The Scandal of God's Welcome: Sermon for Proper 19C

A few years ago when my kids were little, we had gone to the mall with one of our good friends and her kids. Since her baby was in a stroller, and they don’t allow strollers on escalators, we had gone into one of the department stores to use the elevator, which moved at a glacial pace. As we herded all of our kids off on the middle floor of this store, one of them stayed back on the elevator and pushed the button while we were bent over the baby. We didn’t realize what had happened before the elevator had actually departed, so we had to wait to see what floor the elevator stopped at. 

My friend stayed with the other four kids while I then took the store escalator to the floor it had stopped at. Yet when I got there, no kid. So I called on the cell phone, to find out that the little imp had stayed on the elevator and pushed the button back down, and the door had opened and -- voila! There he was. Yet when the kid got off the elevator, he was actually mad at us—and told us we were “bad” for getting lost. No, YOU were lost, his mom replied. “No mama. I stayed in the elevator. I didn’t know where you were. YOU were lost,” he insisted. 

 In her relief, his mother stopped being mad at him, though. Our immediate reaction was gratitude and joy at getting him back safe and sound. As he continued to be mad at us, it was then a struggle not to burst out laughing at his insistence that wehad been the ones lost, which would have led to a full-blown meltdown in public, so we managed to hold it in. Eventually everyone calmed down, and we went about our shopping excursion without further incident. 

I guess it all depends on your perspective—which party counts as lost, and which party counts as the found. 

And that’s exactly the point that Jesus is making with our two little parables today. Those who the religious leaders see as the lost—sinners and tax collectors—are actually the ones doing the finding: they’ve found Jesus, and are following him about to learn from him. They have taken a significant step toward aligning themselves with Jesus’s message. There’s an aura of wonder and relief on the part of those so-called “sinners.” The fact that they are also eating with Jesus—in Luke Jesus does an awful lot of teaching at the banquet table, as we have noted before—shows that there is joy, because big communal meals were festive occasions. 

Through God’s radical welcome, embodied by Jesus’s refusal to be bound by societal categories of exclusion, they have gone from being outcasts to invited guests. So of course there is joy. The word joy is the most common word in our gospel passage for today, in fact. And here the gospel reinforces what we are talking about in our Invite Welcome Connect ministry. When we invite people to come to church with us, we are showing how much we value them by inviting them into accompanying us on our spiritual journey, inviting them into this place which is such a treasured part of our lives. 

Jesus invites those who were overlooked and outcast specifically to come talk with him and eat with him, and in doing so proclaims their worth to the world. So, I wonder if the religious leaders who are challenging Jesus and grumbling at him actually get that, by their refusal to themselves sit down with those they look down on, that THEY are the lost ones? I doubt it. They seem pretty sure that they are righteous. 

The Pharisees and scribes are certain of their righteousness—they are the 99 sheep. They are unified as a community by their righteousness. Sinners are outcasts through their own fault, and it stands to reason that they have to change in order to rejoin the “flock.” Yet here it is the righteous who are abandoned by the shepherd for the sake of the one sinner who is lost. This is not how the Pharisees believe society should be ordered—sinners are lost through their own fault, and therefore count for nothing. 

Jesus does not agree. I am convinced that he is challenging his opponents to examine with new eyes who were the lost, and who were the found here. Our opening verse states that the sinners and tax collectors had found Jesus and were coming near to listen to him. It’s the scribes and Pharisees that hold themselves aloof, who have wandered away from the flock. Jesus is talking about lost sheep and coins with the leaders, those who undoubtedly think they are not lost—and yet they certainly not only fail to understand Gpd’s love but reject God’s economy as Jesus embodies it. Their self-righteousness has blinded them and unmoored them. They see Jesus’s welcome as a scandal. 

In the second parable, that of the woman and the lost coin, Jesus sets up a similar situation. But this second story is more shocking to those grumbling against Jesus, because this time the part of God is played by a woman. Once again, it is God (as the woman) who takes the initiative to find what is lost. Further, Jesus lets the so-called sinners even further off the hook, here—because of course the coin is not at fault for being lost—it can’t wander off on its own, like a sheep can. 

