You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Being in a new community, I’m already making mental lists of people I’d like to invite over, people I'd like get to know better, those who have already taken me out to dinner – and maybe some who I’d like to invite me back. I've been known to invite people I think are important, with whom I’d like to become friendly so I feel important. Wrong! says Jesus. "When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.”
This teaching hits us where we live, literally. In this day and age, living as we do in fragmented and stratified communities, most people see their homes as places of safety and refuge. We might be willing to be challenged outside, and invite the marginalized into our church halls and community centers. But into our homes?
Or is that exactly where we are to live out the Good News? Jesus was always crossing boundaries of difference to bring the Good News – as he did in coming to us in our time and space in the first place. As his followers we also are called to go beyond our zones of familiarity and comfort to reach out to the Other.
What kind of “Other” most scares or bothers you? (think age/ ethnicity/ profession/ style…)
In prayer, can you imagine inviting one of those people into your home, to sit at your table? This is a way we can pray for and about people – in our imaginations.
What would you serve? Try to sit with this in your imagination, really feel what you would be feeling.
What might you say? What might your guest say? Who else might be around that table?
Inviting strangers or people we find strange into our homes might be a stretch for most of us; it is for me. Perhaps we could start by inviting someone we consider “other” to breakfast or lunch in a restaurant – start with the encounter itself, deal with the discomfort of possibly disconnected conversation. If we remember that Jesus is also at that table with us, we might find it an adventure that opens up possibilities in us.
After all, the One who tells us to cross that boundary in the first place isn’t going to skip the party himself…
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Showing posts with label hospitality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hospitality. Show all posts
7-14-25 - Hosting Jesus
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
How would you feel about hosting Jesus in your home? In many of my congregations, we’ve had a Jesus Doll, which we invite children to take home for a week at a time, asking them to record where they took Jesus, what they did, how it felt. One mother brought him back, saying, “It was very stressful! When Jenny took him to school they made her put him in her cubby all day, because it was a religious doll. At home, the dog tried to eat him, and then our Jewish neighbors came over, so we put him away… it just wasn’t a good week to have the Son of God at our house.”
Our story this week is about welcoming Jesus. Only five verses, it is packed with meaning. One of two gospel stories about dinner parties for Jesus in the home of Martha, Mary and Lazarus, it has encouraged mystics and alarmed hostesses since it was recorded. It is held up as an affirmation of the contemplative way of faith over the active; a teaching on anxiety; an exploration of devotion. And it begins with hospitality, which is where we left off in the story of the Good Samaritan: Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home.
Other accounts about this family tell us the “certain village” is Bethany and that Martha is a sister to Mary and Lazarus. In accounts in the Gospel of John she is referred to as Lazarus' sister, but Luke identifies Martha as the head of household. She is in a position to offer hospitality to Jesus and his entourage. As we will see, they are close enough friends that she can whine at him, and he gently rebuke her. It is one of the most vivid of Jesus’ friendships we see in the gospel record. And yes, welcoming the Son of God into her home causes Martha a bit of stress.
Are you aware of Jesus with you at home, or do you tend to connect with him elsewhere? Have you set aside a spot for prayer and study, a place where you sit to connect with Jesus? What if we tried it this week, settling in, inviting him to join us, seeing where the conversation went? Would you feel you had to clean up? Dress nicely? Serve something? Or would you find he was the host?
As we explore this very rich encounter between Jesus and these two sisters, I hope it will deepen our own encounters with him. In terms of the challenges it places on our priorities, it’s never a good week to have the Son of God at our house. On the other hand, his presence enriches everything else that goes on there. Invite him over. I’m pretty sure he’ll accept.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
How would you feel about hosting Jesus in your home? In many of my congregations, we’ve had a Jesus Doll, which we invite children to take home for a week at a time, asking them to record where they took Jesus, what they did, how it felt. One mother brought him back, saying, “It was very stressful! When Jenny took him to school they made her put him in her cubby all day, because it was a religious doll. At home, the dog tried to eat him, and then our Jewish neighbors came over, so we put him away… it just wasn’t a good week to have the Son of God at our house.”
Our story this week is about welcoming Jesus. Only five verses, it is packed with meaning. One of two gospel stories about dinner parties for Jesus in the home of Martha, Mary and Lazarus, it has encouraged mystics and alarmed hostesses since it was recorded. It is held up as an affirmation of the contemplative way of faith over the active; a teaching on anxiety; an exploration of devotion. And it begins with hospitality, which is where we left off in the story of the Good Samaritan: Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home.
Other accounts about this family tell us the “certain village” is Bethany and that Martha is a sister to Mary and Lazarus. In accounts in the Gospel of John she is referred to as Lazarus' sister, but Luke identifies Martha as the head of household. She is in a position to offer hospitality to Jesus and his entourage. As we will see, they are close enough friends that she can whine at him, and he gently rebuke her. It is one of the most vivid of Jesus’ friendships we see in the gospel record. And yes, welcoming the Son of God into her home causes Martha a bit of stress.
Are you aware of Jesus with you at home, or do you tend to connect with him elsewhere? Have you set aside a spot for prayer and study, a place where you sit to connect with Jesus? What if we tried it this week, settling in, inviting him to join us, seeing where the conversation went? Would you feel you had to clean up? Dress nicely? Serve something? Or would you find he was the host?
