The family business: radical hospitality

Today we’re continuing our sermon series looking at different spiritual disciplines or practices that help to draw us closer to King Jesus in a world that can so easily draw us further away from him. Last week was all about prayer and finding practices to bring Jesus to the forefront of our minds - so that we can be people and a church that glows in the dark. Today we’re looking at hospitality!

So, before I start - how would you define the word ‘hospitality’?

So often it’s about meals - and meals such a great way to draw people together and go deeper with each other than is possible in another context. And Jesus was a foodie. Well, at least it appears he enjoyed eating with people - while there is no mention of him reviewing the latest Galilee on a Plate burger - in Luke’s gospel alone there are over fifty references to food. One scholar, Robert Karris, says that “in Luke’s Gospel Jesus is either going to a meal, at a meal, or coming from a meal.” Honestly, if we’re called to be like Jesus, then this is a Jesus I’m really happy to follow in the steps of!

But here’s the rub. It’s not all parties and fine dining with friends. Because this isn’t what Jesus does most of the time. In fact, the Greek word for ‘hospitality’ is philoxenia (Phil-ox-in-ear).

It’s a compound word - philo means love,

while xenos means “stranger, foreigner, or guest.” To quote John Mark Comer,

It’s the polar opposite of xenophobia - it’s the love of stranger, not the hate or fear of the “other”. It’s the act of welcoming the outsider in and, in doing so, turning guests into neighbours and neighbours into family in God.

Now, there is SO much that I love about church - but one thing that I particularly like is the fact that on a typical Sunday morning in pretty much any church you’ll find a bunch of people who are so diverse that they may not choose to meet up together in any other context. And that’s beautiful. But the thing that a lot of the western church has forgotten is that this isn’t just a Sunday morning thing - it’s a whole of life thing. Honestly, how often do we make in our lives to willingly spend time with people we don’t know, or who are radically different in whatever way to ourselves?

I don’t think Rebecca and I have shared much about our life before St Michael’s with you all. Not that we’ve been avoiding it, but just that it hasn’t naturally come up. So, let me share some stories about how radical hospitality has played out for us.

We discerned the call to live in Christian community back in 2018, and ended up moving into the Cathedral deanery with David and Pixie Rowe. We lived together for just over a year, and it was a phenomenal time together - and food was an important part of our life together - not just eating together, but with all sorts of people who were passing through. Pixie was a pretty phenomenal cook - she used to be a caterer - and desserts were on offer just about every night, as my figure still testifies.

We all moved out of the Deanery in 2019 to make space for another family who needed accommodation, so we began exploring the possibility of living just across the driveway in Bishopscourt, which was an Urban Vision house. This was a completely different flavour of Christian community - they had a kaupapa of welcome and radical hospitality - they never locked the front door, but had a ratty bit of masking tape on the door instead that just said ‘knock and come in’. I don’t think anyone even knew where the key was. Everyone was welcome. I remember the first time we went over for dinner to explore whether this might be a fit for us - and it was so different to what we had experienced in the Deanery. No fancy tablecloths, no matching plates, no glass of red wine - just a table filled with the most extraordinarily diverse bunch of people. There was no fuss - it was just beautiful and chaotic and filled with the presence of God. So we decided to jump in the deep end and join in. Things changed a bit after we moved in (they installed a lock on the front door, just for nighttime, which was a relief!) - but we lived with the most beautiful mix of people - a couple with a baby, a Samoan man, two Ethiopian young men, and a couple of teenagers - and us - the Cathedral organist and his family. I won’t pretend it was always plain sailing - but there was no shortage of conversation or debate - and no shortage of people who would just appear for dinner. There was always enough food - and if we didn’t have a guest then we were just blessed with leftovers for lunch the next day.

We continued this kaupapa on the following year in bishopscourt with the lovely Diana and Grahame - but along the way we’ve lost this natural way of being - the rhythms of working and parenting have become excuses to not throw open the door in radical hospitality. Which, when I say it out loud, feels like a bit of a lame excuse - we’re already cooking dinner anyway - so it’s actually not that much harder to invite someone round!