In both stories, God (as the shepherd or the woman) takes the initiative to find the lost. The entire way of life for the Pharisees and scribes is being challenged here. They believe that the righteous should not be counted for less than the lost-- but that is exactly what Jesus is saying with this parable. They also believe that sinners should have to work for their redemption through adopting right actions—but the shepherd doesn’t require anything of the lost sheep or coin. God carries the lost back into community after seeking out the lost. Just as we saw in the Jeremiah reading last week, it is God who is faithful and constantly approaching the lost and initiating reconciliation. 

God’s welcome can be scandalous, though, to those who don’t see how lost we ALL can become. I also am convinced that Jesus’s parables here are not meant to taunt the Pharisees, but actually preach a word of comfort to them, if only they could let go of their hard-hearted desire to ostracize and punish those that they think are beneath them. After all, if the shepherd had simply shrugged at the loss of the one, and remained with the 99, the message would have been that one sheep had no value. And by extension that means individually each of the sheep have no value. No sheep would have been safe. But by being willing to do anything to find the lost sheep, all sheep are assured of their individual preciousness and worth in the eyes of the shepherd. 

With these two little parables, Jesus makes it clear that the Pharisees should not be disgusted by Jesus eating with “sinners,” but should themselvesembrace their common humanity and sit with the sinners, too. Remember, the parable about the shepherd starts off with placing the Pharisees in the role of the shepherd: “Which of you…” Jesus asks them, and the gloves come off right there. Because they identify as being the godly, they of course are expected to behave as God would. God is willing to risk everything to have the lost returned to the flock. Can they say the same? 

God’s boldness and relentless love can seem overwhelming. After all, we live in a context in which we carefully consider risk and reward before doing almost anything. And so that question Jesus asks challenges us as much as it did those Pharisees and scribes, so long ago. 

"Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?” 

What would we say in response? I am willing to bet, that with the exception of maybe Sherrie Algren, most of us have very little familiarity with work with flocks or herds or any number of animals above the amount of three. But even those of us who are hard-core suburbanites can look at the details of this question and wonder if Jesus isn’t being just a bit, um, impractical. The details are this: One hundred sheep. One lost. 100-1=99, left in the wilderness—WILDERNESS, mind you, where there are lions and tigers and bears, oh my-- to go find one that didn’t have the sense to stay with the herd? 

Seems like any shepherd who might act like Jesus’s proverbial shepherd might end up with not just 99, but maybe even 70. 
Or maybe 50. 
Or maybe none. 

There are a lot of wolves out there in the wilderness, after all. 

The practical thing is to hang on to those 99 who had the sense not to wander off and chalk the lost one up to Darwinism in action. Yes, it’s sad, we often tell ourselves, but you can’t save everyone. 

But this is where the values of the gospel once again encourage us not to be bound by any law but the law of love and community. That shepherd goes after the one because without that one his flock is not complete. He will always know that the one was lost. Jesus’s love is not a practical love—it is an extravagant love that doesn’t count the cost but instead rejoices at the prospect of gain. 

Jesus’s love is a prodigal love. Jesus insists, “NO, we can save everyone. Everyone—meaning every ‘one’-- matters.” And what if all the sheep went with the shepherd to help look for the lost? Isn’t that our call, too? God’s love insists, especially, that each particular life matters, and insists against the brutal calculus of the world that the lives of the oppressed are precious. 

We’re the ones who keep trying to create artificial barriers of competition in claiming status as God’s beloved—we’re the ones who do that, not God. God’s love is not like pie, after all—there’s plenty enough to go around. The gospel always slaps us upside the head and reminds us that God’s love for us isn’t practical, but extravagant, bountiful, abundant. 

Which of you, Jesus asks, would not go out and rejoice over the sheep being found? Jesus is calling us to put aside our assumptions and allow ourselves to be open and vulnerable with each other. Sometimes the person who seems to have it all figured out inwardly feels as lost and as lonely as that missing sheep. We never know the struggles or burdens others are carrying, despite appearances. Jesus calls us to look beyond the surface and rejoice rather than grumble when another person is invited to the banquet, when another sheep is found. Let us rejoice at the scandal of God’ welcome. 

Amen.

Preached at the 505 on September 14 and at 8:00 and 10:30 am on September 15, 2019 at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville, MO.

