Hospitality

Dear people of Christ Church,
By now, hopefully you've received your stewardship mailing, or taken a look at the materials displayed at the back of the church. This year's campaign is loosely tied around some themes that emerged from our vestry and GPS ministry committees--hospitality, outreach, and faith. We try to be a welcoming church-- follow up with newcomers when we get those little yellow cards, and hopefully talk with folks at coffee hour or after the service. Hospitality is a deeper Gospel value, though, than just responding to people in a polite way.

In the Biblical world that Jesus grew up in, hospitality was a cardinal virtue. One of my favorite icons is of the three angels who visited Abraham at the oaks of Mamre (it's also interpreted as an icon of the Trinity, and if you look carefully it seems as though the angels are including you, the viewer, as a having a seat at the table). They seem just to be ordinary travelers, but Abraham bends over backwards to welcome them. They slaughter a calf, make cakes, and eat under the oak trees, and the angels tell Abraham and Sarah that they will conceive a child. Sarah laughs, but with God, all things are possible. The story gets picked up again in the letter to the Hebrews, where we are reminded, "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it." (Heb. 13:2). St Benedict used to tell his monks to welcome every knock on the door saying, "It is the Lord."

The thing about church, though, is that it's easy to always think of ourselves as the welcomers--as if we were the hosts of the table. But the first table we gather around is the altar-the ultimate symbol of hospitality. The coffee hour table comes next, but first is that liturgical, divine hospitality where we are all guests. My Lutheran friends are fond of quoting Martin Luther as saying that Christian evangelism is just one beggar telling another where to find food.

On Sundays, "Welcoming" is bigger than just you or me. It's bigger, even, than our work together. The altar guild puts out what we need to set the table, the priest says the blessing, the people say Amen, and we all eat. We are the Body of Christ and God's hands, but we are not the source. It's God feeding us. We each are welcomed every time we share the Eucharist without qualification. Without regard to our past or our potential, we are welcomed. Without regard to our intelligence, our age, our mindfulness or distraction, we are welcomed. The hospitality of the Eucharist lights a candle testifying to a new reality-dark though it is, we will keep saying Eucharisto! Thank you.

Blessings,
Sara+

PS: for the WS Merwin poem from which I stole parts of that last line, you can click here.