As we explore this very rich encounter between Jesus and these two sisters, I hope it will deepen our own encounters with him. In terms of the challenges it places on our priorities, it’s never a good week to have the Son of God at our house. On the other hand, his presence enriches everything else that goes on there. Invite him over. I’m pretty sure he’ll accept.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
7-3-25 - Stay Put and Receive
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
As a Foreign Service family, mine moved a lot. Someone once gave my mother an inspirational poster with the words, “Bloom Where You Planted,” which she amended to read, “Bloom Where You Are Trans-Planted.” I think of that poster when I read Jesus’ instructions to his followers as they head out to proclaim the Good News and heal the sick: “Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’”
Remember, Jesus has already told them to go without any luggage, money or protection. They are to rely on hospitality offered to them. They are not to pick and choose, trying out the beds or reviewing the menu before selecting a place to stay. Wherever they land, they are to remain until they leave that town and go to the next.
How does this advice relate to us in our contexts and ministries? There is counsel here to let others give to us, not go looking for the best deal or seeing what we can arrange for ourselves. Receiving hospitality is hard for many of us, wired as we are to give – which is also a way of staying in control. Many Episcopal churches have embraced the concept of “radical hospitality,” signaling that all are welcome, whether or not they know our secret handshakes, or what (or where…) an undercroft is. Jesus invites us to an even more challenging task: to be “radical guests,” just appreciating what is offered us, not even trying to return the favor.
This teaching is also about staying focused on our mission in God’s life. Picking and choosing the places we want to stay and what we want to eat and how we want to schedule our days takes energy and attention that might be better directed toward being open to the leading of the Spirit and where we see God-energy around us. I just came back from a house-hunting trip, and as always, I found the Holy Spirit was the best travel agent, arranging blessings I could not have planned or anticipated.
Above all we are called to live in a mode of radical trust as followers of the One who was always on the move, always eating at the tables of others or on what his supporters could rustle up. That doesn’t mean we can never host or give; it just means we have to increase our capacity to receive if we truly want to be filled with the love and grace that only God can give.
Only as we are filled with the full measure of God-Life can we proclaim “The kingdom of God has come near to you,” because we’re bringing it. Only as we trust in God’s provision can we bloom where we are planted, at least until God transplants us somewhere else.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
As a Foreign Service family, mine moved a lot. Someone once gave my mother an inspirational poster with the words, “Bloom Where You Planted,” which she amended to read, “Bloom Where You Are Trans-Planted.” I think of that poster when I read Jesus’ instructions to his followers as they head out to proclaim the Good News and heal the sick: “Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’”
Remember, Jesus has already told them to go without any luggage, money or protection. They are to rely on hospitality offered to them. They are not to pick and choose, trying out the beds or reviewing the menu before selecting a place to stay. Wherever they land, they are to remain until they leave that town and go to the next.
How does this advice relate to us in our contexts and ministries? There is counsel here to let others give to us, not go looking for the best deal or seeing what we can arrange for ourselves. Receiving hospitality is hard for many of us, wired as we are to give – which is also a way of staying in control. Many Episcopal churches have embraced the concept of “radical hospitality,” signaling that all are welcome, whether or not they know our secret handshakes, or what (or where…) an undercroft is. Jesus invites us to an even more challenging task: to be “radical guests,” just appreciating what is offered us, not even trying to return the favor.
This teaching is also about staying focused on our mission in God’s life. Picking and choosing the places we want to stay and what we want to eat and how we want to schedule our days takes energy and attention that might be better directed toward being open to the leading of the Spirit and where we see God-energy around us. I just came back from a house-hunting trip, and as always, I found the Holy Spirit was the best travel agent, arranging blessings I could not have planned or anticipated.
Above all we are called to live in a mode of radical trust as followers of the One who was always on the move, always eating at the tables of others or on what his supporters could rustle up. That doesn’t mean we can never host or give; it just means we have to increase our capacity to receive if we truly want to be filled with the love and grace that only God can give.
Only as we are filled with the full measure of God-Life can we proclaim “The kingdom of God has come near to you,” because we’re bringing it. Only as we trust in God’s provision can we bloom where we are planted, at least until God transplants us somewhere else.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
7-5-24 - Radical Hospitality
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Some churches use the term “radical hospitality” to describe their processes for welcoming visitors. In practice, this often means good signage, an alert and well-trained cadre of greeters, easy-to-follow service booklets, and people who are ready to help newcomers navigate the liturgy and escort them personally to coffee hour. On a deeper level, it can mean that a congregation is trained to welcome people who come “as they are,” not to impose its norms upon visitors; to create an atmosphere of warmth and acceptance and openness to the gifts a visitor might bring.
This is the kind of hospitality which Jesus’ disciples were to seek out as they went out in twos on their first mission without Jesus: He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place.”
Since he’d already told them not to take any money or extra clothing, it was clear they wouldn’t be bearing hostess gifts. They would be bringing the power to heal, authority over evil spirits, and the Good News of release and wholeness to be found in Jesus Christ. If they found people willing to take them in and care for them under those conditions, they were to remain there, not moving from house to house looking for the best breakfast. The point was to leave their time and energy free for preaching and healing.
And if they couldn’t find that kind of hospitality, or the people in a given town didn’t want to hear their message? Then they should keep moving, and find somewhere more fruitful: "If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.”
This might sound harsh to us, but Jesus wasn’t sending his disciples on a Grand Tour. He was sending them to proclaim the Good News and to exert authority over evil. To do that they would have to become what a New Yorker writer humorously described herself to be: “fiercely dependent" - and discerning about where to spend their energy.
