Faithfulness and Hospitality
Faith was reckoned unto him as righteousness and their hospitality showed it in action.
After the Second Sunday in Lent, Year B
Showing posts with label hospitality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hospitality. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 2, 2021
Faithfulness and Hospitality
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Welcoming the Hidden Christ – Scripture Readings and Discussion Questions
Welcoming the Hidden Christ – Scripture Readings and Discussion Questions
Genesis 18:1-8 Abraham and Sarah entertain angelic
visitors
The Lord appeared to Abraham by the
oaks of Mamre, as he sat at the entrance of his tent in the heat of the day. He
looked up and saw three men standing near him. When he saw them, he ran from
the tent entrance to meet them, and bowed down to the ground. He said, “My
lord, if I find favor with you, do not pass by your servant. Let a little water
be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree. Let me
bring a little bread, that you may refresh yourselves, and after that you may
pass on—since you have come to your servant.” So they said, “Do as you have
said.” And Abraham hastened into the tent to Sarah, and said, “Make ready quickly
three measures of choice flour, knead it, and make cakes.” Abraham ran to the
herd, and took a calf, tender and good, and gave it to the servant, who
hastened to prepare it. Then he took curds and milk and the calf that he had
prepared, and set it before them; and he stood by them under the tree while
they ate.
1. What is your picture of ideal hospitality? 2. Why welcome strangers? 3. What came of this meeting? 4. What can you expect from
entertaining strangers? 5. Did
Abraham and Sarah know what they were doing, who they were entertaining? 6. Do we recognize the people we are
offering hospitality? 7. Does it
matter?
Leviticus 19:33-34 (NRSV)
When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not
oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the
citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in
the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.
Leviticus 19:33-34 (KJV)
And if a stranger sojourn with thee in your land, ye shall
not vex him. But the stranger that dwelleth with you shall be unto you as one
born among you, and thou shalt love him as thyself; for ye were strangers in
the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.
Deuteronomy 10:17-19 (NRSV)
For the Lord your God is God of gods
and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who is not partial and
takes no bribe, who executes justice for the orphan and the widow, and who
loves the strangers, providing them with food and clothing. You shall also love
the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.
1. These passages seem to be about respecting those who are
already in the country – ‘resident aliens’. How do we treat new arrivals? “new
Americans”? Do we treat temporary visitors and new citizens differently?
Why? 2. What are the definitions
of migrant, refugee, asylum seeker?
Deuteronomy 26:5-7 (NRSV)
You shall make this response before the Lord
your God: ‘A wandering Aramean was my ancestor; he went down into Egypt and
lived there as an alien, few in number, and there he became a great nation,
mighty and populous. When the Egyptians treated us harshly and afflicted us, by
imposing hard labor on us, we cried to the Lord, the God
of our ancestors; the Lord heard our voice and saw our
affliction, our toil, and our oppression.
Deuteronomy 26:5-7 (KJV)
And thou shalt speak and say before the Lord
thy God, A Syrian ready to perish was my father, and he went down into Egypt,
and sojourned there with a few, and became there a nation, great, mighty, and
populous: And the Egyptians evil entreated us, and afflicted us, and laid upon
us hard bondage: And when we cried unto the Lord God of
our fathers, the Lord heard our voice, and looked on our
affliction, and our labour, and our oppression…
1. This passage, and others, treats sojourners and aliens as
somehow similar to widows and orphans and the sick and the imprisoned, that is,
as people on the margins, but people with a special claim on our hearts. 2. How do we respond? Do our own
experiences of marginalization (as children, minorities, unemployed, etc.)
change our response?
1 Kings 17:8-16 The Widow of Zarephath shelters Elijah
Matthew 25:31-46 esp.
v.35 “I
was a stranger and you welcomed me” and
v.43 “I was a stranger and you did not welcome me”
1. The scene of final judgment before the throne of God at
the end of time is the setting of this passage. Can we imagine that? 2. Here the poor, the marginalized, and
the stranger, are identified with Christ himself (though hidden). How does this
help us confront the stranger in our own lives?
Romans 15:7
Welcome one another, therefore, just as Christ has welcomed
you, for the glory of God.
Ephesians 2:14
For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups
into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between
us.
Ephesians 2:19-20
So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are
citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon
the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the
cornerstone.
1. These passages talk about hospitality within the context
of the unity within the church between Jews and non-Jews. Are there dividing
walls in our own time that Christ breaks down?
Hebrews 13:2 (KJV)
Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some
have entertained angels unawares.
* * *
* * *
"Ya it's interesting how people don't make that
hospitality and immigration connection." — someone who works on the border
The United Nations uses “migrant” generally to refer to people
living outside their homeland for a year or more regardless of their reason or
legal status and often includes international business people or diplomats who
are on the move but not economically disadvantaged. The IOM’s World Migration
Report 2005 defines “undocumented” or “irregular migrants” as “workers or members of their
families not authorized to enter, to stay or to engage in employment in a
state” … The 1951 United Nations Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees
defines a “refugee” as one who, “owing to well-founded fear of persecution for
reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group
or political opinions, is outside the country of his nationality and is unable
or, owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail himself of the protection of that
country”… The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), … defines
“internally displaced persons” as those “who have been forced or obliged to flee
or to leave their homes or places of habitual residence, in particular as a
result of or in order to avoid the effects of armed conflict, situations of
generalized violence, violations of human rights or natural or human-made
disasters, and who have not crossed an internationally recognized State
border”…
Some
people may flee their homelands because of political persecution and fall under
the category of forced migrants or refugees, for example, but
their motivations may also stem from economic considerations and therefore the
same people can be economic migrants as well. Most migrants are motivated
by “push” factors that drive them away from their homelands and “pull” factors
that draw them to better lives in another place. [The term] “refugees”
highlights some of the most vulnerable people of the migrant population.
(Daniel G. Groody CSC, “Crossing the Divide: Foundations of a Theology of
Migration and Refugees” Theological Studies 70 (2009) 642-643 n.)
asylum-seeker:
“an individual who says he/she is a refugee, but whose claim has not yet
been definitely evaluated.”
(UNHCR)
* * *
From Coracle, the
quarterly magazine of the Iona Community (Winter 2015):
John R. Leech (USA): Recently I have observed and
participated in a variety of border and immigration ministries in southern
Arizona and northern Mexico, from hospitality (el comedor, Kino Border
Initiative, Sonora) to deportation proceedings (Special procedures court,
‘Operation Streamline’, Tucson federal courthouse), from keeping vigil at el
Tiradito shrine, remembering those who have died crossing the desert, to
training with Tucson Samaritans, and serving at the comedor with Samaritans of
Sahuarita and Green Valley.
I have spoken with members of St Michael and All Angels and
St Andrew’s Episcopal Churches in Tucson, and with volunteers of the Casa
Mariposa/Restoration Project, who have been meeting people at the Greyhound bus
station in Tucson, people recently released from detention by ICE/Border
Patrol.
