Immediate Word

Hospitality to strangers, a welcoming spirit, the personal touch -- we expect to find these above all in our churches. Often we do, but it is so easy to extend such welcome only to those we know or to those who look and think like the majority of the members. And now, Carlos Wilton suggests, technology might lead to more impersonal forms of "worship." Commenting especially on the First Reading from the lectionary, Carlos looks to Abraham's hospitality as an example of the importance of interpersonal relationships.

With this issue of The Immediate Word, we are pleased to welcome back Carter Shelly after a hiatus of several months. You'll also find in this issue comments from other team members, illustrations, worship resources, and a children's sermon.


"Welcome The Stranger"
Genesis 18:1-15 (21:1-7)
Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19; Romans 5:1-8; Matthew 9:35--10:8 (9-23)
By Carlos Wilton

The Message on a Postcard

The road-weary business traveler emerges from a taxicab, suitcase in hand, and walks up to the doorman of a downtown hotel. "I'd like to check in," he says.

"Right this way, sir," replies the doorman, ushering the man inside and directing him to ... a machine resembling an ATM. This may be the wave of the future, when it comes to major hotels. A May 31st article in the New York Times indicates that more and more hotels are introducing automatic check-in kiosks, into which travelers can insert a credit card, punch in their registration preferences, and receive a plastic key-card in return. No human interaction is necessary.

So far -- as with any new technology -- there have been plenty of bugs in the system. As many as one in ten automatic check-in transactions has failed. There have even been a few reported cases of machines issuing key-cards to already-occupied rooms. Eventually, though, the hotel industry is confident that the technical glitches will be solved, and the public will welcome the convenience.

Or will they? The new check-in kiosks may be able to greet guests by name (at least, once they've read the magnetic strip on their credit cards), but can they smile back? Can they share a few sympathetic words with a wayfaring stranger, yearning to feel at home in an unfamiliar city?

Of course they can't. For some things, old-fashioned human interaction is essential.

In Genesis 18, Abraham looks up and spies three wayfaring strangers outside his tent. He and his wife, Sarah, greet them warmly and entertain them lavishly -- then these guests bless their hosts in an extraordinary way. Who are the strangers in our midst, in these days? And what blessing may we give -- and receive -- by welcoming them?

Some Words on the Word

There is some disagreement among scholars as to the nature and identity of those who visit Abraham by the oaks of Mamre. The confusion arises from the Hebrew itself, for first we hear that it is three visitors whom Abraham welcomes, then that it is "the Lord." Perhaps the author is simply reflecting the fact that angels, as messengers of God, can be considered as equivalent to God -- in much the same way that, in diplomatic circles, ambassadors are treated as though they were stand-ins for the head of state they represent.

Abraham's encounter with the visitors is unexpected. Genesis portrays him sitting by his tent flap "in the heat of the day" -- an hour when few people would ordinarily be working or traveling. It is the most unlikely time for visitors to arrive, but Abraham leaps right up and does his duty as the host.

Abraham is extremely energetic as he greets his visitors. Hospitality is a solemn obligation in his Middle Eastern culture. Travel is inherently dangerous in that desert land, and those who take to the roads count on the food and drink they will receive from those whom they encounter along the way. Abraham's diligent, even obsequious approach to his visitors redounds to his glory, for it shows him to be a person deeply rooted in the ethical principles of his people.

Abraham is also generous. He gives his guests the best of everything. This passage could serve as a stewardship text -- useful in emphasizing that we are to give God from the first-fruits, not the leftovers.

Abraham and Sarah, of course, receive an unexpected and marvelous blessing in return: the announcement of the upcoming birth of their long-awaited son and heir, Isaac. It would be wrong, however, to read into Abraham's generous welcome a self-seeking motive -- as though Abraham were calculating how much he might receive from the transaction, as a restaurant server might try to calculate in advance how big a tip a particular customer might leave. It is likely the author's intent to portray Abraham as generous and hospitable by nature.

A Map of the Message

"Welcome to worship today. Please enter your username and password."

Maybe that's the way it will be in the future. Sit down at your computer, key in the required information, and a screen will pop up, allowing you to choose your preferred style of worship (traditional, contemporary, blended, and so on). Your friendly "WorshipMate, release 4.013" program will allow you to customize your worship experience, by choosing your favorite music, preacher, and sermon theme. A chat area will allow you to exchange pleasantries, before the service, with those who are sharing your cyber-pew -- as well as at the virtual coffee hour afterward (you provide your own coffee, of course). When it comes time for the offering, you will simply key in your credit card number, or arrange for your bank account to be debited.

Sound appealing? Of course it isn't! There's an intangible "something" about the worship experience -- something related to human contact -- that's missing. Otherwise, we would have all gone over to worshiping via our television sets long ago. Worship is more than a spectator sport. It's a "high touch" activity that doesn't translate well into high-tech.

