Radical hospitality - part two...

NOTE: Here goes another round of Sunday morning notes re: my Lenten series on radical hospitality. As always, you are always welcome should you find yourselves in town at 10:30 am on Sunday.

The American poet from Saginaw, Michigan, Theodore Roethke, once said, “Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light.” It may not be obvious – or even rational – to make such a bold confession, but in both spirit and truth I think Roethke was on to something. (NOTE: Joni Mitchell often embraces some of Roethke's melancholy wisdom.) Deep within us – sometimes buried, often abused and all too many times forgotten – is the very light and image of God. St. Paul was reminding us of this truth in his ode to love poem this morning when he states:

Love never fails; prophecies… shall wither away; speaking in tongues shall cease; and even knowledge… shall have its day… Only when the perfect arrives shall we comprehend…. When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I felt as a child and I reasoned as a child; when I grew up, I had to put childish things away. Now we see as through a glass darkly, later we shall see face to face; now we can only know partially, but then we shall know as deeply as we have been known. So remember, for now three things abide: faith, hope and love – and the greatest of these is love.

Today, in the second part of our reflection on what it might mean for us to deepen our commitment to being a church of radical hospitality, I want us to explore the role love plays in the creation of authentic Christian community. To practice real koinonia – community that makes Christ flesh within and among us – we have to be a people devoted to and saturated in the love of God made flesh by Jesus. As one preacher put it, “Koinonia needs the fertile soil of Christian love in order to take root and bloom as God intends.” So let me:

+ First, give you an overview of what the apostle Paul was trying to accomplish in his love poem in I Corinthians 13.

+ Second, talk with you about the meaning of Christian love – specifically what it means to be patient, kind, generous, humble and compassionate – according to Paul’s outline.

+ And third remind you of the vulnerability of authentic Christian love for this is often the reason churches and individuals choose to be rule-keepers rather than bold lovers. As the old heavy metal band, Nazareth sang: love hurts!

The apostle Paul founded the congregation in Corinth about 15 years after Christ’s execution on the cross – approximately 50 CE – and his letter is a combination of specific answers to discrete problems in Corinth as well as broad and universal insights into spiritual formation. Are you with me on this distinction?

+ Not everything in this letter applies to you and me – especially in our 21st century incarnation – and we do Paul and the Lord a great disservice trying to squeeze ourselves into outdated and even irrelevant portions of this scripture. I rather appreciate Richard Foster’s words, “It is all too easy to read I Corinthians as a list of right answers proffered by a bona fide apostle… but those who read this letter as an apostolic answer sheet will miss many of its deepest implications for spiritual formation.” Let’s face it, most of us just aren’t interested in the debate about eating meat dedicated to idols before being sold in our local supermarket.

+ What’s more, this letter is less about individual believers and almost totally concerned with how the body of Christ – the church as a community – lives and acts in the world. And that, too, is an important distinction that is regularly overlooked. Again, Foster gets it right when he cautions that, “overzealous attempts to apply Paul’s teaching on particular issues in the Corinthian church to situations in our own time are misguided and, at worst, might lead to the denial of basic freedoms affirmed by the gospel and even St. Paul himself.”

In a word, Paul is emphasizing three insights in this letter: 1) It is God and God alone who is the source of our spiritual gifts; 2) It is an oxymoron to talk about the Christian faith apart from the community; and 3) Even though churches are always less than perfect, our goal is to make the love of Jesus flesh for our generation. Is that clear? God – community – and love: that’s what is important to Paul here.

And one more contextual remark: when Paul speaks of love, it is his way of describing what Jesus meant when he talked about compassion. Marcus Borg writes: For Paul, love is the primary gift of the Holy Spirit, indeed the definitive gift. That same is true for Jesus. For Christ, the primary quality of a life centered in God is compassion. When Jesus sums up theology and ethics in a few words, he says, “Be compassionate as God is compassionate.” (Luke 6: 36)

But remember: where Paul uses the word “love,” Jesus uses the word “compassion.” The associations of the word in Aramaic and Hebrew are strikingly evocative: to be compassionate is to be “womblike” – that is, life-giving, nourishing and embracing. So God is; so we are to be, too. Thus, growth in love – growth in compassion – is the primary quality of life in the Spirit. And it is the primary criterion for distinguishing a genuine born-again experience from one that only appears to be one. It is the pragmatic test suggested by William James: “by their fruits ye shall know them.” The fruit is love – indeed, such fruit is the purpose of the Christian life. (The Heart of Christianity, p.122)

Isn’t that what Jesus makes clear in today’s gospel reading? Eugene Peterson’s reworking of the text puts it: Your critical spirit has a way of boomeranging. It's easy to see a smudge on your neighbor's face and be oblivious to the ugly sneer on your own. Do you have the nerve to say, 'Let me wash your face for you,' when your own face is distorted by contempt? It's this whole traveling road-show mentality all over again, playing a holier-than-thou part instead of just living your part. Wipe that ugly sneer off your own face, and you might be fit to offer a washcloth to your neighbor. (Matthew 7: 1-5, The Message)

Compassion as the heart of a God-centered life – and an authentic faith community – is the context for Paul. Now, let’s take a little time to review what he is telling about the nature, shape and form of this compassion. Because, you see, all too often love-talk in the church takes on the sound of sentimentality – sloppy agape as one of my professors used to say – rather than a bold and radical hospitality. It sounds trite and frankly soul-draining.

