“Merciful and Compassionate Hospitality”

Matthew 10:40-42

“… and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” So said the Prophet Micah to the nation of Judah almost 2,800 years ago. So says the Word of God to Christ’s Church today and forever. Without justice, kindness, and humility there can be no mercy or compassion: there can be no Christian hospitality.

“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.” So goes one of the Beatitudes of Jesus, a piece of the Sermon on the Mount, which is a major chunk of the commandments our Lord has commissioned us to teach to those who would be his disciples. Mercy can be translated as compassion in action. Jesus exercised such mercy. Quoting Jeff Cook, “When Jesus announced the inbreaking of God’s kingdom, he first healed the sick and fed the hungry.” Our ministry, just like his, is to be one of servant-like hospitality toward those in need.

“Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food… Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food… Truly I tell you, just as you did it to [one of the least of these], you did it to me.” When the Lord comes again, who will be welcomed into his kingdom? Those who have mostly unconsciously practiced active compassion throughout their lives. Those who practiced Christian hospitality. Those who acted justly, loved kindness, and walked humbly with their God. In the words of Emilie M. Townes, “The simple, basic acts of kindness we perform in genuine welcome of one another are all that God asks of us.”

Let’s read again this morning’s text, this time from The Message: “We are intimately linked in this harvest work. Anyone who accepts what you do, accepts me, the One who sent you. Anyone who accepts what I do accepts my Father, who sent me. Accepting a messenger of God is as good as being God’s messenger. Accepting someone’s help is as good as giving someone help. This is large work I’ve called you into, but don’t be overwhelmed by it. It’s best to start small. Give a cool cup of water to someone who is thirsty, for instance. The smallest act of giving or receiving makes you a true apprentice. You won’t lose out on a thing.”

Prior to the three short verses that compose this morning’s text Jesus had been preparing his disciples to go out in his name to proclaim the Gospel, heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, and cast out demons. Before he sent them out to do those things he wanted to be sure that they knew what they were getting into. Not everyone would welcome them, their words, or their acts of ministry. They would be facing hunger, thirst, poverty, and hostility. Even some of the people whom they loved the most would turn on them.

But they would be welcomed by some. On occasion hospitality would be shown them. And Jesus made it clear that hospitality shown toward his followers would be the same as hospitality shown to him and his Father. Such hospitality could be as simple as a cool drink of water.

We who have answered the call of Jesus are still being sent out to proclaim his Gospel and do ministry in his name. Sometimes we’ll be rejected. Sometimes we’ll be accepted. Mostly in our culture we’ll be ignored. Sometimes hospitality will not be forthcoming. So be it.

But there’s a flipside to all this. Those of us who seek hospitality are also called to extend it to others. Part of faithful discipleship is Christian hospitality: acts of welcome, mercy, kindness, and justice carried out in the name and manner of Jesus; acts of healing, love, and acceptance that we extend to strangers as if they were Jesus himself. It is incumbent upon us to practice mercy and kindness toward all: our brothers and sisters in Christ, our family and friends, our co-workers and classmates, and our neighbors nearby and not so nearby. It is not a requirement on their part that we know them, approve of them, or even like them. “When I was a stranger, you welcomed me.”

People unknown to us show up here for worship almost every Sunday. How welcoming of them are we? With that in mind, listen to the following story as shared by one of the commentators on today’s text. “My colleague at Yale Divinity School, the Irish liturgical theologian, Siobhan Garrigan, tells a story from her travels around Ireland [doing research for a book]. Arriving at a Presbyterian Church in Northern Ireland, [she] was pleased to be greeted at the front door by two women, church members, who seemed to invite her into conversation. [She] realized that these two women were ushers of some sort, whose job it was to stand at the door of the church and interview newcomers as they arrived. They quietly asked her name and the first names of any other approaching strangers who wished to join in the morning worship.

Then [she] figured out what was happening. Hearing those names, the ushers would draw conclusions about the cultural and religious identity of each. Those with Protestant names were welcomed warmly and shown their seats. Those with apparently Catholic names, the Marias and the Catherines and the Patricks, were told that they were surely at the wrong church and sent on their way. I assumed that Siobhan must be referring to research done decades ago; surely no church would act in this way any longer. My hope was quickly dashed. This remains the current practice…”

That, my friends, is a glaring example of how not to practice Christian hospitality. We do not turn folks away from the church based on their first name, last name, title, accent, skin color, style of clothing, height, weight, or age. We do not have quotas that determine how many folks in a particular classification are allowed to attend on a given Sunday. “Sorry, you can’t come in. We already have all the white, middle aged, men, Cameroonian teenagers, Nigerian college students, or retired African-American school principals we need today. Better luck next week.” Odds are there won’t be a next week.

I was absurd on purpose. I want to believe that this congregation would never greet visitors, or even members, that way. I want to believe that none of the members of this church will ever stand at the front door and play gatekeeper. That’s not our task. Our task is to go forth and make disciples of all nations – to invite any and all to join with us in an intimate relationship with Jesus Christ. Our further task is to extend the same invitation to people who just show up, who are led here by the Spirit because they are in need: in need of Jesus, in need of forgiveness, in need of healing, in need of mercy or kindness or compassion, in need of whatever.

We who follow Jesus, and are thus sometimes rejected by the world, must be welcoming toward others, especially those who have been ignored, rejected, taken advantage of, or abused by that world. Those who are welcome nowhere else should always find a welcome here. “For I was a stranger, and you welcomed me.” “I was one of those little ones to whom you gave a cup of cold water.” “I was one of those folks for whom English was obviously not my primary language, and you took the time and energy necessary to converse with me.”

“Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you…” “You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire…” On an extremely personal note, I’m so very, very glad that our God is so much more merciful and compassionate toward me than I sometimes am to others. Otherwise I’d be headed straight to hell.

Again from Micah 6:8: “… what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.” And quoting Emilie Townes one more time: “The simple basic acts of kindness we perform in genuine welcome of one another are all that God asks of us.” Amen.