Hospitality that is truly radical allows a wonderful exchange between visitor and host. It does not treat a visitor as a guest, but welcomes her as family the very first time she comes. It does not put all the focus on what we can offer, setting up an “us and them,” or subtly seek to exert power through generosity. We should seek a mutual sharing of gifts when we bring dinner to the homeless shelter as much as when someone joins us for worship, allowing them to help serve, not only to be served.
Truly radical hospitality recognizes that each person may well be an apostle of Jesus Christ, with gifts and a message for us. I wonder how many more church visitors might come a second time if, instead of asking, “What can we do for you?” we asked, “What are the gifts you bring? We welcome them as we welcome you.”
Sometimes radical hospitality is what we're called to find, and sometimes it's what we're called to offer. Both ways, we are called to give and to receive, all at the same time. And in that giving and receiving, community is formed.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Some churches use the term “radical hospitality” to describe their processes for welcoming visitors. In practice, this often means good signage, an alert and well-trained cadre of greeters, easy-to-follow service booklets, and people who are ready to help newcomers navigate the liturgy and escort them personally to coffee hour. On a deeper level, it can mean that a congregation is trained to welcome people who come “as they are,” not to impose its norms upon visitors; to create an atmosphere of warmth and acceptance and openness to the gifts a visitor might bring.
This is the kind of hospitality which Jesus’ disciples were to seek out as they went out in twos on their first mission without Jesus: He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place.”
Since he’d already told them not to take any money or extra clothing, it was clear they wouldn’t be bearing hostess gifts. They would be bringing the power to heal, authority over evil spirits, and the Good News of release and wholeness to be found in Jesus Christ. If they found people willing to take them in and care for them under those conditions, they were to remain there, not moving from house to house looking for the best breakfast. The point was to leave their time and energy free for preaching and healing.
And if they couldn’t find that kind of hospitality, or the people in a given town didn’t want to hear their message? Then they should keep moving, and find somewhere more fruitful: "If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.”
This might sound harsh to us, but Jesus wasn’t sending his disciples on a Grand Tour. He was sending them to proclaim the Good News and to exert authority over evil. To do that they would have to become what a New Yorker writer humorously described herself to be: “fiercely dependent" - and discerning about where to spend their energy.
Hospitality that is truly radical allows a wonderful exchange between visitor and host. It does not treat a visitor as a guest, but welcomes her as family the very first time she comes. It does not put all the focus on what we can offer, setting up an “us and them,” or subtly seek to exert power through generosity. We should seek a mutual sharing of gifts when we bring dinner to the homeless shelter as much as when someone joins us for worship, allowing them to help serve, not only to be served.
Truly radical hospitality recognizes that each person may well be an apostle of Jesus Christ, with gifts and a message for us. I wonder how many more church visitors might come a second time if, instead of asking, “What can we do for you?” we asked, “What are the gifts you bring? We welcome them as we welcome you.”
Sometimes radical hospitality is what we're called to find, and sometimes it's what we're called to offer. Both ways, we are called to give and to receive, all at the same time. And in that giving and receiving, community is formed.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
8-25-22 - Guest Lists
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Before Covid, I tried to entertain regularly. I often found myself making mental lists of people I’d like to invite over, people I'd like get to know better, those who have already had me to dinner – and maybe some whom I’d like to invite me back. Sometimes I invite people I think are important, with whom I’d like to become friendly so I feel important. Wrong! says Jesus.
"When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.”
This teaching literally hits us where we live, often in fragmented and stratified communities. Most people see their homes as places of safety and refuge. We might be willing to be challenged outside, and invite the marginalized into our church halls and community centers. But into our homes?
Or is that exactly where we are to live out the Good News? Jesus was always crossing boundaries of difference to bring the Good News, as he did in coming to us in our time and space in the first place. As his followers we also are called to go beyond our zones of familiarity and comfort to reach out to the Other. Sometimes that means going to the unfamiliar, and sometimes welcoming the Other into our own spaces.
What kind of “Other” most scares or bothers you? (think age/ethnicity/profession/style…)
In prayer, can you imagine inviting one of those people into your home, to sit at your table? This is a way we can pray for and about people – in our imaginations.
What would you serve? Try to imagine this, really feel what you would be feeling.
What might you say? What might your guest say? Who else might be around that table?
Inviting strangers or people we find strange into our homes might be a stretch for most of us; it is for me. Perhaps we could start by inviting someone we consider “other” to breakfast or lunch in a restaurant – start with the encounter itself, deal with the discomfort of possibly disconnected conversation. If we remember that Jesus is also at that table with us, we might find it an adventure that opens up possibilities in us. After all, the One who tells us to cross that boundary in the first place isn’t going to skip the party himself.
Before Covid, I tried to entertain regularly. I often found myself making mental lists of people I’d like to invite over, people I'd like get to know better, those who have already had me to dinner – and maybe some whom I’d like to invite me back. Sometimes I invite people I think are important, with whom I’d like to become friendly so I feel important. Wrong! says Jesus.
"When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.”
This teaching literally hits us where we live, often in fragmented and stratified communities. Most people see their homes as places of safety and refuge. We might be willing to be challenged outside, and invite the marginalized into our church halls and community centers. But into our homes?
