FRIENDLY, SUPPORTIVE WELCOME: Comfort the Afflicted; Afflict the Comfortable (21st Sunday after Pentecost; 1 Thessalonians 5:12-26; October 9, 2016)

Comfort the Afflicted; Afflict the Comfortable

21st Sunday after Pentecost
1 Thessalonians 5:12-26
October 9, 2016

Rev. John M. Caldwell, PhD
First United Methodist Church
Decorah, Iowa

At the heart of Christian life are relationships.

You wouldn't know that to listen to the media. The media think they know who Christians are. They focus on a very small, vocal, and nasty part of the people who describe themselves as Christians. One preacher is calling Hurricane Matthew God's punishment on Orlando and Savannah because they are hosting gay pride parades. He joins a long line of Christian extremists who have blamed all sorts of public disasters on God's judgment on tolerance of LGBTQ folks.

Judgmental intolerance, gay bashing, and Islamophobia have come to constitute the public face of Christianity. Laziness in the media is partly to blame, but enough Christians have behaved badly enough for long enough that the media portrait of our movement is plausible. If we want to change the public image of the Church, it's up to us to behave differently and to make it clear that our extremists neither speak for us nor act on our behalf.

A good place to begin is by remembering that at the heart of Christian life are relationships. For us Methodist Christians, this is not a new idea, nor a particularly shocking one. God's love for us, our love for God, and our love for our neighbors: these are what matters. When we are the clearest about this, we are the most faithful to our calling.

It makes sense, then, that the value that resonates most clearly with the largest portion of us is this: "As a congregation we value extending and receiving a welcoming hand of friendship and support." The explanatory paragraphs unpack this statement:

Our United Methodist community develops through conversations before worship and at coffee time, working together in small groups or in ministries, knowledge that men and women are received equally at FUMC, and the faith and forgiveness they feel from being with Christian friends. Members find and give support in everyday living in both good times and bad times. We value and appreciate a sense of belonging and inclusion no matter our age, ability or life situation.

We value relationships more than believing the "right" things or worshiping "correctly" or a host of other possibilities. God's love for us, our love for God, and our love for our neighbors are at the heart of our shared life. As the heirs of the Wesley brothers, we seek to grow in this love. Loving as God loves is what we mean by perfection and that is the goal toward which we press.

For a long time I have believed that each denomination has a particular gift, a way of living and being in the world that grows out of its origins and experiences. Roman Catholics call this a "charism." I like that word because it is grounded in a New Testament notion of the gifts of the Holy Spirit. Each denomination has a gift that God has given it. Each congregation in a denomination, if it is healthy, shows evidence of that gift.

Now, no one has published an official list of the charism of each denomination, but I have taken a stab at some of them. For example, the Episcopal Church's gift seems to be beauty. If you worship at an Episcopal church you should encounter something beautiful. It might be the architecture or the music or the liturgy or the vestments, but it should be there. If there is no beauty there, the congregation is unwell.

Presbyterians pride themselves on doing everything “decently and in order." If you attend a Presbyterian church you should experience a sense of orderliness. That's not the same as stiffness or fossilization, although that is always a danger. If worship proceeds haphazardly, if no one seems to know or care what comes next, the congregation is not healthy.

For Methodists, ever since John Wesley's heart was "strangely warmed," warmth--the sense of welcome, inclusion, and support--have been been our defining charism. If you ever go to a Methodist church and find that it feels cold, run! Run for your life! Run before you catch whatever it is that ails them!

Folks who believe that God's grace is at work in everyone's life--everyone without exception--will be quick to extend a welcome to each person who comes through our doors and each person to whom our daily life brings us. Folks for whom grace is not something that happened some time in the past, but a present reality that beckons us deeper into love, will support each other. Folks for whom grace is not parceled out to some and withheld from others, but for whom grace is God's loving presence often felt and experienced, but always acknowledged as always present for and in all, will find and forge a sense of ever-deepening community with each other, with God, and with every creature with whom we share this world.

Folks who know that they are deeply and constantly loved are resistant to the many invitations to be afraid that are offered to us these days. They are open to hearing each others' stories even when those stories make them uncomfortable. They don't cling to the privileges granted to them by unjust systems.

