Taking a break

I'm on a 12 week break, and consequently there will be no posts until early October.

Hospitality: The act of reciprocity

Stay in the same house, taking what food and drink they have to offer, for the labourer deserves his wages; do not move from house to house. Whenever you go into a town where they make you welcome, eat what is set before you. Cure those in it who are sick, and say,

 “The kingdom of God is very near to you.”

Luke 10:7 -9

The days when no one locked the back door, or front door for that matter and left their keys in the car, are well and truly gone. Having visitors turn up at any time was somewhat serendipitous, but providing drink and something to eat was essential. Not offering hospitality was considered ill- mannered and poor form. It still exists in some places, but turning up unannounced in the 21^st century is generally met with surprise and occasionally indignation – because our favourite programs are on the box, because we all have routines that we must keep to.

It is less surprising that when Luke is looking for images of the Kingdom of God, that he uses hospitality in the form of banquets, meals, invitations and welcomings. Indeed when those who preach the Gospel are welcomed into a new community, Jesus assures them that the kingdom is close at hand.

This is a real challenge to us in our busy lives – making ourselves available not only to friends and relatives, but remarkably to our own families – let alone to perfect strangers. We’ve all overheard or even used excuses for not visiting or to avoid having visitors as if opening our homes and offering hospitality is an invasion of privacy not an invitation to intimacy and deeper relationships.

Our words hospital, hospice, host  and hospitality are derived from the Latin hospes meaning both host and guest or stranger. This gives us an idea of what hospitality is, how it is an act of reciprocity – we are givers of hospitality and recipients of hospitality.

Luke is keenly aware that fellowship at the table, the sharing of meals is a particular moment of grace. It is in the making of companions (companion means one who breaks bread with another) that grows out of eating together, sharing stories, dreams and visions that unveils hospitality’s deeper purpose: remembering and reliving. It is something we do each day around the family table, ordering our responses according a rubric that scaffolds our love and friendship in our stories which draw concern, approval and advice, and we in turn listen and give of ourselves in return. This is holy, sacred time. It is here just as in our churches that God is truly present, he is indeed near.

Bringing our friends and perfect strangers to our table, into our homes, to begin new memories and to link with ever deeper common stories is the very reason we must break out of the chains of our 21^st century culture and be nothing less than hospitable.

What matters most

Another to whom he said, ‘Follow me,’ replied, ‘Let me go and bury my father first.’

But he answered, ‘Leave the dead to bury their dead;

 your duty is to go and spread the news of the kingdom of God.’

Luke 9:59 - 60

Texan pastor and former South American missionary Max Lucado is renowned as memorable preacher, and the following is a powerful example of his preaching (and one of his many quotable quotes):

When you are in the final days of your life, what will you want? Will you hug that college degree in the walnut frame? Will you ask to be carried to the garage so you can sit in your car? Will you find comfort in rereading your financial statement? Of course not. What will matter then will be people. If relationships matter most then, shouldn’t they matter most now?

[Max Lucado (2007) Building a Godly home, p.44]

There’s no doubt that we need to be clear about what our priorities in life are. Jesus’ words challenge us: is there a real intention to desert your bereaved family so that you go and proclaim the Good News? The allusion to the calling of Elisha (1 Kings 19:19f) gives us a clue: Elisha does go back, slaughters his oxen, burns his plough, cooked the beasts and fed his people and then followed Elijah. So the point is that we must follow through our intentions with actions. Just do it!

Lucado reminds us with equal clarity that what is most important in life are our relationships, not the things that appear to occupy our lives, by their acquisition, maintenance, or improvement. Yes, we ought return to say our goodbyes to our families before we go off to seek our fortunes, but we ought not ever forget those who nourish our days, who bring us joy, who celebrate our being.

Take up your cross and follow me

‘If anyone wants to be a follower of mine,

let him renounce himself and take up his cross every day and follow me.

For anyone who wants to save his life will lose it;

but anyone who loses his life for my sake, that man will save it.’

Luke 9:23 – 24

Perhaps it’s a paradox or a conundrum, but Luke’s Jesus cleverly juxtaposes his words. Clever or not it is a key to discipleship.

Few of my heroes are great public figures. My heroes are drawn from the brave, the amazing, the miraculous everyday men and women who we are likely to meet in the street on any given day. Sometimes we don’t even recognize this kind of hero until it’s too late. My brother Richard was one of these. He was the father of 12 beautiful kids, a grandfather, a husband. The last 30 years of his life was a gift to his family but also a gift to his community of faith, his church. We all knew of his commitment, what we didn’t know was the level of that commitment and the impact that he had on so many people. We – his brothers and sisters – didn’t know, well, because we didn’t notice, we didn’t ask.  And that’s the kind of hero who makes our world a better place. Those he encountered had an attentive ear, a humble word of advice and a great deal of love, all given freely and with empathy.

When we speak of being transformed, it is the effect of a life-changing experience. For the Christian it begins with an encounter with the person of Jesus, most often revealed through relationships in which generous self-giving mirrors the action of Jesus. In time we develop a personal relationship through the various and many encounters with goodness, with hope, with compassion, with love. We enrich it in prayer, reflection, meditation and by responding to the needs of those who meet, and reaching beyond the immediacy of my friends and family by becoming a true neighbour.

