Strangers
Read Genesis 18:1-8.
My son, Christopher, had (and has) one of those personalities that both makes a parent proud and scared to death at the same time. He would talk to most anyone, even as a toddler (especially as a toddler), which made trips to the McDonald's playland...interesting. We would watch as he would go up to complete strangers and engage them in whatever conversation topic happened to pop into his 4-year-old brain. One time, as we were trying to be responsible parents and warn him of "stranger danger," he looked at us in all his toddler innocence and said, "But they're not strangers. They're just friends I haven't met yet!"
There are times I wish I could be more like Christopher in that regard! We all would do well to see "the other" as "friends we haven't met yet." We all could learn a lesson from Abraham and his encounter with three strangers. Divine revelation later helped the writer of Genesis understand that this traveling band of three was, somehow, God himself, but Abraham didn't know that at the time. From every indication, they did not glow, they did not speak in deep tones, and they did not have name tags on that said, "Hello, My Name is The Lord." All Abraham saw was three strangers, friends he hadn't met yet.
Hospitality, as you may know, was a huge deal in the ancient near east. People caring for travelers was vital in a desert culture where there weren't fast food stores and hotels on every corner. So what Abraham does in approaching the travelers and offering them water and sustenance wasn't unusual. It was expected. But Abraham does more than that. He welcomes the strangers into his home, and he doesn't just offer them whatever was left over from the noon meal. He prepares a fresh, wonderful meal for them. (Well, actually, he has Sarah and his servant prepare a meal for them, but that's another topic...) A choice calf, bread made from the finest flour, curds and milk...all prepared not for him to share with them but just for them.
These weren't strangers. They were friends he hadn't met yet.
How does our treatment of strangers compare with that of Abraham? I get that we have created a society that does not do hospitality like this anymore. I understand most of us live in fear of "the other." We would be, and rightly so, reluctant to invite three strangers who came near our home into our house for dinner. And few of us keep a choice calf in the back yard for just such an occasion. But that doesn't do away with our call and responsibility to be hospitable, to welcome the stranger and the outcast—a command that goes through all of the Scriptures. The author of the book of Hebrews, perhaps reflecting on this incident, says that when we do so we might even be welcoming angels unaware (13:2). So if we don't do exactly what Abraham did...how do we welcome the stranger? What are we able and willing to do to love the other, the friends we haven't met yet?
My son, Christopher, had (and has) one of those personalities that both makes a parent proud and scared to death at the same time. He would talk to most anyone, even as a toddler (especially as a toddler), which made trips to the McDonald's playland...interesting. We would watch as he would go up to complete strangers and engage them in whatever conversation topic happened to pop into his 4-year-old brain. One time, as we were trying to be responsible parents and warn him of "stranger danger," he looked at us in all his toddler innocence and said, "But they're not strangers. They're just friends I haven't met yet!"
There are times I wish I could be more like Christopher in that regard! We all would do well to see "the other" as "friends we haven't met yet." We all could learn a lesson from Abraham and his encounter with three strangers. Divine revelation later helped the writer of Genesis understand that this traveling band of three was, somehow, God himself, but Abraham didn't know that at the time. From every indication, they did not glow, they did not speak in deep tones, and they did not have name tags on that said, "Hello, My Name is The Lord." All Abraham saw was three strangers, friends he hadn't met yet.
Hospitality, as you may know, was a huge deal in the ancient near east. People caring for travelers was vital in a desert culture where there weren't fast food stores and hotels on every corner. So what Abraham does in approaching the travelers and offering them water and sustenance wasn't unusual. It was expected. But Abraham does more than that. He welcomes the strangers into his home, and he doesn't just offer them whatever was left over from the noon meal. He prepares a fresh, wonderful meal for them. (Well, actually, he has Sarah and his servant prepare a meal for them, but that's another topic...) A choice calf, bread made from the finest flour, curds and milk...all prepared not for him to share with them but just for them.
These weren't strangers. They were friends he hadn't met yet.
How does our treatment of strangers compare with that of Abraham? I get that we have created a society that does not do hospitality like this anymore. I understand most of us live in fear of "the other." We would be, and rightly so, reluctant to invite three strangers who came near our home into our house for dinner. And few of us keep a choice calf in the back yard for just such an occasion. But that doesn't do away with our call and responsibility to be hospitable, to welcome the stranger and the outcast—a command that goes through all of the Scriptures. The author of the book of Hebrews, perhaps reflecting on this incident, says that when we do so we might even be welcoming angels unaware (13:2). So if we don't do exactly what Abraham did...how do we welcome the stranger? What are we able and willing to do to love the other, the friends we haven't met yet?
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