Companions

We can remember the story from more than 1,200 years earlier of how Abraham welcomed three strangers to his encampment, greeted them, provided food and drink for them, and rest and refreshment. [Gen.18:5-8]

It is what one does; it is how society in that time and place was supposed to operate , in the giving and receiving of hospitality whenever needed.

It is a way to express a righteous life; if one is a follower of God, these are the kinds of things that one would and should do.

The memory of those traditions lives on even so many years later in Jesus' time.

The traditions are at work in the scene with Jesus and the woman who bathes his feet when the host neglects to do so, [Lk7:38] and the episode we heard last Sunday with Mary and Martha at their house. [Lk. 10:38-42]

We are heading toward a word that has Latin rather than Hebrew roots, even though the idea is very much in scripture.

Persons who share in the kind of hospitality we have been describing are companions, literally, ones with whom one shares bread, cum panis.

One can hardly think of Larry without also thinking of Luella.

They were companions, sharing bread together thousands of times over those many decades of marriage, caring for each other not just for the 36 hours that desert hospitality specifies, but through through easy times and difficulties for nearly 67 years.

Companions, indeed!

In addition to their life as a couple, there were the family meals with children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren; and gatherings of their church family at Luncheon Fellowship in which they participated for as many years as they could.

Even more particularly, Larry and Luella have been part of the regular gatherings of the congregation for the Lord's Supper, Jesus' mealtime gift to and presence with us, his companions.

It is how we live out our connection with Jesus, and through him, with each other.

Even though Larry and Luella have died, the companionship is not ended.

Often in the Sunday liturgy, we use these words in the introduction to the singing of the Sanctus, the song initiated by Isaiah's vision in the temple: “...therefore with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven, we laud and magnify your glorious name, evermore praising you and singing: Holy, holy, holy...”

We are at the Lord's table with all the company of heaven each time we gather for Holy Communion.

That communion rail extends not only through space to those who cannot be present because of illness or infirmity, but is also extends through time to include all those who have ever knelt here.

This day we celebrate the meal which also includes Larry and Luella as guests with us.

Companions, indeed!

There were mutual obligations when one accepted that desert hospitality.

The host obligated himself to provide food, shelter, and protection from enemies.

In turn, the guest obligated himself to be a worthy guest, not abusing the hospitality, and preparing to offer hospitality to someone else as the opportunity arose.

We have a two-fold response to our reception of hospitality:

(1)to examine how we are using the gifts that Larry and Luella have given us: not just things but also attitudes, love, and faithfulness.

(2)to examine how we are responding to the gifts that the Lord God has put into our care: food, shelter, and protection from the enemies that would separate us from God, and also how we are preparing to offer that same hospitality to others whom we meet.

We are to be in the business of discovering more companions, indeed!

How can we do that? It sounds overwhelming.

Larry was a good student of the whole Bible, but in these last times he tended to center on a few places in scripture.

Matt and I know well that the part that he had most firmly in his memory was Psalm 46:

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

Therefore, we will not fear....

“Be still and know that I am God!”

The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.

And that is the Word that Larry trusted.

Last week I asked Larry what I should read from the Bible for him and he said without hesitation, “Judges 6, because I haven't heard that in a long time.”

I was a little surprised, but I read that chapter about Gideon preparing to battle the Amalekites and Midianites, with not too much support from the tribes at home.

I've been looking at that chapter again, and I think I recognize now what Larry was thinking about in his request.

Gideon protests to the Lord that he cannot do as the Lord has instructed him, “My clan is the weakest in Manesseh, and I am the least of my family.”

The Lord said to him, ”But I will be with you, and you shall strike down [the enemy]....”

Let's rephrase it: I will be with you, that is, I will be your companion, even in the face of death.

And that is what Larry needed to know and hear again on this part of his journey.

And so do all the rest of us.

Loneliness, even that profound loneliness of death which each of us must face, does not have the last word.

For in his promise granted once in Holy Baptism and lived out in every Holy Communion, Jesus is not only our Lord and Savior, but also our first and final companion.

Let all confess boldly: Amen.

Please note: The preceding sermon is provided as a resource for the thought, prayer, and meditation of the members and friends of St. Mark's. It is the residue of a verbal event, and thus it does not have academic footnotes and other details that would be expected in a written document. The writer gladly acknowledges the prior thought and work of many Christians before him.