Do not be afraid, little flock

“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

Twenty five years ago, before the tragedy of the civil war which has unfolded in recent years, I went on a little pilgrimage to Syria. I followed in the footsteps of St. Paul and visited the House of Ananias in Damascus, just off the Street called Straight. I visited some of the major archaeological sites at Bosra, Saidnaya, and Qalaat Samaan. But far more memorable was a visit to the city of Aleppo in northern Syria. For centuries, Aleppo has been an important trade centre at the crossroads between the north-south and east-west trading routes. In the centre of the city, there is a huge medieval citadel, which in spite of recent conflicts still stands. It was surrounded by the little streets of the Suq, with the smell of hot spices and the bustle of trade.

But I’m afraid to say that the real high point for me on this trip was to stay at the Baron Hotel in Aleppo (and because I was preaching in Aleppo, I got to stay for free!) The Baron is a legendary place. Built by an Armenian family in 1911, it was a luxury hotel on the route of the old Orient Express from London to Baghdad: Agatha Christie, Kemal Ataturk, Theodore Roosevelt, Kim Philby and Lawrence of Arabia all stayed there. The travel guide describes the hotel as follows:

‘The Baron Hotel, Baron Street, Aleppo. Some rooms with bath, no air conditioning, no TV, no video, no minibar (nor are there tennis courts, a swimming pool, a fitness centre, a hair-dressing salon, a Jacuzzi, a nightclub or a shopping arcade). There is however a restaurant, bar and terrace. Nevertheless, for atmosphere and legend, the Baron Hotel is the place to stay.’ 

Admittedly, the hotel had perhaps seen better days. There were holes in the bed-sheets, cracks and plaster crumbling from the walls, sparks would fly from light switches, and as for the plumbing…… Well, even St. Jerome (who once criticised his flock for their overindulgence in taking too many baths – ‘Why keep taking baths,’ he said, ‘when a single bath, the bath of baptism, is enough!’), even St. Jerome would have been reduced to tears by the plumbing in the Baron Hotel!

But even so, there was something glorious about the Baron Hotel – and it had something to do with the fact that over the huge lunch that the proprietors shared with us on the first day we were there, they told stories about the old days. But these were not stories about celebrities, about Captain Lawrence failing to pay his bill or Agatha Christie arriving incognito. These were stories about the Armenian refugees and asylum seekers who had fled to escape the Armenian genocide at the beginning of the twentieth century, and who had found a safe haven in the hospitality of Aleppo.

And yet, in recent years, Aleppo has hardly been a place of safety and security. Ravaged by civil war, with old buildings scarred by gun-shots and shells, as I remember sitting eating that generous lunch as one course came after another, I can’t help wondering what sort of story my companions would tell today -  a more sombre story, of violence and danger, of precarity and fear.

‘Do not be afraid!’ This little phrase is repeated at the beginning of both readings from scripture today. These are the words heard by Abram. These are the words echoed by Jesus in the gospel reading. ‘Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.’

We live in an age of anxiety: migration, inflation, economic uncertainty, climate disaster, genocide in Gaza, conflict in Ukraine, civil war in Sudan. These are just a few of the things which have filled the newspaper headlines in recent weeks. Our fears are sometimes exploited by our political leaders, always ready to warn us of the latest menace around the corner. And while we may hear the words ‘Do not be afraid’ and reflect on the way in which fear can increase our anxiety and sow discord in our community, we also need to recognise that this human response is also one of the things that keeps us safe and secure. Saying ‘Do not be afraid’ to a young Palestinian, evading gun shots while trying to get hold of the food to feed their family, would be a callous, foolish and irresponsible thing to say.

But sometimes fear can become so all consuming, an anxiety attack can be so overwhelming, that we are scarcely able to function. And because we are barely able to function, we lose the capacity to see what is going on around us. We withdraw into ourselves. We stop paying attention to what is going on. Paradoxically, we become less safe. We become a danger to ourselves and others.

And I think this is the kind of fear which Jesus is talking about it, the kind of fear which is so discombobulating and debilitating that we become less than human… because our emotions, our patterns of thinking, are no longer functioning in the normal human way. And that is why he reminds us to keep our hearts set on the kingdom, for that is the place where our treasure is. He is reminding us of the need to sustain a pattern of thinking which is expansive enough to hold on to the bigger picture, so that the pattern of fear and anxiety can be disrupted, and so that we can again be alert to what is going on around us. This demands of us an act of faith, the confidence that it is our ‘Father’s good pleasure to give us the kingdom’. It is for this reason, that these words of Jesus are followed by various injunctions to be alert, to be ready, to be dressed for action, to be ready to open the door ready to welcome Christ as the unexpected guest.

St Luke touches on that great theme of hospitality, which occurs again and again in his gospel. St John the Divine tells us that it is ‘love which casts out fear’, but for St Luke the practical outworking of that insight is a love expressed in acts of kindness, generosity and hospitality. When we are generous in giving to others, when we welcome the stranger, when we open our hearts to others, we can no longer be arrested by fear or anxiety. We learn to be human again. Richard Hooker, that great Anglican divine of the Reformation period, is reputed to have said: ‘I pray that none will be offended if I seek to make the Christian religion an inn where all are received joyously, rather than a little house where some few friends of the family are to be received.’  

Hospitality lies at the heart of the Christian faith because in the words of one contemporary theologian, ‘God is roomy!’ Just as Abraham and Sarah entertained angels in offering hospitality to strangers, and just as the two disciples on the way to Emmaus entertained the Risen Christ, perhaps we sometimes need to be reminded that there is a generosity and a capaciousness about the Christian faith which reflects the mystery of God.

Luke has Jesus speak to his ‘little flock’, members of Luke’s own community, who face persecution and challenge. Perhaps they felt defensive in the face of their own marginalisation and sense of rejection. But Luke tells them to overcome their fears, to be ready so that their hearts may be enlarged, just like those disciples at Emmaus, who invited the stranger to stay with them at the inn at the end of their journey. Just like the hospitality of those Armenians, who welcomed refugees to their luxury hotel in Aleppo. Just like the God revealed in Jesus Christ who invites us now as honoured guests at his table. Let us pray that this place may be ‘an inn where all are received joyously.’