Or is that exactly where we are to live out the Good News? Jesus was always crossing boundaries of difference to bring the Good News, as he did in coming to us in our time and space in the first place. As his followers we also are called to go beyond our zones of familiarity and comfort to reach out to the Other. Sometimes that means going to the unfamiliar, and sometimes welcoming the Other into our own spaces.
What kind of “Other” most scares or bothers you? (think age/ethnicity/profession/style…)
In prayer, can you imagine inviting one of those people into your home, to sit at your table? This is a way we can pray for and about people – in our imaginations.
What would you serve? Try to imagine this, really feel what you would be feeling.
What might you say? What might your guest say? Who else might be around that table?
Inviting strangers or people we find strange into our homes might be a stretch for most of us; it is for me. Perhaps we could start by inviting someone we consider “other” to breakfast or lunch in a restaurant – start with the encounter itself, deal with the discomfort of possibly disconnected conversation. If we remember that Jesus is also at that table with us, we might find it an adventure that opens up possibilities in us. After all, the One who tells us to cross that boundary in the first place isn’t going to skip the party himself.
7-11-22 - Hosting Jesus
You can listen to this reflection here.
How would you feel about hosting Jesus to your home? In many of my congregations, we’ve had a Jesus Doll, which we invite children to take home for a week at a time, asking them to record where they took Jesus, what they did, how it felt. One mother brought him back after two weeks, saying, “It was very stressful! When Jenny took him to school they made her put him in her cubby all day, because it was a religious doll. At home, the dog tried to eat him, and then our Jewish neighbors came over, so we put him away… it just wasn’t a good week to have the Son of God at our house.”
Our story this week is about welcoming Jesus. Only five verses, it is packed with meaning. One of two gospel stories about dinner parties for Jesus in the home of Martha, Mary and Lazarus, it has encouraged mystics and alarmed hostesses since it was recorded. It is held up as an affirmation of the contemplative way of faith over the active, a teaching on anxiety, an exploration of devotion. And it begins with hospitality, which is where we left off in the story of the Good Samaritan.
Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home.
Other accounts about this family tell us the “certain village” is Bethany and that Martha is a sister to Mary and Lazarus. In accounts in the Gospel of John she is referred to as Lazarus' sister, but Luke identifies Martha as the head of household. She is in a position to offer Jesus hospitality, along with his entourage. As we will see, they are close enough friends that she can whine at him, and he gently rebuke her. It is one of the most vivid of Jesus’ friendships we see in the gospel record. And yes, welcoming the Son of God into her home causes Martha a bit of stress.
Are you aware of Jesus with you at home, or do you tend to connect with him elsewhere? Have you set aside a spot for prayer and study, a place where you sit to connect with Jesus? What if we tried it this week, settling in, inviting him to join us, seeing where the conversation went? Would you feel you had to clean up? Dress nicely? Serve something? Or would you find he was the host?
As we explore this very rich encounter between Jesus and these two sisters, I hope it will deepen our own encounters with him. In terms of the challenges it places on our priorities, it’s never a good week to have the Son of God at our house. On the other hand, his presence enriches everything else that goes on there. Invite him over. I’m pretty sure he’ll accept.
How would you feel about hosting Jesus to your home? In many of my congregations, we’ve had a Jesus Doll, which we invite children to take home for a week at a time, asking them to record where they took Jesus, what they did, how it felt. One mother brought him back after two weeks, saying, “It was very stressful! When Jenny took him to school they made her put him in her cubby all day, because it was a religious doll. At home, the dog tried to eat him, and then our Jewish neighbors came over, so we put him away… it just wasn’t a good week to have the Son of God at our house.”
Our story this week is about welcoming Jesus. Only five verses, it is packed with meaning. One of two gospel stories about dinner parties for Jesus in the home of Martha, Mary and Lazarus, it has encouraged mystics and alarmed hostesses since it was recorded. It is held up as an affirmation of the contemplative way of faith over the active, a teaching on anxiety, an exploration of devotion. And it begins with hospitality, which is where we left off in the story of the Good Samaritan.
Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home.
Other accounts about this family tell us the “certain village” is Bethany and that Martha is a sister to Mary and Lazarus. In accounts in the Gospel of John she is referred to as Lazarus' sister, but Luke identifies Martha as the head of household. She is in a position to offer Jesus hospitality, along with his entourage. As we will see, they are close enough friends that she can whine at him, and he gently rebuke her. It is one of the most vivid of Jesus’ friendships we see in the gospel record. And yes, welcoming the Son of God into her home causes Martha a bit of stress.
Are you aware of Jesus with you at home, or do you tend to connect with him elsewhere? Have you set aside a spot for prayer and study, a place where you sit to connect with Jesus? What if we tried it this week, settling in, inviting him to join us, seeing where the conversation went? Would you feel you had to clean up? Dress nicely? Serve something? Or would you find he was the host?
As we explore this very rich encounter between Jesus and these two sisters, I hope it will deepen our own encounters with him. In terms of the challenges it places on our priorities, it’s never a good week to have the Son of God at our house. On the other hand, his presence enriches everything else that goes on there. Invite him over. I’m pretty sure he’ll accept.
6-30-22 - Stay Put and Receive
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
As a Foreign Service family, mine moved a lot. Someone once gave my mother an inspirational poster with the words, “Bloom Where You Planted,” which she amended to read, “Bloom Where You Are Trans-planted.” I thought of that poster when I read Jesus’ instructions to his followers as they head out to proclaim the Good News and heal the sick:
“Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’”
Remember, Jesus has already told them to go without any luggage, money or protection. They are to rely on hospitality offered to them. They are not to pick and choose, trying out the beds or finding out the menu before selecting a place to stay. Wherever they land, they are to remain until they leave that town and go to the next.
