Rev. Debra McKnight's Sermon
May 3, 2020
These
Easter season stories are filled with hazy, mysterious moments. Folks
can’t quite see and we having hindsight and a narrator, already know the
ending. But Easter season is filled with surprise for those who
experienced it first, Mary goes to the tomb and finds life springing up,
she goes expecting absence only to be surprised by presence. This is
the story of Easter season and the story of our faith, mystery is made
tangible, grief transformed to a new resolve and word made flesh.
I
love this encounter on the road to Emmaus. Two disciples, whom we don’t
even know, clearly not A listers like Peter, Mary, James or John but
they are faithful folks processing their grief over Jesus’ crucifixion
as they journey on the road. And the beautiful thing about this moment
is how they practice what Jesus taught them. They notice a stranger and
notice he is alone which, in this era, makes him vulnerable. They notice
the stranger and they include him, they invite him to journey in
community. It’s an ancient road trip and they have a lot to talk about. It might have been reasonable for them to just keep walking and talking,
it might have been reasonable to just keep singing the songs they like
to sing and not have to manage or care about anyone else’s needs or
negotiate potential conversation landmines (maybe its just me but road
trip invitations are usually strategically given and not very often at
random). But these folks are seasoned followers of Jesus and good at the
central practice of our faith. They not only invite the stranger to
walk with them on the road, as the day draws toward dusk, they invite
the stranger to stay with them. This is essential hospitality, ‘making
room at the inn' in a world where you can’t just find a hotel with a
vacancy sign. They invite the stranger and in a moment when he breaks
bread, suddenly they sense Christ present.
I
love this story, where they do exactly what Jesus taught them and
suddenly they sense him present in breaking bread. Jesus teaches the
disciples about hospitality again and again. He is always eating and
inviting others to the table, pushing folks to practice, practice
feeding people, practice eating with people, practice eating with people
you are not suppose to be eating with. If there is a table or a banquet
or even a chance to talk about food, Jesus is on it. Jesus feeds
everybody and he teaches his disciples they have to do the same, even
the very end of the Gospel of John has a big beach barbecue. He even
teaches them on the go, having gathered folks on a hillside he looks at
the disciples and says, feed everyone. At about that moment, Phillip, whom
I imagine as an earnest accountant of the group says, “Jesus…It would
take six months wages to feed them.” Jesus does not seem to be bothered
by the spreadsheet. Andrew finds a child with a few loaves of bread and a
few fish and suddenly Jesus teaches them, and us, when he breaks it and
shares it with the hillside (John 6). It’s not manna from heaven, it is
far more powerful, humans doing good together, offering one another nourishment and hospitality and suddenly there is more than enough.
Often
we make faith so complicated, challenging biblical languages or praying
that requires equipment like a singing bowl, but if those practices
don’t turn us toward people and the actual care of their being, it’s not
the faith Jesus was teaching and re-teaching. And just because it is
tangible doesn’t mean its easy. Hospitality is hard work. Literally, it
can be hard work and in our cultural we typically undervalue it. We tip
rather than pay a wage, literally, leaving masters of hospitality work
vulnerable and their earnings more reflective of generosity of the folks at
their tables than the quality of their work ethic. Anyone who thinks
it's easy, hasn’t done it or they forgot how hard they worked when they
learned it.
I
learned it in the McKnight School of Hospitality, from my parents and
grandparents who constantly considered how other folks would feel when
they walk in. What needed to be at the table, what would folks need as
they arrive, check this and check that, watch for this watch for that
and to be honest it often felt like…well, like nagging and not a lot of
fun. I watched my Mom set the table and plan the meal or the feast or
the open house or you name it she was on it. My Great Grandma even had a
special plate and everyone’s favorites every time they sat down. I even
went to classes through 4-H with a woman named Ms. Jackson about how
to set the table, how to prepare a meal for guests, how to invite and
include…all of it. I watched my Dad welcome folks at his Dental office,
I know not everyone feels comfortable with the Dentist and he knows
that too. That’s why he thought about how folks were welcomed, how
quickly we took care to seat them, how we chatted, how we invited them
to be mindful of a place they would rather be and worked to make every
moment as quick and painless as he could. What all of this taught me,
even if it required frequent reminders and corrections and reminders
again and correction again...which wasn’t always fun…was to pay attention
to people and that there are a thousand small details that build into
the practice of hospitality. Maybe you have had those teachers, too.
We
practice it here, the Abbey is often our lab for practicing our faith.
