Pentecost 2: The Discipline of Hospitality

Jeremiah 28:5-9
Psalm 89:1-4, 15-18
Romans 6:12-23
Matthew 10: 40-42

“Let all guests be received like Christ Himself, for He will say: ‘I was a stranger and ye took Me in.’ And let fitting honour be shown to all….At the arrival and departure of all guests, let Christ – who indeed is received in their persons – be adored in them, by bowing the head or even prostrating on the ground.” Thus wrote St. Benedict in the early part of the 6th century as he outlined a rule for monastic communities. In some ways he echoed words from the Letter to the Hebrews: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.” (Hebrews 13:2) In both, we hear resonances of Jesus’ own words to his disciples recorded in the Gospel of Matthew: “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.” (Matthew 10:40) All of these passages point to what is an often forgotten spiritual discipline – hospitality; and its practice runs through the Judeao-Christian tradition. It is highlighted in the stories of Abraham’s meeting with the angels in the 18th chapter of Genesis, and in the following which details the destruction of Sodom. It is enshrined in the Mosaic law (Exodus 22:21); and both the prophets (Ezekiel 16:48:50) and Jesus condemn towns for inhospitality (Matthew 10:14-15). Indeed, just verses before today’s Gospel passage Jesus says to his disciples, “If anyone will not welcome you…shake off the dust from your feet as you leave that house or town. Truly I tell you, it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah on the day of judgment than for that town.” (Matthew 10:14-15)

Why is hospitality so important? Certainly, there are sociological reasons. In a time and culture of few large cities – around the time of Abraham the largest city was located in the Indus Valley and boasted only about 40,000 people – as well as dangerous travel conditions, the presumption of friendly hospitality was essential for travelers. It was considered one’s social duty to offer hospitality, most especially to strangers; and this relationship between guest and host was sacrosanct, as is gruesomely demonstrated in the story of Sodom narrated in the book of Genesis, when Lot thinks it better to throw out his daughters to the violence of the mob, than to give up the guests who have come under the shelter of his roof. In a disturbing way, hospitality consisted of doing more for the stranger, than for one’s own kindred – a difficult concept for us today. This social custom of hospitality developed by a nomadic people was, as I mentioned, enshrined in their law code, and continued into the period of their civilization, influencing social thought and practice well into the time of Jesus.

It was, however, Christianity which developed a conscious theology of hospitality; and thus a relationship considered a sacred trust became a divine attribute. Hopsitality was understood as the context for God’s engaging with human beings, and the rest of creation. As such, it was a practice commended among Christians for a new and distinctive reason, because it imaged God’s own actions in the world, God’s hospitality of welcoming the stranger in Christ. If we can paraphrase Paul in the letter to the Romans: “God proves his love for us in that while we still were [strangers] Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8) Moreover, think how many of Jesus’ parables are centered round a party, a celebration, and banquet in which those invited are strangers and outsiders. Think about the times Jesus himself welcomes those on the margins, those considered beyond the pale of conventional hospitality. What could be more hospitable words than Christ’s own: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest”? (Matthew 11:28) or his own offer of nourishment: “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day; for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.” (John 6:54-56)

Hospitality is not just welcoming the stranger, but sacrificing for the stranger, giving up of one’s self for the stranger, the alien, the outcast, even the enemy. Christian hospitality is the willingness to see in the stranger the face of Christ – “whoever welcomes you welcomes me” = and to serve Christ in her or him. I know that lately I have mentioned our Soup Kitchen in a number of my sermons and discussion – and perhaps only because it has been on my mind with the remodeling of the facility or more recently the vandalism we experienced – but I see our Soup Kitchen as incarnating that reality of Christian hospitality. Everyone is welcome and no one is turned away. There are no litmus tests of worthiness or need. If you show up you are fed, and into our hall are welcomed day to day, the stranger, the outcast, the lonely, certainly the hungry; and I know from my own personal experience that our volunteers welcome each as Christ in their midst.

But welcoming the stranger is not easy. I am sure some of our neighbours would prefer the alley was not lined with “that sort of people” six days a week. I am sure – although it has never been mentioned to me - that our radical hospitality presents particular headaches for the local community and for the city more generally, perhaps even for law enforcement. We know that welcoming the stranger has not been easy for the Episcopal Church as through history she has drawn the net increasingly wider and welcomed Christ in native people, in ethnic minorities, in women, in GLBT people. The latter two particularly have cost us much; no one knows that better than this diocese. At the same time we must always return to that reality presented to us in the Church’s tradition that when we welcome the stranger, when we welcome the outcast and the disliked, we welcome Christ. Moreover, that hospitality is more than mere politeness to the stranger or conviviality with friends – after all we can, every one of us, throw a great party with “people like us”. No, hospitality is that spiritual discipline in which we sometimes must work to discern the face and presence of God in unexpected people and even in unexpected situations, and then welcome them into our midst in the knowledge that their presence brings with it a gift, something new, something important. Hospitality is not charity, it is most assuredly not condescension. Hospitality certainly entails giving of ourselves, but perhaps even more, it entails an opening up of ourselves to recognize and welcome the divine in those around us. Ultimately, it is something about the reality that perhaps God is chiefly encountered in the other – most especially in the stranger – and served chiefly in our responding to their needs: “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” (Matthew 25:40)