This autumn the big news had two parts. First, the Tucson
bus station began receiving eighty people a night, women with children,
released with instructions to appear for a hearing within a month at an
immigration court – presumably near family already in the United States – lest
an order for removal close their case. No warning. Just dropped off.
Second, the incredible news that the Border Patrol has flown
a thousand kids from Texas to Arizona and then put them into a warehouse (I’ve
seen it from the road – it is meant for pallets of flour, not for people) in
Nogales, AZ. These are unaccompanied minors from Central America (El Salvador,
Guatemala, Honduras), refugees from violence and extreme poverty. The warehouse
serves as a temporary (promise: 72 hours) detention facility. It is on La
Quinta Road near the truck crossing into Mexico.
The ongoing need for change in policy and practice, compassionate
work for change and a deeper understanding of our fellow human beings –
exploited and caught in the middle of a gigantic and ongoing crisis – and the
need to reach out in love across boundaries: all this continues.
One thing I have been thinking about lately is that this
situation is similar to so many others in humanitarian relief and development
work: there is an immediate crisis that gets our attention – and an ongoing
problem that needs lasting sustained effort.
All of a sudden on our own southern border is an immense
influx of refugees, in two remarkable groups, women with children seeking to be
reunited with their families, and unaccompanied minors, mainly teenagers but
also younger children, who have been sent north without adults.
Preponderantly these people have come north through Mexico
from El Salvador, Guatemala and Honduras. Why? Besides a sell-job by human
smugglers, there are economic and political reasons for this migration.
People come to Arizona to work, to re-unite with their families,
or to find and begin a new chapter in their life.
We need to practice a theology of hospitality – a
spirituality of migration. We were strangers once too. So – an ongoing need is
there. The need for change – in our national policies, in our practices of
welcome, in our influence on conditions in other countries, in our attitudes
toward the ‘foreigner’ – continues.
(“Sparks of the Light”, Coracle, Winter 2014, 13-14)
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
Welcoming the Hidden Christ - reading list
Gray-Reeves, Mary, and Michael Perham. The Hospitality of God: Emerging Worship for a Missional Church. New York: Seabury Books/Church Publishing. 2011.
Morris, Clayton L. Holy Hospitality: Worship and the Baptismal Covenant. A Practical Guide for Congregations. New York: Church Publishing. 2005.
Pratt, Loni Collins, and Daniel Homan, O.S.B. Radical Hospitality: Benedict's Way of Love. Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press. 2002.
Smith, Gary, S.J. Radical Compassion: Finding Christ in the Heart of the Poor. Chicago: Jesuit Way/Loyola Press. 2002.
Spellers, Stephanie. Radical Welcome: Embracing God, The Other, and the Spirit of Transformation. New York: Church Publishing. 2006.
Morris, Clayton L. Holy Hospitality: Worship and the Baptismal Covenant. A Practical Guide for Congregations. New York: Church Publishing. 2005.
Pratt, Loni Collins, and Daniel Homan, O.S.B. Radical Hospitality: Benedict's Way of Love. Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press. 2002.
Smith, Gary, S.J. Radical Compassion: Finding Christ in the Heart of the Poor. Chicago: Jesuit Way/Loyola Press. 2002.
Spellers, Stephanie. Radical Welcome: Embracing God, The Other, and the Spirit of Transformation. New York: Church Publishing. 2006.
Friday, November 6, 2015
Ruth and Facebook
My sermon this Sunday begins on Facebook:
The story of Ruth that we read today is a lot like a Hallmark Channel movie - at first glance. A capable woman meets a righteous man, marries him, settles down, and they have a child. Grandma is happy.
And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God:
Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.
When they arrive it is early spring. The barley harvest is beginning. It's the first sign of hope, as episode one closes.
Ruth with permission from her mother-in-law becomes a gleaner, one of the poor ones following the harvesters as they reap the grain. And she is seen. The owner of the field approaches, speaks his appreciation of all she has done. She has taken care of her mother-in-law, leaving all her other support behind her. He blesses her for seeking protection under the wings of God.
The man, Boaz, sees that Ruth has placed her total trust in God. He praises that. And he looks after her that day and sees that she does not go home empty-handed. Naomi is glad to hear how the day went for Ruth and indeed notices that the owner of the field was none other than her own close relative. A hopeful ending to episode two.
Episode three begins some weeks later as the harvest season is coming to a close. Naomi, now in much better spirits, has come up with an idea. And so Ruth seeks out Boaz - and the upshot is here in today's reading. She seeks shelter under his wing - for life. And in episode four, we get the happy ending. Ruth and Boaz marry, and Naomi gets a grandchild.
News Feed
733 pm during World Series game nov1 first xmas related commercial aaagh
Diane Hallmark
channel started showing 24-7 holiday movies a few days ago. Last year,
I think they ran into January. Do you have any idea how many really
bad holiday movies there are? Yikes!
John Leech The hallmark movie plot : she finally meets the right man. Grandma is happy.
John Leech The hallmark Christmas movie plot: she finally meets the right man, just in time for Christmas. Grandma is very happy.
Diane Got it in one, unless it's the equal opportunity version where the guy is looking for the right woman! LOL
The story of Ruth that we read today is a lot like a Hallmark Channel movie - at first glance. A capable woman meets a righteous man, marries him, settles down, and they have a child. Grandma is happy.
But the story did not start that way. The four-episode story of Ruth begins with a much graver situation than you'll find in any Hallmark movie.
As the story begins a woman leaves her hometown of Bethlehem - where there is no bread: it's a time of famine - and travels with her husband and her two sons across a couple of boundaries. They cross the valley of the Jordan to an unlikely place, the unfriended land of Moab. But there is food there. And her sons find wives. But her husband dies and after ten years her sons die as well. She is left, in that ancient patriarchal culture, without male support. Husbands and sons were the security for women. Without them the woman - the women - fall to the bottom of society.
The woman hears that the famine is over in her homeland, and so she makes plans to return. Her daughters-in-law accompany her part of the way but she discourages them. She has no husband and no prospect of sons. She cannot hold out hope to them that, in-laws as they are - but now to become foreigners in a strange land - they would find any comfort there.
Orpah goes back. Fair enough. Ruth surprises her mother-in-law and vows to continue with her, to stay in relationship with her, and indeed to adopt her homeland and her family - and her God - as her own. So forsaking all others she goes with the older widow on her journey.
And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God:
Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.
When they arrive it is early spring. The barley harvest is beginning. It's the first sign of hope, as episode one closes.
In episode two, the women of Bethlehem welcome home their relative, Naomi. But Naomi is bitter at this point and sees no happy way out of her circumstance. Bereft of husband and sons, and prospect of a child, she has little left. Except Ruth.
Ruth with permission from her mother-in-law becomes a gleaner, one of the poor ones following the harvesters as they reap the grain. And she is seen. The owner of the field approaches, speaks his appreciation of all she has done. She has taken care of her mother-in-law, leaving all her other support behind her. He blesses her for seeking protection under the wings of God.