This transformation is often named as metanoia (change of heart) or conversion, resurrection (into a new life), the fullness of life, or kingdom of God.

I am deeply privileged to have known my brother. His fidelity and courage have been an encounter for me with the person of Jesus, have opened even wider the door to the fuller life to which I am called. Take a good look at the heroes in your life. They may well be the face of Jesus.

Don’t be afraid to be open to the possibilities that these encounters will bring you.

Which of them will love him more

   

One of the Pharisees invited Jesus to a meal. When he arrived at the Pharisee’s house and took his place at table, a woman came in, who had a bad name in the town. She had heard he was dining with the Pharisee and had brought with her an alabaster jar of ointment. She waited behind him at his feet, weeping, and her tears fell on his feet, and she wiped them away with her hair; then she covered his feet with kisses and anointed them with the ointment.

When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, ‘If this man were a prophet, he would know who this woman is that is touching him and what a bad name she has.’

Luke 7:36 - 39

When we live long enough and have met enough people, we often develop of sense of who people are – whether they are trustworthy, honest, worth knowing, kind, generous or not. It’s our ability to judge people for want of better words. We might use our judgment when choose to befriend a newcomer or even withhold judgment to allow someone to prove themselves. Our judgment of others is ultimately to ensure we are safe and surrounded by those whom we can trust – who will share our values. None of us wants to be seen as judgmental. But we do want to be seen as good judges – of character, of companions, of partners.

How often have we changed our minds about people we meet or work with? How often are we delighted or surprised by an acquaintance’s loyalty, support or encouragement that we didn’t expect?

Only the most hardened among us would not admit that our sense of judgment isn’t perfect. Well, let’s face it, it isn’t. We make mistakes. We use all of our experience and knowledge and we make the call. Whether or not we admit to ourselves or to others that our choices haven’t met the test of good or right judgment is moot.

In this story from Luke, Jesus forgives the sins of a woman who kisses his feet. Simon the Pharisee is shocked that Jesus doesn’t know that the woman is disreputable. Jesus picks up that Simon is scandalized, and tells him a parable where two debtors are forgiven by their creditor, one who owes 50 denarii and other who owes 500 denarii: Which of them will love him more?’ [asked Jesus]. ‘The one who was pardoned more, I suppose,’ answered Simon. Jesus said, ‘You are right.’ (Luke 7:42 – 43).

Jesus, it appears, was unfussed about how people judged him and those whose company he kept. He had an integrity that was immovable. He had a preference for the poor, the hungry, and those excluded because they believe in him (Luke 6:20 – 22) – and this included tax collectors and prostitutes. They were not the ‘right kind’ of people. Many indeed required greater forgiveness, because as Jesus acknowledges – Who will love him more? And let him be the judge of that.

Raising the living from death

Everyone was filled with awe and praised God saying, ‘A great prophet has appeared among us; God has visited his people.’ And this opinion of him spread throughout Judaea and all over the countryside.

Luke 7:16 - 17

When we are bereaved, we fall onto the language that we have learned over the years that helps us to express our grief and give meaning to our loss. It’s not our everyday language. Our loved ones are with God, gone to heaven, resting in peace, alive forever, with Grandma, in our hearts, entered eternal life and we euphemise about death, avoiding the word altogether by talking about passing away, passing over, passed on or just passed. What does this all mean? And what makes us use this language?

Death is common to every living thing. Including us. Yet we live as if there is no tomorrow, we surround ourselves with objects, relationships, ideas and experiences that emphasise the present, that celebrate the here and now, participation, consumption. Death is the ultimate threat to our way of life. Many of us have forgotten how to grieve, how to mourn and how to let go.

Indeed, what lies beyond our final breath? For the early Hebrews there was sheol, the place of the dead, eventually displaced by an afterlife. The Greeks called this underworld hades. The Abrahamic religions came to accept that our post-death destination was both earned and eternal. But what is it that ‘lives on’? Will our egos survive? Is the whole notion of life after death a mere human construction to hang our need for something beyond? Can I suggest that I have been asking the wrong question? The question ought be, what happens to me when someone I love dies?

The story of the raising of the widow of Nain’s son is a story unique to Luke (7:11 – 17). Her only son has died and he was being carried out of the town to be buried. His mother was accompanied by a considerable number of townspeople. Jesus and a great number of disciples were entering the town at the same time. Jesus saw her and was sorry for her. Sorry for her in her state of grief, sorry that being a widow the early death of her only son would mean poverty, eking out a living at the edge of society. Jesus had compassion for her, for he sensed the enormity of her loss. She is indeed bereft.

Jesus placed his hand on the man’s bier and spoke to him: Young man, I tell you to get up. He sat up and began to talk, then Jesus gave him to his mother. In doing this it is the widow’s life that is restored, she now has a life to live, a purpose, a support, a reason to get up every day, she will be a mother-in-law, a grandmother.

The miracle is not about the raising of the dead, it is the story of the raising of the living, of being transformed, made anew with the power and presence of Jesus. It is he who makes a difference in my life, who makes it possible to get through the difficulties, pain and hardship of everyday living.

No one asks the young man, ‘Was there anything on the other side?’ No. I need to constantly remind myself that in losing those I love in death, I am also open and available to the transforming love and compassion of others. There is new life for all of us.