When I was a boy, we usually kept a few goats. They served two primary functions: first, so they would eat the underbrush in the wooded area below our house, and secondly, so we could eat them. Mediterraneans had nothing on us.

 

We had two billy goats who did not like the confines of their fence. Although their enclosure included a nice grassy area, they persistently sought to get at the lush hay in our neighbor’s cow pasture.

 

The older goat found that he could stick his head through the four-inch square openings of the hog wire and reach the neighbor’s grass with little trouble. Inevitably, though, his curved horns would hook the top wire and trap him. One of my daily after-school jobs was to listen for his bleating and free the stubborn goat from his self-imposed captivity.

 

The younger and nimbler goat could jump the fence, and he often did. The fence may have held others back, but it was not much of a hindrance to him—until the neighboring farmer shot him for trespassing.

 

The story of Philip is the story of an early believer who paid little attention to human barriers, even when it was risky. Philip was aware of racial and cultural differences that kept God’s many peoples separated into their respective fields, but he refused to let those fences be a barrier to him—or to the gospel message he carried.

 

 

 

Acts implies that the early church was growing rapidly when the martyrdom of Stephen (Acts 7) touched off a wave of persecution in Jerusalem, leading many Christians to flee the city. Still, God was at work in the lives of those early believers, for “those who were scattered went from place to place, proclaiming the word.” (8:4, NRSV). One of the most outspoken was Philip.

 

This would not have been Philip the Apostle, for v. 1 says the apostles remained in Jerusalem. It was probably the same Philip who was appointed as one of the seven proto-typical “deacons” called to serve the church in Acts 6:1-7 (the word diakonos means “servant,” or “minister”).

 

Philip was Jewish, but his family must have been comfortable with their Greek neighbors, for his name is Greek rather than Hebrew.

 

Like the other early “deacons,” Philip was chosen because he was “full of the Spirit and wisdom” (Acts 6:3), and when the seven were named, Philip was preceded only by Stephen the martyr. Philip was evidently a powerful and unprejudiced preacher. Upon leaving Jerusalem, he traveled to an unnamed city of Samaria “and proclaimed the Christ there” (v. 5).

 

To understand why this would be shocking, we need a bit of historical background.

 

In this context, Samaria was a geographical region located south of Galilee, in the central hill country. Historically, it was the name of a city founded by King Omri in 876 BCE as the capital of the Northern Kingdom. The prophets often referred to the entire Northern Kingdom as Samaria. [DD]

 

King Sargon of Assyria conquered Israel and destroyed the city of Samaria in 722 BCE, marking the fall of the Northern Kingdom. Many Israelites fled to Judah, but many of the more prominent Israelites were forced to emigrate to other lands, while poorer people remained. People who had been conquered in other lands were brought in to resettle the region, changing the character of its populace (2 Kgs. 17:1-6, 24). [DD]

 

When the Southern Kingdom of Judah fell to the Babylonians in 586 BCE, more captives were taken. Over the years, many of the Jewish people who remained in the area intermarried with the new settlers, as well as with other people groups indigenous to Palestine.

 

When the Hebrew exiles from Judah began to return following Cyrus’ victory over Babylon in 538 BCE, many of the returnees also intermarried with the local people. Deuteronomy 7:1-5 expressly forbade such marriages, and religious leaders such as Ezra and Nehemiah sought to enforce strict rules of purity and pedigree. They sought to end the practice, sometimes with violence (cf. Ezra 9:1-15; Neh. 13:23-27).

 

What began with a desire for religious purity became an ingrained social prejudice. Because the ethnically mixed people lived mostly in the geographic region of Samaria, they came to be known as “Samaritans.” The resulting “Samaritan schism,” as scholars call it, had long-reaching effects (see “The Hardest Question” online for more).

 

Though rejected by the self-identified “pure” Jews, the Samaritans wanted to continue practicing their Hebrew faith. To do so, they constructed a rival temple on Mt. Gerizim, and preserved their own distinctive version of the Torah, now known as the “Samaritan Pentateuch.” Pious Jews considered this to be a travesty. They avoided contact with Samaritans and would walk many miles to avoid going through a Samaritan city.

 

When Jesus came on the scene nearly 500 years later, he made a point of ignoring the Jewish/Samaritan fence. Jesus boldly traveled through Samaria and talked with Samaritans, who were just as surprised as the Jews (John 4:9). Not all of Jesus’ disciples followed him across the barrier, but Philip was one who did.

Philip believed the gospel was for all people, so as persecution drove many followers of Christ from Jerusalem, he went into Samaria and began proclaiming the gospel with high hopes that the people would be receptive.

 

The Spirit was greatly at work in Philip, according to the text. He was able to accomplish many miraculous deeds, so that “The crowds with one accord listened eagerly to what was said by Philip, hearing and seeing the signs that he did” (v. 6). Many were healed, many believed, and “there was great joy in that city” (vv. 7-8). While others saw the Samaritans as hated “others,” Philip saw people who needed the love of Christ. With that motivation, fence-jumping became worth the risk.

 

 

 

The text gives special attention to one individual from the Samaritan city, a self-promoting sorcerer called Simon who practiced the magical arts so well that “All of them, from the least to the greatest, listened to him eagerly, saying, ‘This man is the power of God that is called Great.’” (v. 10). Many who had been impressed by Simon were even more amazed by the mighty works of Philip, and so they believed in Christ and were baptized.

 

Simon also came under conviction and submitted to baptism. The text says that he “was amazed when he saw the signs and great miracles that took place,” and he began to follow him everywhere (v. 13). While this might lead us to think Simon wanted to be a disciple, the following verses suggest that me also may have been trying to learn Philip’s secrets.

 

When news of the Samaritan revival reached Jerusalem, Peter and John came out to investigate. They noted that the Samaritans’ faith was immature—perhaps, like Simon, they were only following Jesus because of the miracles they saw Philip do. When Peter and John prayed that the Holy Spirit would come into their lives and laid their hands on them (vv. 14-17), and “they received the Holy Spirit.”

 

Simon was suitably impressed. Having lost his own role as mystical leader, he offered the disciples money, seeking to purchase the secret of receiving and granting the Holy Spirit (vv. 18-19). Peter rebuked him sternly, pointing to his selfish motives (vv. 20-23), and Simon apparently repented of his shocking request and asked for forgiveness (v. 24).

 

Some Christians might have seen Simon as a satanic sorcerer, and would have avoided him like the plague. Shouldn’t we put fences around magicians, Wiccans, or any who practice other religions? If we would follow Philip’s faithful example, we must be willing to scale any fence that stands between us and people who need the gospel.

 

 

 

Learning more about the social and historical setting of the New Testament can be fascinating, but it is worth little unless we find some connection with our own lives. With this text, the connections are obvious, though we may not like them.

 

We don’t have to look far or think hard to identify religious, social, ethnic, or cultural barriers that may stand in the way of effective ministry to our communities. Are our churches open—truly open—to persons of other ethnic or economic backgrounds? Do we welcome people who may interpret scripture or understand gender roles differently than we do?

 

Would Jesus be pleased to look around most of our churches and take note that almost everyone shares the same ethnicity and similar social standing?

 

The church is likely the most racially segregated institution in America. Should that concern us? [DD]

 

Philip understood that the Samaritans were not of a different and unworthy race. They were no less human and no less in need of the gospel than anyone else—so he reached out to them.

 

It is time we understood that all people belong to one race, the human race. Genetically, there is no separate European, African, or Asian race—we may bear ethnic markers, but neither race nor worthiness in the sight of God is affected by skin color or facial features.

 

Have you crossed any fences lately?