Who's Our Guest?

The Origins of Memorial Day in the United States (Sorry for the late posting! This sermon was originally preached on May 29, 2011)

It all started 147 years ago in the middle of the American Civil War when a battle at Petersburg, Virginia on June 9, 1864 caused the Ladies Memorial Association of Petersburg to be formed to memorialize the City's militiamen who had been killed. Mrs. John A. Logan visited Petersburg after the battle where she saw the flags and flowers on the graves of the fallen heroes. These memorial observances by the Ladies Memorial Association of Petersburg caused Mrs. Logan to tell her husband, who was a General, to do the same for all of the fallen heroes throughout the country. General Logan then established the practice of decorating veterans' graves all over the United States. General Logan also instituted the National Memorial Day to be the last Monday in May every year.

Who’s Our Guest?

John 14:15-21
15"If you love me, you will obey what I command.16And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counselor to be with you forever--17the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you.18I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.19Before long, the world will not see me anymore, but you will see me. Because I live, you also will live.20On that day you will realize that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you.21Whoever has my commands and obeys them, he is the one who loves me. He who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love him and show myself to him."

While preparing for my sermon on this Memorial Day I spent some time reminiscing about my first experience of leaving home bound for Air Force basic training in San Antonio, Texas in the summer of 1981. Those of us who have served, or still serve in the Armed Forces will probably never forget the day we began our new life in the military. I was just barely 18 years when I stepped off the charter bus into the hot, arid heat of Texas. Now this was quite a shock to my Midwestern sensibilities, and those first few inhospitable days in the Texas heat was a wakeup call for me. I knew that, not only was I no longer home, but I had started on a journey so different than my experience of life so far…and I was scared to death. For the next six weeks I stumbled through basic training like a scarecrow, all the time repeating the words of Dorothy Gale, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home!”

After basic training I settled into my Russian language school studies and realized that I wasn’t afraid as much of this military life, but still felt that something was missing. I needed to find a church. Being raised Pentecostal; I immediately gravitated toward the Assemblies of God pastor who held worship services at the base chapel and became fast friends with his family. I even started driving a church van picking up military men and women on base for their services. This church became my home away from home, connecting me to the community of faith that I had left behind.

And I had a similar experience once I moved to West Berlin Germany for my first duty station following the completion of my technical training. I arrived speaking no German, but immediately found a church full of people all ages who welcomed me with open arms, regardless of the language I spoke! I remember trying to communicate with just my hands and body language that first Sunday, listening to a worship service and sermon all in German, but somehow feeling such warmth as the congregation embraced me for who I was in spite of the strangeness.

These experiences remind me of the uniqueness of the Christian community; that you could go into any worship center in any part of the world and feel a part of something familiar, yet new and different. It could be that is our real call as Christians. Let me explain. I used to think that the biblical discipline of Hospitality was one of those “less important” spiritual gifts. I remember taking those spiritual gift inventories growing up, and thinking that gifts like hospitality, also known as helps or helping, seemed to be relegated to those who liked to “be in the background.” In fact, the classic story of Jesus chastising Martha for being too “busy” serving everyone else was case in point for me. Did Jesus really think that serving and helping others was not as important as sitting at his feet in worship?

But if we look deeply into this gospel text this morning a powerful image of hospitality emerges in this teaching by Jesus. Here’s a little background. In the lives of Old Testament Semitic peoples, hospitality was not an option in life, but a moral obligation. The harshness of the desert life made nomadic people sensitive to the needs of those who appeared at their tents seeking food and shelter. And it wasn’t just among the Hebrew people; many followers of pagan religions also considered it a duty. Yet in the New Testament hospitality has a different flavor. Inns and hostels that sprang up along Roman roads offered placed to say, which lessoned the importance of private accommodations. The strong sense of community was breaking down and with it the practice of hospitality. Even though the Romans like to throw lavish banquets, it was not their custom to offer hospitality to wandering strangers.

By the time of Jesus, hospitality had become something of a burden. The result was that people had to be reminded to show hospitality. And as it became less impromptu, it began to require rules. Invitations became more formal. Banquets, weddings, social occasions; all required an etiquette. It was to this reality that Jesus addressed his disciples on his last evening with them, and he was reminding them of the importance of hospitality from their ancient scriptures. Old Testament hospitality was not just about offering food and shelter to strangers; it was also marked by sacrifice. Killing an animal was regarded as a sacrificial act. Therefore when meat was eaten on festal occasions it carried sacred significance. In these sacrificial meals, the people and their God came together at the same table to partake of the same holy food. Eating together resulted in being drawn together, in a renewal of the covenant bond. Hospitality became an expression of the covenantal relationship with God and other human beings. The guest, when accepted into the sacred community, receives food for the body and for the soul. Through fellowship, story sharing, and being welcomed, the guest goes forth renewed and restored.
Both the Old and New Testaments stress that the primary recipient of hospitality is to be the stranger.

