A Sermon by Reverend Debra McKnight
Preached at Urban Abbey on March 24, 2019
Scripture
1 Corinthians 13: 4-8
Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Sermon
In January, I was driving home from presiding at Trudy’s funeral. I had helped preside in the service out of care for her daughter, Brenda, and grandson, Tarron. It was an honor to learn more of her story and I was grateful that she had come to the Abbey and liked it, because now I knew her standards were high, very high. Driving home I kept replaying the stories: she was attentive to details. She saw her grandchildren so well that she could shop for them, pick out their outfits, and they liked them…not every Grandma has this kind of superpower! She loved details. At every family dinner, she made sure everyone had their favorites.
She loved details not just in her personal life, but also her professional life. She nurtured countless children managing her own in-home daycare and she ran two diners. I think executives in the highest office corner office would be amazed by the details required to run a café. Trudy paid attention to the whole room and the person ordering, she kept in tune with the food coming out and the people coming in, she kept the counter staffed and the tables clean, the kitchen stocked and the cooks on their toes. She understood hospitality was in the details and staying in-tune with the details means staying in-tune with people. She managed the details with grace and care. The stories of the people who loved her most reflected how much those details mattered. Love was in the details.
Thinking about Trudy reminded me not only of the importance of details but how she stood in direct conflict with that phrase, “The Devil is in the details.” It’s a phrase we probably use when we miss the details, that denotes how details are complicated and important. Sometimes we make a mistake and sometimes details are used to be tricky, like when you need a law degree to click “ok” before purchasing music on iTunes. The German origins of this phrase may actually be less about the Devil and more about the divine, “God is in the details.” And while the origins of the phrase are hazy, it gives us a sense that details, and the care of them, are sacred; missing the details is tricky, and using the details against someone…well, that is a little devilish. But caring for the details, that seems to be divine.
Love is expressed in the details. I believe 1 Corinthians 13 (one of Paul’s greatest hits) is actually about the details. Paul is writing about love and it is not because a cute couple is getting married at First Church Corinth. Paul is writing to the church because they are envious, boastful, and rude; he knows because he has heard details. Folks are not patient or kind. We understand this if we have been in meetings (church or otherwise). We have witnessed, or perhaps even participated in, the meetings after the meetings, seen the eye rolling, or heard harsh remarks. I have witnessed church meetings spiral downhill quickly, with folks saying things they shouldn’t. I was in a meeting where a church leader responded to my mom’s willingness to make cookies for us to give away, by saying they were toxic. Church meetings can be hard; we forget to say, “Can I help your mom buy ingredients from a CSA?” and instead blurt out, “Those cookies are toxic.” I don’t think we alway mean to hurt folks in little moments but I suspect we do quite often. Paul writes about love because even though it is hard, we can do better. He writes about love because small moments loom large.
Paul writes to Corinth because he needs to remind them of who they are and how the everyday details matter. Love is not a vague poem; it is a daily practice. For instance, some folks are eating all of the communion meal before other folks arrive. Christ’s table is not a Roman banquet, where the most powerful get the best seat and the best food first. Christ’s table welcomes everyone. The details matter because faith isn’t theory, it’s practice. Christ’s community is not the place for complaining behind someone’s back, disregarding one another’s needs, or withholding your gifts that would fuel the whole community. Paul will later write that all the old boundaries are gone in the Christian community; everyone is sacred, male and female, slave or free, Jew or Greek. These are not vague pieces of poetry; they are about the everyday details of Christian spirituality and hospitality. The everyday details about how we listen to each other, how we show up for each other, how we are honest about our needs, how we name our concerns, how we gather and give matter. Details express love.
I have loved details and I have struggled with them. When we opened the Abbey, I became overwhelmed by the task of managing the everyday details of my work at FUMC and the special details of opening a coffee shop/bookstore/church. To be fair, it wasn’t always the details but the execution. I froze in the face of the work. I had never spent $6,000+ on chairs. What if no one liked them? We wouldn’t get a do-over; it was more money than I had ever spent on anything, except a car. But it wasn’t a matter of having the money - it was the pressure of getting it right and the worry of getting it wrong. Into this struggle marched Barb Bredthauer. She is a leader at FUMC Omaha and she knows details. She has managed our leases and our laundry; and she does it all with grace. She became the project manager and helped me negotiate, prioritize and move forward. She loved the details and reminded me that we couldn’t welcome anyone if I didn’t order the chairs; freezing in fear was not an option. Thanks to Barb, we didn’t just stay in the planning phase, we moved into practice.
We had help from other coffee shop churches; one in DC and one in Seattle. The DC church coffee shop gave us all their details, their menus, their legal paperwork and their job descriptions. They shared all their details and it helped! It probably helped that a lay person named Chris was reaching out to them because based on their websites they would not have been a fan of helping a clergy woman start an inclusive church. But they never asked for that detail, and we didn’t volunteer it. We followed their models…on a smaller scale.
When we opened in 2011, I didn’t serve behind the coffee bar or wear an apron, at least not one that ever got dirty. There were church details and there were coffee details, and we didn’t really blend them - just like the guys we had learned from. Barrett Scroggs, our first staff person, and I handled the church details. The details of worship, like balancing the songs of worship so folks could find tradition blended with modern, secular with sacred, all with a theme circling around the scripture. We handled the details of inviting and following up with folks, checking in on questions and pastoral care. We managed the details of giving and thanking people for their generosity. We handled the details of partnerships and events. There were plenty of church details to more than fill our work week, plus we had offices to work in - just like a normal pastor and church staff.
