Say 'no' To Strangers?
Sermon
I remember an occasion in a Church service some years ago, when a young man stood up to read the lesson. He was only about 21 years old, and he wore the sort of clothes that 21 year olds wear - leather jacket, jeans, and dirty trainers. And his head was closely shaved so that it looked as if he had no hair at all.
One member of the congregation was particularly upset by his shaven head. She was very critical of his appearance, and felt young men shouldn't come to Church looking like that. Perhaps she felt intimidated, because she associated shaven heads and leather jackets with vandals or hooligans or terrorising gangs.
It was only later that she became aware that this particular young man was suffering from cancer, and had lost his hair through chemotherapy. He died a few months later, shortly after completing a mammoth cycle ride of most of Britain, to raise funds for cancer research.
How difficult it is to accept people just as they are, because of all sorts of inbuilt fears which tend to cloud our discernment. And how easy it is to make snap judgments about people, based on very flimsy grounds, such as their appearance or their behaviour or based simply on irrational feelings about them.
In today's gospel reading, Jesus was talking to his disciples prior to sending them out on a mission. They were to go out into the houses of other Israelites but no further afield, giving their fellow Israelites the message that the kingdom was near. And they were to heal the ills suffered by the families and households they visited. They weren't expected to cure illnesses, but to offer God's healing for broken relationships and broken lives and emotional pain and trauma, as well as for physical sicknesses.
It seems they were naturally anxious about approaching total strangers, for Jesus talks to them both reassuringly, and with warnings that it might not all be plain sailing. He's clearly telling them not to worry too much about their reception, for he says, "Whoever welcomes you welcomes me." He was aware that some houses would reject the overtures of his disciples, but nonetheless he expected his disciples to go into any and all houses, without discrimination.
They weren't to elect to visit only the best areas, or only the houses where they thought the occupants might be sympathetic to their mission. They weren't to avoid the down-town houses or the slums or the ghettos. They weren't to visit only their friends, and avoid strangers. They were to go to every house in the cold knowledge that they might very well be turned out on their ears, or worse.
Clearly this question of rejection had been asked, for Jesus gives it considerable attention. He warns that it won't be easy, and that there are those who might actually try to kill the disciples as they deliver their message, for he says, "..do not fear those who can kill the body but cannot kill the soul.." and goes on to say, "I haven't come to bring peace, but a sword ...a man's foes will be those of his own household."
But he follows these warnings with the comforting words from today's gospel, "Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me."
This attitude of unconditional acceptance is reflected elsewhere in Matthew's gospel. In 25:31-46 Jesus said, " I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me .Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me." And he followed this up with those scary words which were the direct opposite, about when you failed to do any of those things to anyone around, you failed to do it to God.
Yet in this modern age, if taken literally those words could be rather dangerous. Surely we need to exercise some judgement about other people, especially about strangers?
The papers are full of horrific stories about people who have trusted strangers and come to grief. Children who are abducted, elderly people who are conned out of their life savings, and not long ago here in East Anglia, a 68-year old pensioner who was raped by a young man who happened to pass her in the street.
Christ's instructions are to care for all his children, to visit anyone and everyone in any area to spread Christ's message and to offer God's healing for their ills. But how do Christians balance these clear instructions with the need to exercise discretion and to be wary of those who seek out the vulnerable with evil intent?
For instance, anyone who stopped their car to pick up a hitch-hiker, especially one who looked unkempt or threatening, would be asking for trouble. As would anyone who invited into their home a stranger who appeared from nowhere offering to tarmac the drive. And of course appearances are often deceptive, so that villains (especially conmen) are frequently very nice people with a warm and inviting manner, while young men with shaven heads who look villanous may well be exceedingly courageous and altruistic.
So perhaps the words of Jesus must be balanced against the need to be sensibly careful and to make proper checks and take proper precautions when dealing with strangers.
The trouble is, many of us tend to be so frightened by what could happen and by the sensational and terrifying cases reported in the media, that we no longer reach out at all to strangers. Far from going out to see people in their own homes to proclaim the message of God and help heal their ills, we Christians sometimes tend to huddle at home behind locked doors, for fear of strangers and of what might be.