However, strangers are not necessarily those different in culture, race, or socioeconomic status. They may be members of our family, or friends or neighbors who have become alienated from us. When we offer hospitality to anyone “estranged” from us, some curious and unexpected results occur. To offer hospitality to a stranger is to welcome something new, unfamiliar, and unknown into our life. Strangers have stories to tell which we have never heard before, stories which can redirect our seeing and stimulate our imagination. Hospitality to the stranger gives us a chance to see our own lives afresh.

Hospitality is the hallmark of a welcoming community. When we take time to discern the needs of the local community and then find ways to express compassion; that process calls us to respond to the real needs of people. We each bring unique gifts to the community, and authentic hospitality invites us to share those gifts. Our mission efforts are never one-way streets. Risking outreach to others creates opportunities to, not just give, but also receive. Feeding the neighborhood, clothing the needy, visiting the sick and those in prison, and might even hosting a kid’s carnival on our lawn yesterday, are ways of welcoming Christ into the community. We who are sent forth into mission are uniquely able to return with lessons of hospitality offered by those who have been served. Our open hearts and serving hands that reach out to the world are the same hearts and hands that receive God’s hospitality in return.

This understanding of hospitality has both inspired and haunted me. For in it we, as God’s children, are called to not only give, but also receive hospitality. It is not a one way street. The communion table is a universal example of Christian hospitality in our worship. But it wasn’t until I began training as a hospice chaplain that I realized how the world that we live in and serve is much like the communion table. We partake of the gifts of God, receiving them in their broken state, and become nourished by their gifts back to us. We receive that which we are there to give. I have worked weekly in hospice settings over the past year. When I enter the room of a patient with the expectation of receiving the same measure of hospitality that I give, I am truly humbled and transfigured by these experiences.

Walter was one of my first hospice patients. I met him at a nursing facility that was pretty run down and located in a not so great part of town. As I was driving to the appointment I realized it was not far from where I grew up. Just up the street from this nursing facility my Uncle died in desolation five years earlier, lying in a dirty apartment littered with trash, empty beer bottles, drug paraphernalia, and filled with hopelessness. I’ll never forget the moment I arrived at his apartment as hospice was called in. My grandmother, who lovingly cared for him his entire life—was there by his bedside—holding his hand and sweetly singing. My Uncle’s death would close a difficult chapter in our lives. But he would not die alone because my Grandmother, perhaps the greatest living example of God’s love and hospitality to the “stranger,” was there with him—comforting him as he took his last breath. All of those memories flooded back to me as I entered the nursing facility and walked across the worn floors, the smell of urine and cries of pain and hopelessness filled the air. Who was I going to be in that place? Would I mirror the abandonment of the world which daily passed judgment on the undesirables and fringes of society? Or was I going to be the agent of God’s grace and love welcoming healing and wholeness into these least of God’s children?

Moving into Walter’s room I sensed his loneliness. Cognitively he didn’t seem “all there.” The nurse wheeled him in from the TV room and he seemed a little agitated. Walter didn’t know what a chaplain was, and seemed a little suspicious of me. I didn’t push Walter very hard and I excused myself after a few minutes and wheeled him back to the TV room. He didn’t say thanks. He didn’t say see you later. But I hoped he would remember me next time. Each time I returned to visit it seemed I moved one more step toward radical hospitality. I meet Walter next time around Christmas while his family visited, and led them in singing Christmas carols with him. A month later we talked a bit deeper about his love of bluegrass music and memories of his long departed wife. The next visit he stayed in bed facing the wall the entire time, but seemed willing to talk even though I had “interrupted” his nap time. And the last time I visited Walter invited me to stay and have lunch with me. There it was, radical hospitality in action, and I received it from Walter.

It is no coincidence that hospice and hospitality come from the same Latin root hospes, which is formed from hostis, which originally meant "to have power." Linguistically, the word served double-duty in referring both to guests and hosts. Hospitality is a two way street, where both guest and host are imbued with power to transform the relationship. Jesus is our host at the communion table where that which is broken and poured out is used to create a covenantal community. It was this sacred moment that Jesus expressed his affection and companionship for his disciples. But our text tells us that we will still experience this radical hospitality. Jesus said he was sending an Advocate, the Spirit of Truth, to be with us. The Greek word used here is “paraclete” which means, “one who has been called to our side” to stand up for us. Think of lawyer shows on television. Think of detectives and mystery and action. The Paraclete, the Advocate, is a force on the move…just as Jesus was a force on the move in his lifetime.

Jesus clearly promises his presence and the presence of the Spirit to those who keep his commandments to love and serve one another. The love Jesus commands is not a feeling—but an action of hospitality to the stranger. What if we really understood Jesus words this way? What if we were to recognize that Christ is truly present among us, not just within ourselves as Christians, but whenever we greet and serve the stranger, the guest, the visitor that walks through those doors? This is why the work of hospitality in the church has illuminated the power of the Christian way for me. For in Christ there is no stranger. There is no separation. And in the words of Dorothy Gale, “There is no place like home!” So click your heals together and believe it. Amen!