September 4, 2007 — 1:42 PM
Hosting angels
Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16
Luke 14:1, 7-14
I love to host parties. It's an affinity I picked up from my parents - and especially from my mother. I have many fond memories of gatherings in my childhood home. It seems like there were always people coming over: Bible study groups, the youth group, friends of my parents with their children, classmates from school. If there was an occasion, it seems that my family marked it by inviting people over.
We had a big, old farm house on the edge of our tiny little town in southern Michigan - perfect for welcoming large groups of people. There always seemed to be a bounty of food and of course an interesting concoction labeled "punch". Often we would rent old "Laurel and Hardy" films from the local library to show on our living room wall. And there was always plenty of laughter and good conversation.
My parents value greatly a sense of community. And they understand that it takes effort to create that - the effort of opening the doors to one's home and inviting people in. They gladly did this time and time again - sharing what they had with those in our community. And they continue to do this still today. It is a value that is deeply ingrained in who they are as people. It is a value that they passed along to me. For that I am extremely thankful.
We, as Christians, worship a God who lives in community - a God whose very being is community: the Trinity. God, the loving parent. God, the obedient child. God, the indwelling spirit. All three give and take equally from one another in loving community. This very God created us. And God didn't create us in just any old manner. No, God created us in God's own image.
Now, there has been no shortage of discussion throughout the ages of what that phrase means, "created in God's image." One argument that I subscribe to says that at least part of what it means is to live in community as God lives in community. Living in community means loving one another, respecting one another, giving and receiving from one another.
The Pharisees in the story from the passage in Luke this morning know the importance of community. That is why they gather every sabbath for a meal together. Breaking bread together, remembering the God of their ancestors, retelling the stories of all that God has done for them. These acts bind them together as a community in a way that no other acts can. These meals give those present a small foretaste of the feast that God's coming kingdom will offer to God's people.
But Jesus, as he gathers with these Pharisee, notices that ulterior motives are sneaking into these important gatherings. And he knows that these motives actually undermine the community instead of build it up. So he calls people on their actions and encourages them to change their ways to better mirror the image of God.
In this passage from Luke, Jesus has corrective words both for the guests and for the host. Each is trying to get something for themselves instead of thinking of the greater community.
In the case of the guests, they are all trying to get the best seats in the house - the ones closest to the host. They want to show off how important they are. They are letting their pride get the better of themselves.
When Jesus sees this, he says, "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! You may be important but don't assume you are more important than other people around you. Let the host be the one to assign honor to the guests."
Pride gets in the way of building true community. It encourages people to judge others around them and to feel better about themselves. Jesus knows this and so he tells his listeners to practice humility instead of pride. Humility allows the bonds of community to be built because humility does not push the other away or put them down.
But the guests in this passage are not the only ones whom Jesus addresses. He also speaks to the host. Jesus looks around the room and notices some people missing - people who might be seen as having nothing to contribute to the community because they themselves are in need.
The absence of these people lets Jesus know that the host is more interested in getting something for himself than in building up God's community. By inviting people of means, the host is showing that he hopes that these same people will be able to later invite him into their own home or help him in some other way.
The host is not interested in sharing from God's abundant goodness with all whom he meets. Rather, the host is choosing to include only those whom he feels God has already blessed. And you can be sure he is keeping a list of who is there and he will be sure to notice if they repay him for the invitation.
These two groups are failing to meet Jesus' understanding of the ideal community of the triune God. The first is failing because they are proud instead of humble. The second is failing because he is exclusive rather than inclusive. These failings hurt rather than help to build the community that God is calling them to exhibit each sabbath day at this meal.
Can you think of times recently when you have been like these Pharisees? Times when your pride might have gotten in the way of sharing God's love with another? Times when your actions might have excluded someone rather than including them in sharing from God's abundant goodness?
I won't ask you to share out loud. But I'm guessing that each of us can think of such times in our lives. These are effects of sin in our lives pulling us away from being as God created us to be - that is, members of God's loving community.
But there is hope. The passage from Luke shows us that.
Now, you may be scratching your heads wondering if we read the same passage. Because on the face of it, Jesus' words look pretty damning. He's calling the guests on puffing themselves up and making themselves look important - maybe more important than they really are. And he's calling the host on being self-serving in his choice of who to invite to his meal.
This is all true. But Jesus is there. He didn't throw up his hands and walk away. He takes the time to offer advice on how these people can become more like how God created them to be. He thinks they can change and be the image of the triune God.
