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Our Family TableSeptember 02, 2007 Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost Two weeks ago, while I was on vacation, I had the rare opportunity to share Sunday breakfast with my mom. As soon as we sat down to eat, she closed her eyes and launched into "Our Father who art in heaven hallowed be thy name..." On she went to recite the full Lord’s Prayer as I simply watched. I had forgotten about this family tradition that she continues even alone, even to this day. At other meals, there was a short blessing of thanks but on Sunday mornings when the family had more time, it was always the Lord’s Prayer followed by the blessing and then each person recited a Bible verse of their choosing. Having moved away from that practice, I was a little taken aback by it really and struggled to find an appropriate verse. I think I said, "Jesus wept." It occurred to me that the table is probably one of the most intimate places in our lives. What happens during meals shapes a large part of our existence – sometimes good and sometimes bad. Whether at home, or in a restaurant, or sitting in a park, it is there that we give ourselves to one another in a special way. We invite our friends to become part of our lives. We want them to be nurtured by the same food and drink that nurtures us. We share holy communion and, as strange as it may sound, we actually become food – nourishment – for one another. It is at the table that we learn about being a part of something larger than ourselves; a family or community is shared. For most children, it is at meals where they learn social conditioning, appropriate and inappropriate behavior: Don’t talk with your mouth full. Did you ask to be excused? What is the magic word? That’s right, please pass the salt and pepper. Did I say you could eat yet? We have not said grace for this meal. Most people probably remember the importance of being a member of the "clean plate club” or not slurping their soup, as part of their childhood. Having gathered at the home of one of the religious leaders, Jesus noticed how the guests chose to arrange their seats in places of honor. Disturbed by this, Jesus told two stories; one directed at the guest, the other at the host. To the guests he says: "When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, ‘Give this person your place’, and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” And then to the host: "When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous." There are lessons here about humility, the first being last, the last being first. About shedding preconceived notions of our own greatness, about reciprocity, etc. Jesus was hardly suggesting that we not invite our friends and family to dine with us. Or that we should not think well of ourselves. It seems that the heart of our lessons today call us to an invitation to practice hospitality. In Hebrews 13:1, the writer’s benediction says to let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it. At Christ Church, we strive to live and practice dynamic hospitality. It is one of the core values that shape our shared life, and we can see how closely it is linked to our mission statement to love God above all things and our neighbor as ourselves. And to the other core values: Worship is the core of our life; We embrace and celebrate diversity; We strive for Excellence in all that we do. When we say that we are practicing dynamic hospitality, what we are really saying is that we are committed to expanding our doors, our arms, our hearts, our lives to make room for others – most especially those we might otherwise miss, the stranger at our gate. And it is risky isn’t it? And scary. Everything in our culture says beware of strangers. And rightly so, because we live in an unsafe world fraught with terror, anger, fear, aggression and pain. The absence of love makes us leery and protective of our personal space and hearts. It is risky to make one’s self vulnerable to another not knowing whether your goodwill will be misconstrued, abused, or violated. And we can never prepare for the stranger of course, because we don’t know them. They have not journeyed with us. There are no guarantees. And it’s just not comfortable. We are tempted to think that the stranger is the boogey man over there somewhere who seeks to do us harm. But for the sake of our discussion this morning, I want to suggest that the stranger is often much closer to home. The vulnerable stranger is all of us; at some point on the outside, now on the inside. Sometimes the stranger may live in our home. We may see them everyday at work. They may even worship with us or sit in our covenant group. The stranger may even be within. The stranger is the person we find most strange. Most unlike ourselves. With whom we perceive to have the least in common. Whose personality is most alien to our own and whose habits we most dislike. But when we begin to make room for the stranger, and mind you, they may not always go along with our little plan, especially at first – but when we slide over and welcome them into our space, truly welcome them and engage them in a way that they are seen, heard, and known – with no other agenda but that they are as viable human being – something amazing happens. We receive something beyond our expectations. The gift we receive is far greater than the gift we give. And even if they pass on or relocate we are changed forever. We are better. Think about it. Not so long ago, most of us were strangers to one another. We did not know one another at all. I didn’t know you. And you didn’t know me. If we had passed on the street, it is likely that our eyes would never have met. Sitting on the bus we may have noted that we were both women but probably nothing more than that. We were strangers about as different as two people could be. Now here we are. Bound together as one family. Trying to live out something beyond ourselves. Perhaps not always agreeing or seeing eye to eye – and that’s the beauty of it really – but engaged in a process that makes room for the other’s gifts, graces, ideas, opinions. Every good relationship between two or more people, whether it is a friendship, or marriage, or in community, creates space where strangers can enter and become friends. In just a few minutes we are going to gather at the table. The host stands ready to welcome us – each of us – without distinction. We will dine on a banquet of broken body and spilled blood through which Christ enters yet again into an intimate, permanent communion with us. We will hear him say as he did to those early disciples "Take, eat; this is my Body which is given for you. Drink from this, all of you; this is my blood of the new covenant poured out for you and for many. Do this, in remembrance of me.” At the table we remember that we have already been loved first. God has chosen and loved us. He has invited and welcomed us with outstretched hands to sit and dine with him. We received his generous amazing gift of hospitality, no longer strangers but sons and daughters; sisters and brothers, forgiven, reconciled, healed, renewed. We start fresh. In turn we go forth into the world and offer that same gift of hospitality. My friends as we gather this morning, let us consider where we might find room at our family table for others. Who knows, we just might entertain Christ without knowing it. Thanks be to God! Previous sermon: The Grace to Change • Next sermon: Serving Up the Truth All past sermons |
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