When Exclusion Brings Inclusion
Sermon preached at Church of the Good Shepherd, United Methodist in Columbus, Ohio on February 15, 2009:
“When Exclusion Brings Inclusion”
II Kings 5:1-14; Mark 1:40-45
February 15, 2009
When I arrived as the new pastor for a small suburban church in Toledo, I heard some concerns immediately. This church had come through some difficult times, including the sudden death of one of their pastors just a few years before. The person who followed as pastor was not universally liked by the congregation. Chaos ensued. I arrived on the heels of a person who’d been there ten months as an interim. Understandably, many in the congregation felt like they’d kind of been “on hold” for some time. So, Bob pulled me aside right away. “Don,” he said, “your predecessor really alienated a lot of people. A loft of families left. We still think there’s a chance some of them will return if you reach out.” And he had a list! Names, addresses, phone numbers, directions to their houses from the church (He was quite computer savvy and would have had mapquest maps printed for me if that service had been in business then – but believe it or not mapquest hasn’t always been there!) I told Bob I thought making a round of visits to as many as I could since I was new was probably smart to do anyway, and I’d be sure to include all these folks on my visitation schedule. So I did.
As I made my rounds to members new, old and presumed “former,” I made an interesting discovery. The folks on Bob’s list … the ones he (and I gradually found out – others too) thought had been alienated by one of my predecessors had a different view of reality. Now, I tried not to make any assumptions as I was visiting the folks on that list. But I guess I implied in some of my conversation with one such family that I thought this was the case. One man, in his late forties and having led a hard life, stopped me in mid-sentence. “Now wait a minute, pastor,” he said. “I don’t know what those people up at that church have told you but that pastor was the best thing that ever happened in my life. He visited me in prison. He helped me find an AA group when I got out. He helped me feel like a part of the congregation when I started attending. But those people … those people … they ran him off. I guess he wasn’t “big city” enough for them or he didn’t dress right or he didn’t talk real slick. I don’t know. But they treated him like dirt. They said terrible things about him. Said he wasn’t holy. Said he’d never bring new folks into the church. Well, what am I, I thought? Chopped Liver? If he’s not good enough for them, then I’m not good enough for them. I appreciate you coming by, but I won’t be going back in that building anytime soon.”
Oh … my … goodness. I tried not to make any assumptions as I continued my visits. And from everyone on Bob’s “the last pastor alienated these families and they left” list I heard the same story. From everyone who wasn’t on that list I heard, “I sure wish some of those families would come back now that <<>> is gone. Maybe they can reconnect.”
Then from one old timer in the church I heard about the family who left in the early eighties when the pastor at that time grew a beard (he assured me that my closely trimmed beard I had wouldn’t offend anyone). From another, I heard the story about the family who left when the pastor didn’t go visit them when their dog died. (I thought to myself, “gotta brush up on my pet funeral liturgy!”)
And I began to see the picture. The folks who stayed at this little congregation were, in many ways, quite wonderful. Full of life. Articulate. Witty. Eager to connect with God in new ways. But it sure was beginning to look to me like there was a long-standing pattern of exclusion in this congregation’s DNA. Now, this exclusion didn’t rise to the level of exclusion in Nazi Germany, Rwanda, Bosnia or Darfur. Certainly not. But clearly, at least to me it was clear, those who looked or acted differently or who had an “interesting” past or were without a very high level of education, had been cast out. Not in so many words, but they were cast out. This was going to be quite a revelation to the currently active members.
Our story from 2 Kings broaches the topic – what of those who are outside the boundaries that we tend to draw around our faith traditions? Is God present and active for them, too? If so, how? Is God even present and active with those who hold beliefs that are quite different – maybe even the opposite of our own?
Naaman is the commander of the army for Syria. As those who chronicled our faith tradition in 1 and 2 Kings have relayed the story, Syria had recently conquered Israel – God’s chosen ones. They had destroyed holy sites and captured Israelites as slaves. He is a powerful man, commanding the military of an enemy nation for God’s chosen people. But he has a problem. The story says he has leprosy. Now, you need to know translating the Hebrew word that’s used to the English “leprosy” is kind of a holdover from an earlier time. It really could be any number of skin diseases, though most of them look bad and in a pre-scientific worldview would seem scary and strange. In most societies at the time, those who were so afflicted were excluded from society in some way. But Naaman here was a powerful man bringing military glory to Syria.
