Prayer. Scripture. Confession. Sabbath. Worship. Discernment.

These are the things we’ve sat with in these last weeks as we’ve talked about Spiritual Disciplines: not things we have to do, not activities for the super spiritual. But things we choose, that help meet a longing to know God better. To respond to God.

This morning we’re going to read just a short passage from the Apostle Paul. Paul has a habit in almost all of his New Testament letters of first laying out his theology (who Christ is, what He has done) and then getting to praxis- “what does this look like in real life?” In fact, in Romans Paul spends 11 chapters laying out his most complete theological thinking, and it’s not really until chapter 12 that he starts to apply it to how we live. Today we’re going to read just a few verses from Chapter 12, v. 9-13. Please stand with me for the reading of God’s word.

Reading: Romans 12:9-13

I’m a little sheepish. I told you two weeks ago that I really try to avoid talking about “New Testament Greek” in the pulpit. But I have this problem. I’m a word person. I always have been, but it seems to be increasing as I get older. I love words.

I love connections between words, I love to know where words come from. I love to read words, I love to learn new words. A year ago I started doing crossword puzzles for the first time, now I think I’m hooked. I love words.

So when I looked at the Greek text of this short Romans passage, I was instantly fascinated by a couple of words. They are bookends for the passage, actually. One of them is towards the beginning, in verse 10: “Be devoted to one another in brotherly love (NIV). The word for “brotherly love” in Greek is phil-adelphia, phila being “love” and “adelphia” being brother…love of brother. It’s why in Pennsylvania, the city of Philadelphia is called “the city of brotherly love.” So that’s at the very first part of Paul’s instructions in these verses.

At the other end of our passage, verse 13, he says “contribute to the needs of the saints (he means people in the Christian community), and then he says: “practice (or pursue, or strive for) hospitality.” Now interestingly, the word for hospitality is easily split just like phila-adelphia was. Hospitality is “Philo-Zenian.” Philo (again) is love. Zenian, or zenos might be recognizable to you as part of our word “zenophobia,” which means “a fear of strangers.” Zenos is “stranger.” So Philo=love, zenos=stranger. The word we translate as hospitality literally means “love of the stranger.”

Hospitality. Love of the stranger. That’s the spiritual discipline we want to talk about this morning. But in some ways we will first need to reclaim the meaning of the word. When we think “hospitality,” we often do get an image, as Henri Nouwen said, of “soft sweet kindness, tea parties, bland conversations and a general atmosphere of coziness.” But it wasn’t always so.

In the Ancient Middle East, hospitality was a critical practice that was actually important for survival. In a day when food or lodging was in short supply, when villages were far apart, when journeys were long and slow and arduous, to offer hospitality (welcome, lodging, food, rest) to a stranger/traveler was immensely important. Or to receive hospitality was a critical thing. It was a way of meeting need, of extending the community and of paying honor to another person in the same way I would want to be honored.

The Bible is full of stories of hospitality. Tara read one earlier from Genesis. Abraham is snoozing in the shade on a hot day, looks up and sees three figures. The text says they were men but the book of Hebrews later tells us they were angels (Heb 13:2). Abrahams RUNS to meet them, BOWS to the ground, BEGS them to stay, hurries around and brings water for their feet, makes them comfortable. Starts delegating, asks Sarah to whip up some fresh cakes, has a servant prepare a calf, hurries, hurries, and feeds them a delicious meal. Quite a welcome.

When Jesus (Luke 7:36ff) accepted an invitation to dine at Simon the Pharisee’s house, and met the woman who anointed his feet with alabaster and her tears, washed them and dried them with her hair…his host criticized Jesus for allowing such a woman around him. When Jesus responded to Simon, he said little about the woman. But he sharply pointed out to Simon that his hospitality was sorely lacking. Simon had done nothing for his guest, the woman had done everything.

What was it Abraham did for the angels, the woman did for Jesus, and Simon did not do? Offered hospitality. Love the stranger. One scholar defines hospitality in that ancient world even better, I think: “the process of receiving outsiders and changing them from strangers to guests.” That is a definition worth thinking about.

Now keep this in mind this morning: I’m not limiting the definition of “stranger.” It may be someone on the street. A neighbor. In family. And really, it’s the one thing I’d like you to walk away thinking about today: How do I receive outsiders and allow them to be changed from strangers to guests? It is the work of the gospel: changing outsiders to insiders.

It’s been a huge part of our calling from earliest days. You might think of the first Christian communities forming in the book of Acts, trying to live together, share together, care for widows and orphans, inviting others in as guests.

Or you may think of Christian communities in the monastic movements in the 5 th or 6 th or 7 th centuries. Monasteries became famous as places of hospitality, as refuges, as communities you could depend on being welcomed and valued in.

In the 5 th century, when St. Benedict began formulating his famous Rule for what became the Benedictine Order, his aim was: "to establish a school for the Lord's service,” and one of the foundational principles was the reception of guests: “All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ (chpt 53.)” In a very brilliant way, the rule insured that even those involved in a monastery would not be detached from the world, because of this ministry of hospitality they were to extend to those who came to them.

Much of the history of the church, of Christians and Christian communities, is filled with various images of hospitality: the practical meeting of physical and spiritual needs, and equally the valuing and recognizing and welcoming of those different from ourselves, strangers…as people. How do I receive outsiders and allow them to be changed from strangers to guests?

The history of our country, of many countries has centuries full of with this important calling, turning strangers into guests and friends.

