3 July 2016 Isaiah 43:1-4a Matthew 10:40-42 Hello, My Name Is

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1 3 July 2016 Isaiah 43:1-4a Matthew 10:40-42 Hello, My Name Is Welcome. Welcome. Welcome. Welcome. Welcome. Welcome. We hear the word welcome in this morning s gospel reading 6 times in three verses. Do you think Matthew is trying to tell us something? Welcome is something we see and do all the time. We have welcome mats on our doorsteps, welcome signs and stations at every state border, you go into a store and read Welcome to Wal-Mart! And as we prepare this week to celebrate our country s founding, we would do well to remember the spirit of welcome embedded in US history and identity. One of the most beloved expressions of that spirit is inscribed on a plaque at the base of the Statue of Liberty, arguably one of the most recognizable icons of the US and freedom around world. It is a poem by Emma Lazarus commissioned for the Statue of Liberty, entitled The New Colossus : Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp! cries she with silent lips. Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

2 Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp whatever has made the royal nations of Europe great, Lazarus says, the noble legacy of the United States of America will be this the welcome of the exile, the ones yearning to be free, whether they are poor, homeless, or in wretched state. These are powerful words to ground a nation and bring profound value and meaning to its existence. This poem was written in 1883, but in 2016, critics argue that here in the US, despite historical claims, welcoming others has become tragically derailed by certain cultural attitudes that have turned hospitality into something for the elite and those who can afford it and more profoundly our welcoming others has been stunted by our intense fear. The level of anxiety and alarm in relation to strangers in particular, our xenophobia, here and elsewhere in the world, is astonishing in the face of terror attacks, almost daily, and the worldwide refugee crisis. What happened to the word welcome and Lazarus bold invitation of hospitality to the world? The practice of welcoming requires a certain spirit of openness, acceptance, generosity, and a degree of vulnerability, which is all very difficult to maintain in a constant state of fear and perceived threat. As we wrestle with all of this, and as we increasingly insulate ourselves in smaller and smaller units of familiarity, the challenge grows more difficult for the church to be associated with the people Christ told us to be concerned with such as the stranger, refugees, and displaced persons. Arthur Sutherland in his book I Was a Stranger even goes so far as to assert that The audacious hospitality of the 19 th century abolitionist movement and the Underground Railroad is almost unimaginable today. And yet, these are the people Christ charges his followers to consider and to care for more than any other, not because it is the right, proper, or virtuous thing to do, but because in welcoming the stranger, we welcome Christ himself. In the gospel of Matthew particularly, Christ radically identifies with the stranger, the poor, the imprisoned, the marginalized, and charges his disciples to

3 pay particular attention to such people in our midst. The text begins: Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me In Christian theology, it appears over and over again that love of God and love of neighbor are steadfastly linked. And so to welcome another in our midst, to extend the hand of hospitality, is not about entertaining a guest or making a friend, but first and foremost it is an act of faith. And the practice of welcoming is a means by which we can be continually transformed into the people God created and calls us to be. The text then continues: Whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward. Steve Andrews, a seminarian at Columbia Theological School asked the question of his fellow students, Does it matter how we offer that cup of cold water? If you consider that cup of cold water, water being critical to our physical well-being, if you consider the cup of cold water as a symbolic meeting of a another person s essential needs, then yes, it matters greatly how you offer it. In his preaching class, Andrews talked about the typical hospitality extended to the hungry and homeless in Atlanta performed in well-meaning, dedicated, and critical ministries throughout the city where thousands were cared for and fed, but who were missing something important in how they were doing it. As hosts welcomed their guests into their midst there was always a barrier that kept them from really encountering each other: the buffet table. On one side stood volunteers in aprons ready to serve and on the other stood the guests slowly moving down the line, allowing little time for conversation or contact, the only connection being the spoon hitting the plate. At one place called the Open Door, however, things are different. Guests receive tickets and as room is available around family style tables, they are seated and volunteers serve them, allowing them to eat as much as they need and to stay as long as they like for food and conversation with each other and with the servers. While both kinds of ministries fill a need, the message at the Open Door is that you

4 are welcome in such a way that other needs beside the physical need for food, such as those of connection and community, understanding, and affirmation, are just as important. Welcoming others requires us to pay attention to such details to see beyond the obvious to a deeper place. It is then that will recognize the transforming power of welcoming Christ in our midst. Enuma Okoro shares a conversation she had with a friend in her essay Name Tags in the Weavings Journal where her friend shares a story about a boy she taught in her Sunday School class. Every Sunday he walked into class wearing one of those stickers that read HELLO, My Name Is taped in the middle of his chest. And every Sunday the sticker said the same thing in bold black marker, HELLO, My Name Is I HAVE A NUT ALLERGY. Her friend discovered that the parents were understandably concerned about what might happen when their son moved from a school with a no-nut policy to a new one where any food was allowed on the premises without notifying others. Okoro mused: what would it be like if adults walked into new or familiar communities with just one thing about us written boldly across our chests a word or phrase to help others learn something important about us. Her friend said hers would read, HELLO, My Name Is I m more sensitive than I look. And Okoro s would say, HELLO, My Name Is I respond to kindness. Think about it for a minute. What would your nametag say? What is important for others to know as we welcome you, as we welcome each other, in this sanctuary, for all the fullness of that word? There are a million places we could go with this. On our good days, for example, we might say, HELLO, My Name Is I feel really great about myself, my diet s working, I m excited about my job, and I just took up sky-diving to affirm the thrill of life. On other days, we might say, HELLO, My Name Is I m waiting for test results or my son and I aren t speaking or I think God doesn t notice me or I m so lonely it hurts.

5 The thing is we don t wear nametags like that with bold letters telling each other what is important to know. Over time we might get there, and even then, some things are just too hard to let people know. So as we consider the importance of welcoming others and the importance of how we do it, what can we be sure of in such a ministry of hospitality that will help everyone whether they are 2 or 92? What can we know about each other that will make others feel at home, secure, understood, cared for, listened to, as if they were Christ himself before us? This kind of hospitality, this connecting to the essential need in the people we meet here, is at the heart of the church s mission in the world. It is why we said yes to a family of 5 from Syria, with another baby on the way. In welcoming them, we find our faith in Christ being fulfilled. So, you can be sure of this, as it echoes in our passage today from Isaiah, telling of a God who speaks a word to his people and says, you are precious in my sight and honored, and I love you. Underneath all the other name tags we might bear, there is one which we must learn to see in ourselves, sure, but more importantly in the stranger, for this is our unique calling as followers of Christ. It takes paying attention and it requires us to see with new eyes, as Christ did. Because somewhere deep is a nametag, HELLO, My Name Is I am a beloved child of God and let us promise this: I will honor you for the same, for it is Christ who stands in front of me, in you. Amen. Rev. Stacy Emerson Senior Minister First Baptist Church West Hartford, Connecticut