He hears through the servant of his wife … a servant who happens to be someone captured in their recent conquest of Israel … that perhaps there would be a cure in Israel. Perhaps, if he were to give it a try something good would happen. Naaman goes to the King to ask permission to go. The King, who no doubt looked forward to finding a way to cure his commander so that a sticky social situation could be resolved, immediately gives him permission to go to the enemy and seek help. He even writes a letter of commendation for him to give to Israel’s King, along with gifts (bribes?).
Naaman heads for Israel hoping for the best. The Israelite King sees him coming (did he think, “Oh, no … not again!”). He receives Naaman and hears his request. He is appalled! “I can’t heal! Am I God? I can’t do this! Your king is trying to pick a fight with me and will attack when I haven’t been able to help!”
Naaman gets word of a prophet in the land who perhaps could help. He consents to go. Enter Elisha – he who succeeded Elijah as the “go to” prophet in Israel. A prophet who repeatedly called the people to faithfulness to their God – frowning especially on those who would intermix belief systems with other people in the land. Naaman heads for Elisha, who doesn’t even come out of his house. “Tell him to go wash in the Jordan and he’ll be fine.”
Naaman is outraged. I guess he was expecting a big show, people bowing down before him, Elisha waving his hands furiously over him calling upon the power of God. Instead, he gets “Ah, go take a bath in the river.”
One of his servants is the one to talk sense into him – “General … now if he’d asked you to do something difficult or complicated you would have done it, right? So this seems easy … why not try it?”
Naaman, to his credit, sees the sense of this and heads to the Jordan River, where, we are told, he experiences miraculous healing and is so moved to belief in the Israelite version of God that he wants to pack up some of the soil from the riverbank to take back home with him. He stops by to see Elisha afterwards. He offers Elisha his gifts, though they are declined. He professes faith in God, but also asks that he be forgiven for bowing in the house of his king’s religion – He had no plans to convert!
Elisha simply says, “go in peace.”
The one who is the outsider, the excluded, the one who is not of the “chosen band” that God delivered from slavery in Egypt – the one, in fact, who had led the military strike that had recently conquered these chosen people – this one is cleansed, healed and sent on his way in peace. And did you notice it was a servant who put him on the path to go to Israel in the first place? And another servant who talked him into trying what Elisha suggested he do? Not only is it the outsider who is on a fast track to experiencing God’s power and presence here, it’s a couple of “nobodies” along the way who point him in the right direction.
Those who had been excluded had brought about inclusion. Those who were thought to be “outside” were on the “inside” with God.
Our story from Mark has Jesus going about his early ministry. Word has begun to spread about his teaching. People are beginning to show up and gather wherever he goes. A leper approaches him.
Time out: By Jesus’ time the holiness code had been further refined and explicated. This man was to have stayed away from contact with others. Others were not to have contact with him. He was to call out the words, “unclean, unclean!” whenever he was near other people. Again, it’s a pre-scientific mindset – folks had no idea what caused this disease. But the social consequences for the person so afflicted were extraordinary. Can you imagine being forced away from your family, friends, vocation, and neighbors until such time as a priest declared you were clean? Can you imagine such a life?
A leper approaches Jesus and says, “If you choose, you can make me clean.” Notice there is no doubt in this man’s mind about the power Jesus has. He’s suggesting that Jesus is quite capable of doing this. But he’s also suggesting that Jesus has a choice to make: Run up against his own faith tradition’s notions of holiness and risk making himself “unclean,” or cross that boundary – thus violating a key precept of what it meant in that time and place to be a faithful follower of God.
The received translation of the Gospel of Mark says Jesus was “moved with pity.” It seems pretty clear to those who’ve studied first century Greek and who have taken a look at the various copies and transmissions of the gospels that we are able to get our hands on that somewhere along the way, someone softened the words here. It really seems to say that Jesus was angry. In fact, many suggest that the Greek is something close to “snorted with indignation.”
“If you choose, you can make me clean.” And Jesus is indignant. And then stretches out his hand, touches the man and says, “I do so choose. Be made clean.”