How does this advice relate to us in our contexts and ministries? There is counsel here to let others give to us, not go looking for the best deal or seeing what we can arrange for ourselves. Receiving hospitality is hard for many of us, wired as we are to give – which is also a way of staying in control. Many Episcopal churches have embraced the concept of “radical hospitality,” signaling that all are welcome, whether or not they know our secret handshakes, or what (or where…) an undercroft is. Jesus invites us to an even more challenging place: to be “radical guests,” just appreciating what is offered us, not even trying to return the favor.
This teaching is also about staying focused on our mission in God’s life. Picking and choosing the places we want to stay and what we want to eat and how we want to schedule our days takes energy and attention that might be better directed toward being open to the leading of the Spirit and where we see God-energy around us. I just came back from an overseas trip, and as always, I found the Holy Spirit was the best travel agent, arranging blessings I could not have planned or anticipated.
Above all we are called to live in a mode of radical trust as followers of the One who was always on the move, always eating at the tables of others or on what his supporters could rustle up. That doesn’t mean we can never host or give; it just means we have to increase our capacity to receive if we truly want to be filled with the love and grace that only God can give.
Only as we are filled with the full measure of God-Life can we proclaim “The kingdom of God has come near to you,” because we’re bringing it. Only as we trust in God’s provision can we bloom where we are planted, at least until God transplants us somewhere else.
As a Foreign Service family, mine moved a lot. Someone once gave my mother an inspirational poster with the words, “Bloom Where You Planted,” which she amended to read, “Bloom Where You Are Trans-planted.” I thought of that poster when I read Jesus’ instructions to his followers as they head out to proclaim the Good News and heal the sick:
“Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’”
Remember, Jesus has already told them to go without any luggage, money or protection. They are to rely on hospitality offered to them. They are not to pick and choose, trying out the beds or finding out the menu before selecting a place to stay. Wherever they land, they are to remain until they leave that town and go to the next.
How does this advice relate to us in our contexts and ministries? There is counsel here to let others give to us, not go looking for the best deal or seeing what we can arrange for ourselves. Receiving hospitality is hard for many of us, wired as we are to give – which is also a way of staying in control. Many Episcopal churches have embraced the concept of “radical hospitality,” signaling that all are welcome, whether or not they know our secret handshakes, or what (or where…) an undercroft is. Jesus invites us to an even more challenging place: to be “radical guests,” just appreciating what is offered us, not even trying to return the favor.
This teaching is also about staying focused on our mission in God’s life. Picking and choosing the places we want to stay and what we want to eat and how we want to schedule our days takes energy and attention that might be better directed toward being open to the leading of the Spirit and where we see God-energy around us. I just came back from an overseas trip, and as always, I found the Holy Spirit was the best travel agent, arranging blessings I could not have planned or anticipated.
Above all we are called to live in a mode of radical trust as followers of the One who was always on the move, always eating at the tables of others or on what his supporters could rustle up. That doesn’t mean we can never host or give; it just means we have to increase our capacity to receive if we truly want to be filled with the love and grace that only God can give.
Only as we are filled with the full measure of God-Life can we proclaim “The kingdom of God has come near to you,” because we’re bringing it. Only as we trust in God’s provision can we bloom where we are planted, at least until God transplants us somewhere else.
6-20-22 - Hospitality
You can listen to this reflection here.
This week’s gospel reading finds Jesus and his disciples on the road again. He is heading for Jerusalem for the last time. The roads on which he travels are not particularly friendly: When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. And he sent messengers ahead of him. On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to make ready for him; but they did not receive him, because his face was set toward Jerusalem.
What’s happening here? We need to know a little about the mix of religion and politics to make sense of it. Samaritans were also people of Israel – they were descendants of the Northern Kingdom in the days when North (Samaria) and South (Judea) were separate and ruled by different kings. One reason for the split was that when King David established Jerusalem as a capital, THE place where the Spirit of God had come to dwell, the leadership there sought to make Jerusalem – and the temple David’s son Solomon built – the ONLY holy place where sacrifices could be offered. All the holy places and shrines in Samaria, the northern part of Israel, were denigrated. This did not sit well with the residents and priestly class of Samaria. Gradually the feud became a schism between two branches of one family.
When Jesus’ advance team came into this Samaritan village to see if Jesus could stay there, they were rebuffed. Whatever the natural hospitality of the people might have been, they were not going to play host to any religious leader heading to Jerusalem. The wounds were still fresh this many centuries later.
This is so often the case when we disapprove of what someone else stands for. We might not even bother to get to know the person, rejecting her for her opinions or positions on issues. In our polarized times, some are allergic to even hearing views that they find abhorrent, calling them toxic. And sometimes those views really are abhorrent. When do we listen and when do we say, “Enough?”
Maybe a better question is: what is hospitality? Is it only the willingness to host people we like and agree with? Or is it being willing to let God “set a table for me in the presence of my enemies,” as the 23rd psalm puts it?