In 2015, we graduated into our own church and added a campus ministry. I was here, in the shop all the time, to see our everyday details. That spring, I could see firsthand where we were doing great at caring for people and were we need a little more love. I learned the point of sale. I learned to steam milk, work our blender, and troubleshoot when the coffee brewer didn’t work because of the water line. I learned from the health inspector and I learned from our staff. I learned to order milk and I plunged the toilet. That spring we also prepared to welcome Chris Jorgensen. She wasn’t a lay leader anymore; she was done with seminary and joining our staff as she journeyed toward ordination. She invented a new term, pastorista. It was perfect, steaming milk and preaching; bussing tables and praying; breaking bread and shelving books; all in one job description. She pushed me and our work further into the heart of our vision. It blurred the boundaries between secular and sacred. It reminded me that the everyday details express our love and our hospitality is born in every interaction. I learned new names, new details about people, and I could see where we could be even more attentive to the details that express our values. I even learned to drink coffee because when people ask you about coffee responding, “Umm I don’t drink coffee, would you like to see our tea menu?” is a suboptimal response. I learned on the fly and on the job, I made mistakes and then made them right. I had learned so much and it was a good thing because one Saturday that May, everyone was out sick. It was just me and the manager, Jim, serving the Farmer’s Market crowds, which I can tell you a is robust morning. We often generate a third to a half of the week’s revenue in a five hour period. These details mattered. They were sacred. Just like monastics wearing their apron or scapular, I started wearing my apron in worship, because pastorista was sacred work. The details of every job at the Abbey changed; now every job description begins with barista as the first expectation.
Details matter and we haven’t always gotten them right - thank God for grace. We have made the wrong drinks, we have lost book orders and we have learned what we could do better. Sometimes the diversity of ways we can meet people is a gift and sometimes it just gives us more ways to disappoint folks. If nothing else, it complicates life when folks give your coffee shop a one star review for being “leftist” or try to return their drink because they can’t support Queer Nebraska Youth Network. You just have to own your complicated identity as an inclusive, coffee shop/bookstore/church and respond, “It is true, we are unapologetically Christian and we include and value everyone. If you can give us feedback on how we can better serve you coffee, we would be glad to learn and grow.” Our work is so different than it was seven years ago and I am ever grateful for all the grace we have received along the way. We have had folks waiting for trains or planes, asking if we had cards (we didn’t but we do now) and games. We have carried coffee to the table, particularly for folk’s juggling their bags. And there have been moments when we, as staff and volunteers and members have missed the chance to take this extra step of care. We have brought out coloring sheets and crayons when a small guest needed a little extra care and there have been moments when we could have, but didn’t. These are the details I want us to get all the time rather than just some times. These details about how we care for people, how our hospitality goes beyond what is reasonable and into the totally divine. These little details are about anticipating the needs of others and claiming their needs as the heart of our work.
Last October, I was at a conference of innovative Methodist pastors and I was chatting with a pastor of a coffee shop church in Dallas. He asked about our roasters and I shared that we had a local roaster who had been with us from the start as well as offering fair trade coffee through Equal Exchange. He responded with a look of disgust and pity. He didn’t think much of Equal Exchange, to put it mildly. But that’s the difference, we are not trying to be the fanciest coffee shop in town; we are trying to be the friendliest. This drives the details of our work. I care about games and if the blinds are up so the light can come in, if the tables are clean, and if someone sings out, “welcome” when a new person enters the room. I care about whether folks are hot or cold, and if the music volume is just right. I care about folks having choices and loving what they choose or us making it again. I care that we thank people, particularly for helping us raise resources for our partners. I care that we are quick and curious about our guests. I care that they feel seen, included, and welcomed to join us again in whatever way they feel most comfortable.
God is in the details of hospitality at the coffee bar, in our events, and at the communion table. You make the details happen: when you help clean a table, when you meet someone new and share your name, when you get out more chairs, and when you share your table. The small moments matter, they make the biggest difference. I have seen Katie Kreifels spring into action to clean up a spill for another family before most of us even knew it happened, it must be her mom-senses. Peter Morris tells the story of an enormously small moment. Every time I gather folks and ask them to share about why they are a part of the Abbey, he names the simplest gesture. He was crying, deeply grieved during worship, and Susan Davies placed her hand on his shoulder, reminding him no matter what he was going through he wasn’t alone. It was powerful. It was born out of attention and it was a moment we could have easily missed. But by the grace God, we did not. Peter offers that same attentive care to folks now, it is how he shows up, ready to anticipate the needs of others. These little moments make all the difference. Loving hospitality resides in the small and the tender; it lives in the details. You make the difference in how you show up, because community is built face to face, moment by moment.
The details of everyday life matter and it is the sacred, embodied in small acts offered with great love that can seem so simple and ordinary, that we often miss them or fail to value them at all. The Devil’s not in the details; God is. And thank God for grace when we forget them. The way that we see each other and notice each other matters. The way we anticipate the needs of others in our individual lives and in our community matters. When Paul says love is patient and kind, he is asking us to be in the moment and to honor the details. To be patient with one another, perhaps in meetings, perhaps in worship, perhaps on Facebook, perhaps at our family tables or even shopping for school clothes with grandchildren. When Paul says love is not envious, boastful, arrogant, or rude; he is talking about the small moments when we put the harsh words out in the world, when we roll our eyes, when we can’t celebrate another person’s work or when we have a meeting after the meeting. But that kind of ugliness is not compatible with beauty God wove into our souls. We are called to build love into every moment, to honor each breath. May we have the courage to care for the details of the people around us and to honor the work of the world with divine care.
May we have the courage.
Amen
Reflection Questions
When has someone taken care of details for you? When have you experienced love in the details?
What details do you love to care for? What details do you struggle to care for?
What does it mean to you to care for the details of our community? Where do you see your gifts in being in tune with others and anticipating the needs of others?
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