Sermon preached by The Rev’d Neil Fernyhough, 5th Sunday After Pentecost (June 15, 2008 )
Readings: Gen 18:1-15; Ps 116:1-10-17; Rom 5:1-8; Mt 9:35–10:8
“If I find favour with you, do not pass by your servant.” – Gen. 18:3
In the middle of a vast, empty plain Abraham suddenly sees three strangers approaching his tent. So what does he do? Why, he rushes out to greet them, of course, bowing to them, inviting them in, washing their feet, preparing food, and serving it to them while standing by them to block the rays of the sun. These three men are an extraordinary apparition of God – but Abraham doesn’t know this.
The kindness of strangers makes a civil society possible – and sometimes it makes life itself possible. I’m sure each of you could make a long list of the many small acts of unsolicited help or support offered by people unknown to you. The stranger who gives your car a jump-start. The anonymous donor whose blood sees you through surgery. The benefactor whose scholarship helps you complete your education. The kindness of strangers makes us feel less alone, less helpless. This goes beyond the aid and comfort of a fulfilled need – we feel, if only briefly, connected to something larger, that maybe we are part of some greater human family. Indeed, the impulse to give and receive is truly familial when we do it without any expectation, but simply because we understand we are in a relationship with the other. And, if you think about it, isn’t that really the way of God?
Reading how Abraham treated his unexpected visitors caused me to recall my friend and mentor, David Retter, who dies three years ago this month. Fr. David was a quiet, unassuming man; and I never fully realised the power of his influence on my Christian formation until his death. That influence wasn’t so much in the training or the advice he gave me during my apprenticeship, although that was valuable, of course. No, a lot of his influence was expressed in his quiet generosity and humble hospitality – whether it was preparing a surprise meal for his fellow-residents in the St. James’ clergy house, offering an unexpected lift to the airport, or stepping in to take evening services for me just so I could leave early to see friends. Just a few weeks before his death, we went for lunch and David insisted on paying – my birthday present, he explained. I wasn’t even aware that he knew when my birthday was…but he always had an excuse for picking up the tab!
David didn’t do these things because we were close friends. He was like this with everybody. His is the sort of civility we are talking about when we use that gently archaic expression that someone is behaving “like a Christian.” This unforced generosity, this desire to be gracious, kind, and welcoming is a way of life. We often trivialize it – indeed the first entry when you perform an internet search on the word “hospitality” is “Hospitality.net: Hospitality news, products, and services for the industry.” But hospitality isn’t an industry – it is a state of being. Hospitality given and received forges a connection, not only between the individuals, but with God. Hospitality propels us into intimacy with the One who is the source of all generosity, from whom the gift of life and salvation is the origin and model of generosity itself.
If acts of unmerited kindness makes us more Christ-like – as I believe they do – then it is natural that such acts would make us more attuned to the mind of God, allowing us to enter into a conversation with the divine, just as Sarah and Abraham did. God is waiting to show generosity to us in so many ways, if we would only be willing to accept God’s initiative. Consider again the story of the three visitors to Abraham and Sarah. The hospitality of the couple permits a conversation and an invitation, allowing God to fulfill the promise of descendents that was made to them; thus permitting Abraham and Sarah to partner with God in fulfilling a larger plan.
It is sometimes a challenge to be open to the sheer scope of God’s generosity. We suffer from a very limited perspective at times – at least I know I do. We assume a universe of limitations and restrictions, and are unwilling to accept an horizon of infinite possibilities. I have ongoing treatment for my back and neck; and have seen a number of professionals who have helped me increase my range of motion. Anyone who has undertaken such therapy soon comes to know that our muscles tighten and we become less flexible for a number of reasons, but frequently it is simply because our bodies want to take the path of least resistance. I think that the same principle extends to our spiritual selves, as well. We may miss out on the vast rewards and personal growth nurtured by a growing intimacy with God, because we conclude that it is simply too much work. We take the path of least resistance. And so we choose to dive by the stranded motorist, to pass by the blood donor clinic, to avoid writing a cheque or volunteering time for a worthy cause.
By surrendering opportunities for hospitality and generosity, we limit our spiritual range of motion often to the point where we can no longer function as spiritual beings – that is to say, as human beings. It is no accident that the story of Abraham and Sarah’s hospitality to the messengers of God is followed by the inhospitableness of Sodom to other messengers. Inhospitableness, carried to the extreme of violence and objectification, leads to utter alienation from God. And alienation from God is, as the moral of Sodom and Gomorrah teaches, ultimately destructive.
Jesus understood the relationship between hospitality and godliness He understood that by commissioning the apostles to go forth and perform acts of generosity, he was enabling those who would receive his emissaries to achieve intimacy with God, which we call “faith.” And for those who would not be hospitable, who would not receive the visitors and allow God to enter their lives? Jesus warns that the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah – bywords for alienation – would await those who choose to live outside the loving unity God has established for all Creation. It is helpful to recall that Jesus’ instruction to the apostles that they avoid the Gentiles and tend only “the lost sheep of Israel” is later challenged by A gentile woman. And, as happens so often in Scripture and in life, a conversation with God has the power to change God’s mind…to take the divine initiative and up the ante. “Great is your faith,” Jesus tells the woman – and her faith, her relentless push for divine intimacy, saves her, heals her, and ultimately includes her in the covenant of God.
As Paul wrote, our faith also creates an intimacy with God. Through the mediation of Jesus Christ, we have established “peace with God.” Our faith overcomes the alienation created by human selfishness, violence, and inhospitableness. Again, this is a gift we receive through God’s initiative…an act of generosity and kindness, utterly unmerited. The peace established by reconciliation allows the conversation to continue, enabling us to reproduce that generosity and kindness in how we live our lives. In doing so, the scope of divine love expands, filling the corners of the Earth, transforming the lives of those who are alone, without hope, or in need of help. And, in giving generously, God will continue to transform each of us, as well, filling our own hearts with God’s generous store of love. In this way, the dance of intimacy grows ever stronger into a future of infinite possibilities. Amen.
© Richard Neil Fernyhough, 2008.