Hospitality is a good framework for how we engage the “Other,” whether that person is of a different ethnic, racial, sexual, financial or political group than us. What if we saw such encounters as the equivalent of offering water and a place to sit to a weary and parched traveler? We have different expectations of guests than we do of friends, and different expectations of ourselves as hosts. I still hope one day to launch a program interrupted by the Covid pandemic, a series of dinners I was calling, “Eating With Strangers,” which would invite people to break bread together and find ways to speak and listen respectfully across divisive issues.
Hospitality is a spiritual practice we are invited to cultivate in all kinds of ways. It could transform our lives – and our culture – if we found ourselves practicing it with people of whom we disapprove, even if we don't like where they've been or where they're going.
This week’s gospel reading finds Jesus and his disciples on the road again. He is heading for Jerusalem for the last time. The roads on which he travels are not particularly friendly: When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. And he sent messengers ahead of him. On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to make ready for him; but they did not receive him, because his face was set toward Jerusalem.
What’s happening here? We need to know a little about the mix of religion and politics to make sense of it. Samaritans were also people of Israel – they were descendants of the Northern Kingdom in the days when North (Samaria) and South (Judea) were separate and ruled by different kings. One reason for the split was that when King David established Jerusalem as a capital, THE place where the Spirit of God had come to dwell, the leadership there sought to make Jerusalem – and the temple David’s son Solomon built – the ONLY holy place where sacrifices could be offered. All the holy places and shrines in Samaria, the northern part of Israel, were denigrated. This did not sit well with the residents and priestly class of Samaria. Gradually the feud became a schism between two branches of one family.
When Jesus’ advance team came into this Samaritan village to see if Jesus could stay there, they were rebuffed. Whatever the natural hospitality of the people might have been, they were not going to play host to any religious leader heading to Jerusalem. The wounds were still fresh this many centuries later.
This is so often the case when we disapprove of what someone else stands for. We might not even bother to get to know the person, rejecting her for her opinions or positions on issues. In our polarized times, some are allergic to even hearing views that they find abhorrent, calling them toxic. And sometimes those views really are abhorrent. When do we listen and when do we say, “Enough?”
Maybe a better question is: what is hospitality? Is it only the willingness to host people we like and agree with? Or is it being willing to let God “set a table for me in the presence of my enemies,” as the 23rd psalm puts it?
Hospitality is a good framework for how we engage the “Other,” whether that person is of a different ethnic, racial, sexual, financial or political group than us. What if we saw such encounters as the equivalent of offering water and a place to sit to a weary and parched traveler? We have different expectations of guests than we do of friends, and different expectations of ourselves as hosts. I still hope one day to launch a program interrupted by the Covid pandemic, a series of dinners I was calling, “Eating With Strangers,” which would invite people to break bread together and find ways to speak and listen respectfully across divisive issues.
Hospitality is a spiritual practice we are invited to cultivate in all kinds of ways. It could transform our lives – and our culture – if we found ourselves practicing it with people of whom we disapprove, even if we don't like where they've been or where they're going.
7-1-21 - Radical Hospitality
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Many churches use the term “radical hospitality” to describe their processes for welcoming visitors. In practice, this often means good signage, an alert and well-trained cadre of greeters, easy-to-follow service booklets, and people who are ready to help newcomers navigate the liturgy and escort them personally to coffee hour. On a deeper level, it can mean that a congregation is trained to welcome people who come “as they are,” not to impose its norms upon visitors, to create an atmosphere of warmth and acceptance and openness to the gifts a visitor might bring.
This is the kind of hospitality which Jesus’ disciples were to seek out as they went out in twos on their first mission without Jesus:
Many churches use the term “radical hospitality” to describe their processes for welcoming visitors. In practice, this often means good signage, an alert and well-trained cadre of greeters, easy-to-follow service booklets, and people who are ready to help newcomers navigate the liturgy and escort them personally to coffee hour. On a deeper level, it can mean that a congregation is trained to welcome people who come “as they are,” not to impose its norms upon visitors, to create an atmosphere of warmth and acceptance and openness to the gifts a visitor might bring.
This is the kind of hospitality which Jesus’ disciples were to seek out as they went out in twos on their first mission without Jesus:
He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place.”
Since he’d already told them not to take any money or extra clothing, it was clear they wouldn’t be bearing hostess gifts. They would be bringing the power to heal, authority over unclean spirits, and the Good News of release and wholeness to be found in Jesus Christ. If they found people willing to take them in and care for them under those conditions, they were to remain there, not moving from house to house looking for the best breakfast. The point was to leave their time and energy free for preaching and healing.
And if they couldn’t find that kind of hospitality, or the people in a given town didn’t want to hear their message? Then they should keep moving, and find somewhere more fruitful: "If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.”
This might sound harsh to us, but Jesus wasn’t sending his disciples on a Grand Tour. He was sending them to proclaim the Good News and to exert authority over evil. To do that they would have to become what a New Yorker writer humorously described herself to be: “fiercely dependent" - and discerning about where to spend time.
Hospitality that is truly radical allows a wonderful exchange between visitor and host. It does not treat a visitor as a guest, but welcomes her as family the very first time she comes. It does not put all the focus on what we can offer, setting up an “us and them,” or subtly seek to exert power through generosity. We should seek a mutual sharing of gifts when we bring dinner to the homeless shelter as much as when someone joins us for worship.
Truly radical hospitality recognizes that each person may well be an apostle of Jesus Christ, with gifts and a message for us. I wonder how many more church visitors might come a second time if, instead of asking, “What can we do for you?” we asked, “What are the gifts you bring? We welcome them as we welcome you.”
