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Heaven on Earth Sermon by Sandra M. Thomas June 29, 2008, Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill Micah 4:1-5 Romans 15:1-7
Life on this earth is often so unwelcoming, so conflicted, so lonely, one wonders if God intended us to live in such isolation with high walls excluding all who are the least bit wacky, ugly, or different. Contrast the realities of this earth with the scene of God’s heavenly banquet – the “welcome table” – that awaits us one day when we lie to die, follow the light, or succumb to age and disease. Personally I’m counting on being welcomed into heaven by my grandmother, followed closely by my grandfather and my sister – my father – his quirky brother – sitting next to Aunt Evelyn “the Roman Catholic!” – whose fingernails are still painted red, waving in the air as she chats happily with her former co-worker Bruce “the numbers runner” – and Bruce introduces me to his new acquaintance Hung Minh – apparently their paths had crossed before, years ago, along a jungle stream on opposite sides of a war – one would never know that now. For the first time, it occurs to me that entering heaven might be a lot like entering coffee hour where everyone is a stranger. Will God have a seat selected for me or will I have to decide among the millions of people there, who to sit next to? There’s a real possibility that on the far side of the welcome table might sit the mother of the little kid in the Wawa last week, the mom who paid no attention as her child took strawberry slurpee and poured it out in a long line across the back of the store, the mother whose child then left her cup on the counter, and marched to the front door like one proud warrior after battle. Lord Jesus, please don’t take me to the seat next to her. And what if grandma is not the one waiting to greet me at heaven’s gate? What if it is Peter with a list of questions? What if it is Paul? :-( ready to debate theology. What if it is a total stranger, speaking a different language, from a “purple” state, wearing thrift shop clothes? ?We’re goin’ sit at the welcome table one of these days Hallelujah! ? The story is told about a woman who died and went to heaven. Saint Peter greeted her warmly at the gate. Just beyond him she could see her parents and many friends who had gathered to welcome her. With one hand on the pearly gates, St. Peter said, “I’m sorry but everyone must answer one question before I can open the gate.” The woman said, “OK” Peter said, “Spell Love”. “L-O-V-E” she answered and the gate swung open wide for her. A few months later, Peter came over to where she was sitting at the table and whispered – “I have an errand to run, could you watch the gate and open it for any newcomers – since your new enough to remember the question?” “Sure”, she said. As Peter disappeared around the corner, she looked up and was shocked to see, standing at the gate, her husband. “Hi” she said. “It’s been awhile”. “Yes” he responded awkwardly. “How has life been since I died?” she asked. “Oh….OK” he said. “You remember the nurse we hired to care for you? Well, I ended up marrying her. She didn’t really like the house – so we sold it and moved to a little place on the lake. With the money left from the sale, we did a lot of traveling. You know, it was great not to have to worry about the kids, or doctors appointments, or mowing the lawn. I’m really going to miss her. ” “Are you going to open the gate?” “There’s one question you have to answer first” she responded. “Spell…..reprehensible” Welcoming others is usually a challenge. In Romans Paul teaches us that the followers of Christ are to be accepting to the weak as well as the strong. In the church, where followers of a gracious God gather, hospitality--welcoming is as essential as breath. Our identify with Christ is one of “welcoming”. I wonder how often visitors come to our door and rather than being greeted with open arms and swept into the midst of our life – they are told “please wait, can’t you see we’re busy trying to run a church here.” Hospitality, offered day after day after day, is not easy. By the time Paul wrote Roman, Christians were beginning to figure out that an open door policy was not easy. There were people at the door who were very difficult to love. There were people who stayed too long; there were visitors who were demanding and rude; there were intruders who broken down walls and robbed the kitchen. There were risks and dangers. All of us understand why, a person were prefer to have coffee with friends rather than stranger. All of us understand why a Drexel Hill woman would call the police last week when she returned home to find a man had taken up residence in her house – fixed himself lunch, did his laundry and was sound asleep on her sofa . “Welcoming” is not something one does recklessly in this world – nor in the world where Paul lived. But, basic to our Christian faith is the ability to make room for others…..for in the stranger we see ourselves as we stand before God – empty-handed, vulnerable, totally in need of grace. The saying “you brought nothing in and you take nothing out” is true of heaven – and at our deepest core it is also true here on earth. When we come seeking help, we come empty-handed. One of our deepest spiritual needs is to see ourselves in the face of the outsider at the gate. Tom McCarthy’s new film, titled The Visitor, invites us into the life of a grief-stricken economics professor whose life has all but closed in upon him. His wife dies and he finds nothing in his world but emptiness. Prompted by an unavoidable business trip, he leaves his Connecticut college office and returns to the New York City apartment he had shared with his late