St. Paul’s United Church Sunday, January 15^th, 2012

Five Keys to a Vital Congregation

Strangers to Friends – Rev. David Mundy

Deuteronomy 10:12-13, 17-19 Luke 19: 1-10

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Early on in my ministry here at St. Paul’s I suggested a different format for our Anniversary Service held in October of each year. Instead of importing a guest speaker, why not hear from three “homegrown” speakers? The idea was that each of them could reflect for a few minutes on the importance of St. Paul’s for their faith.

The three people we invited to do this reflecting were in different stages of life: a woman in her twenties, a person in mid-life, and one of our senior citizens. The senior was in his later seventies at the time and is still worshipping with us, by the grace of God, well into his eighties.

All three of the speakers did an excellent job that anniversary Sunday but I particularly remember the words of our “elder” and probably always will because of the perspective he offered. Yes, he did a little reminiscing about “the good old days” and why not if there are fond memories? But his emphasis was on the here and now and future. He commented that he had watched as many new people had come into the life of the congregation over the decades and how much those newcomers had contributed to the health of St. Paul’s. He asked where we would be without them and he was absolutely correct.

Congregations simply can’t be vital or thrive without those who join us, the strangers who become friends. They bring different ideas and insights and skills as Christ’s people. Sometimes they nudge us out of our complacency and help us recognize our blind spots. We might think that we are extending hospitality and welcome, but the truth is that we probably need them more than they need us.

In the eight and a half years I have been the minister of St. Paul’s many newcomers have graced our congregation and while some of them have moved on, so many have made an important difference to our faith community in a multitude of ways.

This is our second Sunday in a series of messages and worship themes I’m calling The Five Keys to a Vital Congregation. They include:

Passionate Worship

Radical Hospitality

Intentional Faith Development

Risk-taking Mission and Service

Extravagant Generosity

There are likely far more than five, and they aren’t really keys in that they can magically unlock the door to our dream congregation. Still, it can be helpful to consider some of the essential aspects of healthy congregational life. This morning we are going to consider radical hospitality. Not just the “so nice to have you here this morning” welcome, but the radical hospitality in Christ’s name which transforms the way we think and act.

It’s not hard to find hospitality passages in the bible, either in the Old Testament or the New Testament. There are scores of them and we heard two today.

The passage from the book of Deuteronomy comes shortly after Moses comes down from the mountain top for second time with what we call the Ten Commandments. As Moses and the people continue their journey through the wilderness they are given another less formal commandment to be just and loving to those who are outsiders, who are vulnerable. They include orphans and widows and strangers. Strangers in ancient cultures didn’t have tribal status and so they were often abused and exploited. But they are told that God loves strangers – after all, he had loved them when they were strangers in Egypt – so they should have a special place in their hearts for strangers as well. There are a number of other passages which instruct the tribes of Israel to extend kindness and hospitality to strangers and aliens. We associate aliens with scary extraterrestrials from other planets, and in scripture it refers to outsiders.

In the gospel we heard that familiar story of the “vertically challenged” Zaccheus who was an alien amongst his own people because he had chosen to become wealthy by acting as a tax collector for the occupying Roman Empire. Nobody likes the tax man but it’s even worse when you feel exploited by someone who is supposed to be part of your tribe.

Zaccheus climbs a tree to get a view of Jesus as he passes through the city of Jericho, and Jesus notices him. The exchange is unusual because Jesus calls Zaccheus by name and says “hurry down, today is my day to be a guest in your home.” There is a lot of this in the gospels. People are hungry for what Jesus has to offer, and he, in turn, lets them open the door to hospitality.

Are we hospitable people in the clan of St. Paul’s? Just so we’re clear, it’s not necessarily a bad thing to be part of a tribe or a clan – I am a member of the tribe of Jesus Christ and I’m proud to be a Jesus person. But, there are times when we Christians get “clannish”, and that’s just not a good thing.

Definition of CLANNISH

tending to associate only with a select group of similar background or status <a clannish community>

Examples of CLANNISH

1. The college faculty can be pretty clannish, so it's difficult to be an outsider there.

2. a clannish family that can be rather cool to outsiders

We could substitute the words “congregation” or “church” and it would describe the unfortunate psychological and spiritual experience of being on the outside looking in. If we’re not careful, our comfort and sense of belonging may mean we can forget what it is like to the outsider or the alien and create circumstances and impediments which make it difficult for the newcomer to feel at home in our midst, even when we figure we are quite welcoming.

