Rev. Betsy Aldrich Garland
September 20, 2009
Mark 9:30-37

Whoever Welcomes One . . . Welcomes Me

People come – and people go. That’s the way it is in churches. We work hard to provide a warm welcome to bring people in the front door – but completely overlook that we are losing others out the back door, maybe we haven’t even noticed until someone says, “Whatever happened to so-and-so? I haven’t seen them in months!” A wise fisherman might say, just because we have the fish on the hook doesn’t mean we have him in the boat!

So, retention is important. One of the ways we do this is by involving new people until they get connected and invested in the life of the church. In the Cottage Meetings we have been holding – two so far – those present have looked at why they came in the first place, and why they stayed. It has to do, of course, with friendships, meaningful work to do, and, of course, fun!

But sometimes people who are connected also disappear. It’s September, and I look around and realize that not everyone has returned. What happened? Where did they go? Some people may still be at the beach. We can understand that. But how about those who are out and about – but not in their pew? Are they lost?

Are we still suffering from the tragedy of our past year? I imagine so.

You see, churches aren’t just your typical nonprofit voluntary organization. Yes, churches are nonprofits – but they are different. For example, whereas the government is about laws and policy deployment, and businesses are about profit and the bottom line, churches are about relationships, some of the most important ones in our lives.

Churches are like families, and our expectations are high for getting our needs met. I know what crosses people’s minds; such things as . . . Do they appreciate that I went out of my way to volunteer? Is my contribution acceptable? Why didn’t anyone send me a card when I was sick? Has anyone been to visit me lately? I’ve been away from church for months; how come nobody called to ask if I’m all right?

When we come to church, we bring helpfulness and joyfulness and gratefulness – as well as unmet needs and wounds from our families of origin; anger at life’s unfairness and grief for its losses.

If you were snubbed on the bus, you’d shrug it off as someone’s poor manners, but if you were snubbed at church, you’d feel the insult and quip that, “They think they’re so holy and self-righteous! And they call themselves Christians!”

If you volunteered to sing in the civic chorale and they said, “Thank you but we’re not accepting any more singers this year.” you’d say, “Well, maybe I’ll apply next year.” But if you volunteered to sing in the choir or teach Sunday School and nobody called to tell you when rehearsal was or what class you might help with, you would feel unwanted and unworthy. And you likely would walk away, feeling rejected.

And if the CEO of the company where you worked retired, you might miss him or her – but you wouldn’t quit your job, would you? But when a minister resigns, it’s like losing a part of the family.
Churches are more to us than just another organization. We come, trailing life’s hopes and hurts, looking for a place to heal. We come hoping to be seen and heard and valued. We come needing to be found and loved and saved. Often, thank goodness, that happens in our churches!

Other times, our needs are not met. Yes, it’s true, sometimes we have unrealistic needs. Sometimes our hurts may be overwhelming or inappropriate. And, sometimes, we’re just all sinners doing the best we can! As the joke goes, “I can help only one person day. Today is not your day. Tomorrow doesn’t look too good either.”

And people leave – and you know what? We let them go without a fuss! This is the amazing thing!
Are we too wrapped up in ourselves? Are we afraid of being rebuffed? Are we glad to see them gone? But we’re family, right? Families may not always agree, but healthy families stick together and work things out. Let me put it this way:

If you cat didn’t come home, you would be talking with the people next door about coyote sightings and nailing up posters in your neighborhood: “Beloved cat lost. Mittens. Black with white paws. Torn right ear. Loving and gentle. Comes when you open a can of tuna. $100 reward for any information. Please call day or night.

If your dog was lost, you would run ads in the Cranston Herald and Warwick Beacon: “Lost brown and white spaniel. Answers to the name of Millie. Reward.” You would visit every animal shelter in the vicinity and check every cage with hope – and leave in tears if Millie was not to be found.

People are precious – more precious than our pets. People leave our churches. Some leave because they never connected. Some leave because they are angry or grieving. Some leave because they don’t feel heard. And we let them go with barely a notice or a whimper.

Have you wondered what happened to the couple that sat in your pew? Or the family in front of you? Or the person who sat on the aisle by herself?

We need them – and they need us. To be whole we need to acknowledge our pain, accept our shortcomings, ask for forgiveness. Somehow we have the mistaken idea that churches should be these wonderful places of peace and harmony, where there is no disagreement and no unkind word is ever spoken.

In Mark’s gospel lesson for today, Jesus hears the disciples arguing about who is the greatest. If you have read Paul’s letters, you know that much of the content had to do with resolving church fights. And if you have listened to the members of the Transition Team who have been researching Edgewood Church’s background, you will have heard about the conflicts here over the decades.

It’s time to bring the missing persons home. Perhaps you know someone whom you could call or visit . . ..

We are entering a critical time in the transition period when we will elect a Search Committee, develop a budget with adequate compensation for a new settled minister, and complete our church profile. Now is the time for us to pull together as a church, to rebuild the caring community, and – together – to discern where God is leading us. We need everyone at the table.

Jesus treasured everyone – especially the most vulnerable and powerless. And he calls for us to welcome them into our circle. “Whoever welcomes one . . . in my name ... welcomes me,” says Jesus, “and whoever welcomes me” . . . welcomes God.

Let us begin with those who have drifted away. Let us begin today.

Amen.