Readings:
Jeremiah 4:11-12, 22-28Psalm 141 Timothy 1:12-17Luke 15:1-10

Prayer 2417: Inspired by Matthew 2:13-23

Almighty God, we lift our hearts to you, 
that they may be purified of all meanness
and poverty of spirit, 
that our wills may be molded by your love. 

Blessed Infant Jesus, 
who was forced to flee the rampages of a tyrant, 
guide us to open our arms and hearts to all 
who seek refuge from storm or violence. 
Help us, O God, to hear the cry of innocents 
as they seek assistance and respite. 
Help us to remember the blessings without number 
that you have showered upon us, O Savior, 
and let us respond to those in need 
with compassion and welcome. 

Spirit of the Living God, 
burnish us with goodness and mercy 
that we may broadcast grace 
with every action we take today. 
Gather within your arms, Lord Christ, 
all who cry out for help of relief, 
and grant your peace to those whose cares we lay before you.

Amen.

Prayer 2122

Abiding One,
You are our ever-present strength and help,
and we lift our hearts to You in praise and prayer,
worshipping You in gladness.

We give You thanks, O God,
for the blessing of each other,
whether friend or new acquaintaince,
for your surrounding us with companions to help us along our way
and for us to help along their way.
Let us welcome those we meet,
and care for the refugee and stranger in our midst,
just as You, Lord Christ,
show us how to do.
May we extend the hand of fellowship, kinship, and healing,
greeting You in the greeting we afford to each other.

Spirit of God, fill us with wisdom and goodwill,
with charity, faith, and love,
that we may embody the gospel into the world.
Grant your peace and comfort, O Holy One,
to all whose hearts are in your care,
especially those for whom we pray.

Amen.

Welcome Wisdom: Sermon for Proper 20 B

Mark is always hard on the disciples, constantly making them seem foolish—the opposite of wise. In today’s gospel, they are painted as being too thick to understand what the gospel writer, with his gift of time and hindsight clearly understands—that Jesus will be handed over and killed. Then they are depicted about arguing over status just at the time that Jesus is trying to tell them what lies in store in the future. They seem to engage in foolish posturing and competition just at the time when they should be engaged in seeking the heart of wisdom. They are silent just when they should be asking questions.

The wisdom of the world is often used for personal advantage. And here we see the disciples engaging in just that. Having heard again Jesus’s prediction of his passion and death, they respond by arguing about who is the greatest among them.

Many references are made to the claim that the time we live in is “The Information Age.” Many of us carry in our pockets phones that have computing power 1500 times greater than one of the four navigational computers on board the Apollo spacecraft. We can look up almost any fact we wonder about in little more than a blink of an eye. And strangely, most of us use that incredible power to watch videos of baby goats in pajamas. We may not be any smarter, now, but at least we’re happier, and our blood pressure is down, too.

Nonetheless, it’s pretty clear that knowledge or information does not produce wisdom. And the definition of wisdom in our world can also be slippery. Literally. When we consider how repeatedly we hear ruthlessness, manipulation and cheating being extolled as being “smart” or “clever,” we have to begin to think that wisdom, especially the wisdom of God that we have been urged to seek in our readings for the past several weeks, has to mean something else entirely.

Just like our readings from Psalm 1 and James, Jesus points out that the wisdom of God, and the way it orders our lives, turns worldly wisdom upside down. To illustrate this, first Jesus talks about the importance of servant leadership, which then as well as now sounded like an oxymoron. To further make his point, Jesus then places a little child in the center of the disciples, and equates welcoming that little child with welcoming Jesus himself, the Son of God, who is also sometimes referred to as the Wisdom of God.

Our epistle states that living a good life—one framed by gentleness and virtue-- is the very heart of Godly wisdom. The Wisdom of God is so important in ordering our lives that the Psalter begins by specifically naming wisdom as a blessing par excellence. Our reading from James reminds us of specific characteristics of those who cultivate and seek the wisdom of God:
purity, peaceableness, gentleness,
being willing to yield and not insist on your own way,
being merciful, productive, impartial, sincere.

Does this list sound familiar? Try this passage to see if you can hear any echoes:
“If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels,
but do not have love,
I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.
And if I have prophetic powers,
and understand all mysteries and all knowledge,
and if I have all faith,
so as to remove mountains,
but do not have love,
I am nothing.
If I give away all my possessions,
and if I hand over my body so that I may boast,
but do not have love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient; love is kind;
love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude.
It does not insist on its own way;
it is not irritable or resentful;
it does not rejoice in wrongdoing,
but rejoices in the truth.
It bears all things,
believes all things,
hopes all things,
endures all things."