And it is a thousand small details that when everything is working just
right feels effortless, but its not magic and it is all effort born out
of deep care. It is warmth, it is safety, it is letting folks know we
see them, we care about them, we are glad they are here. It is in the
welcome we sing out when a guest enters the door, it is the being in
tune and noticing even the needs they don’t speak. Hospitality is about
anticipating the needs of others, being in-tune with folks beyond
ourselves. We do this when we show up in just the right moment with a
chair or catch a spill almost before it happens. We may get it right a
lot. We have some great, loving and amazing folks, but we have the
reviews to prove that we have had to learn and relearn. Folks have named
no one noticed them or the barista seemed rude or indifferent in
someway. I have reached out to people who hadn’t returned to worship in a
while and they said, “No one ever talked to me except you.” These
reviews broke my heart, we failed at our mission. But, its only failure
if we don’t learn from it.
That’s
why the longer you are here, the more I ask of you. Asking you for
chairs when we need them, asking you to serve at the counter, asking you
to connect with someone new, and when you have been here long enough, I
might just ask you to sit on the floor and welcome someone new to feel
most comfortable in worship on Easter or Christmas. This is our
laboratory for practicing our the central tenant of our faith, offering
hospitality. The newest person, the least comfortable person is always
center, it's not the person who gives the most or has been here the
longest or who has chaired the most committees that gets the best seat in
the house. Christian Hospitality is the opposite.
Hospitality
is the central practice of the Abbey and I have asked some folks what
they imagine it looks like. And it’s not like the powerful lion lounging
in indifference or the snarling beast or snapping turtle, its not
selfish like a rat. It's attentive, focused and present. When I asked
folks, most named a beloved pet dog, even a therapy dog (sorry to
the one person who named a sweet cat, most people named a cat as the
symbol of hostility or indifference). Hospitality has the curiosity of a
river otter and the shade of a gracious oak. When I think of
hospitality, I imagine it at a peaceful ninja rabbit, showing up quick,
focused, anticipating, right there with what you need..whether it's a
warm smile, a seat at the table or a great latte. Hospitality requires
this focus on others and it also requires a knowledge of self. We must
know, am I ready to offer myself to others today and prepare for the
work, knowing that it is okay to say, today I need to receive the ministry
of the Abbey. Hospitality requires resilience. It may seem simple, but
sometimes things are cooking along and humming with love. Like the great
vibe of the Farmer’s Market Saturday, people from all walks of life
with their kids or their dogs, or both and various degrees of
attentiveness and occasionally a man with a bird on his shoulder. We
connect with folks outside, often chatting with more than 400 and we
welcome people in the door and I see them, take a breath at the welcome
they experience in this door, the coffee bar is humming with service and
conversation and listening and it can be beautiful. It is the best test
of our hospitality. We delight in the staff and volunteers connecting,
chatting, making great lattes, handing out dog treats and sometimes even
registering folks to vote. It is hard work. And we are always on the
edge of something going wrong, literally, milk spills and this requires
resilience. Do we respond with let’s help, let's take care, let's clean it
up or do we respond with I can’t believe that guy spilled the milk…like,
he did it on purpose and we are so tired and we want to go home and now
we are in a bad mood and everyone…everyone is going to know it and feel
it. This work teaches resilience and that is a gift because sometimes
our resilience is called up for more than spilled milk or a guy who thinks
we aren’t Christian in the right way.
Hospitality
is hard work. We don’t always get it right but we will always try.
That’s the point of all this, that’s the practice of our faith…that
someday we become pros, or maybe semi-pros who invite others to the
table. Paul wrote to the churches he started about practicing
Hospitality. “Practice Hospitality,” he said (Romans 12:13). He said it
because it was pretty much all he had. He taught people about the life
and work of a crucified Jewish peasant…a nobody by the worlds standards
but when people experience what living that way meant, they changed
their lives. People joined him and they tasted what it meant to be in a
community where the boundaries of the world didn’t apply, no jew or
greek, slave or free, male or female. People loved it and practiced it
and Paul moved on but then sometimes folks forgot the details. This is
why he writes them letters, like a Bishop sending a pastor an email. He
reminds them that they can do better. He has to remind them of the
logistics, to wait for others and that this isn’t like a Roman Banquet
where the wealthy get the best stuff and the poor who don’t have as much
control over their schedule show up later to get the leftovers. Paul
writes again and again and it's about this practice, how a thousand tiny
details actually make a big difference.
Practice
Hospitality he said because its what Jesus did. Practice hospitality
because it is hard and beautiful and will astound you as a teacher.
Practice hospitality because it is the grounding practice of our faith
and will shape us into folks who are attentive to the needs of others.
Practice hospitality and see who shows up to break bread with you.