Because the thing is, it’s so easy to get bound up with hospitality being a big deal. Because let’s be honest, offering a three course dinner with matching wine, choosing just the right music to have in the background, making sure that conversation flows well etc is exhausting. It’s a lovely thing to do from time to time - but why would you put yourself through that every week? But the thing with hospitality is that you’re simply inviting people into your everyday ordinariness. “Hey, I’m having baked potatoes for tea tonight, do you want to come round?” At the end of the day, people mostly remember the good time they had with you - not the fact that you’ve left some folded washing on your couch, or that dinner was just a simple everyday meal. The invitation is to join your everyday life - not some Instagram worthy spectacle.

And the invitation doesn’t even need to be for food - it could be as simple as going for a walk together. Or do you remember in the days before mobile phones when people would just appear on your doorstep and invite themselves in for a cup of tea? It hardly ever happens these days - I can only think of a few people who have done this to us, and it’s always such a beautiful surprise.

Because we see Jesus do this time, and time again. Inviting people to eat with him - but more often than not he does a sneaky little move and invites himself round to someone else’s for dinner. It’s like in our gospel reading today with Zaccheus - Zaccheus was just trying to see Jesus as he went past, but he was a little shorty so had to climb a tree. Jesus notices this, and invites himself round for dinner - and, not very long story short, Zaccheus becomes an apprentice of Jesus. That’s the power of invitation and food. It’s a heartwarming story. For us. But not so much for those who were looking on.

Luke 19:7 NET 2nd ed.

And when the people saw it, they all complained, “He has gone in to be the guest of a man who is a sinner.”

Zaccheus was a tax collector. A RICH tax collector - he’s made his money defrauding his fellow Jews on behalf of the Roman Empire. Yet Jesus sees him, welcomes him, and invites him.

That’s the power of hospitality. It’s a disruptive force in a world that is so wrapped up in self interest and fear. And that’s why I call it radical hospitality - it’s a step against the culture of the world, and a step towards Jesus.

So, why should we practice hospitality?

Because Jesus did. That’s an easy one. It’s hard to think of an action that Jesus did, or a story that Jesus told that doesn’t nod to the importance of hospitality.

Because God pours his love on everyone, and has a particular heart for those on the margins - leaving the 99 for the sake of the one. We saw so much of this in the Jonah story - but the bible is steeped with God’s unfailing love for everyone - and particularly in the life of King Jesus. When we come to Eucharist, we’re remembering the last meal Jesus had with his disciples - an unlikely bunch of people gathered together, including one who he knew would deny him, and another who would betray him. This is the call for us too - to be radically inclusive.

So that people can see Jesus in us. Not that we’re necessarily using it as a way to preach the good news - but we’re choosing to live in such a different and radiant way that makes people notice the difference in you and question it

It’s an act of subversion and a proclamation of the power we have in Jesus. When we say “I am making time for you”. we have power and authority - not over the other person, but over the other calls and expectations on our life.

It’s where we find Jesus. Someone prayed over me this week and shared the beautiful picture of a ministry of Eucharist out in the park. This is where we find Jesus more often that not: in hospitality, around the table, outside of the church walls.

So. How do we start? Well, the world’s your oyster really! I’m not suggesting that you move into a missional community like we did (though the blessings are beyond measure!). Start gently. Maybe start with someone at church that you don’t know well - or who seems different to you - and invite them round for dinner. If your home doesn’t feel like a safe place for you to share with others, why not just invite them out for a walk and a yarn? Or if you notice someone in their yard when you’re walking down the street, see if you can stop briefly for a chat - and make the invitation - I’d love to get to know you better - do you want to come round for a cup of tea sometime? And actually set a time - don’t just leave it as a vague invitation.

The most important thing is to keep it simple. Don’t throw a lavish banquet - don’t set the bar so high for yourself that you do it once and can’t muster the energy to do it again for another year. Invite someone round and just serve what you’d be eating anyway. If you’re brave, don’t do a scurryfunge (such a great word - means to rush around cleaning before visitors arrive). Just share your life as you are. It’s such a beautiful thing.

Your mission for the week, should you choose to accept it, is to make one invitation to one person. Try it on for size, and keep going.

Let me pray.