Many day-to-day transactions are being translated into high-tech, of course. We've all become familiar -- reluctantly -- with the voice-mail routine: pressing keys on our telephones in response to a machine-generated voice. And we all know how refreshing it is, after seven or eight levels of voice mail, to hear the voice of a real, live human being at last.

A May 31st article in the New York Times describes how many of the major hotel chains have installed automated "check-in kiosks" in their lobbies. Hotel guests scan their credit cards and receive their room keys, without ever having to interact with a human being:
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/05/31/business/31soff.html?oref=login

This may be a good thing for guests who are bound and determined to get through the registration process and close their room doors behind them as soon as possible, but for many others, the kiosks are likely to detract from the travel experience. No machine-generated voice can replace the smile of a congenial desk clerk, nor can a machine respond to subjective questions about local restaurants or attractions.

What is hospitality, anyway? Major hotel chains describe themselves as belonging to the "hospitality industry" -- but there's a certain sense in which that term is an oxymoron. How can hospitality be industrialized, without losing the element of human contact at its very heart?

Abraham and Sarah's hospitality to their three mysterious visitors in Genesis 8:1-15 is a classic example of hospitality offering that high-touch, human element. As soon as Abraham sees them, he runs out to meet them. He bows down. He offers them water to wash their feet, then points them to a shady tree, under which they can rest. In time, he brings them a sumptuous, Middle Eastern meal, prepared by Sarah from the best food this nomadic family's larder can offer.

The three guests are, of course, angels. And it's not long before these heavenly visitors bless Abraham and Sarah with the miraculous news of a child to be born. It's undoubtedly this familiar story the author of Hebrews is thinking of, in communicating this advice: "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it" (Hebrews 13:2).

So what does this ancient story have to teach us today?

For us as individuals, it teaches how important human interactions continue to be, in a world grown increasingly high-tech. A significant part of the ministry Christians are called to offer, in this impersonal age, is the discipline of reaching out to others as individuals. The story of Jesus healing the woman with a flow of blood, in Luke 8:43-48, is instructive in this regard. Jesus overrules the advice of his disciples, who urge him to be more efficiently about his business, in order to reach out to one individual who desperately needs a few moments of his time. Jesus offers hospitality and healing to the afflicted woman, and her life is never the same again.

For us as a church, the story of Abraham's hospitality can serve as a model for how visitors ought to be received at our worship services. Many church members, comfortable with the old-shoe familiarity of welcoming one another, neglect to welcome newcomers. Research studies have shown, again and again, that first-time visitors appreciate and remember the welcome they receive from their fellow-worshipers more than just about anything they experience within the church walls.


Team Comments

Chris Ewing responds: Welcoming the stranger is something that has been second nature for most of human history. The rituals and expectations vary from culture to culture, but in most cultures through most of history, the recognition of shared human vulnerability has made hospitality an imperative. Travel was difficult and dangerous; to fail to welcome a stranger could in a very real sense constitute murder. Only in our extraordinarily affluent and individualistic modern Western culture has indifference to the stranger become a remotely tenable moral option.... and even today, to ignore or, worse yet, reject an outsider is to do injury to beings created for community. Both the visitor and the resident population suffer to some extent when connections are not made.

If people throughout history have recognized the importance and even the necessity of hospitality, however, people throughout history have also found it difficult at times to welcome strangers. Fear -- whether of lost control or lost advantage, or of the unknown -- frequently impairs our response to others. We can see this in the current European crisis over the proposed EU Constitution. "It wasn't mostly the constitution itself voters were rejecting," notes New York Times columnist David Brooks, in an Op-Ed piece published June 2 concerning the French vote. "Polls reveal they were articulating a broader malaise. The highest 'no' votes came from the most vulnerable, from workers and the industrial north. The 'no' campaign united the fearful right, led by Jean-Marie Le Pen, with the fearful left, led by the Communists."

A factor in the development of this fearful response was the loss of common ground in a socially and economically stratified society. The elite had little to fear from a more profound and flexible union, but the much more vulnerable common citizens believed that their own well-being was at risk if barriers to competition and migration were lowered. "Every faction across the political spectrum found something to feel menaced by," said Brooks. "For the Socialist left, it was the threat of economic liberalization. For parts of the right, it was the threat of Turkey. For populists, it was the condescension of the Brussels elite. For others, it was the prospect of a centralized European superstate. Many of these fears were mutually exclusive. The only commonality was fear itself, the desire to hang on to what they have in the face of change and tumult all around."

We can see similar dynamics at work on this side of the Atlantic.

In striking contrast to such anxious responses, we see Jesus in this week's gospel, though recognizing his own and the disciples' vulnerability ("I am sending you out as sheep among wolves" -- Matthew 10:16ff.), moved nonetheless by compassion for the people around him (9:36). His response was not one of protectionism but of concerned outreach: "Ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest ... As you go, proclaim the good news, 'The kingdom of heaven has come near.' Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. You received without payment; give without payment" (9:38; 10:7-8).