Somehow, I don’t think he was mad at this man. No, it seems to me – especially when we weigh the rest of Jesus’ ministry in which he repeatedly reaches out to outcasts and outsiders – that Jesus’ deep emotion here had to do with those who would draw people close to God creating a situation that pushes those who most need to know God’s love further away. Here was a man with a dreadful, inexplicable disease. Someone in desperate need of human contact and care. Someone in need of the healing ministry of his faith tradition. Yet his tradition had excluded him.
Jesus tells him not to make a fuss about it, but to go and show himself to the priest. One wonders if there’s a little bit of Jesus wanting this man to go show the religious leaders what they SHOULD be doing! (I like to imagine the priests seeing this guy and being furious with Jesus for “not doing things the way they are supposed to be done.”) But instead this man goes all over the place talking about the amazing inclusive love of God as seen in this Jesus.
The one who had been excluded had brought about inclusion for others.
The one who was thought to be “outside” was on the “inside” with God.
Tossing aside traditional boundaries makes some folks pretty uncomfortable. But when I read my Bible, I keep seeing over and over – the “unclean,” the “not holy enough,” the “not well trained,” the “unbeliever,” the “not scrupulous enough with their religion,” the “outcast,” the “outsider” – it’s with these folks that God shows up. In fact, it happens so often, one wonders sometimes how on Earth we’ve managed to miss that message!
Every time one of God’s children is excluded from human community, from relationship with God, from sharing his or her unique gifts, evil is afoot. And whenever we see it in the Bible, God steps in to say, “No.” “You ARE included. You ARE a part of God’s family. You ARE accepted for who you are.” Every time. Each and every time.
Being pure, holy, clean, righteous – these are not matters of outward appearance or religious scruples. They are matters of the heart. They are matters of compassion. They are the result of sharing the accepting, forgiving, merciful, compassionate, inclusive love of God.
I left you hanging with that little church! Well, a moment came about 6 months into my time as pastor there that one of the members of our Administrative Council asked at our monthly meeting – “Pastor, how have your visits been going with the folks who had left?”
“Funny you should ask, I said.” I told them how the visits had gone. And I relayed in particular the one visit where one of the faithful had sworn not to ever set foot in that church again. There was absolute silence … for a rrrreeeaaaalllllyyy long time. Then one member “harrumphed” and stormed out. Two others had tears in their eyes. Several objected: “No, that’s not how it was. Pastor <<<>>> just couldn’t reach them.”
“Well,” I responded, “I wasn’t here then so I don’t know. I’m just relaying what I’ve heard … and I heard a similar story from several people.” I waited a moment and then asked: “Is it possible there’s some truth in there?”
One young woman spoke up immediately: “Yes. I knew it at the time, but I didn’t say anything. I love all of you, but I can see where these folks are coming from.” She waited a moment and then added: “And as God is my witness, I won’t let it happen again.”
No more than a month later, that same young woman had an opportunity to live those words when two twenty-something folks riding Harley-Davidson motorcycles showed up at church. She went out of her way to welcome them – leather jackets, ponytails and all – and others followed her lead. They ended up becoming our youth leaders. And I’m here to tell you that our three or four youth thought hanging out with Harley-riding, twenty-something youth leaders was the coolest thing ever. And that little church began to grow. Not because of the Harleys; but because the church had broken through its unspoken barriers and decided to treat those who appear as “outsiders” as beloved children of God in their midst.
Here at Good Shepherd, we’ve been working at making connections in our community and working our way toward building relationships with those outside our walls. In the last two weeks, some things have started happening:
· Christi Mallasch has begun working on bringing a community garden space into reality on our grounds. She has talked with our Trustees and she has begun a relationship with the Sharon Woods Civic Association and will be building a team from inside and outside the church to make this happen. And at least a few of those who have been outside our walls, yearning for a relationship, will have that chance.
· We have gotten to know the principal at Beechcroft High School and had several conversations with him over the last two years. In the last couple of weeks, we’ve had additional conversations with their testing coordinator, who is planning to use space here at the church for some of the testing programs at Beechcroft. And we’ve also talked with one of the teachers who is leading a young person’s leadership group there and looking for service opportunities. It struck me that having some high school students holding shovels in a community garden might be a wonderful thing. And those who have been on the outside will be in relationship with those of us inside these walls – and we will be changed; and we will grow.
