Sermon by Reverend Dr. John W. Mann | July 2, 2023

Matthew 10:40-42

“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.”

Jesus talked a lot about hospitality. He kept it simple. Extending a welcome, to make folks feel welcome. To feel welcome is to be validated, to be seen and heard, to be recognized. It can be as simple as a cup of cold water. That’s not a complicated religious formula. Jesus didn’t promise that following him would be easy, but it doesn’t have to be complicated. Some early writers said that being a Christian, is as simple as holding to the truth, “Jesus is Lord.”

It didn’t take long for folks to complicate matters. From then to now the idea of “being a Christian” has grown, multiplied, splintered and divided into forms that are as different from one another as day is from night, but which all address in some way that claim, “Jesus is Lord.”

There are many paths that lead to Jesus and there are many taken to follow him. Christians could get along just fine if we could say, “Your style is not my style, but I recognize the Christ in you.”

But people being people, or we being who we are, some folks, not all, but some will say, “My way is the only way; my truth is the only truth; my life is the only life.” They say, “Your way is false, your truth is a lie and your life is hell-bound.” And they add, “I don’t want to have anything to do with you, and neither does God.”

Back in 1988 the film “The Last Temptation of Christ” was released amidst a great deal of controversy. The film was based on the book of the same title by the Greek author Nikos Kazantzakis.

In 1988 I was living in Clarion, Iowa and serving as a Presbyterian minister there and in Dows. I wrote a column for the local paper, The Wright County Monitor. Every other week I would write something observational, sometimes opinionated, and mostly harmless.

One day a guy came to see me, and he was upset about this film, The Last Temptation of Christ. He described it as blasphemy, which is basically saying things about God that are not true. Christians, he said, need to rise up and protest this film. It should be banned, and it should certainly not be shown our local cinema. He wanted me to write a column about the Last Temptation of Christ. I told him that I would.

I had serious doubts about whether The Last Temptation of Christ would ever be screened in Clarion, Iowa. That’s what I said in my column. I also said that I had no immediate plans to view the film myself and so I could not comment on its particular content.

I wrote about how some people feel the need to defend God. The need to jump to God’s defense over perceived slights. I described some of the ways this need has shown itself historically. Which usually involves violence. I asked, “Does God need our defense?” In order to defend God, one must reduce God to a defendable size.

I agreed that The Last Temptation of Christ may not be to everyone’s liking. If one suspected that might be the case, then either don’t go to see the film and be satisfied. In terms of what it means to be a follower of Jesus, there are probably bigger fish to fry, so to speak, than whether or not a possibly offensive film comes to town.

We can say of our beliefs, our world view, our sense of morality, “I know this much to be true,” and that understanding can serve like a compass that guides us through life. We can also say, “I know this much to be true,” and that serves like a brick wall of certainty that we never have to go past.

When I wrote that column, the following week a response appeared, a rebuttal so to speak. It was written by a minister in town who believed I was a heretic and a false prophet for many reasons. He had seen the light, the true light and anyone who didn’t see the in the same way as he did were in his words, “Going to hell.”

It was a spirited rebuttal. I found his view misguided, misinformed and in some ways just plain ignorant. After it appeared in the paper people said, “I can’t wait to see how you will respond!” To which I said, “It’s a free country. He’s entitled to his opinion. I won’t change his mind any more than he’ll change mine; especially not through airing our differences in the newspaper.”

It was one time, one of many, when I have found myself at odds with people who, like me, refer to themselves as Christian. Being at odds is not something I choose. I don’t want to be in conflict with someone. All I choose, in fact everything I choose is simply to believe in Jesus. When I come to the table, it is by his invitation. Jesus is in charge of the guest list and it’s not up to me to tell him who can come to his gathering.  

What does God require? Perhaps the simple acts of kindness shown in following through on the teachings of Jesus to “Go and do likewise – love your neighbor as yourself – turn the other cheek – love your enemies – be generous – and judge not – offer a cup of cold water.” He never set before us an impossible standard. It is often by simple gifts that lives are transformed.

I wonder what it is about a cup of “cold” water. You can get some ice from the fridge, but that wasn’t around in Jesus’ time. To get cold water, you go deep.

When my wife Lindsay Biddle attended the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland as an international representative one year, she met people who were there from around the world. One man she met was named Setri Nyomi. He was from Ghana and he told her the story when he received a cup of cold water. The year was 1972. Setri signed up to be an exchange student for one year through a program called the American Field Service. He was sent to live with an African American family in Vicksburg, Mississippi.

Vicksburg, Mississippi in 1972 was a city where the lines of the racial divide were clearly drawn. The school system had been desegregated in 1970 by federal order. The family with whom Setri Nyomi lived that year attended their local Baptist Church. But he had been raised in the Presbyterian Church and he wanted to visit the Presbyterian Church in Vicksburg.

His hosts were reluctant at first; Christians in Vicksburg worshipped with their “own kind,” color-wise. In time they agreed that he could visit the First Presbyterian Church of Vicksburg. Some of his classmates were part of the youth group and they encouraged him to go along with them. So he began to attend, and he was the only non-white person in the church. After a short while he felt at home in First Presbyterian Church.

What Setri Nyomi discovered some time later was that his sense of welcome from the people at First Presbyterian Church was a big step for them. The session had actually discussed and voted on allowing him to attend the youth group.

He said that he could not have imagined what his life would have been like had they not welcomed him. His experience in Vicksburg was part of the formative time that led him to enter the ministry. He went on to study at both Yale Divinity School and Princeton Theological seminary. Over the years he has served as a scholar, a pastor and as the General Secretary of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches.

He said that his commitment to addressing injustice in any form, and the call for Christians to place value on the sacredness of life, human wholeness and dignity for all began as a result of the impact his experience in Vicksburg, Mississippi had on him. Today he considers that city his second home.

A cup of cold water; according to Jesus: “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.’

The way of Christ for me is revealed in a poem written by Edwin Markham. It’s called “Outwitted.”

“He drew a circle that shut me out —
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in.”

Amen.