Do you recognize this passage? 1 Corinthians 13. Here we see Paul describe the faithful love and charity of true discipleship with some of the same characteristics James uses to describe God’s wisdom. Wisdom that grounds us in what really matters—seeking justice that is the only foundation of true peace, serving rather than being served, embodying humility and compassion as we seek to follow Jesus.

The way of wisdom, the way of welcome into God’s household, is also the way of mercy, grace, and above all, love. Welcoming little children—with all their joy and purity and sometimes noise and even their mess—is the same as welcoming me, Jesus reminds us. That’s no small thing. In Jesus’s time, and even echoing in our own laws today, little children were not accorded full status as persons. They were explicitly viewed as the property of their father, in fact, part of his household. They had less than no status.

Yet it cannot be denied that, when they’re not cranky or hungry or wet-- because let’s face it, everyone should get a pass when that’s going on—they also embody many of those same qualities: especially purity, gentleness, kindness, an openness to affection and love. But children, like servants, had no social status.  The kind of wisdom Jesus urges us to embrace turns all the calculations of the world on their heads.

And so, what a blessing that this weekend, St. Martin’s formally welcomes a little child as a new Christian into the household of God. Today, we will baptize Imogen, and I mean that “WE.” We will surround her and her family within the community, welcoming her in the waters of baptism, gathered around both font and altar as one body of disciples.

One of the things I most love about the Episcopal Church’s practice of baptism in our current prayer book is that it makes clear that the welcoming of a new Christian is not to be done privately, unless under extenuating circumstances. Instead, just like in our gospel, that new Christian, whether a little child or an adult, is placed in the midst of the disciples. We all stand around that child, and together we join in recommitting ourselves to the baptismal covenant once again. We commit ourselves to supporting the newly baptized, and we repeat again just what the basic wisdom of the Christian life entails in a series of 8 questions.

Let’s look at those again. Please turn in your prayer books to pages 304 and 305. The first three questions recapitulate the Apostles Creed by asking, Do you Believe in God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit? The last five questions then move to actions that flow out of those beliefs—actions that outline the wisdom of God that bears good fruit in our lives. We know that these questions shift from beliefs to action by the change in the question words themselves, in the shift from “Do you believe?” to “Will you?”

Listen to the active verbs in these questions:

Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?

Will you persevere in resisting evil and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?

Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?

Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?

Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?  

And in answer to each question, we answer “I will, with God’s help.” That’s also key. The life of faith is NEVER a life lived in isolation, thrown upon our own meager and faltering resources. The life of faith is always strengthened and aided by God’s abundant mercy, grace and love. The life of faith is lived in community with God and with each other. That’s why the wisdom of welcome and love is so important. And that also why the wisdom of welcome and love we are called to practice as a community of wisdom seekers is so extraordinary when actually put into practice.

Will you continue in learning, in fellowship, communion, and prayer?

Will you persevere against sin, repent, and return when you miss the mark?

Will you proclaim God’s good news of reconciliation by who you are and what you say?

Will you seek, and serve, and love all persons as much as seek, serve, and love yourself?

Will you strive and respect every human being, and not just tolerate but celebrate their dignity—rich or poor, sick or well, friend or stranger, old or young?

This is the wisdom of welcome, beloveds, that we are called to commit to as disciples. Wisdom that doesn’t seek advantage or calculation, but, always and everywhere, serving each other in purity, gentleness, and love.

As you are standing with Imogen and with each other renewing your promises, look up. Look at the faces all around you. Each one of the people around you is also a beloved child of God, as beloved in God’s sight now as when they too were children. Know that you are also beloved children of God. 

The heart of the Christian life is shared life. A shared life is an abundant life. The promises we make as Christians we make with one voice in community at baptism-- as individuals, yes, but also as the community of St. Martin’s, within the universal Church that exists through time. With God’s help, may we always re-member and embody the welcome we have received into Christ’s Body, and continue to witness to the abundant welcome and love of God we each ourselves receive, again and again, through our Savior, Jesus.

Amen.

Preached at the 505 on September 22, and at 8:00 and 10:15 am on September 23 at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville.

