Preached at the Urban Abbey
March 12, 2017
Scripture: John 2: 1-11
This text always surprises me - first, I am reminded that I still belong in middle school every time I hear the word ‘drunk’ read in worship. Second, well it’s not the text as much as the surprising ways I have heard people talk about it. Mary comes to Jesus in a desperate moment at a wedding and Jesus turns water into wine to save the day. For some, this is an example of Christ blessing marriage . . . and of course, that means marriage between one man and one woman. It’s just if you take a little look into the context, it is true the marriage could be one man and one woman; but it’s also true that it could be one man and his second wife, or one man and his fourth wife or one man and his tenth wife. This is not a model of marriage I find interesting. Ironically, the same folks who focus on Jesus blessing a marriage don’t see him blessing the wine. My early experience with a campus ministry taught me that in an effort to police what is good and bad or moral and immoral behavior (with, of course, consuming wine being a big No- No), bible study leaders were ironically willing to apply context to this part of the scripture. They’d say, “well, it was different then, wine was safer than water…it is really about hydration.”The truth is, this scripture is probably not about blessing a wedding or policing wine consumption . . . Mary does not ask Jesus for help to prove a point; she asks him to help the family because they need it.
This is a hospitality crisis. Mary sees the need of people and she knows Jesus can help, so she gives him a motherly nudge. The wedding celebration is still going and the party is running out of wine. We can imagine it. Weddings don’t always go as planned. Groomsmen give inappropriate toasts and fathers trip going down the aisle. Stuff happens, and today that stuff goes viral. We can imagine the pressure of wanting things to go just right and we can imagine the embarrassment of things going wrong as though it will be splashed across Twitter, “McRamsey’s run out of wine at daughter’s wedding - SAD!” But for Mary and the bride’s parents, it’s not about avoiding embarrassment or managing their image as much as it is about the sacred practice of hospitality. Mary grew up hearing the stories of her people welcoming strangers. She taught Jesus about their people’s history of welcoming the foreigner and treating the alien as a citizen, not just as a policy, but as a part of their faith. Hospitality was a part of their identity and written in their covenant with God.
Chapter 18 of Genesis invites us into the story of Sarah and Abraham welcoming three strangers. Abraham goes out of his way to invite them in and offer them the best they have. He kills the fatted calf, makes cakes…well he doesn’t…he has people do that…but he is the chief architect of the family’s welcome. He and Sarah don’t save the calf for their anniversary or a special event and choose the non-fatted calf or an old goat (honestly, I don’t know the opposite of the fatted calf but there must be something; we all know there is a difference between a nice meatloaf and prime rib you were saving for Christmas dinner). The point is, they make the most generous welcome they can offer. They don’t vet the visitors or ask for paperwork; they welcome them. They make themselves vulnerable and it turns out the visitors are angels, and the story concludes with a blessing. Hospitality is so vital that in the next chapter, the three incognito angles journey further, enter the city of Sodom and wait to be welcomed. No one offers hospitality except Lot and his family. Lot puts his family at risk as the city of Sodom turns hostile, which is classically represented by a mob of angry men. They want Lot to send the guests out to be assaulted. This story isn’t about sexual expression between two partners, it’s about sexual assault. And sexual assault is about having power over another. The people of Sodom want to dominate these guests in the most intimate and violent way. This story ends with fire and brimstone raining down from on high while Lot and his family narrowly escape. The sin of Sodom was a sin of hostility in place of hospitality and this sin receives one of the most epic punishments by God in the whole of the Hebrew Bible.
The Hebrew Bible takes hospitality seriously, with both a carrot and a stick approach…i.e., you could be entertaining angels or your city could be demolished - you choose. Mary and Jesus and the people at the wedding grow up singing the songs of a faith that welcomes the stranger. Hospitality infuses the work and life of Jesus; everywhere he goes, he feeds and includes. It also shapes the life of all who follow him. The early Christians became known for their hospitality; they break bread and share all things in common. They are so good at it that the Roman Empire turns to them as an example when the emperor asks his leaders to learn from the Christians. Today, this might be more of a corporate meeting and the emperor saying, “you know who does hostility...I mean hospitality well? The Christians. I know we are trying to kill them, but they are great at hospitality. Someone go learn from them and then we will have a great PowerPoint of best practices next month.” Perhaps, not quite like that – but the point is, hospitality is woven into our faith. As Abbeys and monastic communities began to dot the religious landscape, the rule of faith required hospitality. St. Benedict called on his community to welcome the stranger as one might welcome Christ. The stranger is God incarnate. And offering hospitality to anyone was a gift and a matter of spiritual practice.
Jena Reise writes about her experience of Benedictine hospitality in her text, FLUNKING SAINTHOOD. In reaching out to a distant relative, she was received in his home and he was excited for a call out of the blue. He was thrilled to do something that wasn’t on his list. He was thrilled to make her lunch, oh and her husband and her daughter…oh and another couple with whom she was traveling! He lavished time and listening and lunch on the group as long as they had, not as long as he had. He was flexible and open with his time and his energy and the resources that he had to make the best welcome possible.
Jena writes also of her attempt to practice hospitality. She writes about welcoming friends and family in ways that most of us can understand. Having a house guest is not always easy, including navigating our space with their needs. Hospitality pushed her to look at her schedule and how she really didn’t have time or take time to welcome her guests. She was reminded to listen to her guests when she got annoyed at dietary practices that didn’t match her plans for an amazing roast or beautiful chicken dinner. She learned from the jokes and barbs that she sent out, and one of the most difficult moments came in bringing her brother an ash tray and a comfortable chair rather than chiding him one more time about lung cancer.
Hospitality is not easy. It is rooted in a Latin word that means stranger or foreigner. It is the same root from which the words hospital, hotel and hospice emerge. It is also the root of hostile. How we treat the stranger with hospitality or hostility. How we enter into the unknown is the practice of faith. Do we choose the risky, loving vulnerability of hospitality or the guarded, controlling and dominating path of hostility? That is why each week we gather with open hearts at this table to take in Christ the host through this meal. We practice each week in community so we can shape how we live each day. Perhaps this week invites a little practice or a big test of your hospitality. What would it mean to look at is as sacred? What would it mean to practice it so well that people know you for it? We practice hospitality individually and communally. We practice it here each day in our living sanctuary, seeking to surprise and delight and include each and every person. Sometimes that means cleaning a table or redoing the floors, and sometimes that means greeting with a smile or listening to the hard words that are felt but not spoken. Practicing hospitality makes us vulnerable and we engage in it as people of faith entering our national political structures. Our faith calls us (as it did Mary and Jesus, Abraham and Sarah), to be people who welcome the stranger. And as we all know, that is hard to do in a world ruled by fear of strangers. This faith calls us to speak love into this fear.
Maybe we join Mary in asking for help? Mary sees the struggle and the need and she asks Jesus for help. And here in this story of amazing hospitality, God shows up, saving the best wine for last. Everyone thought the party was over - the wine had run out, people were leaving the dance floor - and God shows up and the party is back on, better than ever. The gift is extraordinary. It is beyond expectations, and it is the best that can be offered. May we have the courage to offer our best. May we have the courage to be the blessing in unexpected places and unsure moments.
May it be so. Amen.
Questions for Discussion:
When have you felt welcomed? What does great hospitality feel like and look like?
When have you welcomed or offered hospitality? How does that feel? What do you love about it? What do you find challenging?
What does it mean to you that the words hospitality and hostility are rooted in the same Latin word? Have you heard churches or music refer to Christ as Host and does that mean to you?
What is a step toward hospitality that you might try in this season of lent?
No comments:
Post a Comment