+ Do you know the name Kurt Cobain? He was the lead guitarist for the Seattle-based grunge band, Nirvana, who took his life in a sad and ugly way 15 years ago. He wrote a song, however, that we ought to keep in mind – it was an answer to the old Sunday School standard by Nellie Talbot, “I’ll Be a Sunbeam for Jesus” – in which he laments that “Jesus doesn’t want me for a sunbeam because… sunbeams are never made like me.”

+ Did you hear that? That’s a broken indictment of sloppy agape – a prophetic challenge to all the sentimentality that passes for authentic Christian hospitality and love – but locks out of the church those whose lives are falling apart. Often times popular culture can help those of us inside the church hear what it feels like to be one who has been wounded or abused by the church. In fact, I would commend to you the book, “When BAD Christians Happen to Good People!” because it makes clear why sentimental, sunbeam theology has NO place in our practice of radical hospitality.

So what does Paul offer as an alternative? Here’s a list of five qualities – born of God – which he suggests are essential ingredients for those who are a part of the company of the committed. Remember: Paul is convinced that every one of us – and all congregations – already has some of this light deep within us as those created and formed in God’s holy imagine. Nevertheless, for this light to bring hope into the darkness, we must practice together and open ourselves regularly to God’s guidance and inspiration. Here’s his list:

+ Love is patient – makrothymeō – and does not blow its cool even when unreasonable people drive you crazy. Notice that Paul doesn’t tell us that everybody is a sunbeam – there are wackjobs and truly annoying individuals –but those empowered by God’s love are slow to anger.

+ Love is kind – chresteuomai – hesitant to condemn and eager to be helpful. Think of the words Jesus used earlier: A critical spirit has a way of boomeranging… so wipe that sneer off your face and then you might be able to offer a washrag to your neighbor. Lots of carping and complaining is proof that Christ’s spirit has left the house.

+ Love is not jealous – zeloo – rather it is generous rather than envious or overly eager to possess what it doesn’t have. Peterson says: love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have and that means materially, spiritually, politically and all the rest.

+ Love is not puffed up – physioo – conceited or self-absorbed. Paul is talking about an excess of pride which causes us to believe that our problems are the only ones that exist and our joys are the only ones that really matter because we believe ourselves to be at the center of the universe. Positively stated love is humble – aware that others are just as important as yourself – and often more loving and insightful, too.

And love is compassionate – that is love is the opposite of being mean-spirited – aschemoneo – which literally means living in evil or even ugly ways.

Paul is NOT saying that authentic Christian love means being a doormat for others to walk all over; if you don’t love and respect yourself, then you cannot truly love another, right? Rather, he is trying to carefully describe what it looks like to make Christ’s love visible in our churches. The body of Christ – the faith community – does not demand its own way. It is not so self-absorbed that it overlooks the wounds of those right in front of us. Moreover, it doesn’t wag its finger in our face with self-righteous moral lessons nor force feed us stupid or sentimental platitudes about “you should” or “you ought.”

Instead, it quietly and tenderly binds up the wounded, embraces the lonely, notices those usually forgotten and brings beauty into the thundering ugliness. It gives shape and form to Jesus in our generation. Are you still with me? Have I been clear? Do you have any thoughts or questions before I wrap this up?

I know that being linear like this helps some of us – and I want to be clear in my thinking, too – but sometimes I find a story helps me grasp the truth of scripture better than a straight out explication. So, I was struck by Parker Palmer’s story of how he experienced the beauty and healing of Christian love once when he was knocked down by depression.

Twice in my life I have experienced deep depression. Both times various friends tried to rescue me with well-intentioned encouragement and advice… In the midst of my depression, however, I had one friend who took a very different tack. Every afternoon at around four o’clock he came to see me, sat me in a chair, removed my shoes and massaged my feet. He hardly said a word, but he was there, he was with me. And he was a lifeline for me, a link with the human community and thus to my own humanity. He had no need to “fix” me. He just sat with me and rubbed my soles – and made flesh the meaning of compassion.

He made the words of Paul flesh: Love never gives up. Love cares more for others than for self. Love doesn't want what it doesn't have. Love doesn't strut, doesn't have a swelled head, doesn't force itself on others. It isn't always "me first," doesn't fly off the handle, doesn't keep score of the sins of others, doesn't revel when others grovel, takes pleasure in the flowering of truth, puts up with anything, trusts God always, always looks for the best, never looks back, but keeps going to the end.

And this brings me to my third insight: authentic Christian love – real and radical hospitality in our community – demands that we live in an open and even vulnerable way with others. This is frightening – I know it is for me – because I don’t like being hurt or rejected or ridiculed and sometimes that happens, doesn’t it?

+ I can’t tell you how many times church people have hurt me – and my family. And if the truth be told, I can’t even begin to count how many times I’ve wounded others. Sometimes it just seems easier to play it guarded – put on that fake crap-eating smile so many ministers have acquired – and just try to be nice enough to make it to retirement.

+ But here’s the rub: if you lock out the pain, you lock out the joy. If you try to close yourself to the darkness, you block out the light.

C.S. Lewis put it like this: “There is NO safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable.” He knew what he was talking about. For most of his adult life he played the part of an intellectual and academic Christian – hiding in the safety of his Oxford ivory tower – but then he fell in love with the joy of his life – literally a woman by the name of Joy Davidson – and when she died way too early of cancer, it broke his heart. She told him, and he took it to heart, that the joy we know now will be connected to the sorrow we will face later. So he wrote these words towards the end of his life (in his book The Four Loves):

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will certainly be wrung and possible broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket – safe, dark, motionless, airless – it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, you see, is damnation. For the only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers of love… is Hell.