The Lord recompense thy work, and a full reward be given thee of the Lord God of Israel, under whose wings thou art come to trust.
The man, Boaz, sees that Ruth has placed her total trust in God. He praises that. And he looks after her that day and sees that she does not go home empty-handed. Naomi is glad to hear how the day went for Ruth and indeed notices that the owner of the field was none other than her own close relative. A hopeful ending to episode two.
Episode three begins some weeks later as the harvest season is coming to a close. Naomi, now in much better spirits, has come up with an idea. And so Ruth seeks out Boaz - and the upshot is here in today's reading. She seeks shelter under his wing - for life. And in episode four, we get the happy ending. Ruth and Boaz marry, and Naomi gets a grandchild.
But remember where we started and see the story as a whole. The book began with six characters, three men and three women, only two of whom survive to the second chapter. From exile the older woman returns to her own land, and with her comes a woman who is seeking safety, shelter, and a new home in a place she has never been before. God bless you, says a new friend, for what you have done. And the story turns away from famine, scarcity, and sorrow to abundance, fullness, and joy.
That is the story of Ruth - an immigrant and a widow - who found a welcome in the household of God, among the people of God in a place she had never known, that now she would make her home.
Questions I am asked and challenged by:
What do you do to make a home of a place you have never been before? And what do you do to make your place a home for the alien, the widow, the stranger, and those seeking a new life in a place they have never been before?
Ten or eleven years ago at the bishop's conference on the border (organized by Tom Buechele) some one asked if there were any Bible passages about borders and migration. Three came to mind, right away:
"My father was a wandering Aramean,..." or, as the King James has it, "A Syrian ready to perish was my father,..." (Dt 26.5) This is the story of how Jacob, patriarch of the Hebrew people, migrated to a foreign land in a time of famine.
"You were strangers once in Egypt...." (Dt 10.19) "Love ye therefore the stranger: for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt."
This is an admonishment to the people of Israel to extend hospitality to foreigners. And even, at Passover, to welcome them into their homes for the family dinner on an equal footing with themselves.
And the kicker:
"I was a stranger and you welcomed me." (Mt 25.35) Jesus at the final gathering of all peoples responds with welcome to those who have been welcoming...
When I first came to southern Arizona eleven years ago I had to find ways to make it home. One advantage I had was a bit of history of my own from long ago: my grandfather was a forest ranger in the Arizona territory before the first world war. And my future parents-in-law met at the University of Arizona. But family connections are not enough. I had to get to know the place, the land, the fauna and flora. And I had to get to know the story of Arizona, the stories of the people who live here.
Those stories are many, and carry on. Among them are many stories of people who have come to Arizona for work, for family, or to start a new and better life. There are people who have fled war, civil strife, or natural disaster. Famine. And there are those who find here a fresh start in a place of abundance. They are welcomed. There are some who are greeted with an attitude of scarcity, of not sharing. (Where I once lived in another state, we called this "closing the door behind you" as all of us had been immigrants not long since.)
The story of Ruth - of Naomi and Boaz and the people of Bethlehem - gives us hope. It gives us a story of welcome and hospitality. It gives us in quiet ways a story of how God can work with what we have - even if it is only two women who stick together in hard times - and make a new thing begin.
How do we make something bloom in the desert? How do we make ourselves at home in a new time or a new place? How do we begin to welcome home those who have been long away? Or those who have never been under our roof before?
And how do we celebrate the welcome of God to all of us as God welcomes us into his house, his hospitality, and we find shelter under his wings?
8 November 2015
Twenty Fourth Sunday after Pentecost
Proper 27
Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17
Psalm 127
Hebrews 9:24-28
Mark 12:38-44
Notes for a sermon given at St. John's Episcopal Church, Bisbee, Arizona. JRL+
"You were strangers once in Egypt...." (Dt 10.19) "Love ye therefore the stranger: for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt."
This is an admonishment to the people of Israel to extend hospitality to foreigners. And even, at Passover, to welcome them into their homes for the family dinner on an equal footing with themselves.
And the kicker:
"I was a stranger and you welcomed me." (Mt 25.35) Jesus at the final gathering of all peoples responds with welcome to those who have been welcoming...
When I first came to southern Arizona eleven years ago I had to find ways to make it home. One advantage I had was a bit of history of my own from long ago: my grandfather was a forest ranger in the Arizona territory before the first world war. And my future parents-in-law met at the University of Arizona. But family connections are not enough. I had to get to know the place, the land, the fauna and flora. And I had to get to know the story of Arizona, the stories of the people who live here.
Those stories are many, and carry on. Among them are many stories of people who have come to Arizona for work, for family, or to start a new and better life. There are people who have fled war, civil strife, or natural disaster. Famine. And there are those who find here a fresh start in a place of abundance. They are welcomed. There are some who are greeted with an attitude of scarcity, of not sharing. (Where I once lived in another state, we called this "closing the door behind you" as all of us had been immigrants not long since.)
The story of Ruth - of Naomi and Boaz and the people of Bethlehem - gives us hope. It gives us a story of welcome and hospitality. It gives us in quiet ways a story of how God can work with what we have - even if it is only two women who stick together in hard times - and make a new thing begin.
How do we make something bloom in the desert? How do we make ourselves at home in a new time or a new place? How do we begin to welcome home those who have been long away? Or those who have never been under our roof before?
And how do we celebrate the welcome of God to all of us as God welcomes us into his house, his hospitality, and we find shelter under his wings?
8 November 2015
Twenty Fourth Sunday after Pentecost
Proper 27
Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17
Psalm 127
Hebrews 9:24-28
Mark 12:38-44
Notes for a sermon given at St. John's Episcopal Church, Bisbee, Arizona. JRL+
Thursday, September 18, 2014
everybody welcome
A day's wage ... how does that relate to hospitality?
A landowner recruits some day laborers. He goes down to the marketplace - or the Shell station. There are people standing around, hoping someone will hire them that day, give them a chance to get their daily bread.
Give us this day our daily bread...
So the landowner takes whom he can find and sends them out to work in the vineyard.
It is a hot day, we are told; perhaps they are in Sonoma - or Arizona.
In the heat of the day - here in America - workers get a lunch break. They take it in the shade of the trees by the side of the road. You see them on the way to the tasting room.
How did they get here? Today - you know. This season - perhaps they live here, perhaps they have green cards, perhaps they "entered the United States by a legal point of entry."
Perhaps they are among the one-third of vineyard workers who have no papers to show.
But they come and work, anyway.
Are they welcome?
The wine industry, one vineyard owner told me, would collapse without them.
A long time ago there was a harvest in another field. It was the barley harvest and the landowner was Boaz. It was his family farm - near Bethlehem.
He saw someone out in his field, following his work crew, picking up the grains that had fallen, that they'd missed.
- Who is that gleaning in the field?