Readings:
Proverbs 31:10-31
Psalm 1
James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a
Mark 9:30-37

Images:
1) and 2)- Icons representing Mark 9:37.
3) Baptism photo by Jill Gould.

Prayer 1974: inspired by Psalm 90

O God our Refuge, we find our home in You,
Who welcomes all who wander,
all who seek shelter and protection.
O Merciful One, you bring us under the shadow of your wing,
and turn away no one who seeks You:
may we embody your mercy and lovingkindness,
humbly giving thanks for your salvation and love.

Lord God, forgive us our faithlessness and cynicism,
our consumption without concern for tomorrow
or the needs of those around us:
set our hearts again within your law of love,
and strengthen us in integrity and communion.

Teach us to number our days, O Spirit of Wisdom,
that we may apply the time you have given us
to growing in compassion and discernment,
pursuing justice and reconciliation
with hearts grateful for your saving grace.
In the name of Jesus, grant your comfort and rest
to those whose needs we now lift before You, as we pray.

Amen.

(Psalm 90) 

Prayer 1973: Welcoming All in God's Name

Most Merciful God,
we thank you for the gift of this new day.
Let us spend this day in joyful service
to the coming of your kingdom on earth:
may we make your will for justice and true peace our own.
Remembering how often we ourselves have been forgiven,
let us be forgiving and loving in all our ways,
reconciling and healing in the name of Jesus,
and welcoming all in his name.
Holy One, sanctify us and strengthen us today,
to courageously witness to your generous gospel of love,
that all may have life and have it abundantly.
We also ask your blessing and comfort
upon all who are in anxiety, distress, or pain,
especially those whose needs we lift before You.

Amen.

Prayer, day 1686

Three friends and their teacher at a school for the hearing impaired in Cuba.

O Creator God,
we thank you for this beautiful Earth
You have made as our abode.
We thank you for the family of humanity
in all the places we call home.
Help us to know and celebrate
the common bonds that unite us
regardless of race, creed, wealth, or nationality.
We thank you for those who care for the lost,
who comfort the sick,
who welcome the stranger.
Help us cherish each other
and learn from each other,
tied together in mutuality
as Your beloved children.
Strengthen those who sorrow or who hurt or who fear, 
especially these we now name.

Amen.
972

Embraced and Welcomed: Sermon for Proper 8A, the 4th Sunday after Pentecost

Presiding for the first time as priest as I say farewell to the people of Good Shepherd who welcomed me two years ago.

Readings:
Genesis 22:1-14
Psalm 13
Romans 6:12-23
Matthew 10:40-42

Good morning.

Well, it’s come down to this at last. You get to see me in yet another in a series of weird get-ups, because that is the Episcopal way.

I laughed out loud a little when I first read the readings appointed in the lectionary for this Sunday, because they can seem at first glance to be a mixed bag. I was comforted by the fact that this is like the third week in a row that that has been the case. I mean, here we are, just wanting to enjoy summer, and Matthew’s gospel gives us Jesus talking about persecution, and swords, and division, and even alienation.

So today’s readings start to pile it on pretty heavy. There’s the story of Abraham nearly engaging in human sacrifice of his son Isaac. Then our psalm resonates with feelings of loss and abandonment. But, thank God, then we make a turn. Romans then begins to offer a glimmer of hope by reminding us that, no matter how much sway sin may hold over our lives, that God’s love and embrace of us is greater than anything we might do to break the bonds of love between ourselves and God. Paul reminds us that we all have to serve somebody, as Bob Dylan famously reminded us in a song or two, and that’s not a bad thing, but rather a wonderful thing, because the way of service is the way of Christ. God’s love, through it all, embraces us, and holds us fast.

You know, the last few days have been full of a lot of embraces. On Thursday I was ordained to the priesthood with my beloved friends Andrew and Maria—we are known as the littermates, and we aim to make that term look good! (Our bishop referred to us as a litter of kittens, and I can honestly say that’s the first time I have EVER been called kittenish.)

But there were lots of embraces, and blessings, and a fantastic sermon, and beautiful music, and the laying on of hands, and tears of joy, at least on my part. And I am riding that wave into the beach right now to be here among you, my beloveds of Church of the Good Shepherd, which now is something I share with dear Maria-- may her ministry among you be long and prosperous. Andrew, Maria, and I have all been blessed to be attached to this parish, and we thank you.

