. 12 and 14, then bring in the Hays bit by bit as we go along.
In ch. 14, Richard Hays writes, “Is it possible for human beings to block God’s gracious action by insisting on the strict application of God’s own biblical commandments? Or, to turn the question around, are there times when God’s Spirit breaks down conscientious human resistance by doing something new and that revises previously given laws and judgments?”
In the book of Acts we begin to see this widening of God’s mercy in all sorts of unexpected places. Peter receives a vision of God giving him all sorts of “unclean” foods. God tells him to eat, which leads to him converting Cornelius, a gentile. He says, “God has shown me that I should not call anyone profane or unclean.” Notice he doesn’t say “anything” (i.e. food), but rather anyone.
Hays points out that in the chapters that follow. Luke uses the same Greek word “koluo” or block, hinder, prevent three times in very similar ways to emphasize that this widening is from God. The triple repetition of the rhetorical question “who was I that I could block/hinder God?” shows this is important. One of those instances is in the story we will focus on today. Hays writes:
“Throughout the first 15 chapters of Acts, we see the Spirit at work, bearing witness to the resurrection of Jesus and transforming the minds of the church’s leaders, especially Peter and Paul. The Holy Spirit was leading them to ‘read backwards,’ deepening and reshaping their understanding of scripture and tradition. As Acts tells the story, the Spirit was shaping a new community: expanding the church’s understanding of the wideness of God’s grace and opening the early leaders up to embrace gentiles, whom they previously would have shunned.”
A Clobber-less Story of Only Love
We have spent the last six weeks focusing on “clobber verses,” because those are usually the barriers to the inclusive, loving theology we are intuitively drawn to. But as we come now to the end of our workshop, we turn instead to a very clobber-less passage that is purely and completely about love. Only love. It is the story of a not-so-chance encounter between the apostle Philip and an Ethiopian eunuch, recorded in Acts 8:26-39.
I love this story. I love the way the Spirit leads the way, so clear in big, bold letters. I love that this story of love and inclusion is directed by God's own self.
I also love Philip's stance. He may have been miraculously led to this wilderness road, but he doesn't come in hot with his own agenda and prepared evangelistic script. Instead, he lets the Ethiopian eunuch take the lead. Everything that follows—this wonderful, grace-filled conversation—is directed and led by the eunuch and his questions, his concerns.
Long before Philip shows up on the scene, the eunuch is reading a messianic prophesy from the book of Isaiah. And so when Philip shows up, the eunuch’s first two questions are: How will I know unless someone guides me? Who is this man?
The world can only know the Jesus we share with them. We call that “evangelism” from the Greek word evangel or “good news.” And the news of Jesus that Philip shares is definitely Good News. And yet, for most LGBTQ folks, the news that they hear from the Christian church is Bad News. It is the Bad News of shame, of exclusion, of having to hide their true selves.
If you believe, as I do, that the center of the gospel is love, if you believe that Jesus is opening the door wider and truly welcoming in ALL people without asterisks, exclusions or exceptions, that is Good News. But no one will know that unless we show them. There are voices out there—loud voices—proclaiming a gospel of Bad News. I believe that if we have been transformed by the Good News of a gospel centered around love, then we need to be sure that voice is heard as loudly and clearly as those who are proclaiming a false gospel of hate.
What will prevent me?
The Ethiopian eunuch's third question is particularly apt. As the chariot carrying him and Philip draws near a small body of water, the eunuch raises the question of baptism—the sign and symbol of God's grace and love, but also of inclusion in the Christian church. And so the eunuch asks: What will prevent me?
It's a good question.
The Ethiopian was an outsider— different from Philip in several ways: First, of all, while Philip is an ordinary working-class Jew, the man in the chariot is wealthy, privileged, and in a position of influence—the treasurer for the Queen. The other obvious barrier is that by reaching out to an Ethiopian, Philip is crossing ethnic and cultural boundaries. This story marks the beginning of the evangelization of gentiles, non-Jews, and the beginning of the Ethiopian church, which is why this story is beloved among that community.
