Who will we accept?

Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5

You’ll find that this sermon is more topical than my usual style of preaching, more a Biblically inspired call to action than an exegesis of the texts of the week. For those of you who are following along with my sermons but not affiliated with St Mark’s Clifford or Grace Massies Mill, you’ll notice a lot of references to hyperlocal projects and partners in addition to things you may have heard in the news. I’ve included links and references if you’d like to learn more and get to know our partners.

Earlier this week, a group of Christians met in a back room at Amherst Presbyterian Church. This was a room set apart for preschoolers, as evidenced by colorful foam mats on the floor like giant puzzle pieces, and low tables and bins of toys around its edges. The schoolroom atmosphere felt fitting, as people who did not know one another navigated introductions while folks who have known one another for years caught up and traded stories. Among those present were Presbyterians, Catholics, Anglicans, and Episcopalians, all called together by a common cause that tugged at our heartstrings. As we went around the room and introduced ourselves, we were invited to share not only where we had come from, but what had called us to that place and the work we were gathered to begin. This was one small step toward a multi-church effort to welcome refugee families into our community here in Central Virginia, in partnership with the International Rescue Committee. This is an effort I dearly hope our parish families will be a part of, and I know for a fact there are those among you who already have this call in your hearts.

As we went around the room and shared what had led us to respond to the call of welcoming refugees, some shared personal and family stories of fleeing violent regimes, of being displaced and identifying with diaspora. Some among us had loved ones and close friends who had been or were currently navigating the immigration process in this country, and others had personal experience navigating that process someplace else. Some of us just thought this was important, and wanted to help. We talked a lot of details and process things that I won’t go into now, but I hope you’ll talk to me or Lynn or Ned Kable about it at Coffee Hour after the service or at Baine’s on Tuesday morning. The meeting schedules and the subcommittees and the fundraising are all crucial to the work. But what I want to talk to you about right now is something that came up near the end of our conversation. Our convener asked us this crucial question- Who will we accept? That question has been haunting me ever since I saw it on our agenda. Who will we accept?

There has been much well-founded grief and concern for the people displaced by the violence being wrought in Ukraine. We hear their cries and we want to help. We see our European brothers and sisters putting strollers at the train stations and setting up welcome wagons at the borders and we want to extend our hands with theirs. We want to accept them. As one of the voices in the room pointed out, they are in the news right now. The displaced people of Ukraine are on our screens and in our newspapers right now. We want to accept them. But the truth of the matter is, they’re not here. Due to the complicated international and intercontinental processes of refugee relocation, we don’t expect to see the first wave of Ukrainian refugees being resettled here in the US for a year, maybe more, if at all. According to the UN, there are over 82.4 million forcibly displaced people in this world. Who will we accept?

We ultimately decided as a group that we would accept whatever families the IRC discerned would be a good fit for our area, with the hopes that we might offer some input that would help with that decision. We wondered about what language groups might be best served by our local school systems, our healthcare providers, and churches in our area. We wondered about job availability, and how we might accommodate families in an area with little to no public transportation. We have a lot still to learn, and we will need the advice and experience and expertise of the entire community if we are to best serve the families who come to us. Who will we accept?

I think I was so struck by that question because it so straightforwardly recalls our mandate as Christians. Who will we accept? The question wasn’t- “who will be a good fit for our community?” It wasn’t- “Who will have the smoothest transition or the easiest time finding work here?” Those questions matter, and they’ll be answered along the way. But to ask a room of Christians who barely know each other and know nothing at all about who we are inviting into our midst- who will we accept? It felt like a challenge. It felt like an invitation. It felt like the sort of question Jesus might ask us. Who will we, Christian human beings, accept?

Our scriptures are pretty clear. Who will we accept? Paul, a persecutor of the faith. Peter, who denied Christ three times. The Macedonians, who were far away and reachable only by a long journey by sea. Lydia and her entire household. All nations, as the psalmist says. The nations and leaders of the earth, as John experienced in his revelation. The prophets are very clear about the fact that ultimately, the message of salvation will reach to the ends of the earth and justice will roll down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream. The abundance of the Creator will pour out continually over all creation, and the light of Love will illuminate the world like a never-setting sun.

Until that day when all shall be revealed and all the wounds of this world are healed, we are limited by our mortal and imperfect state. We cannot resolve the conflicts of every nation, nor can we promise a return to every displaced person. What we can do, is accept someone. Accept a family or two or three. Not just accept, but welcome them. Make a way for them, strangers in a strange land. Build a community around them, and provide care and support. Not as saviors, because we only need the one. Not as patrons, because we are all equal in the life of God. But as a family, a home, a little kingdom of heaven here in rural Central Virginia. And I don’t just mean the refugee families we will someday welcome from a far away land. I mean the families who are already here in our community, displaced by the changes and chances of this life. I mean the lonely individuals wandering through life, for whom the word family has lost its comfort. I mean the people in this sanctuary right now who’ve forgotten what it feels like to come home. There are already over 20 people on the ecumenical team preparing to sponsor refugee families, with a broad range of skills and talents and connections and resources at our disposal. What if we here at this church put the same amount of thought and effort into preparing for and supporting each person who walked through that door? What would that look like? I think it would look a little bit like heaven. And I know we’re capable of it, because I’ve seen it with my own eyes, felt it in my own heart. I know many of you have too. I think that might be why you keep coming back to this particular place, a single sanctuary in a sea of hundreds and thousands of worshipping communities. You’ve seen a glimpse here of what John saw in his Revelation, what Paul saw in his vision and what the Psalmist prays for. We can’t remake the world- but we can build a little heaven here, with God’s help. I can’t think of a better place to start.