Every year, the Presbyterian Church U.S.A. holds a General Assembly in June, where a couple of thousand elders and ministers meet in a major U.S. city to transact the business of the denomination and to pick a new Moderator.

     This past June, the delegates to General Assembly chose a Palestinian-American to be the moderator for the year, and this new moderator visited Western New York in late September and spoke to the gathered faithful at a meeting of Presbytery at one of the Native American churches, Irving Memorial on the Cattarugus Reservation.

     The Rev. Dr. Fahed Abu-Akel grew up in Galilee and came to the U.S. in 1966 to attend Columbia Theological Seminary in Atlanta. He is an adjunct professor of World Religions at Interdenominational Theological Seminary in Atlanta.

     Are you still with me on this? It gets better, I promise.

     To recite, from a FAX, this man’s resume would put me to sleep even before it would put you to sleep.

     I wish you could have been there.

     Irving Memorial is an old wood-frame church, painted white-on-white, with a tiny sanctuary and a medium-sized fellowship hall. We met in the hall, and Dr. Abu-Akel spoke during our worship service.

     He’s a small man, and in the phrase of the poet Chaucer, a manly man. His stature grows as he speaks, and his words grip you, because he is a storyteller, and his story is that of one who knows what it means to be sent from one’s village. He left with his father, and left his motehr behind.He was one of the lucky ones, because he was able to return to his village, and his mother, after a few months of separation during the War of Partition in 1948.

     He spoke of the two Scottish missionaries who lived upstairs for a few years, who taught him English and insisted that he use his new language to pray and to read the Bible.

     He spoke of the joy he felt in hearing a combined Native American choir sing during the worship service at which he spoke to us. As he thanked the choir, his voice broke and his face clouded up. In a choked voice thick with tears, he thanked them. His voice had become a mere squeak.

     It had been a magical moment. Nine Indian women, and one Indian man had sung for us, in their native language. The man had held things up for a few New York minutes while he had hobbled in quiet dignity from the back of the room to join the women in singing up front. His strong bass countered their sweet tones with words we did not know, but knew in our hearts.

     And the Moderator cried. My heart melted. Never had one so high in my estimation cried in my presence. Call it sloppy, call it sentimental, I don’t care. He cried, and then he mastered himself, as leaders must. Would that more of our leaders knew how to cry for us. Jesus wept, and this simple fact of his aching humanity has converted countless hard hearts to Christianity.

     Dr. Abu-Akel spoke of the importance of community, and he also acted out his understanding of community, asking retired ministers to stand for recognition, asking elders to stand for recognition, asking Christian Educators to stand for recognition, and finally, asking active Ministers of the Word and Sacrament to stand for recognition. The last were not first, but last, a reminder of the sacred duty you entrust to us.

     He pointed out that only in our time, and only in the United States, would a mainline denomination, or any other, elect a man such as himself, of Palestinian roots, to be the leader of the church. I felt so proud to realize the truth of this, and I sat in the back, with a silly grin on my face, bobbing my head up and down in agreement as he reminded us of the Presbyterian heritage of witness to the gospel of Jesus Christ coupled with a passion for social justice. He urged each congregation to pick one local mission and one international mission, and to accept the challenge of asking one person to attend one’s church between now and next spring, “and we’ll see what happens.”

     I think it is this simple challenge that sticks with me most, a day later, as I keep going over in my mind the mesmerizing half-hour in which he spoke.

     It’s such a simple idea, and often goes by the name of Friendship Evangelism. The idea is that if each one of us invites one friend to attend church, the increase in numbers could be significant, and the idea is also that this approach reflects the hard numbers that tell us that most persons join a church because someone they know asked them to.

     Simple as that. And as hard as that, too.

     The American Presbyterian Church is slowly sinking into the sunset as the Presbyterian Church worldwide ascends in numbers, in such places as South Korea, Kenya, and the Middle East. Dr. Abu-Akel said he likes to joke that the Baptists may have beaten us in the American South, but we beat them in the Middle East, where of the 15 million Christians, the largest number of Protestants are Presbyterian. After citing these facts, he reminded us of the importance of multi-ethnic churches and the importance of embracing partnerships with churches worldwide. And he spoke of the importance of practicing hospitality.

     I’ve heard other moderators speak, and frankly, they were much more slick and far less interesting. And not one of them cried.

     After years of electing Moderators based on their stances on the Burning Issues of the Moment, we finally have elected a Moderator who bases himself not on the Burning Issues of the Moment, even the ugly situation in the Holy Land, but on the one issue that has any real meaning for us – Jesus Christ, and him crucified, reigning in glory at the right hand of God, interceding for the Church his body and living right now in power and passion for his church.

     First you cry for the sins of the father and the mothers, and for your own sins. Then you get angry. And then you step up and say hello to your brothers and sisters, because it is in community that we live and move and have our being. You become a witness to Jesus Christ, in word and in deed.

     Before the Moderator spoke to us, there was a lot of coming and going back in the back where I was sitting. A woman brought a chair and sat beside me, and I found that I was irritated by the whole thing. I like to sit at the end of a row, and I had taken pains to pick my seat. After the Moderator spoke to us, we sang a hymn, and I noticed that my neighbor now at the end of the ro in which I was sitting did not have an Order of Worship from which to sing that hymn, so I shared mine, something I don’t enjoy doing usually – but I didn’t feel irritated anymore. We were a community of witness and passion. After the amen, I looked at my sister, who I had dismissed as some old lady, and I noticed that she had beautiful eyes. I smiled. She said thanks.

     When I offered to share my Order of Worship, she had to dive into her purse to find her glasses. Then she adjusted the page so she could actually see it in the glare from the window over her shoulder. That adjustment made it so I could only see the page by contorting my tired spine for the mercifully short two-verse hymn. Community demands adjustments and sacrifices, and yields treasures.

     First you cry. Then you get angry. Then you step up and get connected. You witness to Jesus Christ, in word and in deed.

    Pastor Jon