- It is a stranger, a foreigner, who walked across the desert, for several days, from the mountains of that other country.
She is here, a widow, destitute.
- She came alone?
- No, she came with her mother-in-law, to look after her. Naomi.
- Naomi. My cousin.
We are all cousins here, Steven Talmadge the Lutheran bishop said. All of us here along the Borderlands. And in Tucson sometimes you feel that's true. We are all related - to the land, to each other, to our common situation.
Sometimes we are the stranger, welcomed or not. And sometimes we are the host.
Boaz put down his hoe, ran his hand across his forehead, and thought a minute.
- Let her glean - among the sheaves ... even pull out some grain for her. And let no one bother her - tell the men that.
Later he saw her, and said,
- I have heard about you, about all you have done for your mother-in-law, since you left your own country and came here to a land you did not know. You sought shelter under the wings of Yahweh. Bless you!
I was a stranger ... did you welcome me?
A stranger comes to town, a man goes on a journey: two stories - the only two, some say - but they are really one.
Once some years ago I went to call on Cele Peterson in her store. She said she only had twenty minutes as she was expecting a visitor. In the time we had she said of the border, "We've got to stop doing this" - and she held her hands palms-out as if fending off a stranger - "and starting doing this" - and she faced her hands towards each other and interlaced the fingers. And then I opened the door to Gabby.
You shall also love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.
For the Lord your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who is not partial and takes no bribe, who executes justice for the orphan and the widow, and who loves the strangers, providing them with food and clothing .... You shall fear the Lord your God; him alone you shall worship; to him you shall hold fast, and by his name you shall swear.
(Deuteronomy 10:19, 17-18, 20)
In Scotland, in Duddingston Village, I was the guest - and invited to a Queen's Jubilee wine-and-cheese party. (We were about a mile from Holyroodhouse and she was in residence.) There in the garden someone introduced me and someone identified me ... Oh, you're the foreigner ... strange feeling.
When the priest takes your offering, you shall make this response before the Lord your God:
"A wandering Aramean was my ancestor; he went down into Egypt and lived there..." (Deuteronomy 26:5)
I was a stranger and...
... you welcomed me.
... you did not welcome me.
(Matthew 25:35, 43)
Who are we welcoming? By the oaks of Mamre Sarah and Abraham pitched their tent. In the heat of the day three strangers approached. Come stay with us. Let us prepare you something to eat. Here, let me wash your feet. You must be tired...
When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides among you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt; I am the Lord your God.
Over and over in the Old Testament we hear stories of hospitality, of welcome to strangers; Lot, in Genesis 19; the father of Gideon, in Judges 6; the father of Samson in Judges 13. Like the father of Isaac (to be) they welcome strangers...
Who are we welcoming?
In the story of Abraham and Sarah and the three men at the oaks of Mamre, what do we see as the ideal of hospitality?
In the story of Ruth, who is the stranger?
What does the story of the vineyard tell us about the abundance of God?
In a time of harvest plenty, or of famine, what is fair? just? generous?
What do these stories tell us about fear, hope, longing, joy?
What do they tell us about home?
Come down, Zacchaeus, for tonight I must stay at your house.
"God of unfailing generosity, making no distinctions of wealth or ability, root out from us the spirit of envy and greed, and transform our bitterness into an open-hearted welcome of those we are tempted to despise. We pray this after the pattern of Jesus and in the power of the Spirit." -- collect prayed at the Come and See service, St Philip's in the Hills, Tucson, 4pm Sunday 21 September 2014. (from Jim Cotter, http://cottercairns.co.uk)
These are notes for a leading a reflection on the gospel on Sunday 21 September 2014 at the 4pm Come and See service at St Philip's in the Hills, an Episcopal Church in Tucson, Arizona. JRL+
A landowner recruits some day laborers. He goes down to the marketplace - or the Shell station. There are people standing around, hoping someone will hire them that day, give them a chance to get their daily bread.
Give us this day our daily bread...
So the landowner takes whom he can find and sends them out to work in the vineyard.
It is a hot day, we are told; perhaps they are in Sonoma - or Arizona.
In the heat of the day - here in America - workers get a lunch break. They take it in the shade of the trees by the side of the road. You see them on the way to the tasting room.
How did they get here? Today - you know. This season - perhaps they live here, perhaps they have green cards, perhaps they "entered the United States by a legal point of entry."
Perhaps they are among the one-third of vineyard workers who have no papers to show.
But they come and work, anyway.
Are they welcome?
The wine industry, one vineyard owner told me, would collapse without them.
A long time ago there was a harvest in another field. It was the barley harvest and the landowner was Boaz. It was his family farm - near Bethlehem.
He saw someone out in his field, following his work crew, picking up the grains that had fallen, that they'd missed.
- Who is that gleaning in the field?
- It is a stranger, a foreigner, who walked across the desert, for several days, from the mountains of that other country.
She is here, a widow, destitute.
- She came alone?
- No, she came with her mother-in-law, to look after her. Naomi.
- Naomi. My cousin.
We are all cousins here, Steven Talmadge the Lutheran bishop said. All of us here along the Borderlands. And in Tucson sometimes you feel that's true. We are all related - to the land, to each other, to our common situation.
Sometimes we are the stranger, welcomed or not. And sometimes we are the host.
Boaz put down his hoe, ran his hand across his forehead, and thought a minute.
- Let her glean - among the sheaves ... even pull out some grain for her. And let no one bother her - tell the men that.
Later he saw her, and said,
- I have heard about you, about all you have done for your mother-in-law, since you left your own country and came here to a land you did not know. You sought shelter under the wings of Yahweh. Bless you!
I was a stranger ... did you welcome me?
A stranger comes to town, a man goes on a journey: two stories - the only two, some say - but they are really one.
Once some years ago I went to call on Cele Peterson in her store. She said she only had twenty minutes as she was expecting a visitor. In the time we had she said of the border, "We've got to stop doing this" - and she held her hands palms-out as if fending off a stranger - "and starting doing this" - and she faced her hands towards each other and interlaced the fingers. And then I opened the door to Gabby.
You shall also love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.
For the Lord your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who is not partial and takes no bribe, who executes justice for the orphan and the widow, and who loves the strangers, providing them with food and clothing .... You shall fear the Lord your God; him alone you shall worship; to him you shall hold fast, and by his name you shall swear.
(Deuteronomy 10:19, 17-18, 20)
In Scotland, in Duddingston Village, I was the guest - and invited to a Queen's Jubilee wine-and-cheese party. (We were about a mile from Holyroodhouse and she was in residence.) There in the garden someone introduced me and someone identified me ... Oh, you're the foreigner ... strange feeling.
When the priest takes your offering, you shall make this response before the Lord your God:
"A wandering Aramean was my ancestor; he went down into Egypt and lived there..." (Deuteronomy 26:5)
I was a stranger and...
... you welcomed me.
... you did not welcome me.