Even in church, which should be a welcoming sanctuary for all, strangers can sometimes feel very alone and very unwelcome, and even rejected. Especially if they wear bizarre fashions and seem to come from a different planet.
So perhaps I could finish today with a story which I think illustrates the tensions between welcoming strangers and being sensibly cautious.
His name is John. He has wild hair, wears a T-shirt with holes in it, jeans and no shoes. This was literally his wardrobe for his entire four years of college. He is brilliant. Kind of esoteric and very, very bright. He became a Christian while attending college.
Across the street from the campus is a well-dressed, very conservative church. They want to develop a ministry to the students, but are not sure how to go about it. One day John decides to go there. He walks in with no shoes, jeans, his T-shirt, and wild hair. The service has already started and so John starts down the aisle looking for a seat. The church is completely packed and he can't find a seat.
By now people are looking a bit uncomfortable, but no one says anything. John gets closer and closer and closer to the pulpit and when he realises there are no seats, he just squats down right on the carpet. (Although perfectly acceptable behaviour at a college fellowship, trust me, this had never happened in this church before!)
By now the people are really uptight, and the tension in the air is thick. About this time, the vicar realises that from way at the back of the church, a sidesman is slowly making his way toward John.
Now the sidesman is in his eighties, has silver-grey hair, a three-piece suit, and a pocket watch. A godly man, very elegant, very dignified, very courtly. He walks with a stick and as he starts walking toward this boy, everyone is saying to themselves, "You can't blame him for what he's going to do. How can you expect a man of his age and of his background to understand some college kid on the floor?"
It takes a long time for the man to reach the boy. The church is utterly silent except for the clicking of the man's stick. All eyes are focused on him. You can't even hear anyone breathing. The people are thinking, "The vicar can't even preach the sermon until the sidesman does what he has to do." And now they see this elderly man drop his stick on the floor. With great difficulty he lowers himself and sits down next to John and worships with him.
When the vicar gains control he says, "What I'm about to preach, you will never remember. What you have just seen, you will never forget."
(Author unknown)
One member of the congregation was particularly upset by his shaven head. She was very critical of his appearance, and felt young men shouldn't come to Church looking like that. Perhaps she felt intimidated, because she associated shaven heads and leather jackets with vandals or hooligans or terrorising gangs.
It was only later that she became aware that this particular young man was suffering from cancer, and had lost his hair through chemotherapy. He died a few months later, shortly after completing a mammoth cycle ride of most of Britain, to raise funds for cancer research.
How difficult it is to accept people just as they are, because of all sorts of inbuilt fears which tend to cloud our discernment. And how easy it is to make snap judgments about people, based on very flimsy grounds, such as their appearance or their behaviour or based simply on irrational feelings about them.
In today's gospel reading, Jesus was talking to his disciples prior to sending them out on a mission. They were to go out into the houses of other Israelites but no further afield, giving their fellow Israelites the message that the kingdom was near. And they were to heal the ills suffered by the families and households they visited. They weren't expected to cure illnesses, but to offer God's healing for broken relationships and broken lives and emotional pain and trauma, as well as for physical sicknesses.
It seems they were naturally anxious about approaching total strangers, for Jesus talks to them both reassuringly, and with warnings that it might not all be plain sailing. He's clearly telling them not to worry too much about their reception, for he says, "Whoever welcomes you welcomes me." He was aware that some houses would reject the overtures of his disciples, but nonetheless he expected his disciples to go into any and all houses, without discrimination.
They weren't to elect to visit only the best areas, or only the houses where they thought the occupants might be sympathetic to their mission. They weren't to avoid the down-town houses or the slums or the ghettos. They weren't to visit only their friends, and avoid strangers. They were to go to every house in the cold knowledge that they might very well be turned out on their ears, or worse.
