Pentecost 12C (Proper 14)
September 1, 2019
Luke 14:1, 7-14; Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16
INTRODUCTION
Today is one of those times when all four of the readings really complement each other, lifting up very similar themes. Their combined purpose could be summarized by the first line from our reading from Hebrews: “Let mutual love continue.” All four readings will describe some of the specific ways we can live in mutual love as Christians: for example, by practicing humility, selflessness, concern for the other even over yourself, generosity, and hospitality toward strangers –especially, Jesus will tell us, toward strangers and those without means who have nothing concrete to offer you in return.
They all seem like nice enough things, and some even joyful… but not a-one of them is easy! And so as you listen, watch for some of those ideals of Christian love, and consider what they each look like, practically or metaphorically, in your life – your personal life, your church life, your life as a citizen. Think about how some of these ideals enacted or embodied as a community, a nation, and as a global neighbor. My sermon will be focus on hospitality and welcome, so think especially about that ideal. Okay, let’s listen.
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| St. Paul's received a replica of this sculpture after giving a financial gift to Rochester Refugee Resettlement Services. It lives in our Grand Foyer as a reminder to welcome. |
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
My grandparents lived in Germany for several years after World War II. They were sent there by the national Lutheran church as a part of what became Lutheran World Relief. They helped rebuild the Church there after the war, and reunite families who had been separated. During their time in Germany, and throughout their 60+ years of marriage, they kept a guest book – or rather, several books. Every guest they had at their home – whether a German dignitary or a refugee child – every guest was asked to sign their book, and perhaps leave a note about their time there. What resulted was volumes and volumes of records of strangers and friends to whom they had shown hospitality over the course of their lives. Really, those guest books are a record of one of the many ways my grandparents very actively lived out their faith, and the books’ very existence cemented hospitality as one of our deeply rooted family values.
When my brother and I each got married, my parents gave us each a guestbook, too, and inscribed in the front is this verse we heard from Hebrews: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for in doing so some have entertained angels without knowing it.” It’s a lovely verse, isn’t it? I look to my grandparents as models of faith, and want so dearly to follow in their footsteps in the way they welcomed so many strangers into their lives and their home, and in doing so showed them the love of Christ. This is, in fact, one of my favorite verses for this very reason, that it makes me feel connected to my grandparents.
At this point in Michael’s and my life, most of the visitors we have in our home are under the age of 10. Our home has become something of a hub for our kids’ friends, who are always popping in for a snack or a drink or a game of hide and seek, and often end up inviting themselves over for dinner (which we generally don’t mind!). It’s kind of fun, though it has been admittedly hard on our furniture! But none of these kids are strangers. They are our neighbors, our kids’ classmates. And all of the people who have signed our beautiful guest book are friends and family. It turns out that showing hospitality to actual strangers can be… well, risky, scary, vulnerable. Because you just don’t know what you’re getting, with a stranger. Yes, they may turn out to be angels, but… what if they don’t?
This is not just a concern for us on a personal level. Whether or not to welcome strangers is a pretty huge national issue right now as well (as it has been for years). There is so much fear stirred up around strangers, foreigners, especially those who speak with an accent or have darker skin. They are assumed to be gang members. They are called a drain on society. They are called, not “humans,” but “illegals,” as if their legal status usurps their status as human beings and fellow children of God. And they are being rounded up by the thousands and detained or sent away – some for violent crimes, which is appropriate, but only 10% of those detained have been convicted of violent crimes, and some 70% have no criminal conviction at all. Some are even citizens, or legal residents, or are in the process of becoming so. And as far as welcoming any new “strangers,” there is currently an indefinite refugee ban with few exceptions. Those who are admitted must demonstrate that they have or will contribute something useful to America, and exhibit “strong moral character.” This is how this country currently shows hospitality to strangers.
What a contrast this is to Jesus’ parable: “Invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind,” he says. “And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you.” It’s tricky, right? Because of course we don’t want to let criminals into our country, and having systems in place to prevent that is important. Of course we want to be good stewards of our resources so that we can adequately care for those already here. But how do we balance those concerns with what Jesus says explicitly: that it is precisely those who have lots of need but nothing to offer who we should be inviting, first of all? It would be easier if Jesus had said, “Welcome those who have lots to offer in return, and extend hospitality to your friends and people who appear safe.” But he didn’t.
No, as usual, Jesus’ teachings are so counter to how society works! Ours is a society in which, rather than letting mutual love continue, we let mutual backscratching continue. We seek to make connections, to swap favors, to help each other out mostly or especially when we know it will ultimately be to our advantage. What am I going to get out of this? Thinking again on a national scale, it has been expressly stated that we’re happy to let strangers, immigrants, in, if they can contribute something valuable to our country. Merit-based immigration, it’s called. But here Jesus tells us, “No, don’t reach out to your rich friends or your family. Don’t do things because you know they will come back to benefit you. Serve others just for the sake of serving others, for the sake of letting mutual love continue (as the author of Hebrews would say). Serve those who really need it – the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind. Call in all the neediest strangers, and love them, feed them, and serve them.”
This is the call Jesus issues, and boy, is it difficult! If we’re honest, it may not be sound federal policy! It may put us at risk, whether as individuals or as a country! We may be blessed in the long run, “at the resurrection of the righteous,” as Jesus says, but what about now? Don’t we want to do things to benefit ourselves now, today? Why would Jesus ask of us something so difficult, even impractical?
But here’s the thing: we shouldn’t do this – invite and welcome strangers with no promise of immediate return – we shouldn’t do this because Jesus told us to do it. We extend hospitality to strangers and welcome them because God already did it and does it for us. Yes, it is true – God welcomes us as strangers, even potentially dangerous ones, welcomes us to his bountiful banquet, not because we can do anything to pay God back, but simply because God dearly loves us. When we are the poor in spirit, poor in faith and trust, poor in riches, God welcomes us. When we are crippled by pain, by doubt, by fear, God welcomes us. When we are lame in our walk of faith, turning our faces away from the pain and brokenness of the world, negligent in tending to our relationship with God, God welcomes us. When we are blind to our own sinful ways, God still welcomes us to the feast of love that God prepares for us.
We certainly don’t deserve, nor do we do anything to earn this gift. Yet still, God invites and welcomes us each to this table, and gives us love, grace, belonging, and salvation. God provides us all that we need, and even when we greedily take it with hardly a thank you, even when we imagine only that we are entitled to these things and overlook the gracious gift that they are, even when we totally squander that gift… God still gives us more the next day. God gives and gives though we could never repay that gift.
So let us go now to the banquet, brothers and sisters. God invited us, after all, and welcomes us with open arms. And then, nourished by this feast of love, let us go out to proclaim Christ’s Gospel of radical welcome of the stranger, in word and deed, trusting that God’s promises to us are true, and that we will indeed be blessed, perhaps by the angels we encounter, and most certainly in the resurrection of the righteous.
Let us pray… Welcoming God, our instinct with strangers is often mistrust and fear. Make us bold to extend hospitality to strangers, trusting that in doing so, we might just find ourselves entertaining angels. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
(Side note: I also played oboe in this service! You can hear it starting in the 51st minute. Please excuse the fact that one of my keys was sticking, ugh.)
