ABRAHAM AND SARAH: THE WELCOME

This is the second in a series of sermons on the original family of faith: Abraham and Sarah. Last week we looked at the call out of what is present-day Syria that made them immigrants into the Promised Land and elevated the treatment of immigrants into one of the principle criteria by which the faithful will be judged.

Today in our Gospel lesson we heard how the immigrant, the stranger in a strange land, saw three strangers in the distance, and immediately overwhelmed them with hospitality: water, foot washing, rest, shade, cakes, curds, milk, and veal. Sit down here under my oak with me. Take some shade from the glaring sun. To strangers---absolute, total strangers!

Did Abraham always act like this? Hopping around like a total fool, falling all over himself, for people he had never met?

In this age we seldom go to a strange door unannounced. If we do, we don’t expect to be automatically received. Ding Dong. We go to the door expecting: “Hi, we’re the Jehovah Witnesses.”

In any age in any era, Abraham’s welcome was extravagant.

Just to rush ahead for a moment to the next chapter in the Genesis story, when two of these guests leave they go to see the nephew of Abraham and Sarah. His name was Lot and he lived a few miles away in a town by the Dead Sea called Sodom. When they arrived, Lot took them under his protection while the townsmen sought to grab them and rape them. As it turned out, the two visitors were angels and didn’t need Lot’s protection. The assailants were turned blind. But Lot didn’t know that; in his mind they were strangers and he was their host.

Much as been said about the destruction of Sodom which followed, as if the particular form of the attempted assault was the reason for the fire and brimstone. But if you put the story in the context of the welcome of Abraham and the welcome of Lot, you get the real point of Genesis: the contrast of two behaviors: welcoming by the family of faith and rejecting, indeed, molesting by the other inhabitants of the region. God honors one and judges the other.

We’ve talked from time to time about Biblical journeys and how they symbolize spiritual journeys. Now we take it to another level: personal encounters symbolize spiritual encounters. The leader of these three strangers had the appearance of a man and turned out to be the living God.

Part of the special-ness of the trip to Nicaragua was that we didn’t just send the aid you so generously gathered. We took it. Our own teenagers handed out bowls of food and looked other teenagers in the eye. We personally visited the home of the woman who runs the sewing program and the school where we donated for teacher’s salaries. In every place, we were received with warm and friendliness and joy.

I’m delighted that we have raised have the money for the Samaritan teen crisis line. I can’t tell you how proud I am. But that was the easy part. We will really succeed spiritually when we have at least eight trained volunteers to answer the adult lines. In other words, when we encounter, even over the phone, real people from the outside. When we bring the strength that we gain in the company of each other to the place where God’s people are hurting.

It’s not easy. I’ve completed my first solo shift. It’s not about talking someone off the ledge. Those calls are very rare. It’s about talking to people who are depressed or angry or dysfunctional or sick or isolated, and letting them talk to someone other that the professional people who have to talk to them. It’s about 70% listening and asking intelligent questions and giving them the attention that the rest of society won’t give them. It’s about keeping them from sinking so low that they hurt themselves or others. When we get some people doing that, we’ve taken a big step. Then we’ve done the Abraham and Sarah thing.

When God wanted to have a heart-to-heart with those who would be the focus of divine salvation, God didn’t write a memo. God didn’t send an e-mail. God showed up. And showed up at the right place---under the oak tree. God showed up where there would be a welcome. And God brought a gift.

It was the gift of good news. In the days to come it would be called Gospel, but Gospel simply means good news. So God brought the Gospel to Abraham.

Sarah overheard. She was doing the domestic thing in the tent, but she was also doing the woman-is-curious thing of her day: she was listening in. When she heard the promise, she laughed. Now, she was supposed to listen but she wasn’t supposed to laugh. God got more that God bargained for.

That is: Sarah brought her incredulity and joy in the same package. God later on is going to say: I AM THAT I AM. Well, Sarah was who Sarah was, too.

Much has been made in this age where women are claiming their rights and powers about the laughter of Sarah. She was not just being a passive vessel. Even as she was receiving this joyful news, she was giving God an earful: what took you so long?

Thus begins four thousand years of interaction between the divine and the family of faith. Abraham tries to negotiate on the part of Sodom: if 50 righteous can be found, would you destroy the city? And Jacob wrestling with the man who turns out to be an angel who turns out to be God: no, I won’t let you go until you bless me. And Moses: Now, God, you shouldn’t destroy Israel---people would talk. And the Psalmist: how long, O Lord, before you keep your promises?

In this day and age, people do not see the family of God gathering under an oak tree. They see the roof and walls and doors of a building and are reluctant to go in because they wonder if they will be welcomed. They expect to be treated like uninvited guests. We have sung “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” so long that we have convinced the world that a mighty fortress is our church. We can repel anyone!

Those of us who went to the Jim Griffith workshop last January heard him say that getting people through our doors in this era has very limited success unless we first go out to them. Before we welcome them into the tent, we’ve got to get out with them under the oak.

The family of faith is where the extravagant grace of God meets the extravagant welcome of Abraham and Sarah. Or Bob and Betty. Or Warren and David. Or Madison and Meredith. It’s at the crossroads of consolation and commissioning. It’s at the connection of questioning and caring.

And that oak tree has long branches. They will extend as far as we will get up and go. They will cover Andover and Lawrence. And the Merrimack Valley. And even West Angola and back into the mountains of San Rio de Coco. And when we sit down at the table of fellowship with others, we find that God is there in disguise. And the promise of birth and re-birth that God gave then is renewed today.