So then I was glad when I read our short but insistent gospel passage, and saw that it was centered around the concept of welcome. I want to start by thanking you for the welcome, love, and grace you have extended to me for the last two years as we have learned and laughed and labored together. It has been a joy and privilege to have you accompany me as I have been your seminarian intern and later your transitional deacon. I am grateful beyond words to Pamela and Susan for teaching me how to lean into this strange and wonderful calling as first your seminarian, and then your deacon, and now a priest. Thank you for all you have done and continue to do as a parish, and for your embrace of me as I have learned and walked alongside you all.

Embraces are interesting things. They only work when both parties spread wide their arms, open themselves to each other, and are willing to press heart to heart together. There really is no such thing as a one-sided embrace, as anyone who has tried to hug an effusive toddler turned overnight into a recalcitrant teenager may know.

It’s easy to show hospitality to people we know. It’s much less awkward and more comfortable. It’s not very risky. This is why this gospel today is so precious, because it calls us out of our familiar rut and reminds us of the thread of radical welcome and call to hospitality that runs throughout scripture.  We see welcome exemplified starting from Genesis 18, when Abraham welcomes the angelic visitors who speak God’s own promise of children to a couple who has almost given up hope. Welcome is commended through the Letter to the Hebrews, when Christians are urged to welcome everyone, because you never know when you might be entertaining angels without recognizing them as such. Here’s a hint: the less "angelic" they seem, the more likely we are to be led to a deeper knowledge of the love of God through them.

If you have ever been shown hospitality by a stranger, you know what a holy thing that is. When I was 17, my mother took me to the UK and to Germany after my high school graduation. We arrived in London on an early Sunday morning, and as I was a new Episcopalian, the first thing I wanted to do was to worship in an Anglican Church. We found one not far from Heathrow, and were treated to a beautiful Morning Prayer service. At the door, the vicar greeted us. When he found out we were newly arrived from America, he insisted we come back to his parsonage for a real English breakfast. I’m sure his wife was thrilled. But we were treated to wonderful conversation, a lovely tour of his rose garden, the strange programming of the BBC on Sunday mornings (a tractor plowing methodically, back and forth, through the English countryside, presented without commentary, for hours). We shared a wonderful meal of boiled bacon, fried tomatoes, bangers and mashed, and even wee glasses of sherry. It obviously made quite an impression on me, as I remember it all these years later.

And in all of our family’s travels, we often encountered the same thing. There was the Korean woman who pulled my little brother off a platform in the New York subway right before he could have been knocked onto the tracks, who then insisted we go to church with her at her Korean Presbyterian Church. There was the time we three kids were dancing during a festival to honor the dead in Japan, and apparently the sight of three blond children in kimonos pretending to slay a dragon as we danced in a circle with the townsfolk was considered charming, because candy and other small gifts were pressed into our hands all night.

All of these experiences came to me as I read this gospel. Welcome is one of the key concepts of scripture. The word shows up 16 times in the gospel of Matthew alone, and this three-verse pericope (that’s a fancy word for “reading”) is one of the places where the word is most concentrated. It is interesting that the other place where there is a cluster of the use of the word “welcome” is in Matthew 25, where Jesus reminds the disciples that the keys of discipleship lie in taking care of and welcoming the chance to be with and stand alongside those who are weak, poor, or marginalized—what then and now could often be considered to be social suicide.

At the Cafe at Thistle Farms.

Welcoming strangers and refugees has been one of the great hallmarks of our nation, as we prepare to remember our Independence Day on July 4. It’s good to think about our national tradition of welcome near a holiday in which we celebrate independence, because it reminds us that independence is not really possible unless we first remember how dependent we are upon each other, really, when it comes right down to it. Independence isn’t possible without first welcoming each other to these shores, and being willing to embrace each other as one nation, one people, no matter how different we are.

When I was a kid, people would often piously intone, “You are known by the company you keep.” This dictum was supposed to keep us from hanging out with the riff-raff. But the problem is, that as Christians we are supposed to emulate Christ, and Jesus hung out with ALL the "wrong" sorts during his earthly life.