This gracious response seems to be possible only for those who know both their own vulnerability and the trustworthiness of God's provision. If we believe that we have or should have the means to fully look after ourselves, we tend to look no farther than our own immediate self-interest. I have, to my chagrin, observed this in my own life: when I was a student living on a shoestring, whatever little bit I had beyond my own minimal requirements was easily available to anyone else who needed it. As my life became more secure and I had enough money to make plans for, it became much more difficult to let go of any of it. It seems that when we have the means to ensure our own comfort, control becomes too alluring to resist: we dare not risk what we have for another. "Charity begins at home" becomes a mantra, and is usually cited with the implication that charity need extend no further. "Looking after Number One" may seem like merest common sense, particularly in our complex, affluent, and individualistic society; yet it represents a striking departure both from more communally oriented historic human norms and from biblical values.

There are no easy answers to how we can remain available to welcome the unfamiliar angels God may drop in our midst. It is not easy at the individual level, and it is even less easy at the national or societal level. But we need at the least to keep raising the question, and to keep before our eyes and in our hearts a few core values: a valuing of our common humanity, the recognition that none of us is really secure until all of us are secure, and -- above all, for those of us in the church -- the gospel ethic of self-offering compassion.

George Murphy responds: Even though it doesn't make explicit reference to our text, Hebrews (13:2) seems to be a biblical commentary on the story of the three mysterious visitors to Abraham and Sarah. "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it." Hospitality is an important ethical demand in many cultures, and especially in those of the Near East. The writer to the Hebrews encourages this practice by pointing out that we may not be aware of the importance of the people in need of our generosity. They might be angels.

But just who are the "three men" who come into Abraham's view in the heat of the day? The first thing that we're told in verse 1 is that "the LORD" -- YHWH -- appeared to him. Then during the account of conversations with Abraham and Sarah it is "one" or "they" who are talking, but in verse 13 "the LORD" is the speaker. Then we're told that "the men" leave for Sodom, and the LORD speaks with Abraham about the fate of the city. Only at the beginning of chapter 19 are the two men entering Sodom identified with "angels." This is not then one of those texts (like the story of the burning bush in Exodus 3) in which the figure of "the angel of the LORD" is really a stand-in for God, a literary device to avoid excessively anthropomorphic language about God. It's more complicated than that.

Given the ambiguity about the identity of the three men as well as the irrepressible tendency of the early church to read ideas of the New Testament into the Old, it's not surprising that this story came to be seen as an account of an appearance of the Holy Trinity. A common Eastern Orthodox icon of the Trinity shows Abraham's guests seated around the table in heavenly calm. (For one example see Plate XVIII in Doris Wild, Holy Icons in the Religious Art of the Eastern Church [Hallwag, Berne, 1965].)

Some of us may be so imbued with modern critical approaches to scripture that we find it hard to take such ideas seriously. (But is the fact that there are three visitors entirely a coincidence?) In any case, the story does begin by saying that "the LORD appeared to Abraham." We're told that he and Sarah did not just entertain angels, but that they entertained God.

Does this mean that we should be hospitable because God might be the one standing at the door? Don't be too quick to dismiss the idea. "As you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me" the King says in the parable of the Last Judgment (Matthew 25:40). That means in a very real sense, acts of charity offered to others are also offered to the Son of God who came to share our human nature.

But whether our hospitality is literally extended to God or not, it's true that the attitude we show in being hospitable to others has something in common with the attitude we need to have if we expect to encounter God. That is an attitude of openness to another person -- for God is not simply an impersonal spiritual force. For all the difference between creature and creator, a genuine encounter with God is a personal one. The image of Christ standing at the door and knocking in Revelation 3:20 conveys something of this idea and connects with our theme of hospitality. Whether or not a preacher would want to mention the well-known but rather kitschy painting that illustrates the verse from Revelation is probably best left as a matter of pastoral and congregational taste.

Carter Shelley responds concerning hospitality: As always, Carlos, you show yourself to be creative and immediate at the same time. I really like what you've done with the notion of hospitality and the potential that congregations, businesses, and hotels all face to become less human, yet more modern as we let machines perform more and more of the tasks people used to do. Rather than add to your material on hospitality. I am going to provide a couple of examples I find compelling and then move on to look at another way to approach the Genesis text.

The most hospitable church I have ever attended for Sunday worship is the First Korean Presbyterian Church in Greensboro, North Carolina. I have never seen or myself experienced anything like the graciousness, enthusiasm, and welcome they provide for each visitor. I was present to participate in an installation service, so I wasn't too surprised to be given a corsage and enthusiastic verbal greetings from all sides. After the service, the entire congregation was eating lunch, but visitors didn't just go to the front of the line, they had a special room where they sat at set places in the company of the ministers, and various elders and members with bilingual church members strategically placed for those among us who spoke only English (me) and those among us who spoke only Korean (older visitors). I had the pleasure of sitting next to a college student from California who was visiting in the area. The table was beautifully set with flowers, place mats, and materials all reminding one of God's active presence in this church community. After the blessing but before many had eaten the first mouthful, coffee mugs were placed at each visitor's spot. The mugs had the name of the church on the side, were filled with candy and other special items, and included vital information about the church, its programs, ministries, ministers, and educator and how to become a part of it all. Yet none of it felt pushy or unwanted. The atmosphere for me embodied that sense of wholehearted love and acceptance that we associate with agape.

