Welcome One Another
Welcome One Another by Rev. L. John Gable
July 15, 2018
One evening about a month or so ago I was sitting at home channel surfing – I know you think I spend all of my free-time reading deep theological works in their original languages – but on that particular evening I was channel surfing and I landed on the movie “42” – the story of Jackie Robinson breaking the color barrier in major league baseball in 1947. It is a fascinating story, but admittedly a difficult one to watch as it openly demonstrates the hatred and bigotry of that era. Ostracism by fellow players and racial taunts by fans, not to mention numerous death threats, were a common occurrence.
The turning point in the movie, and perhaps in no small measure to the full integration of major league baseball, was a game played at the famed Crosley field in Cincinnati. The Brooklyn Dodgers were in town playing the Reds and the fans were ruthless as they relentlessly showered Robinson with racial epithets; that is until Pee Wee Reese, star shortstop for the Dodgers and at the time one of baseball’s most popular players, who was himself from Kentucky so was basically playing a home game in front of a hometown crowd and himself largely opposed to the integration of the game, did the unimaginable. During warm-ups as the crowd shouted its vitriol Reese walked over to Robinson at first base and put his arm around his shoulder, and suddenly the stands grew silent. The movie depicts their conversation, but no one actually knows what was said as the two stood together. It was clear, however, that actions spoke louder than words. Reflecting on that day years later, Robinson would say, “That arm around my shoulder saved my career.”
Such a simple gesture carried such a significant message and meaning.
I was reminded of that scene when I read our lesson from Romans 15. If you have been with us during the past several weeks you might realize that this is the third part of a trilogy of sermons based on Paul’s extended teaching in chapters 14 and 15. I would love to have been able to cover all three of these sections in one sermon, but I am not sure you could have endured it. We began with Paul’s teaching at the beginning of chapter 14 where he instructs that we are to “welcome those who are weak in the faith, but not for the purpose of quarreling.” You might recall we discussed the idea of God giving us individual freedom of conscience in matters of faith and our practice of the faith, such that we are not to judge one another, as we, each individually, seek to honor God. Here we are reminded of the Presbyterian principle that “persons of good character and principle may differ” so we must learn to “agree to disagree agreeably.”
Then last week as we studied the second section of chapter 14 Paul deftly moves beyond our “individual rights” to a discussion of our “mutual responsibility” toward one another as fellow members of the Body of Christ. We are not all “free agents” rather we are all in this together, so we must “resolve never to put a stumbling block or hindrance in the way of a brother or sister”, or as I put it, “What I do matters…to you, and what you do matters…to me.”
All of which leads to the conclusion we read in our lesson this morning where Paul instructs, “Therefore, welcome one another, just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.” After carefully explaining both the “rights” and “responsibilities” we have in Christ, he sums it all up very clearly and unambiguously by saying, “Welcome one another just as Christ has welcomed you” for in that way we “bring glory to God.” Such a simple gesture carries a significant message and meaning.
The idea of welcoming “the other”, the outcast, the one who is in any way different than we are, is a radical concept and one that lies at the heart of the Christian ethic. Why? Because this is what God has done for us. God, in Christ, has welcomed us. As Paul instructs in this section of Romans, in Christ God has opened His covenant promise beyond the Children of Israel, beyond those chosen people, to include Gentiles as well, others, outsiders, the likes of you and me. So, just as we are commanded to love because God first loved us; and to forgive because God has first forgiven us; so we are commanded to welcome one another because God, in Christ, has first welcomed us. Grace received is designed to be grace extended. That is what the Church of Jesus Christ is called to do and be because that is Who Christ is and what He has done for us.
But how do we do that? How do we welcome “the other” without abandoning our principles and convictions? Doesn’t welcome look an awful lot like agreement and forgiveness like condoning? Perhaps, but that is the risk we are called to take because that is the risk Jesus took by welcoming us. Our Gospel lesson this morning tells of the criticism directed at Him for eating with tax collectors and sinners, a critique by the way rendered by religious folks. Jesus’ answer was “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” The only way we can share the Good News of Jesus with “tax collectors and sinners” is if we get to know some “tax collectors and sinners” which will require us to “welcome them”, and we need not look very far because they are just as much “in here” as they are “out there”.
You see, our relationship with one another is not based on who we are or what we have done, much less on our agreement with one another on all things essential and indifferent, but on who Christ is and what He has done for us. In his book Life Together, Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “It is not what a person is in himself as a Christian, or their spirituality or their piety, that constitutes the basis of our life together. What determines our unity is what that person is by reason of Christ. Our community with one another consists solely on what Christ has done to both of us.” So, for this reason, we are to “welcome one another, as Christ has welcomed us.”
