Sermons

"When it comes to our children, we do not have the luxury of despair. If we rise, they will rise with us every time, no matter how many times we've fallen before. I hope you will remember that the next time you fail. I hope I will too. Remembering that is the most important work as parents we can possibly do."   ~ Cheryl Strayed, Tiny Beautiful Things, 2012.

A Joyful Welcome. Today, with Nabby and with Ariel, it’s easy to be joyful.

We have been waiting for this moment for many months, and now, here it is.

Nabby is now formally welcomed into our congregation. We have promised to share in Nabby’s life as she grows and learns and finds her way in this world. We will be with her – in struggles and in triumph.

Ariel is now formally welcomed into our congregation as our Collaborative Ministerial Intern. As of this moment, she is ours and we are hers for the duration of our time together.

How could we be more joyful? I doubt that we could be.

As we rightly bask in the joy of this moment, I offer a couple things for us to consider in the coming days, weeks, months and years that may help us sustain our joy.

Whenever we welcome someone into our congregation, we are changed. We are different. We are a newly created and consecrated version of our beloved community. We might wonder what that actually means.   Right off we might see that with the addition of Nabby and Ariel, we just dropped the average age of our congregation. But, it’s more than demographics. We want everyone, everyone, to belong.

Two things, and all in between, may happen when congregations accept new people into their midst.

On the one hand, there may be a solid expectation that new people assimilate. In order to be welcomed, they need to become just like us. They share our theology, our songs, our general attitude toward religion, culture, politics and each other, and they will understand what’s important in the same way that we do.

On other hand, there may be radical hospitality and an honest enthusiasm for all the change that comes with new life. We have no permanent identity or norms because we have only been in existence since the ritual of welcome ended.

We will most likely fall somewhere in the vast middle. To grow and thrive and mature as a beloved community with a relevance for our time and our newcomers, we must be closer to embracing differences and change than we are to expecting new people to become just like us.

Ariel and Nabby offer us an opportunity to be changed by their presence among us. They will see the world as only they see it. They will feel the spirit of life as only they feel it. They will bring a new way of being in the world.

The question for those of us already here, already familiar with the “way we do things” and firmly rooted in our shared sense of who we are is: How willing are we to be changed by the people we have welcomed into our congregation and into our hearts? This is a serious question; one that may come up as frustration or discomfort or confusion, or perhaps even alarm, from time to time as we all continue to commit our lives to each other. When that happens, how will we respond? Are we willing to be changed by those we have asked to come?

Another consideration we will entertain if we are successful in our efforts to grow, not just today, but in the coming years, is: can we and will we make room at the welcome table for everyone? Is ours a truly welcoming table where there is room for everyone? Do we have room for people who come from other places – not just New Jersey or from away, but people from far away … maybe as far away as The Democratic Republic of the Congo, India, Afghanistan, Guatemala, or Greenland? Do we have room for people who worship with enthusiastic dance and song and hands waving overhead or who speak in tongues or who follow a god we do not know or understand? Do we have room at our table for people of all genders and gender expressions? Do we have room for people of color, people of all ability and disability, and people with customs and rituals unfamiliar to us?

Now retired Unitarian Universalist minister, Marilyn Sewell, believes we ought to be in the habit of practicing radical hospitality. She says, “Radical means “out of the ordinary,” “revolutionary,” even. So what would it mean to receive someone—a stranger—with a presence that was not just polite, but to receive them with revolutionary generosity?” Revolutionary generosity and a joyful welcome – and …… a willingness to be changed for the good.

As I have mentioned before, Carrie Newcomer is one of my favorite singer song writers. She has a song called Room at the Table that moves me deeply, and maybe it will move you as well.

Room at the Table - Carrie Newcomer

Let our hearts not be hardened
to those livin’ on the margins,
there is room at the table for ev’ryone.
This is where it all begins,
this is how we gather in,
there is room at the table for ev’ryone.

There is room for us all,
and no gift is too small.
There is room at the table for ev’ry - one.
There’s enough if we share,
come on, pull up a chair.
There is room at the table for ev’ry - one.

Too long we have wandered,
burdened and undone,
but there is room at the table for ev’ryone.
Let us sing the new world in,
this is how it all begins,
there is room at the table for ev’ryone.

May our welcome table be expansive and intimate. May all who wish find a place here that is safe and loving. May all who come here find a place from which they can grow and reach and become their very best selves. May all who sit at our welcome table know they are loved beyond belief and, together, may we bring that love to a bruised and hurting world.

Blessed Be.   I Love You.   Amen.