· We have also had conversation with the director at the North YMCA about how to manage reconnecting with a changed neighborhood, which that YMCA branch has done very well. I happened to run into him at another meeting this past week and we both realized there may be potential partnerships that the Y and Good Shepherd could form. If so, more folks that have been outside our walls will form relationships with those of us who’ve been inside the walls and we’ll all be changed.
Who knows where all these things will go? It’s too early to say what will happen. But it will be critically important that we keep in mind what God appears to think about “insiders” and “outsiders.”
We have recently approved a new mission and vision statement here at Good Shepherd. It does push us to consider the ways in which God is calling us to live out that extravagantly accepting and open faith – a faith that seeks to live the presence of Jesus in a changing neighborhood; a faith that understands we need to push ourselves to understand the variety of cultures, races, backgrounds and experiences of those who live here; a faith that challenges us to find the folks who are on the “outside” and learn how we can partner with them so we can all come closer to God. Take a look at that mission/vision statement again today – it’s on the back of your bulletin.
That does not mean we will always live it out in its fullest expression – but we can, and should, and WILL, try to do so. Those efforts will spur us all forward to share the great news of what God is doing through us. And those on the outside will be inside and our lives might be turned upside down, but we’ll be shouting from the rooftops about God’s love and healing in this community.
Because: It is amazing what happens when folks who’ve been told – for whatever reason – or have simply come to believe – by whatever thought process – that they are not welcome with God or loved by God or accepted by God begin to understand the truth – the truth Naaman experienced, the leper healed by Jesus experienced and told others about: The truth that ALL are loved, ALL are accepted, ALL are welcome.
Remember: Every time one of God’s children is excluded from human community, from relationship with God, from sharing his or her unique gifts, evil is afoot. And whenever we see it in the Bible, God steps in to say, “No.” “You ARE included. You ARE a part of God’s family. You ARE accepted for who you are.” Every time. Each and every time. Don’t you forget it. It applies to you and me … and it applies to everyone in our community who isn’t here yet, but will be in the future.
And you might mention it to someone you know who needs to hear it. Something amazing might happen! Amen.
“When Exclusion Brings Inclusion”
II Kings 5:1-14; Mark 1:40-45
February 15, 2009
When I arrived as the new pastor for a small suburban church in Toledo, I heard some concerns immediately. This church had come through some difficult times, including the sudden death of one of their pastors just a few years before. The person who followed as pastor was not universally liked by the congregation. Chaos ensued. I arrived on the heels of a person who’d been there ten months as an interim. Understandably, many in the congregation felt like they’d kind of been “on hold” for some time. So, Bob pulled me aside right away. “Don,” he said, “your predecessor really alienated a lot of people. A loft of families left. We still think there’s a chance some of them will return if you reach out.” And he had a list! Names, addresses, phone numbers, directions to their houses from the church (He was quite computer savvy and would have had mapquest maps printed for me if that service had been in business then – but believe it or not mapquest hasn’t always been there!) I told Bob I thought making a round of visits to as many as I could since I was new was probably smart to do anyway, and I’d be sure to include all these folks on my visitation schedule. So I did.
As I made my rounds to members new, old and presumed “former,” I made an interesting discovery. The folks on Bob’s list … the ones he (and I gradually found out – others too) thought had been alienated by one of my predecessors had a different view of reality. Now, I tried not to make any assumptions as I was visiting the folks on that list. But I guess I implied in some of my conversation with one such family that I thought this was the case. One man, in his late forties and having led a hard life, stopped me in mid-sentence. “Now wait a minute, pastor,” he said. “I don’t know what those people up at that church have told you but that pastor was the best thing that ever happened in my life. He visited me in prison. He helped me find an AA group when I got out. He helped me feel like a part of the congregation when I started attending. But those people … those people … they ran him off. I guess he wasn’t “big city” enough for them or he didn’t dress right or he didn’t talk real slick. I don’t know. But they treated him like dirt. They said terrible things about him. Said he wasn’t holy. Said he’d never bring new folks into the church. Well, what am I, I thought? Chopped Liver? If he’s not good enough for them, then I’m not good enough for them. I appreciate you coming by, but I won’t be going back in that building anytime soon.”
