Passionate Spirituality – Hospitality

sermon by Carrie Eikler
Genesis 18:1-8 Hebrews 13:1-3
Fourth Sunday of Passionate Spirituality Series

A couple of weeks ago, the news was abuzz with a story, proving to us that hospitality, neighborliness, and welcoming aren’t as easy or clear cut as we may think them to be. Many of you probably have heard the stories about the arrest of Henry Louis Gates Jr , a Harvard history professor.

As they say, “the facts are these”: a woman in the affluent community of Cambridge, MA called 911 because she saw two men trying to force their way into a neighbor’s home. Somehow in the police reports it was recorded that she suggested those in question were two black men. The police came to the house and discovered that one of the two men was in fact the homeowner, Professor Gates. Gates was returning home from a trip and with the help of his driver, was trying to open the front door that was jammed.

When the police arrived, Gates had already gained entry into his home, and the police asked to see his I.D. The interaction spiraled downward as Gates asserted that he was the homeowner, and called the police racist when they demanded to see identification, saying “This is what happens to a black man in America.” Sgt. James Crowley then handcuffed Gates and arrested him for, what he described as, disorderly conduct. Charges were later dropped, and the media coverage began full tilt.

If you are like me, you probably had an initial reaction to this story. We may not have the same reaction, but you likely formed an opinion quite quickly. Let’s try to draw out some more questions about the situatiojn

If your neighbor called the police because they saw someone (and that someone turned out to be you) trying to force in the door to your home, would you be thankful for your neighbor’s attempt to protect your home?

Would you wonder why your neighbor didn’t know you?

Would you be thankful for the police responding to such a call?

Would the police have persisted in their engagement with you if you are white?

If you shouted at the police in your own home where a crime was not being committed, something that legally does not constitute disorderly conduct, do you think you would be arrested?

Would you have taken offense at being called a racist?

Were any of these people acting in hospitable ways?

I’m not asking these questions because I have the answer. I’m asking them because, I think when it comes to hospitality, we play a variety of roles in the homes of our lives, shown in this story: we’re either trying to get in, trying to keep people out, trying to protect people, trying to defend our innocence, trying to feel safe. How many of us are on the inside seeking the best way to welcome others, whether or not those at our door are invited guests or strangers, trying to barge in?

Our homes are sacred places to many of us. Homes are meant to be sanctuaries: holy places, a place of divine service, a place of refuge and protection. Unfortunately, not everyone’s home is safe, or holy, or protected. Our homes, however, are places that are meant to be spaces of hospitality, for those who live within their walls, and visitors who come to their doorstep.

During the Great Depression, when millions were out of work and thousands took to migrating across the country, a sign was developed to identify hospitable homes. If the homemaker was a welcoming, generous, and kind person, wanderers who found help at that home would somehow construct a picture of a cat-- with sticks or in the dirt, around the front gate, or close to the house. When one saw this picture of a cat, one knew the people inside were kind and would likely offer hospitality. Think about how you welcome visitors, invited or especially, an uninvited guest…would someone be compelled to draw a cat outside your home?

To me, hospitality is the actions that are called out of ourselves when we recognize the sacred in each person. It is likely that Abraham didn’t have a cat drawn outside his tent on that evening as he sat in the blazing heat, but I think his actions, his extravagant hospitality, gives us this insight from the divine: God is in the stranger, the wanderer, the needy, the thirsty. God is in you and me. And when we meet one another and offer rest, and refreshment, even a listening ear and an understanding spirit, it is another opportunity to meet God. And when we meet God, we are compelled to welcome God into the sanctuary of our lives, allowing God to work and transform our deepest selves.

But again, some of us may not have homes that feel like they can be sanctuaries of hospitality. If you have ever felt that way, it can be refreshing to remember that our bodies are temples, our lives are sanctuaries—mobile, fleshy reminders that God is with us. My friend Sara, a pastor in California, is actively involved in interfaith study and dialogue. But she confessed to us this week that she showed her ignorance about her Muslim sisters and brothers. Last week she entered a meeting, and heartily greeted an Imam, an Islamic leader, by putting her hand out for him to shake it. He hesitated, looked at her hand and then slowly shook it. As the conversation began the Imam politely said that according to his religious understanding, he should not shake hands with a woman. Sara was mortified that she (someone so dedicated to interfaith learning and understanding) would make such a taboo gesture. The Imam smiled reassuringly, however, and suggested that next time they will simply try to welcome each other in a different way.

[pause] He could have scoffed at her ignorance. He could have refused to shake her hand. He could have done any number of things, but as surprised as he was, he entered into the invitational space with grace and reassuring pardon. Now, we may not agree with the Imam’s view about men and women, but we can certainly hope to have such grace and hospitality extended when someone violates our sense of what is right and wrong, what is acceptable and taboo.

Shaping hospitable spirits shapes hospitable homes and, we pray, shapes hospitable churches. The practice of hospitality goes far beyond offering a cup of water (though it likely includes that), it goes beyond offering a listening ear (though it certainly requires that), but it invites God’s people to respond with radical welcoming those whom others have turned away. To invite into this sanctuary all those who seek God, this place of pews and hymnbooks, but also this place of flesh and spirit…this sanctuary, our home.

As many of you know, the story of Sgt Crowley and Professor Gates is far from over. Even some questionable comments President Obama made fueled the story. But Obama did do one thing to reach out to strangers who became enemies, as many of you know. He invited them both to have a beer with him at the White House. To sit together as people, and to listen. The “beer summit” as it was dubbed was so fascinating to the media, and probably many Americans, because it modeled a way of welcoming that we don’t often see in the world stage, a glimpse at the third way of holy hospitality. Of course, Obama had some of his own political mending to do, and undoubtedly hoped to heal some wounds from comments he made, but it shouldn’t surprise us that perhaps welcoming strangers, even enemies, to refreshment and reflection is a beginning to moving forward.


As is the intention of this series on Passionate Spirituality, this meditation is only meant to spark the discussion and the further deepening of spirituality in your life. We aren’t having a beer summit here in the church, but I do invite you to a time of table discussions, as we continue hearing a message from the Spirit on the topic of hospitality. You are invited to, take a hymnal and take a seat at a table, and reflect with those around you on the questions at the table, for the next 10 minutes or so. Torin and I, as a reflection of a hospitable practice we find important in our home, will come around to your tables and pour you each coffee or tea or water as you discuss. So please, rise with your hymnal and join a table.