I recently saw the well-known prison movie the Shawshank Redemption, starring Morgan Freeman and Tim Robbins. The notion of "hospitality" in an American prison deserves a level in Dante's Inferno, and three-fourths of the movie bore out that hellish notion. As new prisoners arrive at the prison, the current inmates take bets on who among the new guys can survive the first night without breaking down. One new inmate breaks down and then is beaten beyond a pulp by one of the prison guards for weeping and disturbing the enforced silence. The next day the inmate is dead and the inmates who bet on other new inmates pass along their cigarettes to the guy who bet on the man who didn't make it one night "inside." The most chilling part of the scene is not the man's brutal death but the lack of response it evokes among the other inmates. With ongoing revelations and allegations about Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib, we do well to remember that both biblical texts Old and New include prayers and calls for compassion and justice for those in prison.

Some Thoughts about Sarah

Another way one could approach Genesis 18:1-15 would be as a dialogue sermon between Abraham and Sarah coming from their separate perspectives:

Abraham, the patriarch acting as host
Sarah, the wife acting as cook
Abraham the man hearing God's promises directly from God
Sarah the woman overhearing God's promises spoken to Abraham
Abraham the old man overjoyed with the news
Sarah the old woman skeptical of the news

Then the turn at the end where God addresses Sarah directly. Is she reproved, acknowledged, or given the last laugh?

Frederick Buechner sympathizes with Sarah's circumstance, laughing along with her at the absurdity of giving birth to a son in her post-menopausal state. Frederick Buechner's section on Sarah and laughter in Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy and Fairy Tale remains a wonderful examination of the wonder and absurdity of the situation. This discussion takes place in chapter 3, "The Gospel as Comedy."

It would be fun to review the whole narrative solely from Sarah's under-represented-in-Genesis perspective: What does Sarah's presence signify? She's the doubter -- nearly two millennia before Thomas. Sarah's the one not easily convinced because life has knocked her about a bit. Though she travels the nomadic road away from family and comforts in Ur, scripture does not identify her as one who has a personal dedication to and relationship with God. In fact, this text may be the one place where God takes her seriously and it's so unusual, it's hard for Sarah to grasp it. Being a matriarch isn't so great when compared to being the patriarch. In her own despair, she has already encouraged Abraham to take her slave Hagar as a surrogate mother, so focused upon the promise of offspring are she and Abe both that they solve the barrenness problem without God's help.

"Now you tell me! Ha! Thanks a lot, God. After I have given my husband a younger woman with whom to lie, and perhaps love, to make sure your promise gets kept! Now you tell him -- not me, of course, never me -- I have to listen at the tent opening if I want to hear anything -- even when I am the one affected most by the news -- now that I've risked losing him completely, now that he has a younger woman to bed and a son to celebrate, only now do you appear to tell him, yet again the promise is a future event which he (and I) must believe in and expect. I've been expecting for over fifty years without ever expecting in the family way. They've been years of personal anguish and self-denigration. What is wrong with me? Why can't I have even one child while other women seem to have no difficulty at all bearing many."


Related Illustrations

From Carlos Wilton:

The pastoral theologian Henri J. M. Nouwen has some wonderful things to say about hospitality, but one of the most profound is a simple observation based on his native language. The Dutch word for hospitality, he explains, literally means "freedom for the guest." It is as though hosts are about the business of creating space, space for their guests to be themselves in their own unique ways. Hospitality, Nouwen goes on to say,

"... means primarily the creation of a free space where the stranger can enter and become a friend instead of an enemy. Hospitality is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place.... It is not an educated intimidation with good books, good stories and good works, but the liberation of fearful hearts so that words can find roots and bear ample fruit.... The paradox of hospitality is that it wants to create emptiness, not a fearful emptiness, but a friendly emptiness where strangers can enter and discover themselves as created free; free to sing their own songs, speak their own languages, dance their own dances; free also to leave and follow their own vocations."

***

The third-century church order Didascalia gives instructions to bishops about the kind of ready hospitality they should show if a stranger should unexpectedly arrive at the assembly:

"If a destitute man or woman, either a local person or a traveler, arrives unexpectedly, especially one of older years, and there is no place, you, bishop, make such a place with all your heart, even if you yourself should sit on the ground, that you may not show favoritism among human beings, but that your ministry may be pleasing before God."
-- Thomas Long, Hebrews, in the Interpretation commentary series (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1997), p. 143

***

Garrison Keillor has a marvelous radio monologue, reflecting back on his school days in Minnesota -- how the school principal assigned each farm child a "storm home" in town for the winter months. In case a blizzard came up while school was in session, the children would be sent to their storm home to stay the night.