(Matthew 25:35, 43)
Who are we welcoming? By the oaks of Mamre Sarah and Abraham pitched their tent. In the heat of the day three strangers approached. Come stay with us. Let us prepare you something to eat. Here, let me wash your feet. You must be tired...
When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides among you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt; I am the Lord your God.
Over and over in the Old Testament we hear stories of hospitality, of welcome to strangers; Lot, in Genesis 19; the father of Gideon, in Judges 6; the father of Samson in Judges 13. Like the father of Isaac (to be) they welcome strangers...
Who are we welcoming?
In the story of Abraham and Sarah and the three men at the oaks of Mamre, what do we see as the ideal of hospitality?
In the story of Ruth, who is the stranger?
What does the story of the vineyard tell us about the abundance of God?
In a time of harvest plenty, or of famine, what is fair? just? generous?
What do these stories tell us about fear, hope, longing, joy?
What do they tell us about home?
Come down, Zacchaeus, for tonight I must stay at your house.
"God of unfailing generosity, making no distinctions of wealth or ability, root out from us the spirit of envy and greed, and transform our bitterness into an open-hearted welcome of those we are tempted to despise. We pray this after the pattern of Jesus and in the power of the Spirit." -- collect prayed at the Come and See service, St Philip's in the Hills, Tucson, 4pm Sunday 21 September 2014. (from Jim Cotter, http://cottercairns.co.uk)
These are notes for a leading a reflection on the gospel on Sunday 21 September 2014 at the 4pm Come and See service at St Philip's in the Hills, an Episcopal Church in Tucson, Arizona. JRL+
Sunday, June 19, 2011
3 strangers
Three strangers came to the tent. Abraham and Sarah had journeyed far – from northern Iraq, across Syria and down through Canaan and on into Egypt (where they had many adventures) and then back to Canaan.
Here they were: their flocks and herds around them. They pitched their tent under the oak trees. Strangers came – and were welcomed.
Stay with us Lord and rest your feet. Sit in the shade under this tree. Let me bring you something to drink. Quick! Prepare a meal, a fine feast
The guests, receiving hospitality, now offer their hosts a gift: a promise of a future with hope. You will have a son.
Sarah cannot believe it – she laughs to herself behind the flap of the tent – and she is afraid when they catch her out: “O but you did laugh.”
When the promise comes true, how does she feel?
It was a happy meeting. They name the child Isaac (Laughter).
Remembering and celebrating a promise fulfilled, the beginning of a hopeful future – with descendants that would outnumber the stars – all God’s doing – but God can raise up sons to Abraham from these stones.
It was faith that singled Abraham out. In faith he received the promise – and his true legacy is faith.
His true descendants and heirs are those who are heirs through hope – of the promise of God – and that hope is found in Jesus Christ.
It is through him, through Christ, that the basis of faith, of hope, and of love is revealed.
The gospel from Matthew today is the conclusion of his last chapter, a chapter that began with women going to the tomb of Jesus about the break of day.
“He has been raised,” they were told, “from the dead and is going on before you into Galilee; there you will see him.” They got the message and spread the news.
And the disciples did go to Galilee – they made their way to a mountain and Jesus met them there. They greet him, believers and doubters alike, shoulder to shoulder; they greet him as the holy one of God: they worship him. And now in a few quick words the risen Lord Jesus say so much.
“All authority has been given me on heaven and on earth.” He is the only Son of the Father, the one true living God who created all things. There is no other.
And this Jesus, now risen Lord, has a message for his disciples. A big task lies ahead. His earthly mission has ended.
The mission of the church now begins. So – he commissions them, and he empowers them.
He sends them forth to build his church, to proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God, and to bring its reality into the midst of the earth and all its peoples.
“Make all people my disciples; baptize them everywhere in the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit; teach them to do all I have commanded you to do.”
As you have learned from me so go and teach. As I have made you disciples, disciple them. From here on the legacy now passes from one to another, from generation to generation. What I have given you – all that you have received, you must now pass on.
You will not be alone. For Emmanuel, God-with-us, says: I am with you always, to the end of the age.
Past, present, and future come together in this moment at the foundation of the Church.
On this mountain Jesus brings forth something beyond what Moses received on Sinai. He brings forth the living presence of God to accompany his messengers throughout the earth.
Worship, go, evangelize – and remember. Remember the promise given to Abraham and Sarah. Remember that their true descendants are the people of faith.
And remember Alban’s testimony to the one true living God who created all things.
Alban was living in a Roman town north of London when he found faith – or it found him. It came to his door in the person of a priest, fugitive in a time of persecution.
He sheltered the priest, welcomed him, gave him hospitality and safety, learned from him about ‘the one true living God who made all things’, and came to believe – so that he stood in the place of the priest and gave his life.
Hospitality, courage, and faith.
For his witness, for his faithfulness, he was executed, and won a crown in glory.
His faith we count as righteousness. It was his steadfast trust and witness that brought home to the people of the town the truth of the faith of the one true God.
What Alban did, living in his place in his time, was create a legacy of lasting witness.
People go there still, to the place where he was martyred, on pilgrimage, to the place so many now have gone before, where Alban simply stood the test of faith.
We may not be called to die by the sword but we may be called to simple witness to the truth of Christ, the promise of God, the faithful future, as heirs of hope that we like sons of Abraham may be raised up, may growth as heirs of hope and forebears of faith.
Courage, compassion, generosity, and hospitality – these gifts of faith are Alban’s legacy.
Fearless in the face of danger, Alban would not give up his faith. He testified to God’s truth.
Courage, compassion, and generosity; hospitality, bold truth telling, and unswerving faith, Alban in simple words led the way, a way so many pilgrims follow.
He followed the way of Christ through the Cross to Resurrection, through acceptance of Jesus’ gift on their behalf – and yes, its necessity – to a new life, a new way of living.
His allegiance was no longer to the gods of Rome, the gods of empire, the gods of greed, wealth, envy, instant gratification, the flash beauty of surface appearance, power, or hate.
Jesus calls all people to himself through all his people
All authority on earth and in heaven has been given to me; go – spread the good news.
Spread it to all nations and all generations – let this be your legacy, the living truth of the living God. He is Lord indeed.
O God, our Father, who gave to your servant Alban the gifts of faith, hospitality, compassion, generosity and courage, and sent people forth across the world to carry the word of your gospel to every creature, grant, we pray, a like spirit to your church, even at this present time. Further in all things the purpose of our community, that hidden things may be revealed to us, and new ways found to touch the hearts of all. May we preserve with each other sincere charity and peace, and, if it be your holy will, grant that this church, a place of your abiding, continue still to be a sanctuary and a light. Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
+
Here they were: their flocks and herds around them. They pitched their tent under the oak trees. Strangers came – and were welcomed.
Stay with us Lord and rest your feet. Sit in the shade under this tree. Let me bring you something to drink. Quick! Prepare a meal, a fine feast
The guests, receiving hospitality, now offer their hosts a gift: a promise of a future with hope. You will have a son.