Sometimes radical hospitality is what we're called to find, and sometimes it's what we're called to offer. Both ways, we are called to give and to receive, all at the same time. And in that giving and receiving, community is formed.
Since he’d already told them not to take any money or extra clothing, it was clear they wouldn’t be bearing hostess gifts. They would be bringing the power to heal, authority over unclean spirits, and the Good News of release and wholeness to be found in Jesus Christ. If they found people willing to take them in and care for them under those conditions, they were to remain there, not moving from house to house looking for the best breakfast. The point was to leave their time and energy free for preaching and healing.
And if they couldn’t find that kind of hospitality, or the people in a given town didn’t want to hear their message? Then they should keep moving, and find somewhere more fruitful: "If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.”
This might sound harsh to us, but Jesus wasn’t sending his disciples on a Grand Tour. He was sending them to proclaim the Good News and to exert authority over evil. To do that they would have to become what a New Yorker writer humorously described herself to be: “fiercely dependent" - and discerning about where to spend time.
Hospitality that is truly radical allows a wonderful exchange between visitor and host. It does not treat a visitor as a guest, but welcomes her as family the very first time she comes. It does not put all the focus on what we can offer, setting up an “us and them,” or subtly seek to exert power through generosity. We should seek a mutual sharing of gifts when we bring dinner to the homeless shelter as much as when someone joins us for worship.
Truly radical hospitality recognizes that each person may well be an apostle of Jesus Christ, with gifts and a message for us. I wonder how many more church visitors might come a second time if, instead of asking, “What can we do for you?” we asked, “What are the gifts you bring? We welcome them as we welcome you.”
Sometimes radical hospitality is what we're called to find, and sometimes it's what we're called to offer. Both ways, we are called to give and to receive, all at the same time. And in that giving and receiving, community is formed.
8-13-20 - Even the Dogs
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Is there a greater example of humility in our scriptures than this unnamed woman, persistently asking Jesus to heal her daughter? In the face of his rejection, in the face of his insinuation that giving her the gifts of God’s kingdom would be like throwing food to dogs, she does not flinch, she does not protest, she does not argue. She simply comes back with a statement that shows she is not about to put her pride before getting what she needs from Jesus: But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”
“Even the dogs get fed. If you’re going to compare me to dogs, fine – let me tell you about dogs. They eat too, maybe on crumbs and scraps, but they get fed. Surely your power is so great that even a crumb of it can heal my poor little girl?” Is there a greater example of faith in our scriptures than this? Clearly Jesus was impressed, for with this comment she finally got his attention. Then Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.”
In her gentle refusal to be thwarted, this woman models faith for us. How often do we think Jesus isn’t paying attention to our prayers? How quickly do we turn away – and sometimes walk away – because we don’t sense a response? How frequently do we conclude that “God must not really care about me," when we don’t perceive an answer?
This mother held nothing back. She was willing to beg, to cross religious and ethnic lines, to compare herself to a dog cadging crumbs under a table, to get the help her daughter needed. And how did she know Jesus had the power to help? Without knowing him, she believed whole-heartedly in what was said of him – that he was the Holy One, the Messiah, the Son of David. She knew no one else could help. She gave it her all, not only her best shot, but every shot she had.
I don’t want us to respond to this story by thinking, “Oh, I didn’t beg enough, I didn’t pray hard enough.” We don’t always receive what we pray for; there is still mystery. I do want us to know that we can approach Jesus the way she did, no holds barred, and to keep arguing our case until we are satisfied we have been heard, or we have received the grace to release it into God. I want us to go back and forth with Jesus in prayer, not walk away empty-handed and disheartened. As Wayne Gretzky famously said, "You miss 100% of the shots you never take."
What do you want Jesus to do for you? Don’t dredge up all the things you’ve wanted before; what do you want now? Tell him – in as personal way as you can. Either imagine talking with him, or speak aloud in a private space, or write him – but listen to what he says. Talk back if you need to. Jesus never issued a “no talk-back” rule.
It is a delicate balance – to pray boldly, because we know God is generous and powerful beyond our imagining, and yet to pray humbly, without feeling entitled. Let’s try to match the Canaanite woman in both the passion of her asking and the depth of her willingness to humble herself before God. Maybe we should think of ourselves as many dogs we know – loved and pampered, and willing to feast under the table as well as at it.
Is there a greater example of humility in our scriptures than this unnamed woman, persistently asking Jesus to heal her daughter? In the face of his rejection, in the face of his insinuation that giving her the gifts of God’s kingdom would be like throwing food to dogs, she does not flinch, she does not protest, she does not argue. She simply comes back with a statement that shows she is not about to put her pride before getting what she needs from Jesus: But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”
“Even the dogs get fed. If you’re going to compare me to dogs, fine – let me tell you about dogs. They eat too, maybe on crumbs and scraps, but they get fed. Surely your power is so great that even a crumb of it can heal my poor little girl?” Is there a greater example of faith in our scriptures than this? Clearly Jesus was impressed, for with this comment she finally got his attention. Then Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.”
In her gentle refusal to be thwarted, this woman models faith for us. How often do we think Jesus isn’t paying attention to our prayers? How quickly do we turn away – and sometimes walk away – because we don’t sense a response? How frequently do we conclude that “God must not really care about me," when we don’t perceive an answer?
