Hospitality

Joshua J Sander
8/29/10
14th Sunday after Pentecost—22nd in Ordinary Time
“Hospitality”

Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16
Luke 14:1, 7-14

Often times, when we find Jesus in these little teaching moments, we find Jesus saying something surprising—we find Jesus giving some new and startling interpretation of the scriptures. This is not one of those times. When he observes how the guests choose the best seats for themselves, he logically and succinctly cautions them against it. Similarly, he turns to his host and cautions him against only ever inviting friends, relatives and rich neighbors into his home. It may seem strange to us, but these would not have been new concepts for the people listening to Jesus. He is reminding them of something they already know—the rules of hospitality; the proper reception and treatment of guests and strangers. Even the underlying message—the message that somewhere down the line God will humble the exalted and exalt the humble—was not new; prophets had been delivering that message for generations.

Every society has rules concerning hospitality. Many businesses today have a huge interest in hospitality—especially businesses like hotels and resorts. You can even go to school and get a Masters of Business Administration in Hospitality Management. But societal rules of hospitality run deeper than that. I’m reminded of an old Jeff Foxworthy bit he says, "You have to clean up. Or you have to at least you have to make people think you do. We've all done that, been home on the weekend, had the phone ring, "Hey, we're in the neighborhood, thought we'd stop by and see y'all." You always say, "Sure! Come on, we'd love to have you." You hang up and to that Flight of the Bumblebee. 90-mile-an-hour fluffin' stuff. You're sweatin' when they get there and the first thing you say is, "Excuse the house, it's a mess, come on in, the house is a mess."

Doesn’t that sound familiar to anyone? It does to me. Or how about this, how many of you have ever seen folk fight over who gets to pay the check at a restaurant? Keep your hand raised if it was a member of your family doing the arguing! See? There are all kinds of rules we abide by.

Hospitality rules in nomadic societies—you know, cultures where people travel from place to place living in tents… like the ancient Israelites—hospitality rules in those kinds of cultures are much more serious business than the Flight of the Bumblebee cleaning spree. If you are alone in the wilderness and you come upon a nomad’s tent whether or not they let you in could mean the difference between life and death. Even after such people settle down into villages and cities, they tend to retain these very strict rules—strangers are made guests without question and as long as they are your guests it is your responsibility to protect them.

There are many, many stories from many different cultures. If you ever had to read the Odyssey, you’ve seen examples of the kind of hospitality I’m talking about. The story is about the adventure of Odysseus returning home from war, yes, but one of the major themes has to do with hospitality—the heroes and allies of the story appropriately and exuberantly give and receive hospitality and the villains not only fail to protect their guests by are themselves dangerous to them.

A less mythic example of such hospitality can be found in Scottish history. Specifically, the chief of Clan Lamont arrived at the home of the MacGregor chief, told him that he was fleeing from foes and requested refuge. Later that night a member of the MacGregor clan arrived, informing their chief that the Lamont had killed his son. Not only did the MacGregor chief refuse to hand over the Lamont to his clansmen, but the next morning he escorted the Lamont back to their ancestral lands.

This kind of hospitality is a two-way street, of course. Later on, the Lamonts gave safe haven to many of the MacGregor clan. In the Odyssey, the gods reward good hospitality and punish the opposite. And of course there’s the argument that the author of the letter to the Hebrews makes, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.” Paul is referring to the most extreme hospitality story that I’ve ever heard—you can find it in the book of Genesis and it goes something like this:

One evening two angels came into the city, and they found there a man who immediately offered them hospitality. “Please my lords,” he said, “turn aside to your servant’s house and spend the night, and wash your feet; they you can rise early and go on your way.” But the angels said, “No. We will spend the night in the square.” But the man strongly urged them to reconsider, so they turned aside and entered his house. The man made them a feast, and baked unleavened bread, and they ate.

But before they went to bed, all the men of the city, both young and old, came and surrounded the house in a mob and cried out, “Where are the men who came to you tonight? Send them out so we can rape them.” The host went outside, shut the door behind him, and begged the mob not to do such a horrible thing. In fact, the host’s sense of hospitality was so strong that he offered his two virgin daughters to the mob rather than betray his guests to their violent intent. But the mob said, “You’re an outsider here, too! How dare you judge us? Now we’ll do worse to you than we were going to do to them.”

Then the mob rushed the host and started to break down the door. But the angels opened the door, pulled in their host, and struck the entire mob blind. Then they told their host to gather up whatever family he had in the city and escape, “For we are about to destroy this place, because the outcry against its people has become great before the Lord who has sent us to destroy it.” And so Lot and his family escaped the city of Sodom and its destruction. Well, all but Lot’s wife, but that’s another story.

Jesus knew Lot’s story. The Pharisees knew Lot’s story. All of the guests knew Lot’s story. And so it wouldn’t—or at least shouldn’t—have been surprising to hear Jesus tell his host not to simply invite people into the feast who he knew could return the favor, but to also invite in strangers. It wouldn’t—or at least shouldn’t—have been a surprise to hear Jesus tell the other guests not to assume that they should take the best seats. After all, even God’s angels initially said, “No. We’ll sleep in the square.”

