Looking in the Mirror

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector
St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas
June 29, 2008; 7th Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 8, Year A
Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(Matthew 10:40-42) -- Jesus said,"Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet's reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and 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."
____________________________________________________________________

If this Gospel sounds familiar to you, good. I extended last week's reading to include these verses from Matthew in order to tell a story about Mike McMurray, the only person who carried a briefcase to Oxford High School in 1966. I used to call him "Secret Agent Man." In last week's sermon I offered him as an example of someone from the edges, from the fringe, who speaks with a different voice and a different perspective, yet speaks truth to power. He was for me, a prophet. And he helped tune my ear to those odd, passionate people who may be the Jeremiah's of our day.

This week I'd like to reverse the focus. I want you to imagine yourself looking at your own image in a mirror. Whatever mirror you are most accustomed to seeing your face in, look at that mirror right now, and listen to these words that Matthew attributes to Jesus. Listen to these words as being addressed to you, about you, as you gaze at your own reflection. The voice speaking is Jesus:

Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.

Look at your reflection in the mirror. You are created in the image and likeness of God. You are a word of God to the world. God's Spirit dwells with you and in you. You are a member of the Body of Christ. You are one with Jesus. So, whoever welcomes you, welcomes Jesus; welcomes God.

That welcome is bilateral. There are those to whom you offer a generous welcome. You see them with a love that is not unlike the love of Jesus. There are also those who let you know you are welcome. Isn't it affirming and energizing for someone to welcome your arrival and presence? It means so much to see another's face light up and realize it is you who is delighting them.

My favorite seminary professor was Dr. O. Sidney Barr. He was sloppy and disheveled: whispy hair flying like static electricity; wrinkled brown jacket; long, uncombed eyebrows. He lurked over his messy desk with a perpetual scholar's slump, reading the Epistles from the original Greek, preparing his lecture on Galatians again like it was the first time.

Every student at the General Theological Seminary was assigned to one teacher who was to be our advisor. I had Dr. Barr. I was supposed to visit with him each semester about my choice of classes for the upcoming semester, and he was supposed to be available during the in-between times if I had any other questions or needs.

One day I had a question. I rang the bell at his apartment door, and his lovely wife let me in and welcomed me as though she were expecting me. "Sidney is in his study," she pointed down the hall. I looked into his study cautiously. It was a scene from Dickens. The hulking professor pouring over Hebrew and Greek manuscripts, so lost in passionate concentration that he didn't hear me enter.

"Dr. Barr," I spoke softly so as not to startle him. His studies interrupted, he turned suddenly, and instantly burst into a warm smile, opening his arms with a greeting that seemed as though I had made his day by dropping in unannounced during his class preparation. I've never forgotten that moment. It was a generous moment of welcome. I felt cared for, honored, maybe even in some way, special.

One day, a bunch of us were talking about the faculty -- who we liked, who we didn't. And the person I thought of as the biggest ditz in the class ranted on about how much she loved Dr. Barr. (For once, I agreed with her.) She went on and on, while I feigned interest. Until she said, "He's my advisor. And, you know, when I go by his study, even if I'm interrupting his work, he greets me like my visit had made his day."

"Wait," I recoiled with inner protest. "That's how he greets me," I thought. But before I could say a word, she added proudly. "He makes me feel like I'm special."

Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcome me welcomes the one who sent me.

The One on the other side of the mirror is Jesus. And the one on this side of the mirror is Jesus as well. God looks at us through the eyes of Jesus. God sees us and sees Jesus in us. We are the incarnation of God also; we are created in the image and likeness of God. So each of us is special. Each of us is given God's spirit to go into the world in generous welcome.

A few of us will go into the world as prophets, speaking uncomfortable truths like Jeremiah. Prophets rarely receive a warm welcome, but when they do, they give to those open hearts who welcome them a prophet's reward. Prophets need to be able to go to a mirror, where they see God looking back at them with a deep, appreciative welcome. They receive so few otherwise.

Most of us will go into the world and live the best we can. Most people are pretty-much doing the best they can. God appreciates that. God welcomes your best. Sometimes it doesn't feel like enough to us, but God is gracious and merciful. Welcoming our best, and immediately forgiving us whenever we don't live up to our best. Righteous living is living with God in a relationship of trust and welcome. Lots of the time doing our best; some of the time doing not quite our best; and all of the time offering it in trust to God who welcomes us with Dr. Barr gladness.

From time to time, each of us will help someone else. We will be the one to reach out and give a cup of cold water to one of these little ones. Every time we do so, we are refreshing Christ. And every time someone reaches out to comfort you, that person is comforting Jesus as well. The one who gives is Jesus, and the one who receives is Jesus. The cup of cold water given and received is a divine exchange. "Truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward."

Frederick Buechner says, "The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet." A hungry student meets a glad teacher, and God is in the midst of them. I've thought about how that happened with Dr. Barr. It wasn't so much an effort for him. He wasn't steeling his attitude and forcing himself to be pleasant to students because that was part of his job description. No, it was much more natural than that. It was the way he was. His welcome came out of his being. It wasn't so much something he did, as something he was. And his being had been conformed to Jesus, largely through things like study and prayer and practice.

When I went to see him, I don't think I really needed anything. Maybe I had a question, or maybe that was an excuse. Who knows? But what I knew was that he was real. And every once in a while, we all need a dose of "real."

Someone has said, our task is not so much to "help" others as to be with them in their joy and sorrow. Not so much to do for them as to be whole in their presence. Not so much to save the world as to be the saved people that we are. We're not really out to save the world; God has already done that. The Good Life is to live in such a transformed way that when the reign of God breaks in we recognize it and welcome it, prepared to live in it gladly and naturally as true royalty.

It may be that the reign of God breaks in daily each morning as we look into our mirror. We look into the mirror, and what do we see? The welcome of God, gazing with loving regard at Jesus, looking back with glad affection.

What else might be in that mirror? Maybe sometimes a prophet. Most of the time a righteous person, doing the best they can. Often one who is willing to give a cup of cold water to one of those little ones. Sometimes, a little one in need of a cup of cold water.

Truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.

__________________________________________________________________

The Mission of St. Paul's Episcopal Church is to explore and celebrate
God's infinite grace, acceptance and love.

For information about St. Paul's Episcopal Church and it's life and mission, please contact us at
P.O. Box 1190, Fayetteville, AR 72702, or call 479/442-7373

More sermons are posted on our web site: www.stpaulsfay.org

Visit our web partners at www.explorefaith.org