But they are right: as Christians, we ARE known by the company we keep, and that’s when it’s important to remember that Jesus comes to us and asks us to welcome him every time we encounter someone, whether they are a friend or a stranger. Matthew 25 will later remind us of this:

for I was hungry and you gave me food,
I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink,
I was a stranger and you welcomed me,
I was naked and you gave me clothing,
I was sick and you took care of me,
I was in prison and you visited me.

....Truly I tell you, just as you did it

to one of the least of these
who are members of my family,
you did it to me.

There can be only "we" in God's kingdom. Everyone is invited into the circle, as the Rev. Becca Stevens says.

And even today, Jesus as our living savior calls us out into the margins, away from our comfortable, familiar places, and is often most real to us when we let all our internal walls come down as Jesus often did, and we too hang out with the sick, the friendless, the outcast, the refugee.

We are called to be welcoming to those who come among us, whether by design or by chance, as Jesus himself practiced radical welcome and hospitality with even the most unlikely of people. And there’s a reason for this. Jesus became God Incarnate in the world to help us live in imitation of him, so that we could live more fully into our calling to be true children of God.

Jesus’s welcome and hospitality mirrors that of God toward us. Just as we are welcomed as friends, companions, and even children, no matter how petty, impatient, or wrong we may be, so are we also called to do the same for others, to live our lives with our arms wide open to the possibility of fellowship with all of God’s creation.

Jesus sends his disciples, then and now, as sheep into the midst of wolves, we were reminded last week. We are called to be the sheep, not the predators. We are to stop treating each other as tools to be manipulated and exploited for our own benefit but rather as beloved children of God. Jesus sends his disciples into the world in Matthew 10 with a message of love and welcome, and he knows from first-hand experience that it will not always be met with rejoicing but with rejection at times. It doesn’t matter—the message of God’s love MUST be carried forth anyway, in order to confront the powers of empire and fear head-on. And we can’t welcome Jesus’s message of salvation for ourselves
without first being willing to reflect that message on to others we meet. 

We are reminded of that call to practice what the Rev. Stephanie Spellers calls “radical hospitality” as we kneel for communion, and Jesus asks us to be his guests-- and also to be his hosts, by embracing the love by which he feeds us here at the altar rail regardless of the risks. As Jesus bids us welcome, all he asks of us is to carry his love for all out into our lives and to welcome everyone and love them, the poor, the sick, the stranger, the refugee, and especially those some would label as sinners.

Our savior, Love Incarnate, Living God, knocks at the doors of our hearts, and asks to come in and be made at home within us. To do that, he asks that little thing of turning against the economics of exploitation and fear, and turning toward the radical kingdom of love.

That’s all he asks. Just that little thing. 

 Too often we may tell ourselves that we are not good enough to do this, and so we may give ourselves permission to not even try. But—never forget: those disciples he called and sent out certainly weren’t perfect, and yet they have through a chain of witnesses passed on Jesus’s message of love, risk, service, and hospitality, and made it sound so good that billions of people have been willing to try to take on reflecting it in their own lives. Theologian Stanley Hauerwas offers us some words of comfort regarding our own self-doubt and feelings of unworthiness when he says,

“The undistinguished character of the disciples is a sign of hope for us who inherit their task, for it is surely right that the church understands itself to stand in the tradition of the apostles. To be an apostle is to be a messenger of and witness to Jesus…. Christianity is not a philosophy that can be learned separate from those who embody it. If the truth that is Christ is a truth that could be known ‘in principle’ then we would not need apostles. But the way of the gospel is known by one person being for another person the story of Christ.”

“The way of the gospel is known
by one person
being for another person
the story of Christ.”

Over. And over. And over.

Here’s the good news: Jesus doesn’t call the perfect, but he does work to perfect the called, if only we will let him in and get out of the way.

Each one of us can be that one person for someone else.

It starts with opening our hearts in welcome to the Spirit of God, and to the love of Christ. It starts with the precious gospel of love and grace that we have received, clasping it to our stubborn, sometimes ravaged hearts.
It starts with taking seriously the reminder the Rev. Becca Stevens has made into a song of praise when she sings out “Love heals.”
It starts with trusting just a little bit to let love take root within the center of our souls.
It means starting with having mercy on ourselves--and those around us.

The love and mercy of God’s radical welcome reflected within us leads us to ourselves and each other, and then gives us the courage to open our arms to embrace each other as God embraces us.

Amen.