The day he received the slip of the paper with the name of his "storm home" family -- a family he'd never met -- Keillor walked over to the house to have a look at it:

... It looked like the home of the kindly old couple that the children lost in the forest suddenly come upon in the clearing and know they are lucky to be in a story with a happy ending. That was how I felt about the Kloeckls ... though my family might have wondered about my assignment to a Catholic home, had they known. We were suspicious of Catholics, enough to wonder if the Pope had ordered them to take in little Protestant children during blizzards and make them say the Rosary for their suppers. But I imagined the Kloeckls had personally chosen me as their storm child because they liked me. "Him!" they had told Mr. Detman [the principal]. "In the event of a blizzard, we want that boy! The skinny one with the thick glasses!"

No blizzard came during school hours that year, all the snowstorms were convenient evening or weekend ones, and I never got to stay with the Kloeckls, but they were always in my thoughts and they grew large in my imagination. My Storm Home. Blizzards aren't the only storms and not the worst by any means. I could imagine worse things. If the worst should come, I could go to the Kloeckls and knock on their door. "Hello," I'd say. "I'm your storm child."

"Oh, I know," she'd say. "I was wondering when you'd come. Oh, it's good to see you. How would you like a hot chocolate and an oatmeal cookie?"

We'd sit at the table. "Looks like this storm is going to last a while."

"Yes."

"Terrible storm. They say it's going to get worse before it stops. I just pray for anyone who's out in this."

"Yes."

"But we're so glad to have you. I can't tell you. Carl! Come down and see who's here!"

"Is it the storm child?"

"Yes! Himself, in the flesh!"
-- Garrison Keillor, Lake Wobegon Days (New York: Viking, 1985), pp. 248-249

A story like this speaks to our souls -- because there's a little part of us, I suppose, that wishes we had a Storm Home, a place where hospitality is gracefully offered, and gratefully received.

***

Frank McCourt wrote the best-selling autobiography, Angela's Ashes, about the experience of growing up dirt-poor in Limerick, Ireland. It's not so well known, but McCourt also wrote a sequel to that book, the story of his young manhood as an immigrant newly arrived in New York City, just after World War 2. That book is called, 'Tis.

It's Christmas day. The young Frank McCourt is living alone in a rented room. It so happens that he's suffering from a chronic eye infection he brought with him from Ireland, that makes his eye read and swollen all the time, and leads strangers to avoid looking at him. Because of the eye infection, he has trouble keeping a steady job, and so he's barely able buy enough food to eat.

On Christmas Day, McCourt decides to go someplace he hasn't been in years. He's going to go to church. The church he chooses is a fancy one on Park Avenue. Listen to his own account of the experience, in his own irrepressible style:

I can stand at the window all day looking at the happy people with children by the hand going off to church, as they say in America, or I can sit up in the bed with Crime and Punishment and see what Raskolnikov is up to but that will stir up all kinds of guilt and I don't have the strength for it and it's not the right kind of reading for a Christmas Day anyway. I'd like to go up the street for Communion at St. Vincent Ferrer's but it's years since I went to confession and my soul is as black as Mrs. Austin's glug. The happy Catholic people with children by the hand are surely going to St. Vincent's and if I follow them I'm bound to have a Christmas feeling. It's lovely to go into a church like St. Vincent's where you know the Mass will be just like the Mass in Limerick or anywhere in the world. You could go to Samoa or Kabul and they'd have the same Mass and even if they wouldn't let me be an altar boy in Limerick I still have my Latin my father taught me and no matter where I go I can respond to the priest. No one can scoop out the contents of my head, all the saints' feast days I know by heart, the Mass Latin, the chief towns and products of the thirty-two counties of Ireland, songs galore of Ireland's sufferings and Oliver Goldsmith's lovely poem "The Deserted Village." ... The People who go to St. Vincent's are like the ones who go to the Sixty-eighth Street Playhouse for Hamlet and they know the Latin responses the way they know the play. They share prayer books and sing hymns together and smile at each other because they know Brigid the maid is back there in the Park Avenue kitchen keeping an eye on the turkey. Their sons and daughters have the look of coming home from school and college and they smile at other people in the pews also home from school and college. They can afford to smile because they all have teeth so dazzling if they dropped them in snow they'd be lost forever. The church is so crowded there are people standing in the back, but I'm so weak with the hunger and the long Christmas Eve of whiskey, glug and throwing up I want to find a seat. There's an empty spot at the end of a pew far up the center aisle but as soon as I slip into it a man comes running at me. He's all dressed up in striped trousers, a coat with tails, and a frown over his face and he whispers to me, You must leave this pew at once. This is for regular pew holders, come on, come on. I feel my face turning red and that means my eyes are worse and when I go down the aisle I know the whole world is looking at me, the one who sneaked into the pew of a happy family with children home from school and college. There's no use even standing at the back of the church. They all know and they'll be giving me looks, so I might as well leave and add another sin to the hundreds already on my soul, the mortal sin of not going to Mass on Christmas Day. At least God will know I tried and it's not my fault if I wandered into a happy family from Park Avenue pew.