This mother held nothing back. She was willing to beg, to cross religious and ethnic lines, to compare herself to a dog cadging crumbs under a table, to get the help her daughter needed. And how did she know Jesus had the power to help? Without knowing him, she believed whole-heartedly in what was said of him – that he was the Holy One, the Messiah, the Son of David. She knew no one else could help. She gave it her all, not only her best shot, but every shot she had.
I don’t want us to respond to this story by thinking, “Oh, I didn’t beg enough, I didn’t pray hard enough.” We don’t always receive what we pray for; there is still mystery. I do want us to know that we can approach Jesus the way she did, no holds barred, and to keep arguing our case until we are satisfied we have been heard, or we have received the grace to release it into God. I want us to go back and forth with Jesus in prayer, not walk away empty-handed and disheartened. As Wayne Gretzky famously said, "You miss 100% of the shots you never take."
What do you want Jesus to do for you? Don’t dredge up all the things you’ve wanted before; what do you want now? Tell him – in as personal way as you can. Either imagine talking with him, or speak aloud in a private space, or write him – but listen to what he says. Talk back if you need to. Jesus never issued a “no talk-back” rule.
It is a delicate balance – to pray boldly, because we know God is generous and powerful beyond our imagining, and yet to pray humbly, without feeling entitled. Let’s try to match the Canaanite woman in both the passion of her asking and the depth of her willingness to humble herself before God. Maybe we should think of ourselves as many dogs we know – loved and pampered, and willing to feast under the table as well as at it.
10-29-13 - Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?
“Jane, can we bring the bishop to your house for lunch?” It was a Sunday, the day after a freak March windstorm had rendered much of Stamford without power, and our bishop was making an annual Visitation. We held dimly lit worship at church, and shivered through a coffee-less coffee hour, but the only place with electricity where the Vestry might have lunch with the Bishop was Jane’s house. Jane is of the generation that views a bishop’s visit as a Big Deal worthy of weeks of cleaning and polishing – but she said yes, and tidied as best she could, and got out the fine china, and hosted us. Ready or not.
Must have been a shock for Zacchaeus, sitting in that tree. “When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.’” A shock, and a challenge – Jesus, a celebrity so big he gathers crowds as he moves through town, is coming to Zach’s house. It would be like being told the President or a Nobel laureate was coming over. It’s exciting, and a social coup – and ratchets up the pressure. What am I going to cook? When did I last clean the bathroom? What will we talk about?
Besides, Zach was safely hidden away up that tree. Now he’s going to have to meet this guy he wanted so badly to see. He responds with grace: “So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him.”
How would you respond, if you got an email from Jesus today: “I’m coming to your house this evening.” Would you want to see him? Would you try to put if off?
Would you invite anyone else, or just enjoy the chance to talk to him by yourself?
Let’s try another imagination prayer today – imagine that scenario: the email, the preparation, your response, the greeting at the door… What happens? What do you talk about? See how fully you can place yourself into that scene and see where it goes. It’s another way of talking to Jesus in our imaginations, placing him in our daily lives. (Write it down afterward!)
I’m pretty sure Jesus does send us that message, every day, something like this:
“I want to come to your house. I want to spend some time with you. I want you to get off the sidelines, out of the bleachers, off the fence and into relationship with me. I’m not just some guy in a book or a stained glass window. I’m the one who made you, who became like you so you could become like me. I love you more than you can ever imagine, and I can transform your life if you let me in. I can transform the world through you if you let me. Can I come to your house, to your heart, today?”
Maybe you always say “yes.” Maybe you say “later,” or “maybe.”
We don’t have to clean the house or cook a fancy dinner. Jesus knows how messy our lives are, how full, and how beautiful. What he wants is our time and attention (just ask Martha of Bethany...) It’s the most life-changing dinner we could ever imagine. Every time.
Must have been a shock for Zacchaeus, sitting in that tree. “When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.’” A shock, and a challenge – Jesus, a celebrity so big he gathers crowds as he moves through town, is coming to Zach’s house. It would be like being told the President or a Nobel laureate was coming over. It’s exciting, and a social coup – and ratchets up the pressure. What am I going to cook? When did I last clean the bathroom? What will we talk about?
Besides, Zach was safely hidden away up that tree. Now he’s going to have to meet this guy he wanted so badly to see. He responds with grace: “So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him.”
How would you respond, if you got an email from Jesus today: “I’m coming to your house this evening.” Would you want to see him? Would you try to put if off?
Would you invite anyone else, or just enjoy the chance to talk to him by yourself?
Let’s try another imagination prayer today – imagine that scenario: the email, the preparation, your response, the greeting at the door… What happens? What do you talk about? See how fully you can place yourself into that scene and see where it goes. It’s another way of talking to Jesus in our imaginations, placing him in our daily lives. (Write it down afterward!)
I’m pretty sure Jesus does send us that message, every day, something like this:
“I want to come to your house. I want to spend some time with you. I want you to get off the sidelines, out of the bleachers, off the fence and into relationship with me. I’m not just some guy in a book or a stained glass window. I’m the one who made you, who became like you so you could become like me. I love you more than you can ever imagine, and I can transform your life if you let me in. I can transform the world through you if you let me. Can I come to your house, to your heart, today?”
Maybe you always say “yes.” Maybe you say “later,” or “maybe.”
We don’t have to clean the house or cook a fancy dinner. Jesus knows how messy our lives are, how full, and how beautiful. What he wants is our time and attention (just ask Martha of Bethany...) It’s the most life-changing dinner we could ever imagine. Every time.
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