Entertaining Angels

Clingman’s Dome is the highest point on the Appalachian Trail. At 6600 feet it towers over the surrounding countryside in Tennessee and North Carolina. It also towers over the shelter where hikers spend the night before trekking to the summit. You have to climb 1000 feet in just 3 miles. Not an easy feat with a 50 pound pack on your back. Five of us had met up in a shelter several nights earlier, and while we weren’t really hiking together, we ended up being something like a band of brothers for several days, helping each other along some rough stretches of the trail. Clingman’s Dome was where we were going to part company, so we decided to rendezvous there and say our good-byes. I was the first to reach the summit. After a while I was thinking, “Where is everyone?” I mean, it was a cool, damp morning and I was getting cold. Then I had a thought: I could make tea for everyone! I had lots of water in my bottles, and my little one burner stove in my backpack, so why not boil some water and pull out some tea bags and serve tea as the others arrived? It seemed like the Canadian thing to do! One by one the other hikers came struggling up the mountain, and as they emerged from the fog, I offered them a cup of tea.

In the 13th chapter of the Letter to the Hebrews, we are reminded that Christians are supposed to offer hospitality; especially to strangers (Hebrews 13:2). It is a tradition which goes back to the earliest years of the Church. For those first Christians, sharing a meal was part of their worship. Small groups of Jesus’ followers would get together each day, and “they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers” (Acts 2:42). Except that they weren’t just breaking a little bit of bread and eating it with a swallow of juice the way that we do when we celebrate communion. They shared a real meal as part of their worship life. Our mini-meal of bread and grape juice is the symbolic remnant of the full meal that was once part of Christian worship. They shared a meal; which meant that if a visitor came along, someone who was interested in study the parables of Jesus and the teachings of the apostles with them, that stranger was encouraged to stay for the meal as well. He or she was offered hospitality.

Just as God had offered hospitality to the Hebrews by welcoming them into the Promised Land after they’d spent those 40 years in the desert. “A land flowing with milk and honey,” the Bible says (Exodus 3:8). God said, “Come on in; all of this and so much more I give to you.” It was one of the great deeds of God that people told their children and grandchildren about (see Psalm 78). They were strangers in a strange land, and God offered them hospitality.

Just as Jesus had offered hospitality to folks who wanted to share a meal with him. It wasn’t even his house. Someone had invited him over for dinner, someone had offered him hospitality, and he showed up at the door with a few other guests; and sometimes they were the sick and the poor; and sometimes they were tax collectors: they were the kind of folks that people were reluctant to welcome into their homes. But when you welcomed Jesus, you were likely to offer hospitality to some of these outcasts as well. People who knew their place in life, so they sat in the lowest place at the table. But perhaps with a bit of prodding from Jesus, the host invited them to move up to seat closer to the guest of honour (see Luke 14:7-14). These outcasts were offered hospitality.

So you see, among the Jews who became the first Christians, hospitality was a well established tradition. God had welcomed them as strangers, and they in turn were to welcome others. And there was joy in doing this; there is joy in doing this. I enjoyed offering that tea to my fellow hikers at least as much as they enjoyed receiving it. Those of you who often entertain in your homes, you know about this joy. I can see it in your faces when you great people at your door. It is a joy to offer hospitality to friends and strangers alike. It brings alive Jesus’ notion that it is more blessed to give than to receive (Acts 20:35). There is joy in receiving hospitality, and perhaps even more joy in giving it.

The people in Atlantic Canada know this. When Swissair Flight 111 went down off Peggy’s Cove 10 years ago, Nova Scotians opened their homes to the families of the victims who came to the South Shore so that they could see the watery grave of their loved ones and say “Good-bye.” When the skies over North America were closed to commercial aircraft in the days following the 9/11 terrorist attacks, the people of Newfoundland opened their homes and their churches to the thousands of travelers who were stranded at Gander. There weren’t rich folk. Perhaps some of them were just barely providing for their own families. But they opened their homes to these strangers anyway; and they were happy to do it. That’s the way it is in the Maritimes and Newfoundland. Offering hospitality is a blessing, both to the one who receives it and to the one who offers it. Friends and strangers alike are received as if they’re angels.

Hospitality is an important practice among the Roman Catholic Order of St. Benedict. Among the rules of St. Benedict is this one: greet all people “with all the courtesy of love…All guest are to be welcomed as Christ.” It’s as if, when you welcome a guest into your home, when you welcome a guest into the church, you’re welcoming Jesus himself. The Spirit of the Christ within you greets the Spirit of the Christ within the guest. Something holy within you reaches out to something holy within the stranger. It makes me think of the Asian custom of bowing when you greet someone. You’re paying homage to the Holy One who is present in the stranger; you’re worshipping the Holy One who is present in the stranger. Hospitality, you see, is not only a Canadian tradition or a Christian tradition, it’s a world-wide tradition. There’s something very human about welcoming the stranger, and welcoming the Holy One in the stranger.

We know about this at Knox. We’ve been offering hospitality since 1848. We’ve been welcoming strangers to this place from the very beginning. Scottish immigrants were granted farmland by the Crown near the rural community of Agincourt. They were strangers in a strange land. And they were welcomed here at Knox Free Presbyterian Church. Veterans and their young families moved out to what had become the new suburb of Agincourt following World War II. They were strangers in a strange land. And they were welcomed here at what had become Knox United Church. Folks from Jamaica and Barbados and other islands in the Caribbean came to Toronto in the 1960’s and ‘70’s. They were strangers in a strange land. And they were welcomed here at Knox-Agincourt. Folks from the Philippians and Hong Kong, India and Sri Lanka and China have come here in the years since 1980. Strangers in a strange land. And they have been welcomed at Knox.

Hospitality is part of our heritage. We even dug out a whole basement so that we could welcome newcomers in 1949. Today we call it – appropriately – the Heritage Room. We have offered hospitality and hope since 1848.

My hope is that we can continue to build on this heritage of hospitality. We do so as we welcome our guests in from the cold on wintry Friday nights. We do so as we welcome members of the Chinese community on occasions like the Moon Festival a week ago, or Saturday afternoons when folks from the Chinese community gather here for badminton and Bible Study. This is our heritage. With each act of hospitality, we honour the Scottish immigrants who built this church.

I have an idea. Wouldn’t it be great if we took the already good welcoming process that we have here on Sunday mornings and took it to a higher level? What I’m thinking is that we could welcome people at Knox just like we welcome guests into our own homes: with a broad smile and a warm handshake at the door, as we already do; and then, we could offer them a cup of tea or coffee or a cold drink almost as soon as they’re inside. You know, when we greet our guests in our homes, we don’t just hand them a piece of paper and then leave them on their own. No! We offer them refreshments right away. We sit down with them, we engage them in conversation, we show them around the place. If they have any special needs, like a baby who needs to be fed, we try to accommodate them. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if that’s how we greeted friend and stranger alike on Sunday morning? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we treated everyone like a guest in our home? Because, you know what? This is home. It’s a place of warmth, a place of love, a place of safety where we take care of each other. That’s a pretty good definition of home. So we welcome guests into our church home. We offer them hospitality. And in so doing, who knows; maybe we even entertain angels. Amen.

Text: Hebrews 13:2
Preached by Bruce D. Ervin
21 September 2008