McCourt has a humorous way of telling a story, which nearly covers up how sad, sweetly sad, his story is -- the story of a young man who walked into a church on Christmas Day, and discovered not love and peace and the grace of God, but a scowling usher telling him he was seated in the wrong pew.

***

There is a Zen Buddhist fable, of a woman who's seeking the meaning of life. So eager is this woman to find life's meaning that she sells all she has, and sets off on a worldwide spiritual quest.

In a distant land, she hears rumors of one who knows the answer: an old man who lives in the mountains. Finally, in a small hut in the Himalayas, she finds him. She knocks on the door of his hut. He opens it, and invites her in for tea. "No thank you," she says, "I haven't come for tea. I'm seeking the meaning of life."

"You must have tea," the teacher says, and motions her to sit down.

All the time the water is boiling, the woman talks. The words tumble out of her mouth, rapid-fire; having sought the wise teacher for so long, she now wants him to know everything about her. She tells him all her worries and doubts and anxieties, all the troubling thoughts that have kept her from sleeping at night. All the while, the teacher sits quietly, making the tea.

When it has reached the proper strength, he begins to pour her a cup; but she's oblivious to what he's doing. He keeps pouring, until the cup is full, then he pours some more. The woman looks down. She notices her cup is overflowing, that the tea is running to the edge of the table and dripping onto the floor. "Stop!" she exclaims. "There's no more room!"

"Just so," says the teacher. "You come here wanting something from me, but what am I to do? There is no more room in your cup. Come back when it is empty, and then we will talk."

The woman never did have to return to the master. For in the simple act of pouring her a cup of tea, he had taught her all she needed to know.

***

I offer this information from the Institute for American Church Growth, which I think is quite consistent with findings in other fields of communication research.

The Institute did a survey to find out what brought people into the church. They found that 6 to 8 percent came because of some church "program," 2 or 3 percent were drawn in by the pastor, 8 to 10 percent found the church met some of their special needs, 3 or 4 percent came in response to a visitation program, one or two were introduced through the Sunday School, and .0005 percent because of an evangelistic preaching service. All the rest, 70 to 80 percent, were brought into the church by a relative or friend.

From that, and from other facts and impressions gained over the years, it's quite clear to me that any outreach, any evangelism must be done by lay people. Clergy have a crucial role to play in all this, but in the nurture, encouragement, enabling of lay people, not in doing the evangelism themselves.
-- Ralph Milton, in the Rumors e-newsletter, November 7, 2004

***

In today's world only 40 percent of our guests come from a sister church or one with a similar background. That means that 60 percent come with little or no understanding of our church. Just a little more than 40 years ago, approximately 90 percent of a church's guests came from the same denominational background. This meant that they already understood the church's theology, order of worship, music, values and culture. Such inherent knowledge allowed them to feel comfortable and at ease in the new church, and this made assimilating new members relatively easy.

"Now, with more than half of our guests coming with no church background or from one that is quite different, its is a new story. Many newcomers will have little knowledge about the church and will be unfamiliar with the worship format. They do not know when to stand, sit, or kneel. Others do not know our songs, language, and religious jargon. Because of their unfamiliarity with the church, assimilation is more difficult and takes strategic planning."
-- Gary L. McIntosh, Church That Works: Your One-Stop Resource for Effective Ministry (Baker Books, 2004)

***

There are so many people who live alone, crushed by their loneliness. It is obvious that too much solitude can drive people off the rails, to depression or alcoholism ... there are so many who are looking for a family and a meaning to their lives. In the years to come, we are going to need so many small communities which welcome lost and lonely people, offering them a family and a sense of belonging. At other times, Christians who wanted to follow Jesus opened hospitals and schools. Now that there are so many of these, Christians must commit themselves to the new communities of welcome, to live with people who have no other family and to show them that they are loved.
-- Jean Vanier, from Community and Growth. Vanier is the founder of the L'Arche communities, which minister to mentally handicapped adults.

***

Above the doorway of a church in London, a prayer has been carved into the stone: "O God, make the door of this house wide enough to receive all who need human love and fellowship; narrow enough to shut out all envy, pride and strife. Make its threshold smooth enough to be no stumbling block to children, nor to straying feet, but rugged and strong enough to turn back the Tempter's power. God make the door of this house the gateway to thine eternal kingdom."

