Peaceful Ninja Rabbits of Hospitality

 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.