wife, after an absence of several months – to find that it is occupied – flowers on the table, dinner on the stove, young woman in his bathtub. Rather than call the police to have the young immigrant couple ( a Syrian man and his Senegalese girlfriend) hauled off to jail, 62 year old Walter Vale – takes a deep breath – shares coffee, then reluctantly decides to let them stay for one more night…..and then another night….and another. Slowly their lives begin to intertwine. In a world of six billion people, three strangers come together. In a bewildering act of hospitality Walter’s eyes are opened once again to the rich vibrancy of life and he recovers his passion. (go see it). In last Monday’s New York Times , columnist Peter Lovenheim writes about his effort to get to know his neighbors. The project began some years ago, when there was a murder-suicide down the street from where he lives. Turns out no one really knew the family – they’d seen the kids come and go, the husband and wife driving off to work and home from the grocery store, but no one really knew them. The murder-suicide resulted in a quick move across country for the children and sale of the house – and a neighborhood left stunned and wondering – who were those people that had lived down the block for 7 years. So Peter decided it was time to get acquainted and he set out a plan to ask each neighbor if he could come and spend the night at their house – 24 hours of getting to know them. Over time, about half the families in the neighborhood let him cross the invisible dotted line down the middle of the driveway that separated them – he with his overnight bag, pencil and yellow tablet – they with their stories and life patterns. He met Lou the 81 year old widower – a young couple working hard to start their own business – a single mother with two children – a pathologist married to a pediatrician specializing in autism. Not one of them was boring – not one visit turned out to be a negative experience or a waste of time. In fact, after a few years of doing this, one of the women in the neighborhood was diagnosed with breast cancer – and Lou, the widower stepped up to watch her children after school, while the self-employed neighbor made time in her day to provide rides for treatment. In effect Peter’s door-bell ringing and overnight stays had created something they had only heard rumors of – a genuine neighborhood. There was some risk involved – the possibility that some would say no – and some did. The possibility that having committed to 24 hours with another person, it would not be good – not once did that happen. We don’t know ourselves until experience being the stranger. We don’t know others until we invest in them. The theology behind “welcoming other” is profound. For we don’t save ourselves, we are saved by God. We don’t love ourselves first. God loves us first. We don’t stand before God self-sufficient, complete and totally in control. We stand before Him as a homeless person desperately in need…. awaiting his word of welcome. In the world bigger than a suburban neighborhood is welcome appropriate? Christians in the early church learned not only the importance of hospitality but the dangers. They discovered that hospitality is something best done together as a congregation. For one thing, the numbers of strangers and people in need of welcome can wear out individuals who want to be generous and gracious. Structures and guidelines are helpful when risk is involved. Putting out the welcome mat does not mean that we become the welcome mat for those who use and abuse. Even before the 6th century, Benedict had established Rules for welcoming strangers who found their way to monastery doors. These were rules that supported a gracious welcome, protected the resources of the community, and sought to preserve the possibility of hospitality for others who would come along. The structures taught by Paul and redefined by Benedict created of the church a unique community known for extraordinary compassion and outreach…..and a place where people who came seeking assistance were deeply respected. The structures established for hospitality became the basis of continuity -- when one “welcome giver” became tired or used up, there would be another there ready to take a turn…..and all “welcome givers” reminded each other daily of the importance of their mission. We lost some of that along the way. You remember, don’t you? that hospitals were established by the church as a ministry of hospitality – when is the last time your hospital felt hospitable? and hospices were created as safe resting places for those on life’s last journey – how are we doing in supporting such places? – or just the coffee hour, which is a ministry of hospitality to those passing through the hallways of our church – how “welcoming” are we to the stranger? Hospitality takes our earthly places – our kitchens, our living rooms, our common hallways, our workplace cafeterias, our back yards – and makes them heavenly places. Earth becomes more heaven-like, when we live as though each day were a “welcome table” event. Paul reminds us, as he did early Christians that we are not to ignore a person because he/she is sick – and it is unreasonable to blame those who are weak. Our faith in Jesus Christ calls us to meet each other as we are and help each other with problems. It requires the patience of God in the face of exasperating limitations – it requires freedom from resentment – it requires sympathy and a willingness to share the actual pain and heartache another carries. But we and those who stand just outside the door are the people Christ has called together in this community – and a “little taste” of heaven on earth requires that we join them at the table. |