Oh … my … goodness. I tried not to make any assumptions as I continued my visits. And from everyone on Bob’s “the last pastor alienated these families and they left” list I heard the same story. From everyone who wasn’t on that list I heard, “I sure wish some of those families would come back now that <<>> is gone. Maybe they can reconnect.”
Then from one old timer in the church I heard about the family who left in the early eighties when the pastor at that time grew a beard (he assured me that my closely trimmed beard I had wouldn’t offend anyone). From another, I heard the story about the family who left when the pastor didn’t go visit them when their dog died. (I thought to myself, “gotta brush up on my pet funeral liturgy!”)
And I began to see the picture. The folks who stayed at this little congregation were, in many ways, quite wonderful. Full of life. Articulate. Witty. Eager to connect with God in new ways. But it sure was beginning to look to me like there was a long-standing pattern of exclusion in this congregation’s DNA. Now, this exclusion didn’t rise to the level of exclusion in Nazi Germany, Rwanda, Bosnia or Darfur. Certainly not. But clearly, at least to me it was clear, those who looked or acted differently or who had an “interesting” past or were without a very high level of education, had been cast out. Not in so many words, but they were cast out. This was going to be quite a revelation to the currently active members.
Our story from 2 Kings broaches the topic – what of those who are outside the boundaries that we tend to draw around our faith traditions? Is God present and active for them, too? If so, how? Is God even present and active with those who hold beliefs that are quite different – maybe even the opposite of our own?
Naaman is the commander of the army for Syria. As those who chronicled our faith tradition in 1 and 2 Kings have relayed the story, Syria had recently conquered Israel – God’s chosen ones. They had destroyed holy sites and captured Israelites as slaves. He is a powerful man, commanding the military of an enemy nation for God’s chosen people. But he has a problem. The story says he has leprosy. Now, you need to know translating the Hebrew word that’s used to the English “leprosy” is kind of a holdover from an earlier time. It really could be any number of skin diseases, though most of them look bad and in a pre-scientific worldview would seem scary and strange. In most societies at the time, those who were so afflicted were excluded from society in some way. But Naaman here was a powerful man bringing military glory to Syria.
He hears through the servant of his wife … a servant who happens to be someone captured in their recent conquest of Israel … that perhaps there would be a cure in Israel. Perhaps, if he were to give it a try something good would happen. Naaman goes to the King to ask permission to go. The King, who no doubt looked forward to finding a way to cure his commander so that a sticky social situation could be resolved, immediately gives him permission to go to the enemy and seek help. He even writes a letter of commendation for him to give to Israel’s King, along with gifts (bribes?).
Naaman heads for Israel hoping for the best. The Israelite King sees him coming (did he think, “Oh, no … not again!”). He receives Naaman and hears his request. He is appalled! “I can’t heal! Am I God? I can’t do this! Your king is trying to pick a fight with me and will attack when I haven’t been able to help!”
Naaman gets word of a prophet in the land who perhaps could help. He consents to go. Enter Elisha – he who succeeded Elijah as the “go to” prophet in Israel. A prophet who repeatedly called the people to faithfulness to their God – frowning especially on those who would intermix belief systems with other people in the land. Naaman heads for Elisha, who doesn’t even come out of his house. “Tell him to go wash in the Jordan and he’ll be fine.”
Naaman is outraged. I guess he was expecting a big show, people bowing down before him, Elisha waving his hands furiously over him calling upon the power of God. Instead, he gets “Ah, go take a bath in the river.”
One of his servants is the one to talk sense into him – “General … now if he’d asked you to do something difficult or complicated you would have done it, right? So this seems easy … why not try it?”
Naaman, to his credit, sees the sense of this and heads to the Jordan River, where, we are told, he experiences miraculous healing and is so moved to belief in the Israelite version of God that he wants to pack up some of the soil from the riverbank to take back home with him. He stops by to see Elisha afterwards. He offers Elisha his gifts, though they are declined. He professes faith in God, but also asks that he be forgiven for bowing in the house of his king’s religion – He had no plans to convert!
Elisha simply says, “go in peace.”
