Sermon at The Church of the Holy Apostles, New York City
October 14, 2007
The Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost
The Reverend Andrew G. Kadel
Ruth 1:1-19a
Psalm 113
2 Timothy 2:3-15
Luke 17:11-29

      “When Naomi saw that Ruth was determined to go with her, she said no more to her, So the two of them went on until they came to Bethlehem.”

     Bethlehem is significant in this story of Ruth and Naomi.  Of course it is Naomi’s family’s home.  But it is much better known as the town from which David, the greatest king of Israel, came. The Book of Ruth is a poignant story of personal relationships and loyalty under difficult circumstances.  At several important points, the story reminds us that Ruth is from Moab, not Israel—which is somewhat less desirable than being from Cleveland.  The setting of this story is long before the time that it was written—the Book of Ruth ends with a genealogy that extends three generations beyond the people in the story, and the first readers would have known the last name in that genealogy as an historical figure.    In later times, when this story was written and first read, there was a preoccupation with preserving the purity of the nation—making sure that everyone was completely Israelite or Jewish.    The country was vulnerable and many feared that the culture would be overwhelmed and disappear.  A valid concern—but if too rigidly applied it could become inhumane and isolationist.

     The Book of Ruth shows this Moabite woman deeply committed to her mother-in-law, a Judean, and not only that she married a leading citizen of Bethlehem.  That genealogy at the end (which most readers that I know skip) shows that Ruth, the Moabite woman was the great-grandmother of David, the great King of Israel and the prototype of the Messiah.  This, of course, illustrates how absurd it is to hang on to rigid boundaries and excessively rigid interpretations of traditions: this woman of Moab both embodies the ideals of the faith and culture of Judah and was the direct ancestor of its first anointed king.

     The Gospel lesson contains something similar—ten lepers were healed and sent to the priests to be examined and certified as clean.  But one stops as soon as he sees that he is healed and returns to Jesus.  This one was a Samaritan—regarded as of mixed heritage and rejected by the Jews. Jesus’ remark was: “Was none of them found to return and give praise to God, except this foreigner?”

     These foreigners!  These outsiders.  They make us uncomfortable.  They make it hard to keep doing things the way we think we’ve always done them.  We may suspect that they will be subversive and hearken after a different tradition or truth than we have been committed to.  But these two stories show outsiders who strengthen the community and are exemplars of the faith.  The loyalty and caring of Ruth brings the community together and brings its future.  The Samaritan leper is the example of faith among all those who were healed.

     Many of us have known what it is like to be an outsider, at least at some point in our lives.  Sometimes there is overt rejection or even ridicule, but more often there is subtle ostracism.  Sometimes the outsider isn’t included in conversations or activities or things are structured so that he or she finds it inconvenient or uncomfortable to join in.

     An example of this is that when I was in seminary all the doctoral seminars at the Pacific School of Religion were on the second floor of the brand new classroom building, which had no elevator.  Not so convenient for my friend Drew Porter, who is paraplegic and was working on a doctorate in systematic theology at that time.  Communities often can’t understand why outsiders can’t just adapt and fit in, be just a little more like those who are already inside, not disrupt things by asking different questions, or perhaps, go elsewhere where their needs can be met better.  But what if it is the Moabites and the Samaritans that give life to a community?  This is not a simple thing.  There is much that is accomplished in communities that have a clear identity and purpose.  But in every community outsiders appear.  There are many different types of outsiders and their reasons for entering or attempting to enter a community are various.  What characterizes the outsiders is that they don’t fit with the normal ways that the community has developed for incorporating people.  No community can avoid some of this; it’s the way that people work.  The challenge is for the community to be flexible enough to hear and appreciate the outsiders, to welcome them at least as visitors and to incorporate more rather than less outsiders over time.

     In the Church this applies at every level, in the parish, in the Seminary, the Diocese, the national Church and the Anglican Communion.  I am very concerned, particularly about the national Church and the Anglican Communion that people on all sides of the various controversial issues have crystallized their identities and opinions to the point that everyone is an outsider and that no one will welcome an outsider.

     I am not suggesting that we should accept or accommodate to, hurtful or hateful measures against any of our members, least of all our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters, but I am suggesting listening, particularly to those who have concerns and don’t express them as hate.  And as outsiders ourselves, our call like that of Ruth is to invigorate the community through loyalty, courage and persistence.  Like the prophets, speaking the truth in a situation of rejection may be painful, but if it contributes to some small measure of healing, it is the work of God.

     “Where you go, I will go; Where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people and your God my God.”