But it's not just Ethiopians who see this story as the beginning of their story.
As a eunuch this man was an outsider in a much more significant way. A eunuch was a slave or servant who had been castrated before puberty. They were destined for positions of trust, particularly around women. It was a way to get trusted and non-threatening help in positions of power.
Yet, while eunuchs were often given a position of trust and responsibility in many places in the middle east, they were viewed by Jews with suspicion, if not outright disgust. So eunuchs existed as “sexual outsiders”—much like transgender folks in our culture.
This eunuch was on the road to Gaza—he was returning from Jerusalem. The text says he'd gone there to worship, but quite probably, when he got there, he was turned away. Deut. 32:1 states clearly that eunuchs—those who have been castrated—shall not be admitted to the Temple. That harsh rejection is repeated in Lev. 21:20. They are, both literally and figuratively “cut off.”
In the ancient world, reproducing and carrying on your legacy was considered of prime importance—as we see in stories from Abraham onward. Because they were infertile, eunuchs were considered “cursed”—as we see in 2 Kings 20:18 and Is. 39:7.
Because the man in the chariot is a eunuch—a “sexual outsider”—this text has become significant among many people who traditionally have felt like “outsiders” in the Christian Church, especially those in the LGBTQ+ community. It gives them hope that they, too, can be invited in. It is considered the birth of the queer church.
It's interesting that the eunuch is reading a text from Isaiah that points to the coming Savior. The image of Jesus as a suffering servant is particularly powerful here, because this eunuch also knew what it was to be a servant, and to suffer.
In his book Transforming, Austen Hartke writes: “The eunuch too had experienced humiliation, specifically in the form of castration, and possibly also in the form of slavery. He had been denied justice as someone whom God invited to worship in the temple, but who was nevertheless barred by human gatekeepers… the eunuch was not asking these questions because he had a vague interest. The eunuch was poring over Scripture and teasing out answers because he had to in order to survive as a gender-nonconforming, racially marginalized, royally subjugated person outside the bounds of the faith he sought to join.”
Isaiah is speaking to a people who have been exiled to a foreign land—to Babylon. As Isaiah's prophesy continues, a few chapters later we come to a prophesy of life for Israel after the exile, when they finally return home.
It's a prophesy about the new kingdom they will build in Jerusalem, but even more so it is a prophesy about life in the coming Kingdom that Jesus, the suffering servant will bring. About the great reversals to come—and the ways the coming of Christ into our world changes things.
And so the prophet tells us in Isaiah 56:3-5:
Do not let the foreigner joined to the LORD say,
“The LORD will surely separate me from his people”;
and do not let the eunuch say,
“I am just a dry tree.”
For thus says the LORD:
To the eunuchs who keep my sabbaths,
who choose the things that please me
and hold fast my covenant,
I will give, in my house and within my walls,
a monument and a name
better than sons and daughters;
I will give them an everlasting name
that shall not be cut off.
In his commentary on Isaiah, Walter Bruggemann notes how extraordinary this reversal is—that those who have been “cut off”—both literally and figuratively—are now welcomed in. Hartke writes:
“What God was giving the eunuchs, through Isaiah's proclamation, was not just a place in society, and not just hope for a future. By giving the eunuchs the same kinds of gifts given to Abraham and Sarah—a name, legacy, family, acceptance and blessing... God was giving the eunuchs a story... grounded in divine grace...
“Through Isaiah God gave me a sense of belonging that I couldn't shake. I believed that by declaring those outside the gender binary to be acceptable, God declared me acceptable… when I read that eunuchs would be made joyful in God's house of prayer, I found myself convinced that transgender people are meant not only to survive in Christian community, but to thrive...
“God did not ask the eunuchs to pour themselves into the mold of Israel's previous societal norms, nor to bend themselves to fit by taking on specifically gendered roles in the current system. Instead, God called for a transformed community that looked like nothing the people had ever seen.”