Sarah cannot believe it – she laughs to herself behind the flap of the tent – and she is afraid when they catch her out: “O but you did laugh.”
When the promise comes true, how does she feel?
It was a happy meeting. They name the child Isaac (Laughter).
Remembering and celebrating a promise fulfilled, the beginning of a hopeful future – with descendants that would outnumber the stars – all God’s doing – but God can raise up sons to Abraham from these stones.
It was faith that singled Abraham out. In faith he received the promise – and his true legacy is faith.
His true descendants and heirs are those who are heirs through hope – of the promise of God – and that hope is found in Jesus Christ.
It is through him, through Christ, that the basis of faith, of hope, and of love is revealed.
The gospel from Matthew today is the conclusion of his last chapter, a chapter that began with women going to the tomb of Jesus about the break of day.
“He has been raised,” they were told, “from the dead and is going on before you into Galilee; there you will see him.” They got the message and spread the news.
And the disciples did go to Galilee – they made their way to a mountain and Jesus met them there. They greet him, believers and doubters alike, shoulder to shoulder; they greet him as the holy one of God: they worship him. And now in a few quick words the risen Lord Jesus say so much.
“All authority has been given me on heaven and on earth.” He is the only Son of the Father, the one true living God who created all things. There is no other.
And this Jesus, now risen Lord, has a message for his disciples. A big task lies ahead. His earthly mission has ended.
The mission of the church now begins. So – he commissions them, and he empowers them.
He sends them forth to build his church, to proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God, and to bring its reality into the midst of the earth and all its peoples.
“Make all people my disciples; baptize them everywhere in the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit; teach them to do all I have commanded you to do.”
As you have learned from me so go and teach. As I have made you disciples, disciple them. From here on the legacy now passes from one to another, from generation to generation. What I have given you – all that you have received, you must now pass on.
You will not be alone. For Emmanuel, God-with-us, says: I am with you always, to the end of the age.
Past, present, and future come together in this moment at the foundation of the Church.
On this mountain Jesus brings forth something beyond what Moses received on Sinai. He brings forth the living presence of God to accompany his messengers throughout the earth.
Worship, go, evangelize – and remember. Remember the promise given to Abraham and Sarah. Remember that their true descendants are the people of faith.
And remember Alban’s testimony to the one true living God who created all things.
Alban was living in a Roman town north of London when he found faith – or it found him. It came to his door in the person of a priest, fugitive in a time of persecution.
He sheltered the priest, welcomed him, gave him hospitality and safety, learned from him about ‘the one true living God who made all things’, and came to believe – so that he stood in the place of the priest and gave his life.
Hospitality, courage, and faith.
For his witness, for his faithfulness, he was executed, and won a crown in glory.
His faith we count as righteousness. It was his steadfast trust and witness that brought home to the people of the town the truth of the faith of the one true God.
What Alban did, living in his place in his time, was create a legacy of lasting witness.
People go there still, to the place where he was martyred, on pilgrimage, to the place so many now have gone before, where Alban simply stood the test of faith.
We may not be called to die by the sword but we may be called to simple witness to the truth of Christ, the promise of God, the faithful future, as heirs of hope that we like sons of Abraham may be raised up, may growth as heirs of hope and forebears of faith.
Courage, compassion, generosity, and hospitality – these gifts of faith are Alban’s legacy.
Fearless in the face of danger, Alban would not give up his faith. He testified to God’s truth.
Courage, compassion, and generosity; hospitality, bold truth telling, and unswerving faith, Alban in simple words led the way, a way so many pilgrims follow.
He followed the way of Christ through the Cross to Resurrection, through acceptance of Jesus’ gift on their behalf – and yes, its necessity – to a new life, a new way of living.
His allegiance was no longer to the gods of Rome, the gods of empire, the gods of greed, wealth, envy, instant gratification, the flash beauty of surface appearance, power, or hate.
Jesus calls all people to himself through all his people
All authority on earth and in heaven has been given to me; go – spread the good news.
Spread it to all nations and all generations – let this be your legacy, the living truth of the living God. He is Lord indeed.
O God, our Father, who gave to your servant Alban the gifts of faith, hospitality, compassion, generosity and courage, and sent people forth across the world to carry the word of your gospel to every creature, grant, we pray, a like spirit to your church, even at this present time. Further in all things the purpose of our community, that hidden things may be revealed to us, and new ways found to touch the hearts of all. May we preserve with each other sincere charity and peace, and, if it be your holy will, grant that this church, a place of your abiding, continue still to be a sanctuary and a light. Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
+
Sunday, October 3, 2010
This is God's House
Be welcome to this house
Whosoever you are -
Whether of the household
Or of another way,
Or wanderers or deserters,
Be welcome here.
But you who are of the household
Pray for us now,
For us and for all sinners,
Here or departed;
That mercy draw us all
One little pace
Nearer to love's unveiled
And dazzling face.
Collected by Keith and Lee Oles at the Church of St Mary the Virgin, Saffron Waldon, Suffolk.
+
Whosoever you are -
Whether of the household
Or of another way,
Or wanderers or deserters,
Be welcome here.
But you who are of the household
Pray for us now,
For us and for all sinners,
Here or departed;
That mercy draw us all
One little pace
Nearer to love's unveiled
And dazzling face.
Collected by Keith and Lee Oles at the Church of St Mary the Virgin, Saffron Waldon, Suffolk.
+
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
God is able to provide you with every blessing in abundance
"God is able to provide you with every blessing in abundance,
so that by always having enough of everything,
you may share abundantly in every good work."
(2 Corinthians 9:8)
Dear friends in Christ:
"Happy Fall!" someone said to me the other day. Autumnal equinox was just hours in the past, and the weather sure had changed. We faced a gray cool day of soft rain.
My neighbor had greeted me with humor: and a sense of what was happening. At this time of year we see seasons change. It's harvest time, in orchard and vineyard, field and garden. We celebrate that. We give thanks and share God's abundance. It's a new year in schools and colleges. We celebrate that.
We look forward with anticipation as new things begin, even as the year's pace quicken, leaves turn, and the air is fresh and cool.
Creation celebrates a change of season - and so does the church. At this time of year, particularly, we gather to give thanks and share God's abundance. We give thanks for God's abundance shown in the harvest and in our own lives. We celebrate with hospitality and welcome the gift of each other, friend and stranger. We share God's abundance in joy, showing in our lives the gratefulness we feel in our hearts for all that God gives. For all we have, we receive from God; when we give, we give of his own.
This year our stewardship team invites us to rejoice and give thanks: God’s Promise is Abundance. When we present our offerings in the Holy Eucharist, we are celebrating God's abundant grace and responding in generous thanksgiving.
There is a Native American word, skookum - which means good, special, best, and gives us an image of bountiful goodness. That is what God gives to us: bountiful goodness. And that is what we return to God: a gift of the best of ourselves.