This Christian ethic, as radical as it is, stands in stark contrast to the way we too often relate to “the other” among us, to those with whom we disagree. Rather than separating ourselves, casting dispersions and lobbing salvos of criticism and vitriol across social media, which invariably only leads to deeper divisions and more fractured relationships, this approach of welcome serves to do just the opposite. When we welcome “the other”, despite our differences and disagreements, something changes within us, as well as within them. We come to see one another not as issues or problems or the cause of the ills of church and society, but as brothers and sisters, as ones either in whom Christ lives or for whom Christ died, and the starting point of that change in attitude and behavior is the seemingly simple act of “welcoming the other”, not for the purpose of changing them, or as Paul writes earlier “for the purpose of quarrelling over opinions”, but solely for the purpose of getting to know them, as people, not problems, and extending to them the love of God, and quite remarkably that seemingly simple act of welcome brings glory to God.
Does that mean then that we have to agree on every issue or embrace every practice and behavior, or abandon our beliefs and convictions? No, of course not. Jesus certainly didn’t do any of those things when He ate with tax collectors and sinners, but He did welcome them and they knew they were welcomed by Him. Kris and I were recently listening to a podcast in which a phrase was used that I am going to adopt as my own, “Generous orthodoxy.” By “orthodoxy” we mean those beliefs and convictions one holds faithfully to in accordance with the teachings of Scripture and the Church. Unfortunately, however, too often orthodoxy is perceived as being rigid and cold and uncaring, so it needs to be tempered by the concept of “generosity”. “Generous orthodoxy” is the way we can hold different beliefs and convictions while at the same time being generous and gracious, not angry and judgmental but welcoming and open, honoring one another as each seeks to honor God. “Generous orthodoxy” is the attempt to build bridges of understanding and acceptance rather than walls of division and hostility. It is the desire to “welcome the other as God in Christ has welcomed us.”
Tony Campolo, now retired sociology professor at Eastern College in Pennsylvania, is truly one of the great articulators of the Gospel message and a delightful story teller. One of his signature stories comes from an experience he had years ago in Hawaii while on a speaking engagement.
Tony, whose body was still on Eastern Time, wandered in to a diner near his hotel at 3:00 am. The only other customers were some prostitutes, finished for the night. Overhearing their conversation, one of them, named Agnes, mentioned that tomorrow was her birthday and that she had never had a birthday party in her life.
After the women left, Tony found out from Harry, the guy behind the counter, that these same women came to the diner every morning at 3:00 am. So Tony asked if he could come back the next night and throw a party for Agnes. Harry agreed, on the condition that he get to make the cake.
Here is the way Campolo tells about what happened.
At 2:30 the next morning I was back at the diner. I had picked up some crepe-paper decorations at the store and had made a sign out of big pieces of cardboard that read, “Happy Birthday, Agnes!”
The word must have gotten out on the street, because at 3:15 every prostitute in Honolulu was there, wall to wall, and me!
At 3:30 the door of the diner swung open and in came Agnes and her friend. I had everybody ready, and when they came in we all screamed, “Happy Birthday!”
Never have I seen a person so flabbergasted. Her mouth fell open, and her legs buckled. When we finished singing, her eyes moistened; then when the cake was carried out, she started to cry.
Harry gruffly mumbled, “Blow out the candles, Agnes. Come on! If you don’t blow out the candles I’m gonna have to blow them out myself.” Finally he did.
Then the cutting of the cake took even longer. “Cut the cake, Agnes. We all want some cake.”
Agnes turned and said, “Look, Harry, is it OK if I keep the cake for a little while; if we don’t eat it right away?”
“Sure, if you want to keep it, keep it” he said, “Take it home if you want.”
“Can I?” Then looking at me, she said, “I just live down the street. I want to take the cake home, OK? I’ll be right back.”
Agnes carried the cake out the door like it was the Holy Grail. We stood there motionless, a stunned silence in the place. Not knowing what else to do, I broke the silence by saying, “What do you say we pray?”
Looking back on it now, it seems more than strange for a sociologist to be leading a prayer meeting with a bunch of prostitutes at a diner in Honolulu at 3:30 in the morning; but then it just felt like the right thing to do.
I prayed for Agnes. For her salvation. That her life would be changed. That God would be good to her.
When I finished, Harry leaned over the counter and said with a trace of irritation, “Hey, you never told me you were a preacher. What kind of church do you belong to?”
In one of those moments when just the right words come, I answered, “I belong to a church that throws birthday parties for prostitutes at 3:30 in the morning.”
Harry waited a moment, and almost sneered as he answered, “No, you don’t. There’s no church like that. If there was, I would join it.”
I believe God calls us to be that kind of church. The kind of church that opens our doors and opens our hearts to anyone who enters in. The kind of church that welcomes others as Christ has welcomed us, to the glory of God. Amen.