Jan. 30 Sermon: Welcome the Stranger
Sermon, January 30, 2011
Holy Covenant UMC
Rev. Kate Hurst Floyd
Genesis 18:1-10
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Three men are on a journey, wandering through the desert, in need of a place to rest for awhile. They’re strangers in a strange land, without a place to call home. One of them doesn’t know the language at all, one has a conversational grasp, knows how to say: hello, how are you, where is the bathroom? Stuff to get by. The other, fortunately, is fluent and can translate for the others. They’ve been walking for a long time. Finally, they come into view of the tent of Sarah and Abraham.
Sarah and Abraham are looking forward to a quiet end to a busy couple of weeks. Abraham, the consummate extrovert, sits on his porch, watching the animals graze and the kids play stick ball. He eagerly awaits the possibility that somebody will wander by and he can make a new connection; perhaps his good friend will be out for a mid-day stroll, and they can catch-up for the latest nomadic gossip. Abraham’s the type who never misses his morning breakfast with the other old men at the local watering hole, talking about the weather, how their wives are nagging them lately, bragging on their grandkids. His mama always said: if you look up social butterfly in the dictionary, you’ll find a picture of my Abe.
Sarah, ready for some downtime, stays inside and settles down in the cool shade of her tent to finish a novel. She’s survived a week of cooking and hosting and intense spring cleaning, and really deserves some peace and quiet. After all, that’s a lot of work for her 90 year old body. These bones are ready for a soak in the tub and an engrossing story in which to escape. Ever since she was a girl, she preferred to keep company with the characters of books, than feel lost in a crowd of people.
Abraham, with eyes wide open for a sliver of action in this monotonous day, glimpses three travelers making their way by his tent. Hot dog! He thinks. Some company. I must welcome them here; afraid they may pass by, he runs towards them and bows down before them. He says: my lord, my fellow journeyers, if you would like, please come and rest in my tent. You are welcome here.
Have a seat, and I’ll bring you some water to wash your feet, a cool drink on this hot day, and some bread to sustain you on your journey. The traveler who is fluent, translates for his friends, and they all gratefully agree to stay, and as we say in the south, sit a spell. Abraham leaves them alone, and they talk amongst themselves. One of them says: I hope I’m wearing the right kind of tunic appropriate to enter someone’s tent, worried they might be too dirty after their travels; they don’t know exactly what kind of food to expect, how much to eat, though they are indeed hungry. And nobody has ever offered to rinse off their feet before, so they hope they are doing it right.
Abraham rushes in to find Sarah, who was right in the middle of a page-turning chapter, running her bath water and adding the bubbles…And he says, Sarah! Guess what? I’ve invited guests over for dinner! It takes her a moment to shift gears from her story. Abraham, what? What’s going on? Guests, Sarah, guests! They’re washing their feet outside and soon we will host a feast for them. Are you kidding me Abraham? Have 70 years of marriage taught you nothing? Our tent is full of clutter…in my spring cleaning I cleaned our all our food, moved the pots and pans from the cabinets, repainted them and they are airing out…the kitchen’s a mess. Plus, what are we going to fix? I didn’t go to the store. We had just enough leftovers for the two of us and it’s too hot to cook anyway. We don’t have enough food for 3 more people. Heck, I’m not even dressed…in my robe ready for a bath. We can’t have guests over for dinner.
Too late, Sarah, they’re here. So she rushes around, throws on some clothes, and heads to the kitchen. You’d think after 70 years of marriage, she would learn that this is just how friendly her husband is. Abe runs out to their servant and asks him to find the fatted calf to kill and to serve, the most luxurious meal they could provide. Sarah decides, since they are there, she might as well make the most of it. She loves to cook for a crowd anyway, it’s just been awhile. So she turns on her favorite music and prepares curds and milk and displays it all beautifully with the calf.
Abraham returns to the nervous travelers, not quite sure where to sit and whether they should eat with their hands or utensils, sitting or standing. But Abraham bursts forth from the tent, with a smile and arms full of a sumptuous feast. The guests are overwhelmed! Abe puts them at ease, making them feel comfortable, standing by and making sure they don’t need anything else.
**
Three people are on a journey, wandering through their lives in Chicago, in need of some rest, though not exactly sure what kind. One of them has made a new year’s resolution to go back to church, another was kicked out of her previous church, one guy knows something is missing and thought he’d give church a try.
So they see this church by the El, right next to the brown line stop, and have always been intrigued by the mural. One of them really likes the Bono quote on the side of the building, so decided to wander in. One of them checked us out on the web before coming, trying to get a sense of who we are, what we believe. The other one just knew this was the closest church to her house.
Here they all are, courageously stepping into this sanctuary for the first time on a Sunday morning. Not sure exactly what to expect. One of the visitors is pretty fluent in “church speak”, knows when to stand, recognizes the songs. The other one knows enough to get by—grew up in a different denomination, hasn’t been to church in 5 years, but recognizes the basic words he needs: can pray the Lord’s prayer and assumes there will be coffee and donuts when things are through. The other one has only been to church a couple of times in her life, and she feels like people are speaking a different language: What’s a doxology? Unsure of how to “show signs of peace and reconciliation with one another” (and is relieved to find it just means shaking hands). She doesn’t know a Psalm from a proverb and has never gathered around a communion table.
