True Hospitality~ The Ven. Rose Bogal-Allbritten, Deacon

The 12th Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 17C) August 28, 2022

The Ven. Rose Bogal-Allbritten, Deacon True Hospitality

When Bill and I are out of town on a Sunday, we usually look for an Episcopal Church to

attend. Several years ago, we found a church and decided to attend the service. It was a

lovely church, built in a rather unique architectural style that gave it the semblance of an

ark. The music was lively, the sermon was well-written and presented and the

congregation seemed friendly—with one another that is. At the time of the peace, a

handful of people turned to us and exchanged the peace in a cordial manner, but that was

the last time that anyone spoke to us.

Since the church was filled almost to capacity, it took awhile for it to empty at the end of

the service. As we made our way to the door, lively conversations were being held all

around us, but we might as well have been invisible. It was quite clear that the members

of the congregation really enjoyed one another—to the point that they either weren’t

aware of or didn’t care about the fact that two “outsiders” had spent the last hour

worshipping with them.

Later that day, at lunch, we discussed our experience. Perhaps members of the

congregation had become “immune” to tourists—people who worshipped with them on a

Sunday, never to be seen again. Maybe we weren’t worth the “investment” of a friendly,

“Welcome, and where are you from?” or an invitation to coffee hour. After all, we

weren’t “seekers,” looking for a church; we were just summer visitors, but how did they

know that?

What if we had been looking for a “church home” as they say around here? Would we

have come back? Probably not—even though the parish was surrounded by the familiar

“The Episcopal Church welcomes you” signs, service times were published in the local

paper, and the entrance was well marked, it was obvious that the “invitation” was limited

to these physical entities. Even though we were fellow Episcopalians, it was apparent that

we weren’t “family”—we were strangers—tolerated rather than welcomed. And what if

this was the first time that we had been brave enough to try out a church? Maybe we

hadn’t gone to church in a long time or had never been to a church and attending that day

was an act of courage on our part? Would we have gone back? Probably not.

I would hazard a guess that our experience was more typical of being a “visitor” in an

Episcopal church than it was unique. Of course, there is always the opposite experience

of being asked to stand up and introduce oneself during the announcements—our

experience in another Episcopal Church. We did get a small bag of candy for our efforts,

but still no invitation to coffee hour! A bag of candy is not a substitute for true hospitality

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and asking an introvert to get up in front of strangers and introduce herself is an

introvert’s worst nightmare.

Hospitality is the focus of two of today’s readings. In the Letter to the Hebrews, we hear:

“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained

angels without knowing it.” Most of the ancient world regarded hospitality as a

fundamental moral practice. Hospitality assured strangers of at least a degree of

provision, protection, and connection with the larger community. But while Greek and

Roman hospitality stressed the formal and reciprocal relationship between the host and

the guest—illustrious hosts should offer hospitality only to illustrious guests—Christian

hospitality was to be different.

Rather than entertaining individuals of high status, followers of Jesus were expected to

welcome those who seemingly brought little to the encounter. These are the “directions”

that we hear Jesus giving to the dinner host in today’s Gospel: “When you give a

luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich

neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you

give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be

blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the

righteous.” True hospitality, as defined by Jesus, means taking care of those in need and

expecting nothing in return.

Jesus, however, is not just calling on the faith community to provide for the needs of the

poor and disabled, for this was already a well-established practice. Rather than sending

food to them, he says to invite them for dinner—the host and the guest sit at table

together. In breaking bread together, there is no longer a benefactor and a

recipient—someone who becomes our project—rather, all are declared equal. In the

topsy-turvy world of divine hospitality, everybody is family.

The strangers whom Jesus tells the host to invite to dinner are not just any strangers; they

are those who are considered, by society, to be unclean and undesirable, and they will

never be able to extend a dinner invitation to the host. They are the same individuals who

would not be allowed in the synagogue or temple, and contact with them would result in

ceremonial uncleanness. Hospitality reminds us that justice and friendship belong

together. Concerns about justice can never be abstract and disembodied. Rather, these

concerns must come from living alongside those whose lives have been overlooked or

undervalued by the larger society.

