NOTE: Here are my worship notes for this coming Sunday, July 17, 2016. I will be
using Krista Tippett's new book, Becoming Wise, as a guide for the next six weeks. It is very insightful and makes sense for those interested in real hope and compassion in our wounded and broken world.
Introduction
During part
of our vacation, Dianne and I spent a week in Ottawa, Ontario – a truly lovely
and humane city – where we took in a portion of the Ottawa Jazz Festival. It is much smaller than its more famous
cousin in Montreal and that’s why we have fallen in love with it: it is music and hospitality shared on a human
scale that doesn’t overwhelm. It is a
small is beautiful venue where both performers and concert-goers never lose
touch with the fragility and splendor of human beings creating something lovely
and unique together. As one of our
favorite Quebecois pianists, Maryanne Trudell, said about her most recent jazz
composition: “La vie commence ici!” Real
life begins right here and right NOW!
That’s what
all three readings from the Bible point towards, too: la vie
commence ici. All we have been given
by God is just this moment. We
can choose to embrace it or waste it – knowing that there will always be
consequences to our choices. Abraham and
Sara chose to feast and laugh with God’s messengers even in their old age – and
new life came into being. Mary and
Martha have to make comparable choices in the presence of God’s messenger Jesus
– and Martha slips into her old habit of distraction and worry even while she
aches to be hospitable – causing her nothing but sadness and resentment. Even the Psalmist sings of practicing living
in the moment with gentle hospitality when she asks: who will sojourn in your
tent, O Lord, and who will dwell upon your holy mountain?
All
religions urge us to cultivate a willingness to joyfully share the bounty of
God’s creation with tenderness and respect. In this we not only become like
the Lord our God, but we advance God’s kingdom in real time and flesh. Lauren Winner, New Testament professor at Duke
University, once wrote:
Christians and Jews hold in common
one theological basis for hospitality: Creation.
Creation is the ultimate expression of God's hospitality to His creatures. In
the words of a rabbi: everything God
created is a "manifestation of His kindness. [For the] world is one big
hospitality inn." Church historian Amy Oden noted that, "God offers
hospitality to all humanity... by establishing a home.. for all." To
invite people into our home (and hearts) is to respond with gratitude to the
God who made a home for us.
To be blunt
with you, beloved, I can’t think of anything more important at this
moment in my life – in the life of this congregation – and our national
existence than the renewal of sacred hospitality shared in the spirit of
tenderness and hope. Whether we’re thinking about Alton Sterling and Philando
Castile who died in the hands of police officers in Baton Rouge and Falcon
Heights, MI or, the five active duty cops who were ruthlessly gunned down in
Dallas by a domestic terrorist, the signs of our times are clear: we have lost touch with how to turn our experience
of God’s love into acts of healing hospitality that bring hope and safety to
kindred flesh and blood. I sense that
too often we let ourselves become like Martha in the presence of Jesus: too worried and distracted to advance peace
and compassion.
So let me
share a story with you about our last night in Ottawa – and a little Biblical
background, too – and we’ll see where this leads us, ok? I’m rather
fond on the way the late Henri Nouwen described Christian hospitality: only those who have discovered God at the
center of their own lives can receive a stranger on her or his own
terms. Only those who have become quiet
and at rest within, can welcome the other in the real world with true
affection.
Insights
On July 4th
Dianne and I spent a few hours with the L’Arche Community in Ottawa. For those in the know, I have long been
attracted to L’Arche and their ministry of presence with people with
intellectual disabilities. L’Arche was founded by Jean Vanier in 1964: after a career in the navy and studying
philosophy in a doctoral program, Vanier, the son of a Canadian diplomat, still
felt as if his life was empty. He was outwardly successful, physically powerful
and reasonably wealthy, but like the old song asks: Is this all there is?
During an
extended spiritual retreat Vanier was encouraged by a priest to help out in a
home for those with intellectual disabilities – and before the year was over,
he had taken two of the patients out of the asylum and into a small house where
he could care for them personally. He,
too, began to comprehend that: “La vie commence ici!” Live begins now! Living
with Raphael and Philllipe, men who had been wounded in their minds and psyches
when they were very young, brought Vanier into a new intimacy with Jesus. “I began to understand a little better,” he
wrote, “the message of Jesus and his particular love for the poor in spirit and
the impoverished and weak ones of our society… They have shown me what it is to
live simply, to love tenderly, to speak in truth, to pardon, to receive openly,
to be humble in weakness and to accept handicaps and hardships with love.They have
revealed Jesus to me.” In the despised
and rejected, Vanier found a new way of living into hospitality and a new way
of making Christ’s love real in his world
And now there are over 144 L’Arche communities throughout the world. Vanier
likes to say that the L’Arche experiment puts into action the virtues and
values Jesus spoke about in the Sermon on the Mount. And I have long wanted to see what this love
looked like in person.
