The Rev. Carol S. Wedell
September 2, 2007

It's back to school time.  New clothes and shoes have been purchased.  School supply lists have been checked off.  Seemingly endless stacks of forms have been filled out. In the past two weeks, alarm clocks have been set earlier for many of us, and big yellow buses have been rolling down the streets, picking up sometimes eager and sometimes reluctant passengers hauling backpacks, lunch boxes and gym bags.  After school ctivities are gearing up.  And in every school, in almost every class there are some new students. 

How many of you have been "the new kid" at some point? It's not easy.  In addition to the usual challenges of learning class schedules and teachers' names, you have to negotiate a totally new building.  Unless you are lucky, you may not know anyone.  You aren't sure where you are supposed to sit -- especially in the lunchroom. (Schools that have assigned seating may be on to something here!) 

Imagine what it's like walking in, looking around for a safe place to land.  God forbid that you sit down at the table with the "cool" kids - and they don't want anything to do with you!  You scan the crowd.  You pray for a friendly face, or an invitation to "sit with me."   I remember what that's like - don't you?

There is something about meals - the food we eat, where we eat it, and especially the people with whom we eat, that say a great deal about who we are. Anthropologists can tell a great deal about a culture and its values by its eating patterns.

In the time in which Jesus lived, the table had even more importance because people spent so much of their day gathering and preparing food.  I read this week that the root word for bread and life is the same in Arabic. The language itself speaks of the link between the table and one's survival. In a world with fast-food restaurants readily available, we forget that food doesn't always appear on demand. (Tim Conder, The Christian Century, August 21, 2007, p. 18).  Meals - who was invited, what was served, where you sat - spoke clearly about identity and status in the ancient world. 

While we generally have looser standards about seating than described in Luke's gospel today (save for a few special events like weddings, etc...) we still know that having a meal together is a significant event.  Families know that eating together can serve to strengthen the bonds which bind them together.  Invitations to "do lunch" or have dinner are ordinarily invitations to get to know someone better or to be in relationship.  Food, in these cases, is not so much about physical sustenance, as it is an occasion to share yourself and your life.

Jesus understood this.  Much of his ministry included meals that were shared, or stories about such meals.  Feeding the multitudes, making wine for a wedding feast, dining with "sinners" -were important moments in Jesus' life and ministry.  But here is the thing:  he didn't follow the table etiquette of the day. He offended good religious folks.  He ate with the wrong people (definitely not the "cool" people!).  Who knows - maybe he used the wrong fork, or ate with his mouth open.  He certainly didn't care if other folks did. 

In our gospel reading this morning, and many other times, Jesus made it clear that hospitality, welcoming others, was the essence of the gospel.  Our reading from Hebrews this morning underscores that as well, "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it."  For Jesus, hospitality, what the dictionary defines as "the friendly reception and treatment of guests or strangers" matters more than popularity, more than having the "right" connections, more than having the "right" answers or the most orthodox theology.  Following Jesus, acting in ways that would be pleasing to God, helping the world to look more like God wants it to look, means extending hospitality - especially to folks who don't look, act or think like we do.

I was reminded this week of an excerpt from the 1961 book, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, which gives us a glimpse of what hospitality might look like. It is about a rural Alabama town in the 1930s, and the trial of Tom Robinson, an African American accused of raping a white woman. Atticus Finch, is a widowed attorney and father of two:  a little boy Jem and a little girl, Scout.  Atticus has also agreed to defend Tom Robinson, not a popular thing to do in Maycomb, Alabama in the 1930s.

The early pages tell a remarkable story. It is the first week of school for Scout Finch. Her first grade teacher is Miss Caroline, who is also new. Miss Caroline surveys the lunch boxes and tins her students have brought, notices that one little boy, Walter Cunningham, has none, and offers to lend him twenty-five cents to buy his lunch. Walter refuses, Miss Caroline doesn't understand, so Scout stands up and explains that Walter doesn't have a lunch because he's a Cunningham and the Cunninghams are so poor they can't afford lunch and couldn't afford to pay back the twenty-five cents. It's a difficult moment, and later, at the lunch break, Jem, Scout's brother, invites Walter to come home with the two of them for his lunch.

Calpurnia, the beloved housekeeper and cook, sets another place. The children-and Atticus-sit down to eat. Walter asks if there is any molasses in the house. Calpurnia brings the syrup pitcher, and Walter pours molasses on his vegetables and meat. Scout remembers, "And would probably have poured it into his milk glass had I not asked him what the samhill he was doing."

Atticus shook his head at me again. "But he's gone and drowned his dinner in syrup," I protested. "He's poured it all over."

It was then that Calpurnia requested my presence in the kitchen. She was furious. . . . She squinted down at me. "There's some folks who don't eat like us," she whispered fiercely, "but you ain't called on to contradict 'em at the table when they don't. That's boy's yo' company and if he wants to eat up the table cloth, you let him, you hear?"