When we give, we offer a sense of hope in the future, an affirmation of continuing relationship with Christ's Church and a forward-looking faith in a generous God. Please consider prayerfully what God is calling you to share from the abundance that he has given you. What we call a 'pledge' is no more than this: an offering of intention. Your pledge helps us in planning for the future.
In all things we turn to God, knowing that what we give and what we have and what we will someday see, comes from God.
On Sunday, November 7, we will offer all our pledges on the altar in thanks giving for God’s many blessings. [Please return the enclosed card in the envelope provided, by mail or in Sunday's collection.]*
May God bless you in this season of harvest and thanks giving, and in the coming year.
Gratefully,
Fr. John
October 2010
St. Alban's Episcopal Church, 21405 82nd Place West, Edmonds, Washington 98026
_____________
*Stewardship team reports that ..."all the Stewardship Letters and Pledge Cards went to the Post Office this morning." (Wednesday, October 6, 2010)
+
so that by always having enough of everything,
you may share abundantly in every good work."
(2 Corinthians 9:8)
Dear friends in Christ:
"Happy Fall!" someone said to me the other day. Autumnal equinox was just hours in the past, and the weather sure had changed. We faced a gray cool day of soft rain.
My neighbor had greeted me with humor: and a sense of what was happening. At this time of year we see seasons change. It's harvest time, in orchard and vineyard, field and garden. We celebrate that. We give thanks and share God's abundance. It's a new year in schools and colleges. We celebrate that.
We look forward with anticipation as new things begin, even as the year's pace quicken, leaves turn, and the air is fresh and cool.
Creation celebrates a change of season - and so does the church. At this time of year, particularly, we gather to give thanks and share God's abundance. We give thanks for God's abundance shown in the harvest and in our own lives. We celebrate with hospitality and welcome the gift of each other, friend and stranger. We share God's abundance in joy, showing in our lives the gratefulness we feel in our hearts for all that God gives. For all we have, we receive from God; when we give, we give of his own.
This year our stewardship team invites us to rejoice and give thanks: God’s Promise is Abundance. When we present our offerings in the Holy Eucharist, we are celebrating God's abundant grace and responding in generous thanksgiving.
There is a Native American word, skookum - which means good, special, best, and gives us an image of bountiful goodness. That is what God gives to us: bountiful goodness. And that is what we return to God: a gift of the best of ourselves.
When we give, we offer a sense of hope in the future, an affirmation of continuing relationship with Christ's Church and a forward-looking faith in a generous God. Please consider prayerfully what God is calling you to share from the abundance that he has given you. What we call a 'pledge' is no more than this: an offering of intention. Your pledge helps us in planning for the future.
In all things we turn to God, knowing that what we give and what we have and what we will someday see, comes from God.
On Sunday, November 7, we will offer all our pledges on the altar in thanks giving for God’s many blessings. [Please return the enclosed card in the envelope provided, by mail or in Sunday's collection.]*
May God bless you in this season of harvest and thanks giving, and in the coming year.
Gratefully,
Fr. John
October 2010
St. Alban's Episcopal Church, 21405 82nd Place West, Edmonds, Washington 98026
_____________
*Stewardship team reports that ..."all the Stewardship Letters and Pledge Cards went to the Post Office this morning." (Wednesday, October 6, 2010)
+
Sunday, July 18, 2010
hospitality and...
One of the people I met this past two weeks, at advanced pastoral studies course in worship at the San Francisco Theological Seminary in San Anselmo, was Pachomius (c. 290-346), an Egyptian of pagan parenthood, possibly a veteran soldier, who became the founder of cenobitic monasticism.
There was once a man named Pachomius, a good and brave man, who had always looked out after the people he loved, his parents, his friends, his unit in the wars, his country.
But he found himself in prison - and there he knew he would rot. For in those pagan days of the Roman Empire, in prison you were not visited, if hungry you were not fed; you were on your own. And you would rot, and you would starve, and you would die.
Pachomius knew what was going to happen.
But then a strange group of people arrived in the prison. They were singing, songs of praise, to 'Christus' - apparently their god.
And they went around, visiting the sick, binding up the wounds of the injured, feeding the hungry, bringing clothing to the exposed - and not to their friends only, but to everybody, new or old, friend or stranger. Everybody was welcome.
And they stayed and they came back and they kept on doing this.
Pachomius knew this was strange behavior.
He wanted to find out more about this 'Christus' and the people who followed him.
And he did.
He became a Christian - and learned what it meant to do more than be good, be more than a friend to your friends, loyal to your family and the people of your own kind.
He learned about Jesus.
Perhaps he heard the words that we know:
"When were you sick or in prison and we visited you? When were you naked and we clothed you? When were you hungry and we fed you?"
"Whenever you did any of these things for these my brethren you did them for me."
+
Pachomius, like Alban, was a man of courage, integrity, generosity - and hospitality.
He was a good man. In the eyes of the world he could do no more to acquire merit.
Like Alban, our patron saint, he learned to be more than a good man; he learned faith.
And in faith he grew - beyond the good he grasped the one thing, the one thing that is above all others:
to follow Jesus.
How could he do this? It is something of a mystery - and the mystery is this:
Christ in you, the hope of Glory.
...
Abraham and Sarah had faith, and it was counted to them for righteousness.
Martha was a good woman; her sister 'chose the better part' - it was good to show hospitality, a very good thing; what was the 'one thing' that mattered ultimately?
To sit at the feet of Jesus, to follow him.
What happened to Martha? What did she do, this good woman?
Do we know? What do you think?
At the feet of Jesus,
at the foot of the Cross,
the women who had followed him from Galilee were there.
At the empty tomb,
early in the morning on the first day of the week,
the women who had followed Jesus from Galilee were there.
There was Mary of Magdala, and Salome, and the other Mary, and....
+
There was once a man named Pachomius, a good and brave man, who had always looked out after the people he loved, his parents, his friends, his unit in the wars, his country.
But he found himself in prison - and there he knew he would rot. For in those pagan days of the Roman Empire, in prison you were not visited, if hungry you were not fed; you were on your own. And you would rot, and you would starve, and you would die.
Pachomius knew what was going to happen.
But then a strange group of people arrived in the prison. They were singing, songs of praise, to 'Christus' - apparently their god.
And they went around, visiting the sick, binding up the wounds of the injured, feeding the hungry, bringing clothing to the exposed - and not to their friends only, but to everybody, new or old, friend or stranger. Everybody was welcome.
And they stayed and they came back and they kept on doing this.
Pachomius knew this was strange behavior.
He wanted to find out more about this 'Christus' and the people who followed him.
And he did.
He became a Christian - and learned what it meant to do more than be good, be more than a friend to your friends, loyal to your family and the people of your own kind.
He learned about Jesus.
Perhaps he heard the words that we know:
"When were you sick or in prison and we visited you? When were you naked and we clothed you? When were you hungry and we fed you?"