So, we went to a community meeting at 7 pm on July 4th
– and it was a gas. There were
about 60 people in the community room – residents ,who are living with their
various intellectual disabilities, alongside their personal assistants and a
cadre of volunteers. When we arrived
some folks were helping a wheel-chair bound woman out of public transportation,
so we went through the front door and immediately found ourselves created by Henri
who smiled broadly at us, shook my hand vigorously and said, “SO good to see
you – tell, how are you, buddy?”
Man, I was just knocked on my butt with blessing by his embrace and it
kept getting better.
To be
honest, I was a little nervous about going to L’Arche because I had done some
custodial work in an institution in my early 20s. It was not easy work and the very challenging
differences in ability and appearance sometimes frightened me. I was a little anxious because back in that
home I had been attacked and thought my head was going to be cracked open as a
very upset young man pounded me against the concrete floor. But Henri just took
me under his wing and ushered us into the gathering like we were long lost
companions. Same was true with Robert,
another resident who went out of his way to introduce us as his new friends. There was lots of French alongside English,
lots of hugs and handshakes and to tell you the truth, it felt like a party.
When it came
time for new guests to introduce themselves, Dianne and I stood up and said a
few words – along with a few others – and we were applauded just for showing
up. Then we sang songs, stood and held one another’s hands for the Lord’s
Prayer – en Francais, I might add – and prayed for one another before the
business meeting started. As the
community met, we spoke with a few others who simply affirmed in our short
visit that this was the real deal: no
worries or distractions, just a whole lotta love in the moment.
At dinner a
few hours later Dianne said, “I have never seen you look so beatific. You are
radiating and beaming.” And all I could
do was weep – tears of joy and gratitude, for sure – but also a few tears of sorrow
for how rare such bold, healing and hope-filled love like that is in our world. So imagine my surprise when we came home and
I saw that the stories assigned for today we ALL about sharing God’s healing
hospitality!
It caused me
to go on a search for a quote from the Henri Nouwen, who also spent the last 10
years of his life at L’Arche Toronto, that says: “Hospitality
is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place.
It is not to bring men and women over to our side, but to offer freedom not
disturbed by dividing lines.”
It is not to lead our neighbor into a corner where there are
no alternatives left, but to open a wide spectrum of options for choice and
commitment. It is not an educated intimidation with good books, good stories,
and good works, but the liberation of fearful hearts so that words can find
roots and bear ample fruit….The paradox of hospitality is that it wants to
create emptiness, not a fearful vacuum, but a friendly emptiness where
strangers can enter and discover themselves as created free….not a subtle
invitation to adopt the life style of the host, but the gift of a chance for
the guest to find his or her own way in the world.
That’s part of what’s missing in our contemporary culture:
the willingness to be surprised by
grace. To take the risk of creating open, empty and free space where we might
discover new beauty – even friendship and love – among former strangers, don’t
you think? We want it all buttoned-down,
figured-out, bought and paid for, not a sojourn with Jesus along the road
filled with who knows what or whom?
+ Think of Abraham and Sarah: by the time we get to their story in Genesis,
they have new names and a new direction in life, but they are still
chronologically old. God has assured both
of them that they will give birth to a child, but being 100 years old they were
highly dubious. That’s why Sarah laughs
when the angels disguised as travelers come seeking hospitality at their tent
and promise progeny: Yeah, sure, a baby at my age? But… stranger things have happened,
yes? So when their new son is born they
call him, Isaac, which means “God has brought me laughter.” They were willing to be surprised.
+ And here’s something else: both Abraham and Sarah go the extra mile when
it comes to hospitality. Yes, it was a legal obligation to offer a stranger
food and rest, wash and drink, but even in the heat of the day, they put on a
feast: Sarah cooks up a storm and
Abraham plays the gracious host – and there is no grudging fellowship in this
tent. This is a full-fledged feast.