"He ain't company, Cal, he's a Cunningham." "Hush your mouth! Don't matter who they are, anybody sets foot in this house 's yo' company, and don't you let me catch you remarkin' on their ways like you was so high and mighty! Yo folks might be better 'n the Cunninghams but it don't count for nothin' the way your disgracin' 'em-if you can't act fit to eat at the table you can just sit here and eat in the kitchen." (pp. 30-31)  (As told by John Buchanan in a sermon entitled, Strangers, September 2, 2001).

Today we'll be gathering around Jesus' table - a table open to all who want to spend some time with Jesus and get acquainted.  Those of us who gather around this table are given a specific responsibility.  Just as God is pulling the chair out for us and inviting us to have a seat, we are to do the same for others - both individually and as a church.  We're all God's company.

If you ask most folks to tell you about their church - pretty much any church - they will tell you, "we're a friendly church."  I was told that about Church of the Western Reserve before I came. Yet if you visit churches you know that they vary greatly in their hospitality, in their ability to help another person feel right at home. 

This summer I had the opportunity to visit two churches while we were out of town.  Both were small churches located in small towns.  At the first church, I came in alone a few minutes before the service.  I think the person who handed me a bulletin said good morning. I'm not sure.  Members were busily greeting one another, but no one spoke to me, except to ask me if they could walk past me to get into the pew.  The pastor asked us to sign the registration pad, but didn't extend any particular welcome to visitors - even though this church was not located in an area where visitors seemed likely and he clearly could see me.  I was greeted when they passed the peace, but with no particular enthusiasm.  No one knew where I was from or why I was there.  In fairness, I had to leave following communion, so I don't know if they might have warmed up a bit following the service.

At the second congregation, Mark and I were greeted warmly at the door.  "I don't think I've seen you here before - welcome!"  We snuck our way into a pew toward the back (a favorite place for many visitors) and before the service had begun, a couple behind us asked us if we were new and where we were from.  There weren't registration pads, but the pastor warmly welcomed all visitors - and sounded like he meant it - even though this was a tourist location, so most visitors likely would never return!  There was no formal passing of the peace, but there was no doubt that any one who walked through the doors was welcomed in Christ's name.  Following the service, we shook the pastor's hand at the door.  He recognized us as visitors and asked us to sign the guest book and then said, "wait, we have something for you!"  He dashed to a side closet and came back with some homemade jam, "this is something we're famous for!" - again knowing that we didn't live in the area.  What a contrast to the first church!

So how are we doing here?  Well, it probably depends upon the day and who you speak with!  I know that Nancy Sherwin recently was a personal ambassador of hospitality as she literally encouraged two shy young women who hesitated in the parking lot to join us for worship earlier this summer.  Many of you make a special effort to greet those you do not know and to introduce yourselves.  Yet it's so much easier to talk to those folks you know rather than greet someone you haven't met before.  At coffee hour do you look around and see if there are folks standing by themselves - waiting for a friendly smile or welcoming words?  How could we become more welcoming to those who come through our doors for the first time?  Hospitality means figuring out what would make the other person feel more comfortable and offering that.  Do we understand, like the cook in To Kill a Mockingbird, that we are only fit to eat at this table when we let others come as they are, not expecting them to meet some unwritten litmus test?

A pastor form the United Church of Canada was on sabbatical and visiting various churches. On a particular Sunday morning, he entered one sanctuary through a side door hoping to just sneak in. He saw an open pew and asked a woman if the seat was available. She said yes, and welcomed him to sit. A few minutes later, the pastor of the church entered and gave him a quizzical look.

About five minutes into the service, the visiting pastor realized what was going on. He leaned over to the woman who had invited him to sit down and said, "Is this the choir loft?"

She said "Yes." yet he felt very welcomed by her invitation for him to sit beside her. He would not have felt so good, if she had said "No, you can't sit here."

Because he felt so welcomed, he leaned over to her again and asked, "Is there an anthem?"

"Yes."

"Would you let me look at it?"

After reviewing the anthem, when the time came, the visitor stood with the choir and offered his voice in praise of the welcome that he had received into God's house. Now not all of us could respond as the pastor did, yet all of us can respond as the woman did with the same kind of welcome to strangers in our midst. ( Lectionary Homiletics, August 29, 2004).

There is a difference between entertaining folks and offering hospitality.  When I entertain I go a little nuts trying to make sure that everything is "just right."  (Perhaps some of you can relate!)   I make my family crazy as I obsess about things which, in the big scheme of things don't matter at all.  Yet I'm not sure that does much to help others feel welcome.

Which would you prefer - a "lived in" home where the host was relaxed and eager to spend time with you - or the "perfect" setting, where everything is in its proper place? I've been in homes where the host literally would stand up to straighten the afghan behind me!   I didn't feel real welcome! Give me a less-than-perfect setting any day! 

As followers of Jesus, we aren't asked to "entertain" - but to open our hearts and lives to those with whom we come in contact.

Offering hospitality simply means opening ourselves to another, helping them feel right at home. I have colleagues who said that this past year they learned that it was OK to invite folks over for leftovers.  What a great image of hospitality - inviting others to share what we have, without worrying about "how it looks."

There are some "leftovers" here this morning.  A table where all can gather, where all are welcomed, where table manners don't matter a bit.  A seat is ready for each of us - and for a whole lot of others too!