The one who is the outsider, the excluded, the one who is not of the “chosen band” that God delivered from slavery in Egypt – the one, in fact, who had led the military strike that had recently conquered these chosen people – this one is cleansed, healed and sent on his way in peace. And did you notice it was a servant who put him on the path to go to Israel in the first place? And another servant who talked him into trying what Elisha suggested he do? Not only is it the outsider who is on a fast track to experiencing God’s power and presence here, it’s a couple of “nobodies” along the way who point him in the right direction.
Those who had been excluded had brought about inclusion. Those who were thought to be “outside” were on the “inside” with God.
Our story from Mark has Jesus going about his early ministry. Word has begun to spread about his teaching. People are beginning to show up and gather wherever he goes. A leper approaches him.
Time out: By Jesus’ time the holiness code had been further refined and explicated. This man was to have stayed away from contact with others. Others were not to have contact with him. He was to call out the words, “unclean, unclean!” whenever he was near other people. Again, it’s a pre-scientific mindset – folks had no idea what caused this disease. But the social consequences for the person so afflicted were extraordinary. Can you imagine being forced away from your family, friends, vocation, and neighbors until such time as a priest declared you were clean? Can you imagine such a life?
A leper approaches Jesus and says, “If you choose, you can make me clean.” Notice there is no doubt in this man’s mind about the power Jesus has. He’s suggesting that Jesus is quite capable of doing this. But he’s also suggesting that Jesus has a choice to make: Run up against his own faith tradition’s notions of holiness and risk making himself “unclean,” or cross that boundary – thus violating a key precept of what it meant in that time and place to be a faithful follower of God.
The received translation of the Gospel of Mark says Jesus was “moved with pity.” It seems pretty clear to those who’ve studied first century Greek and who have taken a look at the various copies and transmissions of the gospels that we are able to get our hands on that somewhere along the way, someone softened the words here. It really seems to say that Jesus was angry. In fact, many suggest that the Greek is something close to “snorted with indignation.”
“If you choose, you can make me clean.” And Jesus is indignant. And then stretches out his hand, touches the man and says, “I do so choose. Be made clean.”
Somehow, I don’t think he was mad at this man. No, it seems to me – especially when we weigh the rest of Jesus’ ministry in which he repeatedly reaches out to outcasts and outsiders – that Jesus’ deep emotion here had to do with those who would draw people close to God creating a situation that pushes those who most need to know God’s love further away. Here was a man with a dreadful, inexplicable disease. Someone in desperate need of human contact and care. Someone in need of the healing ministry of his faith tradition. Yet his tradition had excluded him.
Jesus tells him not to make a fuss about it, but to go and show himself to the priest. One wonders if there’s a little bit of Jesus wanting this man to go show the religious leaders what they SHOULD be doing! (I like to imagine the priests seeing this guy and being furious with Jesus for “not doing things the way they are supposed to be done.”) But instead this man goes all over the place talking about the amazing inclusive love of God as seen in this Jesus.
The one who had been excluded had brought about inclusion for others.
The one who was thought to be “outside” was on the “inside” with God.
Tossing aside traditional boundaries makes some folks pretty uncomfortable. But when I read my Bible, I keep seeing over and over – the “unclean,” the “not holy enough,” the “not well trained,” the “unbeliever,” the “not scrupulous enough with their religion,” the “outcast,” the “outsider” – it’s with these folks that God shows up. In fact, it happens so often, one wonders sometimes how on Earth we’ve managed to miss that message!
Every time one of God’s children is excluded from human community, from relationship with God, from sharing his or her unique gifts, evil is afoot. And whenever we see it in the Bible, God steps in to say, “No.” “You ARE included. You ARE a part of God’s family. You ARE accepted for who you are.” Every time. Each and every time.
Being pure, holy, clean, righteous – these are not matters of outward appearance or religious scruples. They are matters of the heart. They are matters of compassion. They are the result of sharing the accepting, forgiving, merciful, compassionate, inclusive love of God.
I left you hanging with that little church! Well, a moment came about 6 months into my time as pastor there that one of the members of our Administrative Council asked at our monthly meeting – “Pastor, how have your visits been going with the folks who had left?”