One at a time, they open those red doors, and walk into the unknown, in need of rest, desiring to be fed. How will they be welcomed? Will we prepare them a feast?
Maybe you’re like Abraham, a people person, and reach out readily to newcomers—approaching an unknown face with a smile, a few questions about their lives. You invite them to sit near you and show them where they can find the bathrooms and coffee in the back. After the service, you connect one of the visitors, who is a teacher, to another teacher in the congregation, widening the circle of hospitality and welcome.
Maybe you’re more like Sarah, and prefer to keep to yourself. After all, it’s intimidating to walk up to a stranger and introduce yourself. First, how do we know that person even wants to meet us? And what’s our follow-up? We’re afraid of looking stupid. Or perhaps you look forward to church so much because you get to catch-up with your friends, that it’s hard to make the time and the space to speak to a stranger.
Maybe you’re a visitor today, you courageously walked through those red doors for the first time. Unsure of what to expect, whether you would feel welcome, wondering if anybody will talk to you. And all of us came here for the first time at some point, so we can remember what it felt like. It probably wasn’t that long ago. We’re such a transient congregation, that most people stay here on average three years. So your first time in these doors, or perhaps to church ever or in a long time, wasn’t that long ago. Remember what it was like to feel included, a part of this place? Or maybe you didn’t feel welcome, and know the sting of that rejection.
It’s so important, no matter who we are, to reach out and welcome others. Listen, I know it’s hard, and can be really intimidating. It’s a skill that comes more naturally to some than others; in fact, it might make you squirm in your seat to contemplate introducing yourself to a stranger. It probably will be awkward to say to a stranger: Hi, I’m Kate, I don t think we’ve met. Welcome to Holy Covenant! It’s especially hard if we’ve put ourselves out there and tried this very thing, only to hear back: Oh, hi, I’m Samantha, and actually, I’ve been worshiping here for over a year. Oops. Like I said, we’re a transient congregation, so new people are in and out of our doors constantly, people usually worship here a couple of times a month, so you might miss one another, and now we have three services. This means that there can be two people, active regulars, for over a year who don’t know one another. So we become afraid to introduce ourselves, not wanting to seem like a fool.
Why does it matter so much? Is it really such a big deal if we don’t introduce ourselves to one another?
Let’s go back to the tent, where visitors are feasting, Sarah is cooking, and Abraham stands ready to make the guests comfortable. What we know, as readers of this text, that Sarah and Abraham don’t know, is that their guests aren’t simply wanderers looking for a place to stay. This passage, tells us, in the very beginning, that one of those visitors is actually God. God. God come to earth as a human being, seeking refuge with Abraham and Sarah.
When they welcome the stranger, they welcome God.
And when God is welcomed into their midst, God makes a promise. Not for the first time, but again and again God surprises Abraham and Sarah with hopeful news about their future, shattering all their expectations: Sarah will bear a son, in her old age, and their descendants will match the number of stars in the sky.
When the welcome the stranger, they welcome God, and abundant possibilities.
When we welcome the stranger, we welcome God. Why? Because God first welcomed us.
God came to earth, in the form of a person, feasted with Abraham and made with him a covenant that extends to us, today. Giving them a future with hope, claimed by God.
Abraham washed God’s feet and fixed him a feast.
God came to earth as a person, Jesus of Nazareth, and feasted with humanity. God, through Jesus, welcomes ALL to the table, especially eating with the sick, the hungry, the despised, extending that invitation to us through the communion table. Jesus, the teacher, stooped down and washed his students’ feet, reversing the power structure, serving us, even today. And through Jesus, God gives us the greatest welcome: abundant, eternal life.
So how can we help but wash feet, fix a feast, welcome all into our midst and into this transformational good news?
When we welcome a stranger, we welcome God, and abundant possibilities:
When a man enters these doors, his first time at church in 2 years, nervous because his home church kicked him out for being gay, and someone shakes his hand, says hello, glad you’re here, we are welcoming God.
When we say to a child, “hi, what’s your name? let me show you the coloring books and crayons we have” and says to the parents: we have a nursery downstairs, in case you or child would prefer to play during the 9:30 service—I’ll show you where it is: we are welcoming God.
When a young woman’s just been through a divorce, moved to Chicago without knowing a soul, in need of community so wanders into church, and we say: Come to the gallery, let’s sit down and have a cup of coffee: we are welcoming God.
When a college student dares to wake up early on a Sunday morning, searching for a place in a community of faith, and we say: Hi, are you new here? We have a discovery lunch after service today—you should stay for some pizza and to learn more about the church. I’ll introduce you to the leader: we are welcoming God.
Whether you identify more with Abraham, Sarah, or those travelers, I challenge you to introduce yourself to someone you don’t yet know. Share your names, a little bit of your story, maybe even dare to break bread together. So that we become a community where people expecting bread and water receive a feast. I know it can feel scary, but when we make room for one another, we’ll make room for God, and discover abundant possibilities and a future with hope.
May it be so.
Thanks be to God! Amen.
Tags: Kate