"Whenever you did any of these things for these my brethren you did them for me."
+
Pachomius, like Alban, was a man of courage, integrity, generosity - and hospitality.
He was a good man. In the eyes of the world he could do no more to acquire merit.
Like Alban, our patron saint, he learned to be more than a good man; he learned faith.
And in faith he grew - beyond the good he grasped the one thing, the one thing that is above all others:
to follow Jesus.
How could he do this? It is something of a mystery - and the mystery is this:
Christ in you, the hope of Glory.
...
Abraham and Sarah had faith, and it was counted to them for righteousness.
Martha was a good woman; her sister 'chose the better part' - it was good to show hospitality, a very good thing; what was the 'one thing' that mattered ultimately?
To sit at the feet of Jesus, to follow him.
What happened to Martha? What did she do, this good woman?
Do we know? What do you think?
At the feet of Jesus,
at the foot of the Cross,
the women who had followed him from Galilee were there.
At the empty tomb,
early in the morning on the first day of the week,
the women who had followed Jesus from Galilee were there.
There was Mary of Magdala, and Salome, and the other Mary, and....
+
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
family reunion
Summer time people often travel - to back home. They may go to new and exciting places. Quite often, though, they go where they are known: where they know the people, and know the place, and know where they fit - or used to fit - in that landscape and that group of people. It's you, they say, and so it is - if you want it to be. May be you don't - could be painful. May be you do: it could be, after all, a place and a people where you fit, and fit well. That well-come may be just what you need.
If it's been a hard year, if you lost your job, if illness means you cannot do that work anymore, if you cannot be to someone what you once were, it comforts to know that you are known. For yourself, hopefully.
For yourself, in God's eyes, for ultimately who you are. Ultimately who you are at the end of things is the person God meant you to be, the person God saw all along, knew you could be - if you want to be, if you let it be, if you let God be the one who makes it be: the one who made you redeems you, fills you over-top with gifts that spill over into the lives of those around you. Because you are not the only one coming home, you are not the only one who needs that welcome.
In fact you are one of the family - the welcoming family, that God calls into being, that God calls together from place to place, from time to time, in little groups of two or three, or family gatherings.
Maybe it's just a favorite uncle and you, meeting for a drink and a little something to eat - or a great gathering of cousins, aunts, and uncles. Long forgotten and daily familiar - and brand new, first time here, just gathered into the family, the family gathering at this time, at this place.
Make them welcome - (especially) if they are strangers - strangers to you. For many have been entertained by angels unawares.
Under the oaks of Mamre, an Old Testament trinity of Abraham and Sarah and their long-suffering silent servant provide hospitality to three strange visitors.
It's a test of sorts - or a celebration. Depending on how you look at it.
It's a feast, in Abraham's eyes. Go prepare a calf, they tell the servant. Make cakes of meal and oil. Serve them. Water for their feet? A bit of rest, a seat in the shade - the shade of the trees, the oaks of Mamre.
The meeting place, already ancient then, no doubt, of humans crossing paths in the middle of a strange new land.
It's a land of promise to Abraham - and a promise comes.
It's a promise of comic hope, to Sarah - and she shouts in surprise with laughter, greeting the news - the strangers bring: how do they know? Is it just a blessing - a guest's wish? Or more? - They say: your wife is going to have a baby. We shall see.
Martha, Mary, sisters of Lazarus. They greet a greater One than these Three.
And they welcome him - according to custom, as it would be, having Abraham's example before them - and overcoming custom, as one of the sisters takes a man's place - or a disciple's place - at the foot of the Master, Teacher, Rabbi.
Tell her to come help me...
Martha, Martha, my dear. Don't you worry. Don't fret yourself or her. All will be well.
All manner of thing shall be well - and she has chosen the better part: better because the Lord is with her, with her now, and all these things shall be looked after -
Come sit with us, Martha, for a moment - let the dishes soak. Let my feet remain unwashed (yes even the Master's feet) - for a moment.
Let's refresh each other in a greater hospitality: the hope, the love, the great gifts of God.
And then, let's get on with the feet washing, the bread making, the dishes, - and the plowing, the sowing, the harvest - and the baking, again.
But for now - together - Martha and Mary and Lazarus and all - together - be at peace.
The Lord is here.
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If it's been a hard year, if you lost your job, if illness means you cannot do that work anymore, if you cannot be to someone what you once were, it comforts to know that you are known. For yourself, hopefully.
For yourself, in God's eyes, for ultimately who you are. Ultimately who you are at the end of things is the person God meant you to be, the person God saw all along, knew you could be - if you want to be, if you let it be, if you let God be the one who makes it be: the one who made you redeems you, fills you over-top with gifts that spill over into the lives of those around you. Because you are not the only one coming home, you are not the only one who needs that welcome.
In fact you are one of the family - the welcoming family, that God calls into being, that God calls together from place to place, from time to time, in little groups of two or three, or family gatherings.
Maybe it's just a favorite uncle and you, meeting for a drink and a little something to eat - or a great gathering of cousins, aunts, and uncles. Long forgotten and daily familiar - and brand new, first time here, just gathered into the family, the family gathering at this time, at this place.
Make them welcome - (especially) if they are strangers - strangers to you. For many have been entertained by angels unawares.
Under the oaks of Mamre, an Old Testament trinity of Abraham and Sarah and their long-suffering silent servant provide hospitality to three strange visitors.
It's a test of sorts - or a celebration. Depending on how you look at it.
It's a feast, in Abraham's eyes. Go prepare a calf, they tell the servant. Make cakes of meal and oil. Serve them. Water for their feet? A bit of rest, a seat in the shade - the shade of the trees, the oaks of Mamre.
The meeting place, already ancient then, no doubt, of humans crossing paths in the middle of a strange new land.
It's a land of promise to Abraham - and a promise comes.
It's a promise of comic hope, to Sarah - and she shouts in surprise with laughter, greeting the news - the strangers bring: how do they know? Is it just a blessing - a guest's wish? Or more? - They say: your wife is going to have a baby. We shall see.
Martha, Mary, sisters of Lazarus. They greet a greater One than these Three.
And they welcome him - according to custom, as it would be, having Abraham's example before them - and overcoming custom, as one of the sisters takes a man's place - or a disciple's place - at the foot of the Master, Teacher, Rabbi.
Tell her to come help me...
Martha, Martha, my dear. Don't you worry. Don't fret yourself or her. All will be well.
All manner of thing shall be well - and she has chosen the better part: better because the Lord is with her, with her now, and all these things shall be looked after -
Come sit with us, Martha, for a moment - let the dishes soak. Let my feet remain unwashed (yes even the Master's feet) - for a moment.
Let's refresh each other in a greater hospitality: the hope, the love, the great gifts of God.
And then, let's get on with the feet washing, the bread making, the dishes, - and the plowing, the sowing, the harvest - and the baking, again.
But for now - together - Martha and Mary and Lazarus and all - together - be at peace.
The Lord is here.
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