From Chris Ewing:

The New York Times has published several helpful articles exploring the dynamics around the resistance to the European Constitution:
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/05/31/international/europe/31france.html?th&...
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/06/01/opinion/01wed3.html?th&emc=th
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/06/02/opinion/02brooks.html?th&emc=th

***

Rev. Donel McClellan once told a story of a man who was out walking one day, just before Christmas. He came upon one of those Salvation Army kettles. As he approached the volunteer ringing the bell, he felt an unaccustomed spirit of generosity wash over him. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out all his change. He dropped every last coin into the kettle with a smile. The man turned to leave, but then he stopped. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet and emptied every last bill into the kettle as well. Grinning like an idiot, he walked away with a bounce to his step. But about two blocks later, the bounce wore out. Suddenly it hit him! "What have I done?" he asked himself. The man turned around, walked back to the old woman and asked for his money back. He got it, and left again, walking very quickly this time, head down, looking neither to the right nor the left. "For two blocks," wrote McClellan, "...that man walked in the Kingdom of God. For two blocks he was free of the burden of his possessions. For two blocks he put other people above himself. For two blocks he was self-giving and generous. For two blocks he was blessed ... but, like most of us, he could not stand the uncertainty that goes with that much blessing. He wanted to continue to think that he is in control. He walked back, out of the realm of God and back into the well-worn grooves of his weary world."
-- Cited by Carlos Wilton in an online memorial to McClellan

***

One will rarely err if extreme actions be ascribed to vanity, ordinary actions to habit, and mean actions to fear.
-- Friedrich Nietzsche

***

"Fear Among Children"

A nationwide survey of more than 2200 seven-to-eleven-year-olds, released by the private Foundation for Children's Development, indicated that most children feel good about their lives, their families and just being themselves. But many are also afraid.

More than two-thirds are scared that "someone bad" is skulking about their neighborhood, waiting to break into their homes. A quarter of the children are afraid that they will be attacked when they go outside -- with some justification, since more than 40% have been harassed by older kids or adults while playing. Children addicted to television (those who watch four or more hours daily) are twice as likely to be fearful; nearly 25% of all the children are frightened by TV "shoot 'em ups" and other violent programs.
-- Paul Lee, Encyclopedia of 7700 Illustrations

***

No Man is an Islande intire of itselfe. Every Man is a piece of the Continent, a part of the Maine. If a Clod bee washed away by the sea, Europe is the lesse. Any Man's death diminishes me because I am involved with Mankinde. Therefore, never send to know for whom the Bell tolls. It tolls for thee.
-- John Donne (1575-1631)

***

God does not give us graces or talents or virtues for ourselves alone. We are members one of another and everything that is given to one member is given for the whole body.
-- Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation

***

In solitude we discover that our life is not a possession to be defended, but a gift to be shared.
-- Henri Nouwen

***

Some people are kind, polite and sweet-spirited ... until you try to sit in their pews.

***

If you haven't any charity in your heart, you have the worst kind of heart trouble.
-- Bob Hope

***

Rule for Christian Living

Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can!
-- John Wesley


Worship Resources

By Julie Strope

Theme: We are all nomads, journey-ers, on this earth. Hospitality -- caring for journey-ers -- is essential for human survival. Deep within our beings, we believe that the Transcendent Holy sustains us through all our travels.

CALL TO WORSHIP (based on Psalm 116)

Leader: Welcome to this place and time. The Creator of the universe is already here; God is compassionate and walks with us through this world.

People: We walk in the presence of the Holy One who knows our thoughts and our actions.

Leader: We are assembled here as God's people --

People: God's thankful people! We will sing and pray our hopes and our fears. We listen for the Spirit's enthusiasm.

Leader: In sorrow and gladness we know God is merciful and good; we experience grace every day.

People: Our hearts are confident that God upholds us in our living and our dying! Hallelujah!

PRAYER OF ADORATION (based on Psalm 116)

Maker of All:
Thank you for your presence. We have promised you our all. We are responding to your goodness and to your imagination so evident around us. Male and female, we receive your love and grace. Adults and children, we want to make your goodness available in this world. With silence and words, with music and movement, we open our minds to you. Amen.

HYMN SUGGESTIONS

"God Of The Sparrow" ROEDER
"Thank You, God, For Water, Soil And Air" AMSTEIN
"God Of Compassion, In Mercy Befriend Us" O QUANTA QUALIA
"Psalm 116: O Thou, My Soul, Return In Peace" MARTYRDOM
"Seek Ye First" LAFFERTY
"All Who Hunger" HOLY MANNA
"His Eye Is On The Sparrow" SPARROW
"Live In Charity" Ubi Caritas UBI CARITAS TAIZE
"Morning, Evening" MORNING, EVENING
"In The Midst Of New Dimensions" NEW DIMENSIONS
"Word Of God In Human Language" BEECHER

CALL TO CONFESSION (based on Romans 5)

Our design includes a longing for wholeness. We long to feel deep peace. As we mature, we begin to be aware of the incongruencies in our lives. In these few moments, we acknowledge that our behaviors and thoughts as well as our nation's and our church's cause pain to the earth and all creatures.