Henri Nouwen who some of us know as a prolific spiritual writer, would probably have

said that his most important work was the time that he lived in a group home and was

asked to help Adam Arnett, a man with a severe disability, with his morning routine.

Adam became Nouwen’s friend, his teacher and his guide. And it was in this setting,

filled with individuals whom society had cast off—perhaps in a bit more sophisticated

fashion than would have taken place in Jesus’ time, but cast off nevertheless—that

Nouwen learned the true practice of Christian hospitality.

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This kind of radical hospitality makes sense only in light of the conviction that God rules

the world and therefore that adequate repayment for our efforts is simply our relationship

with God and our conformity to what God intends. Today’s readings from Hebrews and

Luke’s Gospel are calls to commitment to God’s reign rather than to the ways of the

world. They free us from over-under relationships and the attitudes and barriers they

create, so that we may be free to create human community and enjoy the security of

God’s grace.

How do we practice Christian hospitality at St. John’s? It begins with the individuals who

come through our doors on a Sunday morning. The first people whom they encounter are

the greeters--members who are scheduled to greet everyone who enters St. John’s. Some

of their tasks, like handing out the service leaflets, are obvious, but their role is more than

one of simply being nice people who cheerfully welcome all who are visiting. Greeting is

their ministry—they know how to make the stranger feel welcomed and at home without

overwhelming them. In doing so, they are showing the hospitality of God; this is not

simply a duty and responsibility, but rather, a response of love and gratitude for God’s

love and welcome to us. If this sounds like something that you might be good at, please

let Bill Mills know—he will be more than happy to talk about the ministry of being a

greeter.

To greet each person who comes through the door with generosity and welcome in the

name of Christ, to invite them to worship, to make a place for them in God’s house, is not

just friendliness—it is a saving grace. The stranger—the visitor at the door—is a living

reminder that we are all strangers here. This is not our house, our table, our food; this is

God’s house, table, and food. We have all been pilgrims, wanderers, aliens, strangers and

sometimes, even enemies of God, at one time or another, but all are welcomed to this

place.

This work of hospitality begins with the greeter but becomes the responsibility of every

person in the congregation. From our participation in the service, to helping individuals

who might be struggling with the service leaflet, to the “peace” which is extended before

the Offertory, to the open invitation to the table, to our food, beverages and conversation

at coffee hour—making sure that no one is sitting alone while we are sitting with others--

all of these can be gestures of welcome—opportunities for every person present, from the

youngest to the oldest, to answer the call to be hospitable, to demonstrate that in

welcoming each person who enters St. John’s, we are welcoming the Christ that we see in

them.

But, what about the hospitality that extends beyond our doors? Each Sunday during the

Prayers of the People, we pray for the people connected to St. John’s—each and every

one of you-- who are the hands of Christ in the world. In the dismissal at the end of the

service, we are called to “Go in peace to love and serve Jesus Christ, our Savior.” Our

responsibility for hospitality, that begins when a “stranger” enters St. John’s on a Sunday

morning, continues as we go out into the world. Christ is alive in this world. If we want

to see him, we must look into the faces of other people. If we want to serve him, we must

welcome strangers into our lives. These encounters may happen when we go out to work

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in community service like Laundry Love, Soup for the Soul and the Community Kitchen

but they are equally likely to occur at work or school or even in Wal-Mart.

Finding our path as Christians is a matter of taking stock of who we are and what we are

called to do. We are all called to a ministry of hospitality—to be the hands and feet of

Christ to the world; to be Christ’s eyes of compassion to the world. So as we “Go in

peace to love and serve Jesus Christ, our Savior,” let us accept our commission with a

hearty: “Thanks be to God.”

Amen.

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