I find that incredibly hopeful.
Jesus sees the imperfections of the people around him and he offers them suggestions for how to live better lives - how to be better people within the community. And Jesus offers the same advice to us today. He does not walk away from us when we let pride or self-serving interests rule our actions. No, he offers us advice as well as his life as a model for how to be the image of the loving God who lives in perfect community.
But we can't sit back and think, "Whew! Good. We're okay. Let's grab onto that hope and rest assured that God loves us and we're all good." No, this note of hope comes with a hard challenge. Jesus tells the host that he should be inviting in those whom society tends to push out - the poor, the cripple, the lame, the blind. And the passage from Hebrews adds a few more groups to those whom society shuns: strangers, those in prison, those who are tortured.
These are the people with whom we should seek to build community. And yet, these are the people whom we often pass right by. The Hebrews passage calls the listeners to be in solidarity with these people - a solidarity that offers practical help to those in need. Because we've been offered the hope that God's forgiveness brings, we in turn are to offer that same hope to those for whom hope is often a very foreign word.
But how do we learn to do this? How can we overcome the pride and self-serving interests that so often cause us to walk the other way when we see someone in need?
We need to turn to God. Our focus should constantly be on the triune God who gives us the perfect example of what it means to live in community. Worship is an important part of our learning experience. Through worship we are able to experience the mutual love that the writer of Hebrews calls us to continue. Worship offers us an opportunity to learn more about our God who lives in community. And worship gives us opportunities to break bread together - an act that binds all who participate in a way that no other act can.
Fenton Johnson acknowledges that aspect of communion in Keeping Faith...A Skeptic's Journey Among Christian and Buddhist Monks. He says:
"Usually I receive communion. I receive in part because so few gestures remain that bind me to the stranger, that declare that our common fate, which is to be human, transcends distinctions of race or gender or sexuality or economic and social class."
We keep the communion table present in front of us during each worship service - whether we will celebrate the sacrament that day or not - to remind us that God welcomes all to this table and therefore to this community. Our liturgy for the communion service reminds us that this is God's table, not ours. God does the inviting. And isn't that reason for hope.
Through our worship and through our participation in the sacraments, we are given opportunities to experience the welcoming, healing, binding love of God. And then we are told to go and do likewise. Go to those in need. Join with them in solidarity. Invite them in, not because we think they can give us something, but because we know the forgiving love of the triune God - and that's something so good it needs to be shared.
When we truly understand the power of God's amazing love, we will be able to pray as Ann Weems does in her poem "Have Mercy on Us" from the collection Kneeling in Jerusalem. It says:
O God, from whose eyes the measure of our faith is not hidden, wrench from us now all religiosity, all rules and regulations of our scheduled selves that separate us from your Holy Spirit.
O God, who calls each of us by name to be the church, give us love enough to make a difference, give us vision enough to follow, give us endurance enough to hold steadfast in the face of the unholy.
O God, who claims us as disciples, bless us now and touch us with your holiness that we might have commitment enough to be good news to the poor.
O God of the bruised, we pray for healing. Comfort those who cry in dark corners: the lonely, the strangers, the weary, the fearful, the disappointed, the anxious, the depressed, the forsaken, the dispirited, the grieving, and those who lie in sickness and in pain.
O God who wept over Jerusalem, open our eyes to those around us who scream in silence the depth of their despair.
O God of compassion, heal our hard hearts to tenderness.
O God of the oppressed, fire us with justice that we might proclaim liberty to the captives.
O God who gave us the rainbow and parted the Red Sea, we dare to pray for miracles for the powerless.
O God of the hungry, we pray for those who have not bread. Remove, O God, the bondage of hunger by removing our shackles so that we might share our bread.
O God of the homeless, we pray for those who have no land. We pray that you will open the doors of our hearts and let your wandering people in.
O God of the captives, have mercy on those who must live out their lives enslaved to someone else because of race or politics or economics or faith. Loose our bonds that we might risk our own securities on their behalf.
O God of peace, give peace to our hearts and to our nation and to our world.
O Lamb of God, have mercy upon us!
God offers us mercy. God offers us forgiveness. And God offers us hope. And in so doing, God offers us the opportunity to do likewise. Who knows, when we open our doors and invite people in, maybe we, like Abraham of old, will host angels without even knowing it.
May God bind us together today in God's loving community of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