We need to remember that walking into a group of strangers for the first time can be awkward and daunting, no matter what our level of confidence might be. Personally, I just don’t like being unfamiliar with my circumstances, including visiting another church. As the newcomer we can wonder, how will I know what to do and when? What are they doing with my children when they walk out the door, and how do I get them back? Am I sitting in someone else’s spot?

Hospitality in a congregation is saying “hello, I’m glad you’re here” to the person we don’t know. But hospitality is also being clear. It is also being careful about churchy jargon and code acronyms that a newcomer might not understand.

Hospitality is practical. We need to make sure that our home is physically accessible so that anyone can come to the meal of Christ’s grace. Recently a colleague told me about an exasperating board meeting in the smallest of the three congregations he serves. The church building is all stairs and he wondered about building a ramp or putting in a stair lift. The response was that it would be far too expensive and besides, there wasn’t anyone who needed help with access. Shortly after the meeting he did the funeral for an elderly woman from the congregation. After the service the husband apologized that they hadn’t been out to Sunday worship during his two years as minister, but his wife just hadn’t been able to navigate the stairs as her health declined.

Now, being gracious hosts to people who are essentially like us is common sense hospitality, isn’t it? But what if the “outsider” is really alien? What if that they don’t talk like us, or act like us, or smell like us? A conversation with a couple of our members not long ago reminded me of Melvin, who was the subject of a sermon I called The Gospel According to Melvin years ago.

I arrived at the upscale congregation I served in Sudbury and was told about a really strange guy who had started attending worship about a year before. He mumbled to himself through clenched teeth and his body language was just odd. He would walk up to the front of the church and stare intently at the carved scene of the Last Supper which was set in the communion table. I could tell that people were a bit frightened of him – maybe a lot frightened -- although he had never done anything threatening. He was an alien and I had the impression our folk wanted to send him back to his planet.

God moves in mysterious ways. I was walking home soon after my arrival and saw this same guy get off a city bus and walk to a home near the stop. So I followed him and discovered that this was a group home, and the man named Melvin lived there. They had no idea he was coming to our church because he had attended the church just down the street for years. But unbeknownst to them that church had burned down and Melvin just moved over to us. One Sunday when he wasn’t at worship I explained his background to the congregation and just like that attitudes changed. He was invited to stay for the fellowship time where Melvin would hug all the women, showing that he was a lot smarter than folk gave him credit for. Two members took turns picking him up and driving him home. Melvin became a fixture at in our congregation for years and even after the other church was rebuilt he stayed with us. He still talked funny and stood funny but we just didn’t notice after a while. He was Melvin. Then he was moved to another home at the far end of the city and he couldn’t worship with us anymore. The group home let us know beforehand, so on his last Sunday I had him stand and the congregation applauded and some people wiped away tears. After the service we had a cake to say farewell – and Melvin hugged all the women! The stranger in our midst had become a friend.

And whatever Melvin may have got out of the relationship, the congregation became a kinder, gentler family and more mature Christians as a result.

So much of hospitality is overcoming fear. It is moving beyond the fear of looking foolish, saying “hi, are you new here?” and having that person responding “I guess so, if arriving in 1975 makes me new.” It is the fear of reaching out to the Melvin’s of this world who may not fit our image of “churchiness.” It might even be the fear of those people with new ideas which will shake us up a little.

The need for shelter is a fundamental human need. None of us ever knows for sure when we might be uprooted and cast on the mercy of others. But how do we overcome our fear in order to welcome and shelter a stranger? The Christian practice of hospitality is the practice of providing a space to take in a stranger. It also encompasses the skills of welcoming friends and family to our tables, to claim the joy of homecoming.

There is always going to be a risk to our hospitality, but the good news is that it is seldom fatal. Radical hospitality is not “wild and crazy” hospitality. It is the willingness to share the journey of Christ with others, and to create that safe place, the shelter in Christ.

The key to all of this is the love of Christ which changes us, which can unlock our hearts, and give us open and generous spirits.