Jesus, and the author of the letter to the Hebrews, and Lot’s story all speak of an extreme hospitality that most if not all of us fall short of. I don’t know about you, but I can’t remember the last time I stopped a couple of men on the street and asked them to my apartment for dinner and a sleep over. But I can think of a few times when I was a stranger being shown hospitality. I did the first half of my undergraduate work at Phillips University in Enid, Oklahoma. Phillips was my parents’ alma mater, and the reason for my not graduating from there is a whole other story. In any case, Enid, Oklahoma was far enough away from North Stonington, Connecticut that it wasn’t a responsible use of time or money to fly home every time we had a school break. I was home for Christmas and the summer, and that was it. When I was lucky, one of my classmates would think of me in those times, and take me home with them.

One of those times still goes down as one of the most interesting trips ever. I won’t mention any names, especially since we’ve reconnected on Facebook since then, but my memory of it goes something like this. Just before the trip, my friend comes up with this plan to put in a fake nose ring to surprise her mother with as a kind of prank. I remember asking her if that was really such a good idea, and she kept telling me that her mom would think it was funny. So it wasn’t until we’d been driving for hours on end that I began to ask her what her mother thought of her bringing a male friend home—and she tells me that she thought it would be funny not to tell her mother that I was coming.

Now, I won’t say that her parents were inhospitable. But I will say that her mother did not find the fake nose ring to be at all funny. Nor did she find the idea of “Surprise! I brought a friend with me!” to be the height of humor either. They were decent folk, and I don’t think I would have had to fear for my life if a mob had surrounded the house and demanded to do violence to me. However, I definitely felt like a stranger on that trip—and worse, I felt like I was imposing—so much so that when I got back to the dorm I got out my checkbook and sent her family some money to offset the cost of having me there.

Now, in contrast, there was the time Rich and Liz brought me home to Liz’s parents in Tulsa. One of the first things I remember happening was being taken out to Cracker Barrel for dinner. I was a little uncomfortable, because to my poor college student eyes, everything was on the expensive side—but my college student stomach won out and I ordered chicken ‘n’ dumplings and fried apples. I remember that Liz was sitting to my right, and her mother was on Liz’s other side. I remember this because I offered Liz one of my apples. Liz happily speared one from my plate and when I turned back to my dinner I heard her mother say, “We do not eat off of each other’s plates in this household.” I was instantly mortified—and Liz instantly laughed. “Josh? Did you not see that?” she said, “Mom, do it again!” I looked to my right as her mother cheerfully speared something from Liz’s plate as she announced again, “We do not eat off each other’s plates in this household!”

To this day, we still joke about that moment. I knew right then that I was going to get along just fine with Liz’s family. And her mother still speaks of how well I took being teased—and that she knew I was A-ok in that moment. The other thing that made my experience in Tulsa very different was that I was told up front what to expect—that I was going to be treated as a guest and that I wasn’t to argue about who was to pay for what. In fact, I was told that it would be insulting if I did. So I offered to pay for my dinner. Once. And when the answer was, “No you aren’t either.” I let it go. I was a stranger to Liz’s parents, but they met me with sincere hospitality and a lovely sense of warmth and playfulness that has never waned. I know that I am always welcome in their home, and if they appeared on my doorstep, I would be delighted. In point of fact, I try to model my own hospitality on the kind that they showed me.

There is a Hindu saying that I’m sure I cannot pronounce correctly, so I won’t even try. But it’s from one of the Upanishads—sacred writings—and it says that one should worship Mother, Father, Teacher and Guests as God. In our own tradition, we believe that we were all created in God’s image. So while I wouldn’t go so far as to say we should worship one another, we should honor the image of God we find in Mother, Father, Teacher—and yes, Guests. When you look at it that way, the extreme hospitality I’ve been talking about makes a whole lot more sense. Some people see it as too much when a church specifically and publically invites parts of society that are considered outsiders into their congregations. Some people saw it as too much when the MacGregor clan chief escorted the Lamonts back to their ancestral lands. Many people see it as too much when Lot offers his daughters up to be raped instead of giving over the strangers he’d taken in. But it’s that kind of hospitality that causes you to entertain angels unaware.

Please be with me in the spirit of prayer. Welcoming protector God, we do not feel safe giving out the kind of hospitality that Lot gave out so freely. Help us to remember the words of your prophet Ezekiel who said, “This was the sin of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters had pride, surfeit of food and prosperous ease, but did not aid the poor and needy.” Help us to see the irony of using this most profound story of inhospitality as license to ostracize others. Forgive the misuse of your word. Forgive our judgment of others. Help us to see your image in our neighbors. Help us to open our hearts and our homes as you see fit. We pray these things in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.