I’ve read somewhere that in literature, there are two great stories. From these stories, most every story evolves. A stranger comes to town. A person sets out on a journey. Both of these archetypal stories involve meeting the new. We experience chance encounters with the unknown. Day by day, we venture out into the world and day by day, we meet new people. A stranger comes to town. A person sets out on a journey.
The short gospel reading for today from Matthew speaks about those who are hospitable to Christ’s disciples. The reward of discipleship goes to those who welcome such disciples, knowing who they are and what their loyalties are. It is, of course, clearly implied that although receiving Christ’s disciples brings a disciple’s reward, it also brings upon one the threat and hostility that the disciples themselves bear.
There are three parallel expressions: receiving a prophet, receiving a righteous person, and receiving a little one. All three may be taken as referring to the extension of hospitality to Christians. This text makes us appreciate the significance of all the times in the Bible when we are urged to practice hospitality.
But in these verses, Christians are not being urged to welcome prophets or righteous persons or little ones. Christians are the ones receiving hospitality, being welcomed, being guests of others. Being in such a position may make some of us feel a bit awkward, but so does being on the receiving end of God’s grace. It is difficult to acknowledge dependence on God or on other people. But the fact is, we are sometimes the stranger at the door. And all of us need God’s mercy and grace.
At one of the ministerial alliance luncheons, we talked about what makes for distinctly Christian leadership. We all had ideas, but then the presenter offered this: what makes leadership Christian is that when a person looks at you, they see Christ. And more than that, as they behold Christ in you, they also experience Christ in themselves.
We all bear the image of God. By virtue of our baptisms, we all can be Christ for each other. And seeing Christ in you, I am led to see that Christ is also in me. We are Christ for each other and we experience Christ in us.
That is the kind of hospitality that is possible when we encounter one another. The hospitality that Matthew writes about is offering a ‘cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple.’ This suggests service beyond the bare minimum. Water stored in the household pitcher would be lukewarm. To provide cool water to a traveler meant a trip to the village well to draw and haul water. The extra work is a gift that honors the guest. Jesus calls for his followers to go the second mile and perform the extra service that is the hallmark of love.
A cup of cold water. Water is life-giving water. In addition, the ‘cup’ carries with it the symbolism of inclusion and welcome. Later in Matthew, Jesus asks, “Are you able to drink the cup that I am about to drink?” We may shrink back from the inclusion that such a cup offers, the cup of suffering. Again in Matthew, “Jesus took the cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, saying, ‘Drink from it, all of you; for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.’” The cup of water or wine or tea or coffee is the ultimate sign of hospitality.
Effective July 7th, Pastor John and I will be what our church terms, ‘on leave from call.’ Trying to think about that in these days has brought me back to my baptismal identity. It is the door I entered 52 years ago and is, I must remember, my primary identity. I am a baptized child of God. By virtue of my baptism, you may encounter Christ in my life and in my words. And in so doing, you may encounter the Christ that dwells in you.
I will encounter new people and new situations. I will be listening for God’s calling and I will be looking for Christ in the faces of those around me, even as I encounter a stranger. I will be dependant on the kindness of strangers.
If I am paying attention, I will see that Christ comes to me in the needs and the gifts of those around me, neighbors, fellow workers, family, new friends I haven’t yet met.
You also will have opportunities to greet the stranger here. In visitors, in supply preachers, an interim pastor, in new staff that you call to service here. You will offer cups of cold water. You will see Christ in the stranger. You will experience Christ in your life of faith. The help you seek will come in gifts from God. It will call you to see with new eyes.
That reminds me of Tolstoy’s story, “Where Love, is, God Is.” It’s the story of a cobbler named Martin who is alerted in a dream that Jesus will visit him before the next day is out. In the course of the day, Martin encounters and aids various people in need, but at the end of the day, Martin goes to bed bitterly disappointed that Jesus never came to his door. In a second dream, Jesus appears to Martin and explains that each time Martin welcomed a needy person into his shop, he had welcomed Jesus himself.
In our baptismal calling, we are Christ for the one who encounters us, we are an icon for others to see the Christ inside themselves. In the waters of baptism, God gives us a calling to give our life purpose, to drive away all fears, and to make us a community, no matter where we travel.
We are the recipients of that cup of cold water.
The ex-con was finally heading home. He ignored the noisy college kids on the bus and stared out the window until, after a rest stop, a young woman sat down next to him and struck up a conversation. He told her that he’d been in prison for 4 years and that his wife hadn’t written in 3 ½. When he learned that he was being paroled, he wrote again and said he still loved her. He would understand, though, if she never wanted to see him again.
To make it easier on both of them, he suggested his wife use a yellow handkerchief to communicate her feelings. If she wanted him back, she would tie the handkerchief on the oak tree near their home. If there was no handkerchief, he would stay on the bus and keep going.
Word of their arrangement spread through the bus. As it came into town, the college students flocked to the windows. When they saw the tree, loud cheers broke out. On the tree was not one but hundreds of yellow handkerchiefs.
We know this story from the song, “Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree.” Like this story, the gospel story is about such an extravagant welcome. Earlier in the chapter, we see Jesus sending out his disciples to preach and heal. After warning them about the rejection they will sometimes face, he describes the rewards of those who receive his messengers. “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.”
Evan Howard writes, “God’s presence is always and forever available to us through Jesus. The only requirement is that we open our hearts. The more extravagant the welcome, the greater the refreshment, the deeper the grounding, the stronger the inspiration that will flow from it.
The welcome must be extravagant in sincerity and persistence in order to overcome our opposition to it. Each day brings burdens and challenges, and these can become so urgent that they smother the welcoming impulse. But daily concerns are transitory. Only God abides forever, and we belong to God in all circumstances—not only the joyful but also the mundane and excruciating ones. Trustworthy messengers remind us of this—apostles and prophets, righteous persons and little ones.
Most of all, Jesus himself. He lived in this place of welcome more than anyone ever has. He invites us into his kingdom where all wounds are healed, all injustices are made right, all joys realized in their glorious fullness. Here we receive the reward that really matters, God’s blessing.
Through the waters of baptism, we enter the world with new eyes. We see cobblers who encounter Christ in those who need their help, we see the poor in spirit who find a tree a blaze with yellow ribbons of welcome and forgiveness, we see Christ in each other. I see Jesus Christ in your faces. Thank you for the blessing that has been these years with you. I can picture a tree ablaze with yellow ribbons, offering a new start for us all.