They are able to comfort the afflicted. And there are many who are afflicted. There are those who are coping with life-threatening illness or constant pain. There are middle class parents who watch their children struggling in vain to get some purchase on the American dream. There are veterans who came home deeply injured without having received a single scratch on their bodies. There are African American parents who, in addition to raising their children well, teaching them to be polite, insisting on their working hard in school, and doing all the things that other parents do, must teach their children "the rules" in hopes that their encounters with the police do not turn deadly. There is affliction aplenty in our world.

Folks who have been comforted through the relationships they have experienced among the people of God are willing to offer that same comfort to those who come to us in pain. The "friendship and support" that we so value are powerful expressions of God's love and thoroughly rooted in the Methodist tradition.

There are hazards here, though. Every positive value has a dark side, a possible distortion. A congregation that offers comfort can easily become a congregation that values being comfortable, which isn't quite the same thing, but looks enough like it to fool the unwary.

When folks visit us I try to have a short conversation with them before they leave. I’m often not sure if I have met them, so I tell them that I don't recognize them. That makes the conversation a little less awkward if I have met them and just don't remember. If we're meeting for the first time they almost always say so. Then I'll ask what brings them to us this morning. They'll tell me that they are camping nearby or visiting a son or daughter at Luther. Sometimes they'll say that they are recent arrivals in the community and are "shopping for a church." This is fine, incidentally. They will often say something like, "We are looking for a church where we'll be comfortable." Sounds likely, doesn't it? But I try to engage that motivation. I'll reply something like, "A comfortable church is an option if you don't want to grow as a follower of Jesus. What most of us need in order to grow is a church in which we are safe on the one hand but are also challenged and sometimes a little uncomfortable. When we feel unsafe we do what we already know: there's no growth in that. When we're comfortable we don't have a reason to risk change so we keep doing what we're doing. There is a sweet spot where we are safe but a little uncomfortable and that's what we need in order to grow as followers of Jesus." I tell our visitors that I hope we are a church like that, but if we are not, I hope they will find another.

Another hazard related to this is that we'll enjoy the loving support that we're receiving but forget to extend it to others. The most common place for this hazard at First United Methodist Church is Fellowship Hall. Folks gather around the tables—often the same folks around the same tables—and in these groups of five to eight people find support week in and week out. It is a wonderful thing, really. It makes me wonder what we did before a space for the hall was dug out and the hall built in the 1920s.

Some people have tried to break these small groups up, to shuffle the tables around or to compel different combinations of people to sit together. Some have even proposed—gasp!--eliminating the tables altogether to force people to mingle. I promise never to attempt that. What happens at those tables is important. I am not willing to toss away what has grown organically in the hopes that we can engineer something better.

But I have to point out that our coffee-time practice is hazardous. When I come down the stairs I see table groups in eager conversation. Each of those small groups is alive. It's beautiful.

But that isn't what newcomers see. Newcomers see a room full of hedgehogs. Hedgehogs, as you know are covered on their backs and sides with sharp spines. You may not know, but if you disturb a hedgehog, not only will it roll into a ball so that there is nothing on the outside except those spines, it will also twitch. You don't even have to touch a balled-up hedgehog to get stabbed!

When relaxed, hedgehogs uncurl and some will even permit themselves to be turned upside down. Their bellies look amazingly soft, warm, and fuzzy. I say that they look that way because hedgehogs always seem nervous around me. They always do their spiky ball twitchy thing when I'm around.

That's the thing about hedgehogs: they are warm and soft on the inside but cold and spiky on the outside. And that's what our newcomers see. Each table is like a hedgehog. Those who are seated at the tables are experiencing a gentle, supportive warmth. But from the outside, each table looks cold and prickly, and perfectly defended.

I won't break up those tables, but I will observe that if we are serious about sharing the love that we have received, of welcoming as we have been welcomed, we will figure out a way to invite strangers into those circles. You may have other ideas, but here is mine. When someone is visiting or is fairly new--and you know when that's the case because during the passing of the peace you have introduced yourselves to the people around you and you have discovered who the newcomers are. Haven't you? Of course, you have. So you know who is new or relatively new. When the final blessing has been pronounced, lean over to a newcomer and say, "Won't you join me for coffee-time? I have some friends I'd love for you to meet." And then, unless they beg off, which they may--but don't be discouraged. Ask them the next time you see them--bring them with you and make a place at your table for them. Introduce them. Ask them some questions to get the conversation started. And then trust that this is one way you can grow in your love for God and your neighbor.

God's love for us, our love for God, and our love for our neighbors: these are what matters. When we are the clearest about this, we are the most faithful to our calling.

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