COMMUNITY CONFESSION (unison)

Living God,
Chaos swirls around us pulling us toward caring for ourselves without thought of others.
Economics threaten us with "not enough" and we close our doors to people who seek soup and bread.
Entertainment invites us to compete in games that diminish the earth and our souls.
Set us on a wholesome path that welcomes other travelers on this journey through time. Amen.

WORD OF GRACE

Jesus of Nazareth challenged his religious and political environment; he challenges us to do so, as well. His actions and his words demonstrate the Holy One at work to set in place a new way of being. By Holy Spirit, we are empowered to live abundantly, enthusiastically and graciously. In Christ we are whole!

CONGREGATIONAL CHORAL RESPONSE

Stanza 5 There's a Spirit in the Air LAUDS
When a stranger's not alone,
Where the homeless find a home;
Praise the love that Christ revealed,
Living, working in our world.

CONTEMPORARY AFFIRMATION (unison)

Jesus, known as Mary's and God's son, lived and died in the first century of this era, believing that the Kingdom of Heaven is to be transplanted to earth.

Jesus and the prophets urged followers to be sensitive to individuals who lack basic necessities for life.

Jesus is the Christ, inviting us to allow the God-Presence to fill us: body, mind, and psyche.

Jesus is with us as Holy Spirit, giving us inner peace, vision, and guidance.

Through each stage of our human journey, we are not alone; God is with us! Hallelujah! Amen!

OFFERTORY STATEMENT

Abraham hosted travelers for lunch -- or maybe it was high tea!
Jesus said that he came so we might live -- graciously, abundantly, generously. The baskets will hold whatever you are willing to share.

DOXOLOGY

"Wherever I May Wander" NEW ENGLAND stanza 1
Wherever I may wander, Wherever I may be,
I'm certain of my Maker's love; God's care is over me.
God made the great high mountains,
And made the wide blue sea;
God made the sky where airplanes fly;
God made the world and me.

THANKSGIVING PRAYER

Living God,
We think of ourselves as generous people, so here are our tithes and offerings. Use them to make life good on this street corner and on all the street corners where people seek meaning and nurture. Amen.

INTERCESSORY PRAYERS

God of wanderers,
Thank you for your constant, dependable presence as we negotiate the ups and downs of living. Thank you for the ways you guide us to get our needs met. Live through us so that people in our cities experience justice.

God of Isaac and Ishmael, Hagar and Sarah,
Shower shalom on vengeful peoples. Establish peacefulness in the hearts of angry individuals. Open the minds of every individual to the possibilities of collaboration in a world very different from that of Abraham's and Mohammed's, a worldview so different from Constantine's and Osama Bin Ladin's. We pray for an end to hate and death in Palestine, Iraq, Israel....

God of health and hearth,
Thank you for our homes and our children. Thank you, too, for the men and women who have guided us along life's journey to this point. We are aware that we are made of clay and that our joints wear out, aware that our psyches get weary, aware that we need your healing touch. Give us strength to endure pain; we trust you to be our help and our hope each day. Amen.

BENEDICTION/CHARGE

Consciously, intentionally,
Be aware of Holy Spirit in yourself.
Greet the stranger with a smile;
Greet the clerk with "please" and "thank you."
Cherish your companions with laughter and touch.
Affirm your kids with words and hugs to mean, "I love you."
Dispense no judgment till you know more.
In all you do, say and think
Know that God empowers you today and everyday. Amen.


A Children's Sermon

Good news!

Object: a newspaper

Based on Matthew 9:35--10:8 (9-23)

Good morning, boys and girls. How many of your parents read a newspaper? (let them answer) Do some of you look at the newspaper? Do you read the comics or other sections? (let them answer) Some of you aren't old enough to read yet, but some day you'll start reading. One thing you will read will be a newspaper like this one. (show the paper) What does a newspaper have in it that is so important to people? (let them answer) It has stories in it. We call these stories "news." Some of the news is good news. Some of the news is bad news.

When Jesus was preaching there weren't any newspapers like today. But if there had been Jesus would probably have been an important newsmaker. Today's lesson says that Jesus went from city to city teaching and "proclaiming the good news." What do you suppose the "good news" is? (let them answer) The good news is that God loves us. So many people followed Jesus that he chose 12 men to help spread his good news. We call those 12 his disciples. Their names are: Simon Peter, Andrew, James, John, Philip, Bartholomew, Thomas, Matthew, James, James the Lesser (there were two Jameses), Thaddaeus, Simon the Zealot, and Judas.

Jesus sent his disciples out because there were too many people to reach. He couldn't reach them all by himself. Jesus told his disciples to teach the same things that he was teaching. Jesus also gave the 12 the power to heal people's diseases. Jesus told his disciples to say, "Good news! The kingdom of God is near!" That's why I brought a newspaper this morning. Because it reminded me that Jesus proclaimed news that was good news.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Immediate Word, June 12, 2005, issue.

Copyright 2004 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.

All rights reserved. Subscribers to The Immediate Word service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons and in worship and classroom settings only. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., P.O. Box 4503, Lima, Ohio 45802-4503.