Scripture text: Matthew 10:40-42
Easily, my favorite person in the world was my grandfather. We called him Bup, because my 2 year old self had some difficulty with the pronunciation of “Pop.” It was a name he bore proudly for many years. He was a salt-of-the-earth sort of guy, blue collar, hard worker, WWII vet, loving father and grandfather and that took priority. He retired early to be with his family. He was tough as nails but gentle as a dove. He threatened to box my ears together more times than I can count, but he never actually did it. I miss him greatly. He died about 15 years or so ago now.
He was a man of deep faith, always made sure his daughters attended worship, but rarely attended church himself. One day, he told me why. He told me a story of when he was a young man in church, attending worship. This was probably during the 1930s, during the Depression, a time of great struggle and hardship for people. A poor family came into the church to worship. The pastor stopped the service, walked to the back of the church, and asked the newcomers to leave. They were not dressed properly to be there. Humiliated, the family slunk out. Buppy as furious. Said he never wanted to be a part of something that would do that to people in need.
I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t either. “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.” And as Jesus claims elsewhere in Matthew’s Gospel, that we find him in the “least of these,” it was painfully obvious that who was not welcome in that church was Jesus himself.
I don’t remember when exactly Bup told me that story, but I’ve known it for a long time and I’ve used it in sermons numerous times. It cuts to the heart of who we see ourselves to be. Is the Church merely a social club for people or is it something more? What are we about? Why are we here?
We’ve been exploring these questions for a number of weeks now as the lectionary is taking us through the Gospel of Matthew. Interestingly enough, in the course of moving, I found my lost copy of Michael Card’s book on the Gospel of Matthew, where he subtitles his work “The Gospel of Identity.”
Well worth the purchase, FYI.
As we close in on Justice Sunday next week, I feel we are being swept along like a boat in rapids. It’s as though we’re being forced to address those central questions time and again. Who are you? Who does God want you to be? What does God want you to be about? And how does one get from where they are and who they are to where God wants them to be?
If I look back upstream in those rapids, I can see my grandfather standing on the shore, as he’s saying to me “If you want to be a man of the church, be one that welcomes Jesus in whatever form he takes.” That’s probably good advice for all of us in answering those central questions of identity. Who are we? Disciples who welcome Jesus, whatever he might look like. I hope we can all say that.
Unfortunately, that’s not a popular stance in this day and age. Few churches today would banish a visitor because of their tattered clothing, but many would be more than willing to excise those alternate sexual identity from their midst. No LGBT here, they would demand. And how many of them enthusiastically support the efforts of our government to keep out refugees and immigrants, people simply looking for a better life than the grinding poverty and brutal violence of much of the Third World?
I hesitate to say this on July 4th weekend, but for a nation of immigrants whose foundations are built on welcoming the “tired,” “poor,” and “tempest tost,” we’re not very welcoming anymore. Is that Christian? Not hardly.
Is that Jesus knocking at our door? Is that Jesus in the immigration center looking at us with pleading eyes? Is that Jesus on the street corner? It very well could be.
As much as I usually detest bumper sticker theology, I have to admit, as time goes on, that WWJD is probably one of the best pithy little sayings one could live by. What would Jesus do? How would he handle these times that we live in? We may not be fully able to guess the answer to that, but we know what he’s already done. We know that he welcomed the stranger and the outcast, one of the most notable was the author of today’s Gospel lesson. Matthew was a hated tax collector, one who was banished from worship due to his profession. We know Jesus loved him regardless of all that. We know Jesus touched and healed lepers who were outcast. That he associated with prostitutes and didn’t care one whit.
And we know that for the sake of all of them and all of us, he went to the cross and died there. We know that for the sake of all of them and us that he was buried and then rose again on the third day. We know that he did this to give us life abundant and eternal out of his love. Time and again, as we read through his Word, we see Jesus saying to us, “I love those people. Love them too.”
The poor, the rich, the gay, the straight, the white, people of color, those who believe in me, and those who don’t. I love them all. Do likewise.
Years ago, when I was a teenager, I used to see Tony Campolo speak. He had this story that he would always share about a trip he took to Honolulu. He had jet lag and so ended up at this bar at 3 in the morning. While he was there, eating, a group of prostitutes came in and Tony couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.
“Tomorrow’s my birthday.” one lamented. “I’ll be 39 years old and I’ve never had a birthday party.”
Tony sat there and thought for a moment. He turned to the barkeep and asked. “What would it take to throw a party for Agnes?” The barkeep nodded for a moment and two conspired to throw a party.
The next night the whole places was decorated up, streamers, cake, the whole 9 yards. Agnes and her fellow prostitutes came in and were shocked and amazed. Tony handed Agnes the knife to cut the cake and she hesitated, with tears in her eyes. “It’s so perfect, I don’t want to cut it. I want to show it off.” Agnes then took the cake and darted out the door. She took it to show it off to her mother, who lived down the street. She then returned, they cut the cake, and all had a good time.
“What sort of church you preach at?” The barkeep asked Tony. “One that gives birthday parties for hookers at 3am.” Tony replied. “I want to be a part of that church.” said the barkeep.
Wouldn’t we all? Amen.
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