Strangers now are friends

From Wellington Cathedral of St Paul

Strangers now are friends 14 August 2011

The Revd Jenny Wilkens

• Psalm 90
• 2 Kings 4:8-37
• Acts 16:6-15

http://wellingtoncathedral.org.nz/index.php/Sermons

It was so sad this week to see on the news and hear about all the violence and looting in the cities and streets of Britain, shops looted and set on fire in streets that looked pretty much like some of our suburban streets here in Wellington. Perhaps places you recognised as you saw them on TV or the web.

So sad too to hear the comments of some who were arrested and had just seemed to get caught up in it all, not even knowing why they had let themselves get carried away in joining in the looting. Some caught in entrenched poverty, but others just joining in for the fun of it, or carried along by the mob mentality…

Sad too to hear the moving responses of parents who had been bereaved, pleading for an end to such meaningless destruction of their children's lives and of property…

What a contrast, then, to read in our paper yesterday of the tenth anniversary this month of the rescue of 438 Afghani asylum-seekers from their sinking fishing boat, by the Norwegian container ship, Tampa. From there via Nauru, many have found a new life and new hope here in New Zealand, including 36 unaccompanied teenage boys, who came to be known as the Tampa Boys. The large majority are now well-educated, both men and women, working hard, seeking to build lives and families and to contribute to this country's future. All thankful for this good land, and our willingness to share what we have and not to grasp it for ourselves alone…

It was good to read their stories, for otherwise it is so easy to see other people, those we don't know, simply as strangers, and therefore literally strange to us, isn't it? And because they are strange to us, people to be avoided and feared, estranged from us, rather than people to be approached, and learned about, those we get to know.

One of the greatest messages of the gospel, the good news of Jesus is that in him strangers become friends. One of Jesus' greatest statements to his disciples was: 'I do not call you servants any longer…but I have called you friends' (John 15:15) Friends of Christ are then called to be friends with all whom Christ calls friend, both those known to us and those as yet unknown to us. To all, we are to express the love of God, which Christ has first shown to us, making us his friends, and friends of God.

Our reading tonight from the Acts of the Apostles reminded me of our pilgrimage group who fourteen months ago went out from this Cathedral, walking in the footsteps of St Paul through Greece, and reading day by day from the book of Acts the accounts of Paul's travels.

So just as we heard in our reading, we too journeyed in the north of Greece to the small port town of Neapolis, now called Kavalla, where Paul, and his companions Silas and the young Timothy, landed and set foot on what we now call mainland Europe. We saw there a wonderful mosaic shrine, depicting the 'man from Macedonia' appearing to Paul and saying, Come over and help us, and then in the second mosaic, we see Paul hopping off the boat from a tranquil Aegean Sea and onto the shores of Europe. It was great to see these shrines outside in the open, and while there was a fair bit of graffiti around, there was certainly none on these beautiful al fresco works of art.

We journeyed that day to one of the most beautiful settings of our pilgrimage, a shady river bank thought to be the site just outside ancient Philippi where Paul sought a place of prayer. He was no doubt expecting to find a synagogue of Jewish men, but found instead a gathering of women, including the God-fearing Lydia, a wealthy merchant and dealer in expensive purple cloth.

It was so refreshing to sit on the bank above the stream, to enjoy the shade out of the fierce heat, well up in the 30ºs, and to hear Acts 16 read as we heard tonight, recounting how the Lord opened Lydia's heart to listen eagerly to Paul's words and to come for baptism with her household, presumably in that same flowing stream of living water, springing up to eternal life.

One of the realities of pilgrimage and travel which we all know about is that we do it alongside plenty of other people who all have the same goal, and it's no good grizzling about 'tourists!' when we realise that that is what we are as well! So even here there were others paddling in the waters of Lydia's stream with us.

