Over the past six weeks, I have been
exploring different types of relationships in my Sunday morning proclamations. In this sermon series, I have been asking how
we can build stronger relationships across the myriad types of relationships
that we maintain. In past sermons, we
have reflected on relationships with families, friends, ourselves, God, and
nature. This Sunday, October 5th, I want
to focus on our relationship with strangers.
One aspect of post-modern American
culture is that we regularly encounter and interact with strangers. This is true regardless of where we live,
even in small towns, such as Meriden, the small town where I live. Even if we live in a small village—where
everyone literally does know our name—most of us range beyond our homes into more
populated areas for work or shopping or entertainment. Encountering strangers is part of daily,
social interaction.
It’s human nature to fear
strangers. Television shows, movies, and
many novels are replete with creative stories of how strangers can hurt
us. Parents of small children have
special cause for concern, and most parents are constantly warning their
children to beware of strangers. But,
what kind of relationship does God call upon us to have with strangers?
There are several interesting
stories in the Bible that could provide models for the type of relationships with
strangers that God calls upon us to have.
See, for example, the story of the prophet Elisha and the wealthy woman
of Shunem in 2 Kings 4, or the story of the prophet Elijah and the poor widow
of Zarephath in 1 Kings 17. There are
other stories, as well. However, for this
week I want to focus on the story of Abraham and Sarah and the three men in Genesis 18:
1-15.
At the beginning of Chapter 18, the
reader learns that the three men are actually God, two angels. But, throughout the story neither Abraham nor
his wife, Sarah, realize the true identity of the three strangers. As the story begins, Abraham is sitting in
his tent in the wilderness in the hot, middle part of the day. Suddenly, three men appear. Instantly, Abraham leaps from his tent and
rushes out to greet the strangers. As
was the custom in his culture, Abraham bows in front of the strangers and welcomes
them. Then, he immediately brings water
for them to wash and sets about preparing food and drink for the
strangers.
Abraham is not cheap in his hospitality, either. He has Sarah prepare cakes from the highest
quality flour and he prepares a meal featuring a veal calf, which would be the
best meal he has to offer. As the
strangers eat the meal set before them, Abraham stands by, attentive to their
every need. Later, God promises Sarah
that she will have a child, despite the fact that she is older and well past
her reproductive years. Then, Abraham
helps the three strangers with directions as they set off for their ultimate
destination.
Perhaps in this story Abraham and Sarah provide the paradigm for how
God intends for us to treat all strangers.
Abraham and Sarah respond with immediate hospitality, when the three
strangers come up to them, out of the wilderness. They are respectful and attentive to their
needs. They do not hold back in their
hospitality, but rather provide the best of all that they have. The strangers are welcomed, cared for, and
affirmed with respect.
Of course, the reader understands that these are no ordinary
strangers. Instead, we know that the
strangers are really God and two attending angels. But, what if we looked for the divine in the
faces of the strangers whom we encounter?
How would that change and shape our relationships with strangers?
The great Russian writer, Leo Tolstoy, has a wonderful short story that
illustrates my point. Entitled, “Where
Love Is, God Is,” the story tells of an old shoemaker, named Martin. Martin lives by himself in a basement apartment
because his wife and children have all died.
One night Martin has a dream in which God informs Martin that God will
visit him the following day. The next
morning, Martin sits by his window, repairing shoes as he awaits God. Throughout the day, Martin has several
encounters:
Ø It is winter and he watches an old man,
Stepanitch, shoveling snow from the sidewalk across the street. Martin decides to invite
Stepanitch into his apartment to warm himself up and share some food and hot drink.
Ø Later, Martin sees a young woman with a baby
outside in the cold. The woman does not
have a coat. So, Martin invites the
woman to come inside with her baby in order to warm herself and share some food
and hot drink. Before she leaves, Martin
gives her one of his coats.
Ø Finally, Martin sees a young boy trying to
steal apples from an older woman. An
argument between the two ensues. So,
Martin goes outside to mediate the dispute and share love and compassion for
both the boy and the woman.
Despite these
interactions, God never visits Martin that day.
Bitterly disappointed, Martin prepares for bed, when he has another
vision. In the second vision, Martin
perceives the divine in the face of the old man, Stepanitch; in the faces of
the young woman and baby; in the faces of the boy and older woman. Martin realizes that God had, indeed, visited
him that day—not once, but three times.
Martin also realizes that in extending hospitality on these three
occasions he was also accepting God.
In this fable, I believe that we
learn the key to building the stronger relationships with strangers that God intends. That key is to perceive Jesus in the faces of
the strangers we encounter and then to act, accordingly.
Come, join us this Sunday, Oct. 5th, at Meriden United Methodist
Church, as we explore the implications of striving to see Christ in the faces
of everyone whom we meet. Our
church is located at the corner of Main and Dawson Streets in Meriden,
Kansas. Our classic worship service
starts at 10 am on Sunday mornings.
Everyone is welcome and accepted because God loves us all.
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