Daily Archives: January 23, 2012

Welcoming the Stranger, part II

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OK, here’s what really happened at Grace Church yesterday. Between services, our sexton ran through the office and told me that there had been a leak in the pantry closet that had been stopped. I thought nothing of it, but a few minutes later, Corrie came up into the office to tell me that all hell had broken loose downstairs. A pipe had burst, the second time, and was spraying all over the closet where we stored food for our First Monday meals.

I went downstairs to take a look. Indeed, it looked much like a sauna. I called the HVAC company, but it was five minutes before the start of the 10:00 service, and I had other things on my mind. Just before the beginning of service, I saw one of our members who works as a carpenter and asked him to investigate. After the service, after greeting visitors, doing adult forum with newcomers, Eucharist with our Hispanic congregation, I made my way back to the Guild Hall and to the kitchen. Things were somewhat in order. The leak was stopped; the closet had been cleared. Corrie, having had a sauna, was wearing a shirt borrowed from the sexton. But there were things I had missed.

Apparently, disrupted by the water and the removal of everything from the closet was a hibernating bat. There was a conniption. Kitchen tongs were involved,wielded by the organist. But fortunately, Grace’s usual weapon against bats, a tennis racket, was not implemented. The bat was taken out of doors. Whether it survives, we don’t know. Although reports are that it flew away. Perhaps it’s now in the bell tower.

As our sexton went in the closet to check on things after the bat, our organist suggested that there might be a coyote there as well. Who knows?

Hospitality means many things, but I don’t think it means welcoming the bat and the coyote.

Welcoming the stranger

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I wrote the following in our Monday email:

“I was a stranger and you welcomed me” (Mt 25:35)

In the great parable of the Last Judgment that Jesus relates in Matthew 25:31-46, when the king separates righteous from the unrighteous, he proclaims to those who are saved that  “just as you did it to one of the least of these… you did it to me.” Among the actions cited is welcoming the stranger.

Each Sunday, we encounter the stranger as we come to worship God. Each Sunday, at each of our services, there are strangers. Sometimes, they are visitors from afar, traveling to Madison for business or pleasure, and choosing to spend their Sunday morning with us. Sometimes, they are local residents who are “church-shopping.” Occasionally, there is someone who has come this day because of some deep spiritual longing that yearns to be met. Some of those strangers are not newcomers. They have attended services before, several times, for several years, perhaps even for several decades. We may recognize their faces, we may have seen them dozens of times, but we don’t know their names let alone anything else about them.

In this, Grace is like most churches. In fact, in many respects, we do better than many churches. We offer visitors delightful visitors’ bags; some of us are aware of visitors and make sure to introduce themselves; in nice weather, I like to stand on the sidewalk before services, to welcome everyone who comes, and to greet passers-by as well. But we could do better.

A couple of months ago, I met a visiting priest, who responded to the email I send to everyone who signs our guestbook with a description of his experience. No one welcomed him. At the peace, he received perfunctory handshakes from those around him, and after the service, I was the only person who greeted him and asked him his name. How many others have had similar experiences? How many people have come to Grace, looking to connect not only with God but with other people, and went home disappointed?

“I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” Do you know that person who is sitting in the pew in front of you? Have you seen them before? Have you seen them dozens of times and still don’t know their name? Introduce yourself. Invite them to coffee hour. Welcome them.

Welcoming newcomers is one of the things we focused on in our Vestry retreat this past Saturday and we agreed that it will be one of the areas that will receive attention at Grace in the coming year. How can we be more welcoming as a congregation? How can our physical space be made more welcoming? How can we help newcomers become active in the life of our congregation and active in our ministries? We will explore these questions and others. We hope you will share your ideas with us and learn with us how to make Grace a truly welcoming congregation.

Knowledge puffs up–Lectionary reflections for 4 Epiphany, Year B

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This week’s readings are here.

Someone asked me after service yesterday if I had ever preached on the text from I Corinthians that was read yesterday (last week’s readings). In fact, three years ago, my sermon focused on the urgency of the good news as evidenced in both the gospel and in I Corinthians 7. But my questioner wasn’t interested in that part of the sentence: “The appointed time has grown short”–he was interested in the second part of that sentence, “let even those who have wives be as though they had none…”

No, I’ve never preached on that particular text, but in fact this whole passage is strong evidence for the difficulty of applying what Paul has to say about the Christian life–ethics and morality–to the lives of twenty-first century Christians. He assumes that the parousia, Jesus’ return, is imminent. It might happen any day now. That fact changed everything for him. Earlier in chapter 7, Paul says some things that are quite difficult for us to hear, about slavery and marriage, but all of it should be read in light of the imminent second coming. Because Jesus is coming back soon, nothing else really matters, and there’s no reason to make big changes in one’s life, like getting married. Now, few of us believe that Jesus is coming back soon, so we should probably not take what Paul has to say about slavery or marriage in this passage very seriously.

On the other hand, there are certain principles that can guide one’s ethical decision-making in light of Paul. And in this week’s reading from I Corinthians 8, we see one of those principles in action. In a way, it’s helpful that he is discussing an issue that is far from our ordinary experience–eating food that’s been offered to idols.

The issue here is that it was customary for meat left over from pagan sacrifices to be used for celebratory meals, and for most people in the Hellenistic world, such meals, sponsored by wealthy patrons, might be their only regular access to meat. The question the Corinthians had asked Paul was whether, given their new faith in Jesus Christ, and the assurance that their was only one God (and thus the pagan sacrifices were of no avail and meaningless), they could continue to participate in those feasts. It had caused division, because some of those in the Corinthian community were not quite sure whether pagan gods existed and had power, and perceived participation in such meals as evil.

Paul’s answer is instructive: “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” It’s quite clear from reading I Corinthians that one of the central problems in this community is the issue of how far one can take the “freedom in Christ” that is gained through faith and baptism. Free from law, ie, Jewish Torah? Paul agrees. Free from laws (ie, civil or natural law)? Paul’s not so sure. And what about one’s responsibility to the community, the body of Christ? “Take care that this liberty of yours does not somehow become a stumbling block to the weak” (I Cor. 8:9). So Paul concludes this discussion by saying, “Therefore, if food is a cause of their falling, I will never eat meat, so that I may not cause one of them to fall” (I Cor. 8:13).

This seems pretty straightforward. One’s own actions and freedom should be tempered by concern for the tender consciences of others. Indeed, this argument is used in contemporary conflicts to argue against certain changes. It can easily become a block to the ongoing discernment of God’s will, but I think there’s some validity in paying close attention to it. What builds up the body of Christ? What undermines it? How do we go about discerning how we should live as individuals and as congregations in the twenty-first century? One clear answer to that from a Pauline, indeed a Christian perspective, is that we are not isolated moral agents, individuals who can decide for ourselves what is right and wrong. Ultimately, if we claim allegiance to Jesus Christ, such decisions must be made in light of their impact on those with whom we share Eucharistic fellowship.