But fortunately Dean Frank had been tempted by a little vial of scented olive oil at the tourist shop there, and we were able to experience another symbol of baptism, which I think I found perhaps even more powerful than the water. Each of us was anointed with oil on the forehead in remembrance of our signing with the cross in baptism, anointed with the famous olive oil of Greece, a fragrant and tangible memory of our visit.

At this site of Lydia's stream, a small octagonal baptistery has been built, complete with a font for baptisms. It also had very beautiful stained glass windows, mosaics and paintings. I think what impressed me was the number of Paul's companions depicted on the walls. Yes, there were Paul and Lydia, but there were also mosaics of Silas, Timothy and Luke, and a few other people whose Greek capitals eluded my on-the-spot translation!

I wonder if you noticed in our reading from Acts 16 that halfway through, the pronouns change from 'they' to 'we'. This is the first of what we call the 'we'-passages in Acts, where the author of the Acts, generally thought to be Luke, stops just telling the story and seems to join in the adventure, and the narrative races along with greater immediacy. We think that Luke came from this part of the world, and joined Paul here, and we know from other references, that Luke indeed accompanied Paul on some of his journeys and was a valued travel companion, not least for his medical and journalistic skills!

I have an abiding memory of that octagonal chapel with Paul and Lydia's companions pictured all around the walls, and appreciated afresh how much it must have meant to Paul to have these companions in ministry, and to be able not only to give to them but also to receive from them.

I love the way Lydia immediately offered hospitality to Paul's team 'and she prevailed upon us' - no chance of heading off for a 5 star hotel in Philippi! But I bet she gave them 5 star hospitality, and so began her ministry, her opportunity to serve God in her turn.

This was the same hospitality that the Shunammite woman gave to the prophet Elisha in our first reading, not just once but many times, making him a room with a bed, table, chair and lamp. It sounds just quite simple hospitality to us, but she was going out of her way to accommodate one who was at first a stranger, but whom she came to recognise as a holy man of God, a prophet. Her generosity is rewarded abundantly, both in the gift of a son and then in the miracle of this son's resuscitation from death to new life by the prophet's intervention.

In the same way Lydia received at the stream in Philippi baptism into new life, spiritual new life in Christ and then responded in thanksgiving by offering hospitality in her turn.

On reflection, thinking back over a year ago now, I wonder if my fondness for that day in Philippi towards the end of our pilgrimage was not because by then we pilgrims had been on the road together for nearly three weeks. In fact not only on the road - we had crossed the world together, sharing the 'compact' conditions of economy class air travel. We'd found our way round cities and train stations, we'd chatted and fallen asleep alongside each other in buses, we'd cruised our way round the Greek islands (someone has to do it when it's winter in Wellington!), we'd sympathised with those who picked up German colds and those whose tummies didn't always cope too well with Greek food. We'd shared the joys of Greek toilets and the copious 'coffee in, coffee out' stops along the way.

Strangers had become friends, companions - literally those with whom we broke bread. And we broke bread together countless times in hotels and cafés, roadside restaurants. We broke bread together in eucharist in memorable places - from a hotel restaurant to the ruins of ancient Corinth, we shared in the blessed bread of the Orthodox church in Thessaloniki. We heard again the connection between eucharist and the Greek word 'eucharisto' we used innumerable times a day to say 'thank you'.

We know from our travels, just as we know from the realities of our lives as people in families, in relationships, in church and school communities, in choirs, that life together as a pilgrim people involves lots of blisters, lots of waiting for people who are late, lots of give and take, lots of 'saying sorry's' but also lots of laughs, of surprises, of moments of wonder and awe and love. Lots of courage and self-sacrifice and caring, lots of the stuff that makes for memories and makes for growth in love, in faith and in God.

So as we gather tonight, all of us pilgrims together on the journey of faith, at whatever age and stage we are, may we constantly be on the look out for those strangers whom Christ wants to yet make our friends. May we learn again the paradoxical words of St Francis, that it is in giving that we receive, and may we live that out in our lives to the glory of God among us. Amen.