Being childless in the ancient world was a curse—your name, your life, will be forgotten. Yet the promise in vs. 5 reverses that curse. The childless eunuchs will be given a monument, a name, an everlasting name even—that will never be cut off. Bruggemann writes, “The community of Judaism is to be a community that remembers, cherishes, and preserves the name and identity of those otherwise nullified in an uncaring world.”
We can be that community. We can celebrate and proclaim that the prophesies of Isaiah have been revealed and fulfilled in the person of Jesus Christ.
Next Steps
What’s next? How can we take all that we’ve learned and be a part of God’s expansive, inclusive work? How can we be good news? Some options to consider, adapted from Transforming by Austin Hartke:
Next steps towards becoming an inclusive faith community:
1. Include an explicit statement of welcome on your website. Note that most churches say something like “all are welcome” but don’t always mean it, so we have to spell it out.
2. Create an advocacy group in your church that will commit to dialogue with your denominational governing board about LGBTQ+ inclusion.
3. Offer adult ed classes on topics related to sexuality, gender and gender identity.
4. Have a presence at your nearest LGBTQ+ Pride celebration
3. Encourage participation and leadership of LGBTQ people in the life of the church
4. Create a gender-neutral restroom in your church building. If you have a single-occupant restroom in the building all you have to do is change the sign.
5. Use inclusive language for the congregation in sermons, liturgies, bulletins and fliers.
6. Make sure all church leaders—youth leaders especially—have had some training on LGBTQ diversity so they can respond compassionately and knowledgably.
Next steps for individuals:
1. Educate yourself on the basics, and then keep going. See the list of resources at holdingfaith.org for great ways to continue learning and growing.
2. Always use someone's correct name and pronouns. If you're not sure what pronouns someone uses, just ask. If you make a mistake, apologize, correct yourself and move on—no need to make a big deal. Practice pronouns that are new to you.
3. Read the work of LGBTQ+ educators, theologians, and justice workers.
4. Practice interrupting negative conversation. If you are in a safe space and hear someone speaking negatively about someone because of their sexual or gender identity, consider stepping in and explaining why that's not OK.
5. Be vocal in your support so people around you know its all right to express their own support or even to come out.
6. Donate to organizations like Trevor Project that promote LGBTQ inclusion.
“Crossing Boundaries”—my sermon exploring this story in more depth, can be found at www.holdingfaith.org/videos, along with a list of resources for more exploration or for finding an inclusive faith community.
The Hays conclude their book with this decisive statement: “We advocate full inclusion of believers with differing sexual orientations not because we reject the authority of the Bible. Far from it: we have come to advocate their inclusion precisely because we affirm the force and authority of the Bible’s ongoing story of God’s mercy... We believe that scripture’s portrayal of God’s wide and ever-opening mercy provides sufficient warrant for anyone who remains doubtful to come down on the side of generosity and grace...It seems to us that God is moving on again, whether we like it or not.”
In the epilogue, Richard Hays reflects with great humility on the negative impact his earlier, more conservative writing had on the LGBTQ+ community: “I regret the impact of what I wrote previously... That judgment was not informed by patient listening to my fellow Christians... I was more concerned about my own intellectual project than about the pain of gay and lesbian people inside and outside the church, including those driven out of the church by unloving condemnation... The present book can’t undo past damage, but I pray that it may be of some help.”
The Widening of God’s Mercy was published in September 2024. Richard Hays died Jan. 3, 2025. May these final, beautiful words be a fitting legacy for a man of honest and humble faith. Let the last word be love.
Madeleine L’Engle wrote, “We draw people to Christ not by loudly discrediting what they believe, by telling them how wrong they are and how right we are, but by showing them a light that is so lovely that they want with all their hearts to know the source of it.”
May you reflect the beautiful light of Jesus' broad and inclusive, boundary-breaking love.
Our Lord Jesus, Let us be people who say yes. Yes to welcome. Yes to invitation. Yes to radical acts of hospitality. Yes to breaking down barriers. We say yes. In Jesus' powerful name, Amen.