Thoughts for a rainy Saturday

Today is one of those rainy Saturdays where you just don't feel like doing much - not that there are not plenty of things to do! There taxes to finish, a sermon for tomorrow morning, papers to write, and dozens of small household tasks that ought to be done; but somehow - looking out the window at the rain just sort of takes the urgency out of most of those task.

It also puts one into a contemplative mood - which is not bad for sermon writing if one can focus the contemplations only on things to do with the sermon. Unfortunately, that does not seem to be the case today (hence - an unexpected blog entry to clear out some of the extraneous thoughts). For example, in reading a friends blog entry from yesterday I remember yesterday, standing next to David and his daughters, and Ruth Ann, and about 30 classmates and professors as we all watched a video of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s I Have a Dream speech (link to this in David's post). It had been a long time since I had heard this speech (I may have heard it in 1963, but if you do the math - I wasn't very old) and I had forgotten just how powerful it was. In listening to it yesterday, I was struck both by its power, and by how much truth was in it (although most white, middle and upper class Americans would have denied it). The other thing that struck me is how true it is today - not as much for black Americans, but for those of other countries - particularly Hispanic countries. No - they are not being denied seating in a restaurant, or a bus seat, but they are still discriminated against - in language, and by our attitudes, and our jokes, by our dismissal of them as fellow human beings - focusing instead on their heritage, their possible lack of citizenship in this country, their lack of possessions. They are not like us - therefore they are not accepted.

Even in the neighborhood where we live, where the racial makeup is very mixed, there is mistrust of strangers, a desire to only have neighbors who are like us (middle class with upscale attitudes - no matter what skin color we have). We still claim that there are those who "do not fit" in the neighborhood - especially if they can't keep their grass neatly cut and trimmed. Discrimination is not gone - it has merely changed focus. Rather than skin color (although that still exists) there is much more focus on (against) the poor. Rather than feeling compassion, we feel disgust. We want them to have a place to live and be able to get a meal and health care - but not in our neighborhood. Low income housing, half-way houses, re-hab houses, soup kitchens, food pantries - they are all good things, but not here. Even a seminary in the neighborhood is not necessarily deemed a good thing for the neighborhood - they might attract homeless people looking for help!

I heard recently about a neighborhood that fought tooth and nail against a church that wished to expand their facility. The project would bring more traffic, and the larger church would create parking issues, and the addition of a food pantry would bring "undesirable" people into the neighborhood. Rather than "welcoming the stranger" we want to find somewhere else to send them. Rather than opening our homes and neighborhoods to help those struggling to pay for prescription medicines, food, basic shelter, we want to find ways to keep them out. Some neighborhoods put up fences; others hire security guards. Cities pass laws against pan-handling or loitering. We install alarm systems and put up signs. Anything to keep us from getting involved, from actually making a sandwich for a homeless person, or taking one of them to lunch with us, or encouraging our own church to open its doors as a soup kitchen or as a shelter or as a food pantry. Instead, we want "someone else" to do it.

The Gospel text this week is the Road to Emmaus story. Many of you know the story - two of the disciples, worn out and discouraged, are walking home to Emmaus. On the road, they meet a stranger and discuss with him the events surrounding Jesus suffering and death. The stranger then tells them all that the scriptures have to say about the coming of the Messiah. As they reach Emmaus, they invite the stranger to join them for supper. In the breaking of bread, Jesus reveals himself to them, as He does each time we celebrate the Eucharist.

As we welcome the stranger, we are reminded that the stranger may not always be who we think it is. There are many who believe they have unknowingly entertained angels, or even Christ himself. There are several Bible stories where angels are unknowingly shown hospitality. Jesus, in the Sermon on the Mount, tells those on His left and on His right - that they have or have not fed Him when He was hungry, or clothed Him when He was naked, or given Him drink when He was thirsty - for even as we do to the least of these - we do to Him.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. did not take us to this biblical image - but he did call us - the people of God - to remember that we are all created equal - that we are to treat our brothers and sisters - all of them - with respect. This call, this dream - was not just an address to this nation, but to all who claim Christ as Lord and Savior - to the Church that is His body here on earth. Open your doors - feed the hungry - cloth the naked - and see Jesus in the breaking of bread.