"When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the
angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory.
[32] All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will
separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the
sheep from the goats, [33] and he will put the sheep at his
right hand and the goats at the left. [34] Then the king will
say to those at his right hand, 'Come, you that are blessed
by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the
foundation of the world; [35] 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, [36] 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.' [37] Then the righteous
will answer him, 'Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry
and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink?
[38] And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed
you, or naked and gave you clothing? [39] And when was it
that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?' [40] And
the king will answer them, '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.' [41] Then he will say to those
at his left hand, 'You that are accursed, depart from me into
the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; [42]
for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and
you gave me nothing to drink, [43] I was a stranger and you
did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing,
sick and in prison and you did not visit me.' [44] Then they
also will answer, 'Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry
or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and
did not take care of you?' [45] Then he will answer them,
'Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the
least of these, you did not do it to me.' [46] And these will
go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal
life."
My 8 year old son Mark may have spoken to you at coffee hour
last Sunday or the week before. He was selling popcorn as
a fundraiser for the boy scouts. He also wanted to solicit
our neighbors. But whereas here at church, he could freely
roam around during coffee hour with his sign-up sheet and
pencil in hand, my wife had to escort him throughout our neighborhood.
We were worried about his safety. I'm sure that all the children
in our congregation have been spoken to many times about the
importance of avoiding contact with strangers. In this day
and age, it's an essential lesson that we all must teach to
our children.
But as adults, and as Christians, it's important for us to
go deeper. Today, I want to talk about hospitality as the
vocation of the church -- particularly hospitality to strangers.
When we look at scripture, and the tradition that has emerged
from scripture, the theme of hospitality is everywhere apparent.[2]
The people of God are recognized because they are the ones
who will welcome strangers and treat them justly. Why is this
so dominant a trait of both the Hebrews and the early Christians?
Because the thing they were most grateful for was the hospitality
that God had shown to them, and continues to show to each
and every one of us. The Hebrew people, after being freed
from Egypt, were refugees, wandering in the wilderness. Later,
they were again held captive, strangers in a strange land,
until they were freed a second time. These experiences made
such a deep impression that they adopted laws which required
them to deal justly and compassionately with any strangers
they encountered. In the 10th chapter of Deuteronomy, Moses
tells the people, "You shall also love the stranger for
you were [once] strangers in the land of Egypt."
In the New Testament, the emphasis is equally strong. Jesus
is forever welcoming and talking and dining with people who
are judged by his associates as strangers who inspire fear
and enemies who evoke hate, including scribes, Pharisees,
tax collectors, centurions, and women of ill repute. In addition
to Jesus' persistent witness, notice that the Greek word for
stranger, xenos, also means "guest".
This connection between stranger and special guest is not
merely linguistic. It is a cornerstone of the foundation of
our faith. In the book of Hebrews [13:2] we read, "Do
not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing
so some have entertained angels without knowing it."
This is the same perspective as that articulated by Jesus
in his unforgettable story of the final judgement, so ably
interpreted this morning by Rev. Walker and her group. The
point of that most profound parable is to dash any claim we
may make to recognize Jesus. That parable bores into our very
souls because time and time again, each of us has passed by
a beggar -- a stranger on the street -- and whether or not
we held onto the coins in our pocket, we certainly held with
confidence the view that the person we left behind was poor,
perhaps homeless, and certainly not a contributor to society.
Yet those who shaped the Gospel of Matthew chose this story
to be Jesus' final teaching before his arrest. Through this
story, we are asked to acknowledge that our claim to confidence
is misguided. For we are no different than the people of the
parable. Remember, in the parable neither the righteous nor
the UNrighteous recognized Jesus. What mattered in the final
analysis was that some -- seeing before them only a stranger
who was hungry and thirsty, a captive who was naked and sick
-- seeing before them not the Lord, but only a stranger --
some of them offered hospitality: food and drink, shelter
and clothing, and love.
Why call this a cornerstone of the faith, and not merely
a motivational passage for social activists? Because we are
a people who are loved, not just by any God, but by an incarnational
God -- a God who chooses to live in our midst, and is living
with us still. In the beginning of the Gospel of John, we
read: "The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us."
"He entered the world, and the world treated him as a
stranger."[3]
Because our God is more than an author of creation, more
than an abstract notion of goodness; because our God took
on flesh, and because the spirit of our God continues to live
among us, not as a ghost or a hobgoblin, but as a stranger,
who comes to us as one unknown, it behooves us to examine
not only our attitudes towards strangers, but especially our
actions.
After worship today, or on either of the next two Sundays,
I encourage each of you to take an easy, next step in the
process I have been discussing. Spend 30 minutes attending
an information session on the Cleveland Interfaith Hospitality
Network, and learn how you might invest a few hours, four
times a year, to meet and help a few families from Cleveland
who are homeless.
I expect that scores of us will decided to join hundreds
of others in a dozen congregations like ours throughout this
city. As we decide to live out this mission opportunity to
offer some strangers a home for seven evenings, not only will
we provide these hungry people with food and drink. Not only
will we provide these homeless families with clothing and
a place to sleep for a few nights. But something else will
happen too. Something which is at least as important as the
material help we will offer these strangers.
By participating in this mission, God is giving each of US
an opportunity to come into contact with God's spirit in our
midst. Every time we show hospitality to a stranger and treat
a stranger as a child of God, we touch God's incarnational
spirit in our midst. And what results from that touch is that
we are transformed.
I need that transformation -- and I would ask each of you
to examine your heart as to whether you need it too. Showing
hospitality to our friends is easy. Expanding our circle of
hospitality to this congregation is only a wee bit challenging
-- although we could do a lot better at connecting with people
in this congregation who are in one way or another a "stranger"
to us.
But the invitation I now extend seeks to take each of us
out of the familiar realm of the "known" into the
unfamiliar realm of the unknown where the stranger lives.
What I am certain of is that if we venture there with love
in our hearts, we will discover in our midst an additional,
unexpected guest. The renewal that unexpected guest can inspire
is beyond all imagining. Amen.
Footnotes:
1. I considered calling this sermon Moving from Xenophobia
to Philoxenia, but decided for something more accessible.
2. My gratitude to Plymouth member Jan Hulbert who brought
to my attention Dorothy C. Bass'(ed.) book Practicing our
Faith. Ana Maria Pineda's chapter on "Hospitality"
has been helpful in formulating this sermon, as has Parker
Palmer's The Company of Strangers, pp. 132ff, and Henri Nouwen's
Reaching Out, pp. 47ff.