What would you do if three strange men appeared at your front door this afternoon? Would you welcome them in, offer them a shower and a meal, and somewhere to rest? Or would you send them away with nothing? Today we heard the story of Abraham’s encounter with three men by the oaks of Mamre. It turned out that they weren’t any old ordinary men. Instead, it was God, Yahweh, appearing before Abraham. It was God to whom Abraham offered hospitality, and gave him the reputation in the later tradition that he had entertained angels unawares. 

It’s an ordinary scene, depicted with detail that allows our imagination free play. We imagine Abraham trying to find some cool spot in the midst of a heat wave, sitting in the shade of his tent, or of the oak trees, watching idly, perhaps dozing, as the three men approach. Sarah, as befits ancient near eastern custom, is probably well within the tent. But when the men approach, Abraham draws their attention to him—he runs to them, begs them to stay with him for awhile. Abraham has their feet washed, instructs Sarah to begin preparing a meal, and he himself throws the steaks on the grill.

Last week we heard the story of his call. Today’s reading takes place 25 years later. Abraham and Sarah have been in Canaan all of that time. God has promised Abraham that he will possess the land of Canaan and that he will be the father of a great nation. Just before today’s reading, God had again promised Abraham that he would father a son with Sara; when he heard this, Abraham laughed. In today’s reading, of course, Sarah laughs when she hears the same words. When their son is born, he is named “Isaac”—which can be translated “he laughs.”

The Bible presents Abraham and Sarah to us as the parents of the Hebrew people, the ancestors of Judaism, and as Paul would have at, the progenitors of our faith as well. But the stories themselves raise more questions than they answer. One of the most obvious is raised in the text by Sarah herself: Can an old woman give birth to a son? Her barrenness is a theme that will continue for the wives of Abraham’s son and grandson—Isaac’s wife Rebekah, and Jacob’s wives Leah and Rachel, all suffered, at various times, from barrenness. It is a theme that is meant to underscore the miraculous nature of these births—that they were not simply a product of nature, but of God’s acting on behalf of God’s servants.

But there is more to this story than a prediction of Isaac’s birth, and of Sarah’s laughter. There is another enigma. Why is it three men that appear to Abraham? It is only in the course of the story, after the meal, that it becomes clear one of the men is no man at all, it is God, Yahweh. God’s first unmistakable act in the story is to chastise Sarah for laughing at the prediction of Isaac’s birth. This is not the end of the story, however. The three men separate, two of them make their way to Sodom, where Abraham’s nephew Lot will encounter them, and just as his uncle did, will invite them into his home and offer them a meal. The third, who now is clearly God, tarries for a time with Abraham. God tells Abraham that he intends to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah, and Abraham bargains with him.

We have two acts of hospitality here—Abraham’s welcoming of the three men, and Lot’s welcoming of the two men, two acts of hospitality. In Abraham’s case, it is an opportunity for God to repeat the promise that Abraham will be the Father of a great nation and indeed, it seems from the text that it is during this visit that Sarah miraculously becomes pregnant.

That hospitality is at stake in the story of Sodom and Gomorrah is seldom noticed by most casual readers of the Bible. Other biblical texts, for example, Ezekiel 16:49 reads: “This was the guilt of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters had pride, excess of food, and prosperous ease but did not aid the poor and needy.” 

And indeed, even in today’s gospel, the connection between Sodom and hospitality, while not explicitly stated, is clearly at issue. Jesus tells his disciples that “If anyone will not welcome you, shake the dust from your feet as you leave that house or town” and then predicts that things will be worse for that town on the day of judgment than it was for Sodom and Gomorrah. God’s judgment on that town will be worse than God’s judgment of Sodom and Gomorrah—and the only offense, the refusal to welcome Jesus’ disciples.

Today’s gospel is a central passage from Matthew’s gospel. It recounts Jesus’ commissioning of the twelve for mission. The context within which Matthew places it and the way in which he tells it, reveals a great deal about how Matthew understands the role of the disciples. Jesus commissions them in response to his experiences in Galilee. He has been going about Galilee, teaching and healing. 

Matthew tells us that Jesus “had compassion” for the crowds; the Greek implies he felt it down in his gut. His commissioning of the disciples is an extension of his own ministry. It is a response to the need he perceives. The commissioning extends Jesus’ ministry and authority to the disciples. They are not going to be lone rangers, out doing their own thing. They are extensions of Jesus. And of course, the tasks Jesus gave them to do were clearly laid out, he told them what to wear, how to act, who to be.

In a nutshell, Jesus gives the twelve instructions for the journey on which they are embarking, his own journey that they are extending. The instructions may seem puzzling, even unimportant, why no bag, no sandals, no staff, only a single tunic? Over the centuries, some Christians have interpreted these words literally—they have been the basis for some powerful missionary movements, like the work of St. Francis of Assisi in the Middle Ages. But what’s important about them is the underlying message. There is an urgency in Jesus’ words: “the fields are white unto the harvest.” There is also a strong sense that the twelve should be traveling lightly; they should be equipped for the journey but be carrying nothing unnecessary.

I am intrigued by the three very different responses to the situation in these stories. When Abraham sees the three men approaching, he runs out to greet them and welcomes them in. Jesus sends the twelve out because he had compassion for the needs he saw around him. And then, Sarah laughed. The instructions given by Jesus seem utterly serious, and they are, because the need is so great and urgent.      

These texts challenge us to consider our response to the presence of God, and to God’s call. As Abraham ran out to meet the stranger, as the disciples went out to spread the good news, we are challenged to welcome the stranger, and to be the stranger. We are challenged to offer hospitality and to be willing to receive it. These lessons are a useful reminder to us. How is God challenging us right now? What are we supposed to do? Who are we supposed to be? 

With the needs in the surrounding community and in the world so great, and our own uncertainty about the future gripping us, we are probably tempted to maintain a holding pattern, to keep things as they are, to muddle through. But the example of Abraham and Jesus both confront us. By faith, Abraham left Haran for Canaan when he was 75 years old; he wandered around Palestine for 25 years after God had promised him the land and descendants. After all of that, and yes, Abraham did put God to the test once or twice, he welcomed the strangers in, and received another promise, that was fulfilled in nine months

As God calls us, individually and as a parish, to be God’s people in the world, we need to step forward boldly, and in deep faith that God is leading us forward, not looking back at the past, or worrying about the future, but confident of God’s presence in our midst. And, like Sarah, there may be times when we need to laugh, too.