“Funny you should ask, I said.” I told them how the visits had gone. And I relayed in particular the one visit where one of the faithful had sworn not to ever set foot in that church again. There was absolute silence … for a rrrreeeaaaalllllyyy long time. Then one member “harrumphed” and stormed out. Two others had tears in their eyes. Several objected: “No, that’s not how it was. Pastor <<<>>> just couldn’t reach them.”
“Well,” I responded, “I wasn’t here then so I don’t know. I’m just relaying what I’ve heard … and I heard a similar story from several people.” I waited a moment and then asked: “Is it possible there’s some truth in there?”
One young woman spoke up immediately: “Yes. I knew it at the time, but I didn’t say anything. I love all of you, but I can see where these folks are coming from.” She waited a moment and then added: “And as God is my witness, I won’t let it happen again.”
No more than a month later, that same young woman had an opportunity to live those words when two twenty-something folks riding Harley-Davidson motorcycles showed up at church. She went out of her way to welcome them – leather jackets, ponytails and all – and others followed her lead. They ended up becoming our youth leaders. And I’m here to tell you that our three or four youth thought hanging out with Harley-riding, twenty-something youth leaders was the coolest thing ever. And that little church began to grow. Not because of the Harleys; but because the church had broken through its unspoken barriers and decided to treat those who appear as “outsiders” as beloved children of God in their midst.
Here at Good Shepherd, we’ve been working at making connections in our community and working our way toward building relationships with those outside our walls. In the last two weeks, some things have started happening:
· Christi Mallasch has begun working on bringing a community garden space into reality on our grounds. She has talked with our Trustees and she has begun a relationship with the Sharon Woods Civic Association and will be building a team from inside and outside the church to make this happen. And at least a few of those who have been outside our walls, yearning for a relationship, will have that chance.
· We have gotten to know the principal at Beechcroft High School and had several conversations with him over the last two years. In the last couple of weeks, we’ve had additional conversations with their testing coordinator, who is planning to use space here at the church for some of the testing programs at Beechcroft. And we’ve also talked with one of the teachers who is leading a young person’s leadership group there and looking for service opportunities. It struck me that having some high school students holding shovels in a community garden might be a wonderful thing. And those who have been on the outside will be in relationship with those of us inside these walls – and we will be changed; and we will grow.
· We have also had conversation with the director at the North YMCA about how to manage reconnecting with a changed neighborhood, which that YMCA branch has done very well. I happened to run into him at another meeting this past week and we both realized there may be potential partnerships that the Y and Good Shepherd could form. If so, more folks that have been outside our walls will form relationships with those of us who’ve been inside the walls and we’ll all be changed.
Who knows where all these things will go? It’s too early to say what will happen. But it will be critically important that we keep in mind what God appears to think about “insiders” and “outsiders.”
We have recently approved a new mission and vision statement here at Good Shepherd. It does push us to consider the ways in which God is calling us to live out that extravagantly accepting and open faith – a faith that seeks to live the presence of Jesus in a changing neighborhood; a faith that understands we need to push ourselves to understand the variety of cultures, races, backgrounds and experiences of those who live here; a faith that challenges us to find the folks who are on the “outside” and learn how we can partner with them so we can all come closer to God. Take a look at that mission/vision statement again today – it’s on the back of your bulletin.
That does not mean we will always live it out in its fullest expression – but we can, and should, and WILL, try to do so. Those efforts will spur us all forward to share the great news of what God is doing through us. And those on the outside will be inside and our lives might be turned upside down, but we’ll be shouting from the rooftops about God’s love and healing in this community.
Because: It is amazing what happens when folks who’ve been told – for whatever reason – or have simply come to believe – by whatever thought process – that they are not welcome with God or loved by God or accepted by God begin to understand the truth – the truth Naaman experienced, the leper healed by Jesus experienced and told others about: The truth that ALL are loved, ALL are accepted, ALL are welcome.
Remember: Every time one of God’s children is excluded from human community, from relationship with God, from sharing his or her unique gifts, evil is afoot. And whenever we see it in the Bible, God steps in to say, “No.” “You ARE included. You ARE a part of God’s family. You ARE accepted for who you are.” Every time. Each and every time. Don’t you forget it. It applies to you and me … and it applies to everyone in our community who isn’t here yet, but will be in the future.
And you might mention it to someone you know who needs to hear it. Something amazing might happen! Amen.
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