It was my privilege and pleasure last week to lead Chapel Time for our church’s preschoolers.  Our daughter is a graduate of the preschool, and the program is near and dear to my heart.  I can’t forget the date of her first day:  September 10, 2001.  Three years later, she was among the seven children who comprised the first Pre-K class.  It was the preschool, in fact, that led us to our church.  

During Chapel Time, teachers bring the children into the sanctuary to hear a Bible story, followed by a brief discussion.  The text for the day was from Genesis 18, which recounts a visit by three strangers to Abraham and his wife Sarah.  They bring the message that God will keep the promise he made to them years earlier:  the couple will have a child, despite their advanced age, and one day, their descendants will be more numerous than the stars in the sky.  

I doubted that the kids would find the story of much interest.  How could they relate to an elderly couple longing for a baby?   

But the Spark Story Bible that we use begins by noting that Abraham was ninety-nine when the three visitors arrived.  This got the children’s attention.  Before I began reading, to assess my audience, I had asked the kids how old they were.  They were eager to respond.

 “I’m four!”  

“I’m five!”  “

I’m about to turn five.”  

“I’ll be four tomorrow.”  

“I’m three and three quarters!”

A few quiet ones held up the appropriate number of fingers.  I also learned random bits of information:  “When we move to our new house, we’re getting a trampoline!”  “I have a loose tooth!”  

The children were amazed at someone being as old as ninety-nine.  They remained attentive as I continued with the narrative.  

I read that Abraham greets the three men and invites them to stay for a meal.  While they eat, they tell him that Sarah will give birth within a year.  The strangers are clearly intended to be messengers from God, or God himself.  Various Biblical versions state that “The Lord” or “God” appeared to Abraham, before referring to three unknown men.  The children’s Bible refers to God’s promise, but doesn’t identify the three strangers.  The title of the story, though, was “Abraham and Sarah’s Visitors.”  

When I looked for images of this subject, I found the famous early fifteenth century icon by the Russian artist Andrei Rublev.  I like to show the kids a picture relating to the story, so I printed out a copy.  

The painting shows three figures, winged and haloed, seated at a table, in the center of which is a gold cup.  Neither Abraham nor Sarah are depicted, but a small structure at the top left represents their home, and a stylized tree toward the center indicates the oak grove in the shade of which Abraham was sitting when he first spotted the three unknown men approaching.  The angels’  identical, mournful faces incline toward one another.  Together, the outline of their bodies forms a circle.  The  two figures at left and right enclose a central space in the shape of a chalice, which echoes that of the gilded cup.  

The icon is most often interpreted as the three persons of the Trinity: Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  The placement of the figures around the table calls to mind Christ’s Last Supper.  The graceful interaction among the three suggests spiritual communion.  

I didn’t discuss these fine points  with the children.  The essential lesson, appropriate for all ages, and always timely, is twofold.  First,  God calls us to welcome the stranger.  Abraham met the three unknown men with hospitality.  And in so doing, he unknowingly met God Himself with honor and grace.  As God’s children, we’re expected to treat our brothers and sisters as we ourselves would like to be treated.  When we mistreat others, we mistreat God Himself.  And second, God invites each and every one of us to His table.  There a space for the viewer to join in the holy communion that is generated whenever and wherever we gather in loving kindness with our neighbors near and far.  It materializes, and transforms, when we reach out with thoughtful consideration, even to those with whom we disagree, rather than push away with bitterness, disdain and violence.  

I know there are those who are coming to believe, with much regret, that teaching compassion and humility has become a lost cause, a quaint relic of a naive and distant era. If we want our children to be successful in this cruel world, why bother encouraging them to act with goodness?  Why not teach instead the tools of the bully: arrogance, intimidation, brutality, callousness, and the reverence for self alone?  

Why not?

My own answer is simple:  it goes against everything I learned as a child at home and at church.  It goes against everything I’ve been taught from those who love me. 

As I sat in the midst of those smiling, happy preschoolers, a diverse group, representative of our community’s many ethnicities, I couldn’t imagine trying to foster meanness in them.  They were curious, eager to learn, and open-hearted.  They showed a genuine interest in me.  They were clearly inclined toward goodness.  

It gives me hope and buoys my faith to know that our preschool is only one among many in houses of worship all across our country that continue to do as they’ve always done: emphasize the blessings that come when we walk the path of mercy and kindness. They assure our little ones that God accompanies them, even when the way is uphill, rocky, and perilous.  Schools that affirm the importance of good citizenship are doing their part, as well.  

As the day on which we honor the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. rolls around again, I pray that we don’t give up on teaching our children that through their good works and acts of kindness, however small, they help bend the arc of the moral universe towards justice.

Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it!  (Hebrews 13: 2)

 I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me! (Matthew 25: 40)