Clearly this question of rejection had been asked, for Jesus gives it considerable attention. He warns that it won't be easy, and that there are those who might actually try to kill the disciples as they deliver their message, for he says, "..do not fear those who can kill the body but cannot kill the soul.." and goes on to say, "I haven't come to bring peace, but a sword ...a man's foes will be those of his own household."
But he follows these warnings with the comforting words from today's gospel, "Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me."
This attitude of unconditional acceptance is reflected elsewhere in Matthew's gospel. In 25:31-46 Jesus said, " I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me .Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me." And he followed this up with those scary words which were the direct opposite, about when you failed to do any of those things to anyone around, you failed to do it to God.
Yet in this modern age, if taken literally those words could be rather dangerous. Surely we need to exercise some judgement about other people, especially about strangers?
The papers are full of horrific stories about people who have trusted strangers and come to grief. Children who are abducted, elderly people who are conned out of their life savings, and not long ago here in East Anglia, a 68-year old pensioner who was raped by a young man who happened to pass her in the street.
Christ's instructions are to care for all his children, to visit anyone and everyone in any area to spread Christ's message and to offer God's healing for their ills. But how do Christians balance these clear instructions with the need to exercise discretion and to be wary of those who seek out the vulnerable with evil intent?
For instance, anyone who stopped their car to pick up a hitch-hiker, especially one who looked unkempt or threatening, would be asking for trouble. As would anyone who invited into their home a stranger who appeared from nowhere offering to tarmac the drive. And of course appearances are often deceptive, so that villains (especially conmen) are frequently very nice people with a warm and inviting manner, while young men with shaven heads who look villanous may well be exceedingly courageous and altruistic.
So perhaps the words of Jesus must be balanced against the need to be sensibly careful and to make proper checks and take proper precautions when dealing with strangers.
The trouble is, many of us tend to be so frightened by what could happen and by the sensational and terrifying cases reported in the media, that we no longer reach out at all to strangers. Far from going out to see people in their own homes to proclaim the message of God and help heal their ills, we Christians sometimes tend to huddle at home behind locked doors, for fear of strangers and of what might be.
Even in church, which should be a welcoming sanctuary for all, strangers can sometimes feel very alone and very unwelcome, and even rejected. Especially if they wear bizarre fashions and seem to come from a different planet.
So perhaps I could finish today with a story which I think illustrates the tensions between welcoming strangers and being sensibly cautious.
His name is John. He has wild hair, wears a T-shirt with holes in it, jeans and no shoes. This was literally his wardrobe for his entire four years of college. He is brilliant. Kind of esoteric and very, very bright. He became a Christian while attending college.
Across the street from the campus is a well-dressed, very conservative church. They want to develop a ministry to the students, but are not sure how to go about it. One day John decides to go there. He walks in with no shoes, jeans, his T-shirt, and wild hair. The service has already started and so John starts down the aisle looking for a seat. The church is completely packed and he can't find a seat.
By now people are looking a bit uncomfortable, but no one says anything. John gets closer and closer and closer to the pulpit and when he realises there are no seats, he just squats down right on the carpet. (Although perfectly acceptable behaviour at a college fellowship, trust me, this had never happened in this church before!)
By now the people are really uptight, and the tension in the air is thick. About this time, the vicar realises that from way at the back of the church, a sidesman is slowly making his way toward John.
Now the sidesman is in his eighties, has silver-grey hair, a three-piece suit, and a pocket watch. A godly man, very elegant, very dignified, very courtly. He walks with a stick and as he starts walking toward this boy, everyone is saying to themselves, "You can't blame him for what he's going to do. How can you expect a man of his age and of his background to understand some college kid on the floor?"
It takes a long time for the man to reach the boy. The church is utterly silent except for the clicking of the man's stick. All eyes are focused on him. You can't even hear anyone breathing. The people are thinking, "The vicar can't even preach the sermon until the sidesman does what he has to do." And now they see this elderly man drop his stick on the floor. With great difficulty he lowers himself and sits down next to John and worships with him.
When the vicar gains control he says, "What I'm about to preach, you will never remember. What you have just seen, you will never forget."
(Author unknown)