But today? Something has happened. On the border between Mexico and United States stands a wall that is about 700 miles long, and it may well grow to be 2000 miles long. It is there to try to keep some strangers out. On the West Bank in Israel and

Palestine is a wall that will soon be 450 miles long. One side says it brings protection from terrorists, the other side says it merely steals land. Now, I’m not preaching about these very complicated issues today. I merely make the point, as we discuss hospitality, that some of the most powerful visual symbols around us are walls…to keep strangers out. How do I receive outsiders and allow them to be changed from strangers to guests?

What has happened to us? Clearly the world has changed.

- hospitality is now mainly an industry of hotels and restaurants.

- we worry, and rightly so…about the dangers and risks of opening up our homes or our lives to those we don’t know. We assume that strangers are dangerous, and they must prove otherwise to us.

- with the sheer number of people, there are more and more who are in need, materially, medically, mentally. one can quickly become exhausted.

- one of the distinctives of Christian hospitality has been a welcoming to “the least of these,” those in real need. But as the gap between those of us with financial resources and those without has grown, many people have less and less contact with those who are not like us. We don’t see them.

- we are people from head to toe determined to not be dependent on anyone. It gets in the way of our relationship with God. It gets in the way of our relationship with people. We are fiercely independent. But if we cannot receive hospitality, we probably won’t be great at giving it either. Independence is a barrier.

Yes, the day is different. We need to be far more cautious logistically. Robberies, murders, scams make it difficult to open our doors and our lives. But I’m worried that rather than finding new ways and strategies, we have simply walled ourselves off.

How do I receive outsiders and allow them to be changed from strangers to guests?

At every turn as we have talked about spiritual disciplines, we have said that it is far less helpful to think of them as rules, or shoulds…and far more helpful to think of them as things we practice that shape us, and help us to know God better. We’ve talked about them as ways we respond to Him. It’s particularly helpful to keep this in mind re: hospitality.

Let me just quickly reflect on three things, and then be very practical.

1) We have received hospitality from Christ.

We are the recipients, first, of this amazing love that is transforming us. Think about the images of Jesus’ ministry to us:

• In Christ, we are adopted into a family, welcomed (baptism!)
• In Christ, we are given what we need, provided for: forgiveness through the cross of Christ, comfort, healing, presence, identity.
• We are valued and looked for, like a Father awaiting the return of a wayward son.
• Jesus said when he left the earth, he would go to prepare a place for us in his father’s house, there would be a welcome there, the heavenly banquet.

We have been invited in, moved from outsider to insider, from stranger to guest, in Christ.

2) And because we have received such hospitality, we can respond by extending it, by extending hospitality.

I’ve told you before that one of my favorite musicals is Les Miserables, and I’ve almost driven my family crazy listening to the soundtrack so often. But I think my favorite picture comes near the very beginning.

The main character, Jean Valjean, has been released from years of brutal suffering in prison. He tries to re-enter society, finds work on a farm but when they learn he is an ex-convict, they fire him and cheat him of his wages. He tries to rent a room at an inn, but when they find who he is, they refuse him and throw him out. He finds himself in despair outside of a house, head in his hands, when the town’s Bishop comes out of the house, sees him and then sings these words:

“Come in Sir, for you are weary

and the night is cold out there

though our lives are very humble

what we have, we have to share

there is wine here to revive you

there is bread to make you strong

there’s a bed to rest till morning

rest from pain and rest from wrong.”

Can you imagine the feeling?! From total despair to the door being thrown wide open. For Valjean, it was lifechanging, not all at once, but slowly, as he realized what he had received, he became someone who naturally offered hospitality to others.

3) Bonus. At the end of day, as we offer hospitality to others, we may find that our guests bring something of great value. Something unanticipated. A friendship. A word. A gift. It’s not why we engage in hospitality. But perhaps because, as St. Benedict said, we are welcoming Christ Himself, we find some amazing things.

Abraham and Sarah were given news of a child to be born. The disciples on the road to Emmaus who didn’t recognize the risen Jesus walking with them nonetheless pressured him to stay with them and share a meal, and when they did they found themselves in Jesus’ presence. I remember a time at our house several years ago, having a guest (Philip Kitui) over whom we didn’t know well, and we ended up with him upstairs praying over one of our kids who was sick...and we received a healing.

When these things happen, the distinction between the guest and the host disappears and there’s a different dynamic. The outsider has become the insider, and both parties bring new life to one another. Guests become friends. We enjoy more of God.

On a practical level, Henri Nouwen once said that hospitality is nothing more than creating a space where stranger can enter and become a friend. How can we create such spaces? It can happen anywhere, home, work, school.

The most practical thing I can say today is: don’t be overwhelmed. Please don’t go away today saying, “My hospitality needs to look like: starting a street ministry in downtown Seattle this week.” Or “the first homeless person I see needs to move into our basement for the next two years.”

But haven’t you ever gone into some gathering where you know almost no one: a reception, a work function, a seminar, whatever. And you walk in feeling like you are sort of a nobody. No matter how strong your “self-image” is, here you have no identity. You’re nervous. There’s nothing to do. You check your cellphone…no messages. And then, someone you don’t know walks over and says “Hi, I’m Susan, I haven’t met you before. I’m really glad you’re here.”

It changes everything. Absolutely everything. You have been moved from stranger to guest. It can happen in hallways, coffee shops, streets. Friends, we have been invited in, moved from outsider to insider, from stranger to guest, in Christ.

So I wonder how you will wrestle with this question this week: How do I receive outsiders and allow them to be changed from strangers to guests?

Let us pray.