Matthew 10: 40–42
Fourth of July
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Lord, may we hear your voice in the words spoken in your Name. Amen.
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Every year, as July rolls around, I face the same dilemma. Do I
dare preach on our Fourth of July celebration of everything our country
means to us — in the same sermon as some Biblical
text? Certainly, for some people — in some
churches — this is an opportunity to celebrate our God–given
blessings. Just as God blessed Moses and the children of Israel
by guiding them to the Promised Land, so, they believe, God has
blessed America. In these sermons we are likely to hear some note
from Emma Lazarus famous poem, inscribed on the Statue of Liberty:
Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to
breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send
these, the homeless, tempest–tossed to me. I lift my
lamp beside the golden door!
And certainly, the wonderful diversity our country enjoys is one
aspect of our nation’s history. But there are
others. So, this year I decided to look at some of the other
aspects of what we celebrate when we celebrate our God–given
blessings.
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One note we often hear in patriotic sermons is some mention of John
Winthrop’s sermon to his fellow Puritans, written in 1630 while
they were still on board the ship Arabella, en route to establish the
Massachusetts Bay Colony. The Puritans were going to the new
land to find religious freedom, for at that time England was torn apart
by religious division. And already, Winthrop, who would become
governor of that colony, had a strong sense of how significant, how
exemplary their mission really was. Remember, he tells his fellow
Puritans in that sermon,
. . . the eyes of all people are
upon us . . . We shall be as a
city [shining] on a hill. So that if we shall deal
falsely with our God in this work we have
undertaken . . . we shall be made
a story and a by–word through the world.
But also in that sermon he explores the idea that God has blessed some
people in this world with riches so they can bless others around them
who don’t have so much. This, he says, is God’s plan,
God’s design. So, he urges his fellow Puritans, all of
them wealthy English gentry, to remember their responsibilities to the
poor in their midst. It’s a kind of noblesse
oblige – and was an aspect of Winthrop’s sermon I had
never heard before – probably because I’d never read
the whole thing. And I couldn’t help thinking, when I read
it, how little Winthrop realized at that point, how very dependent
all these wealthy Englishmen would be in this new land on the kindness
and know–how of the native Americans they would
encounter. Talk about leaders! Talk about gifts!
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And then, when I read our text from Matthew’s gospel, with
Jesus’ instructions to his newly–minted disciples as he
sends them out – I was blown away by the contrast. And
realized, finally, I could easily preach on these two texts – and
the contrast between them – this morning.
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For Jesus, too, is sending people out in what was for them a new
endeavor. But as he sends his disciples out to minister, he
doesn’t send them out with any sense of superiority. Rather,
he tells them they will be dependent on the kindness and
hospitality of the people they encounter. Yes, he says, you all
do have something valuable to give, something that will be significant
to others. But no – it’s not about worldly wealth,
or worldly standing. It’s about Kingdom of God wealth,
Kingdom of God hospitality – and you can’t put a price
tag on that.
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So, while John Winthrop imagines that he and his fellow Puritan
believers will be the important ones, the superior ones in any
interaction with the Indians they will encounter, Jesus tells his
disciples that both they and the ones they minister to will be
blessed. For any who receive the disciples’ ministry,
Jesus tells them, will be receiving Jesus himself. “And
if they have received me,” he adds, “they have received
the Father who has sent me. Both giver and receiver will be
blessed.”
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In other words, the contrast between Jesus’ message to his
disciples and John Winthrop’s message to his fellow Puritan
believers is immense. Both are giving instructions about how to
proceed in a new ministry effort. But Jesus is emphasizing the
mutual benefits of hospitality. And Winthrop is emphasizing
noblesse oblige – the responsibilities of people who
imagine themselves privileged, superior to people they suppose are
their inferiors. The two approaches could not be more different.
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What was truly amazing this week, though — and finally persuaded
me to preach about all this — was a contemporary illustration
of the way Jesus’ approach works. Maybe you remember an
incident last October when the governor of Florida, tired of dealing
with the constant influx of immigrants from South and Central America,
arranged to have 49 of those immigrants flown from Texas, where they
had been seeking asylum, to Edgartown, on the island of Martha’s
Vineyard. He wanted to dramatize to a northern governor what
it was like when a crowd of illegal immigrants suddenly arrived on
your doorstep with nowhere to live, nowhere to work, few skills,
and no money. It was a political stunt, but it wouldn’t
end the way the governor of Florida supposed it would.
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What he hadn’t counted on was the welcoming attitude of the
Episcopal Church in Edgartown. Father Chip Seadale of St. Andrews
Episcopal Church was out of town when the immigrant flights first
landed, but immediately got on the phone when he heard what had
happened. “If they don’t have anywhere to stay,
let’s just put them up at the church,” he told his
parishioners. So, the fire department and Salvation Army
volunteers set up cots in the church, and local residents began
streaming toward the church with clothing, food and money. One
woman rode her bike to the church and handed Father Seadale a check
for $10,000. That’s a whole lot more than a cup of
cold water – so I imagine, some day, she will be rewarded.
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And generous support didn’t come just from local
parishioners. People from all over the country sent letters of
thanks and checks. One envelope, only addressed to “The
Church they brought the immigrants to” actually managed to make
it to the right address. Inside that letter someone had
written, “Thank you for treating the migrants as people.”
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And that is not the end of this story. Most of the migrants
stayed at St. Andrews for the better part of the week, until
transportation could be arranged to larger metropolitan areas where
more work possibilities and immigration offices were located. And
you probably remember the news clips of the warm farewells those
migrants received from St. Andrews’ parishioners as they left.
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But a few of the migrants – four Venezuelans, at least —
stayed on the island, and have been working there – as
landscapers, painters and carpenters – for the past nine
months. At first, thanks to the kindness of island residents,
they stayed at private homes. But soon they found work on the
island. And now they each chip in $1,000 a month to rent
a two–bedroom house as they wait for their work permits, so
they can send for their families to join them in what they hope will
be their new home.
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This is the model of hospitality that Jesus outlined in the tenth
chapter of Matthew. Both host and guest were
blessed – because God was at the center of it all.
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What can I say? God bless America!
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Amen.
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