There’s a clue and a take-away for us: the willingness to be surprised, and, a
commitment to feast rather than play it safe and cheap. I think that’s part of what Jesus tries to
tell Martha when the Master shows up at their home in Bethany outside of
Jerusalem. Both sisters are kind and
this story should never just be a comparison between one who is active and the
other who contemplative. Both are critical virtues to nourish. No, what is at stake here how much Martha
frets in distraction and worry about her obligations. She doesn’t enjoy being hospitable. She
doesn’t evoke much rest or open space either; so it is no wonder that Jesus
said, “Come on, girl, take a break and
sit down and get centered for a while like your sister. She isn’t better, but
her way of being in the world is… she has chosen the better part while you
complain and get tied up in resentments.” Bible scholar, Elizabeth Johnson, writes:
Martha’s distraction and worry leave no
room for the most important aspect of hospitality -- gracious attention to the
guest. In fact, she breaks all the rules of hospitality by trying to embarrass
her sister in front of her guest, and by asking her guest to intervene in a
family dispute. She even goes so far as to accuse Jesus of not caring about her
(Lord,
do you not care…?)
Our culture is so tied up in knots – and
afraid of one another – that it often looks to me like it is easier to kill our
neighbors than host a feast for them. I
have shared this with you before, but a poem the late Erma Bombeck wrote after
discovering she had a fatal illness strikes me as timely:
If I had my life to live over, I would have talked less
and listened more. I would have
invited friends over to dinner even if the
carpet was stained and the sofa faded. I would have eaten the popcorn in the
'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to
light a fire in the fireplace. I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day
because my hair had just been teased and sprayed. I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in
storage. I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about
grass stains. I would have cried and laughed less while watching television -
and more while watching life. I would have shared more of the responsibility
carried by my husband. I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of
pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the
day. I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't
show soil or was guaranteed to last a lifetime. Instead of wishing away nine
months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the
wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a
miracle. When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said,
"Later. Now go get washed up for dinner." There would have been more
"I love you's".. More "I'm sorrys" .. But mostly, given
another shot at life, I would seize every minute... look at it and really see
it ... live it...and never give it back.
Conclusion
From my vantage point, ALL the law and the
prophets, the psalms and gospels, too urge us to seize the moment and live into
it fully: la vie commence ici, indeed!
That’s why over the next six weeks of summer worship, I will be using a
new book by Krista Tippett to help us reclaim ways of embracing the present
moment in our ministries of hospitality and compassion. Her text, Becoming
Wise: An Inquiry into the Mystery and Art of Living is a gem – so maybe
you’ll want to read it along with me. Together we’ll see how it amplifies or
challenges the Bible readings for each week and offers living, practical
examples of how to honor the blessings of mindfulness in the 21st
century. After worship each week, I
would like to spend a little time having a conversation with you about any questions
or concerns, too, ok?
One of the truths that Tippett articulates
about the quest for wisdom in real life is that there is only one constant
among wise people throughout the ages: they all let themselves be surprised by
the events of reality. They don’t resent them. They don’t oppose them. They don’t
deny or hide them, they just accept the surprises – and cultivate a sense of
humor in the moment - even when life spins out of control.
So like Abraham and Sara and Jesus and Mary
in today’s readings, I thought we too might practice a little bit of surprise
together in a fun way that lets us enjoy being in one another’s company even as
we pursue the blessings of being fully present in this moment.
Now what we’re going to do is silly – it
has no biblical precedent or profound theological point except to help us be
fully awake in community for a moment.
So I want us to try to sing three very different songs, from very
different cultures, all at the same time. Dianne tells me that when she and her
sisters were young, they learned to sing When
the Saints Go Marching In combined with both Swing Low, Sweet Chariot AND a French folk song called Dominique about St. Dominic.
Many of you already know When the Saints and Swing Low – we’ll practice them right
now as a refresher – then we’ll put them all together with Di and myself
singing Dominque: NOT because we have
to, NOT because it is deep and transformative but SIMPLY because it would be
fun to do this all together in the spirit of community – and when we are having
fun together as God’s people, we are fully alive and present in this
moment. That’s one of the ways we become
more tender in sharing hospitality, you know?
By creating, enjoying, experiencing and loving space, we create a little
oasis of blessing amidst the fear and pain of real life. So let’s give this a shot…
Oh when
the saints, go marching in, oh when the saints go marching in:
O Lord I want to
be in that number…
Swing low,
sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home;
swing low, sweet chariot, coming
for to carry me home
Dominique, nique, nique s’en allait tout
simplement, routier pauvre et chantant
En tous chemins, en tous lieu il ne parle que du bon Dieu
Il ne parle que du bon Dieu
En tous chemins, en tous lieu il ne parle que du bon Dieu
Il ne parle que du bon Dieu
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