Message 10/09/16 – Hospitality
1 Peter 4:8-11
Children’s moment – talk about hospitality and pineapples
This morning I want to share with you a story about hospitality that I encountered
in the devotional Guidepost:
Once upon a time there was a woman named Cara. She and her husband Gary
moved from Northern Ireland to Atlanta, Georgia for Gary’s work. Cara was
having a difficult time all around – nothing was the same. One day she approached
the pharmacy checkout, clutching a bottle of moisturizing shampoo to tame her
curly blonde hair.
A woman stood at the counter, browsing the candy bins. “Excuse me,” I said, “but
are you in the queue?”
The woman looked at me bewildered. “Am I in the what?”
“The queue,” Cara said, suddenly conscious of my thick Irish brogue. Her face
flushed. What’s the word they use in America? “Um...the...the line,” she finally
stammered.
Cara could not get out of the pharmacy fast enough. She managed to hold back her
tears until she climbed behind the wheel. It had been a tiny embarrassment. Just a
moment of culture clash. But those moments had piled up since she had come to
America. The two years they had been here had been an emotional roller coaster.
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One second, she was amazed by a new experience—the taste of a fresh-picked
Georgia peach, watching an Atlanta Braves baseball game on the telly—but then
she would bungle a simple interaction in a checkout line. Back home, everyone
knew either Cara or her family. Here, I was an outsider.
How Cara longed for the old country... the narrow country lane with the centuriesold rock wall covered in ivy that led to her family’s whitewashed stone farmhouse.
The abandoned seventeenth-century castle nearby where, in her girlhood days, she
pretended to be an Irish princess. The Sunday dinners in her family’s kitchen,
always cozy and warm due to the massive coal-burning stove.
Cara missed so many things, including her mother saying, “There’s always room
for one more at the table,” which was an invitation for neighbors to join them.
She missed her grandmother, elegantly dressed in her favorite colors, green and
lilac, wearing a cameo brooch, sipping tea out of her good china.
Cara and Gary lived at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac, in a large white two-story
house with an inviting front porch in Atlanta. It was a nice house, but only that, a
house—family and friends are what make a home, Cara thought.
Although they had met the neighbors briefly, there was no one Cara could call
friend. In fact, she hardly knew anyone, even after two years.
When Cara entered her house, her eyes were drawn to the china cabinet.
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The last time she had been back to Ireland, her Mother had led her into her spare
bedroom. “There’s something I need to show you,” she said. She handed me a
teacup and saucer, fine white china trimmed with gold, decorated with medallions
of cobalt blue and sweet bouquets of dainty yellow and red roses.
“Grandmother’s china!” Cara exclaimed.
“She used these back when she and your grandfather ran a bed-and-breakfast on
the edge of the Irish Sea,” Mother said. “The gift of hospitality runs deep in our
family. Now I’m passing it to you.”
Cara turned the saucer over to read the name of the pattern. Her heart skipped a
beat. Atlanta.
The china had been crafted in Salisbury, England, more than a half-century ago.
Yet the name Atlanta felt like it was a message intended just for Cara, a reminder
that she was exactly where God wanted her to be.
Cara opened the china cabinet and carefully removed one of the teacups. She
could hear Mother’s voice: “The gift of hospitality runs deep.” That’s why she’d
hosted those crowded Sunday dinners. An Irish tradition. What if Cara did
something similar and invited her neighbors over for lunch and tea?
Will they accept? Will they even understand my accent? Cara said a prayer: Lord,
give me the courage to open my house...my heart...to new friends.
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Cara set out. It felt strange to ring her neighbor’s doorbell. She almost turned
around, but then the door opened. “I’d like to invite you over for lunch Friday,”
Cara blurted out. “Are you available to come?”
“That’s so sweet!” the neighbor said, smiling. “I’d love to!”
The next house was easier. And the next one after that. In all, Cara found six
women who could come. For lunch she prepared coronation chicken salad, an old
family favorite made with mayonnaise and a touch of pureed apricots, originally
served in 1953 when Queen Elizabeth was crowned.
“This is delicious!” one neighbor said. “You have to give me the recipe,” said
another. After lunch, they had Irish tea, served in Cara’s grandmother’s good
china. Warm memories of those family dinners came back—but Cara’s wasn’t
sad. Instead, it felt as if her two worlds were finally coming together.
Cara continued to build relationships in her neighborhood, offering the gift of
hospitality and warmth frequently. And it was reciprocated.
One day she found a box on the front porch. Inside was a rotund blue-and-white
teapot with a creamer and sugar bowl. And a note, explaining that the teapot was a
replica of one created for John Wesley.
It ended with a table prayer: “May the sugar represent the sweetness of your
hospitality, the milk jug your pure heart. And may the pouring of the tea be a joy
as you continue to serve others around your table.”
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There was no signature. Cara had no clue who left it. But, she thought as she
smiled, these days it could have been anyone1.
Our scripture for reflection is from Peter’s letter to various churches is Asia Minor
who were suffering religious persecution. Listen to God’s word of life for you
today.
Above all, maintain constant love for one another, for love covers a multitude of sins. Be
hospitable to one another without complaining. Like good stewards of the manifold grace of
God, serve one another with whatever gift each of you has received. Whoever speaks must
do so as one speaking the very words of God; whoever serves must do so with the strength
that God supplies, so that God may be glorified in all things through Jesus Christ. To him
belong the glory and the power forever and ever. Amen.
It is not always easy to offer hospitality. Some people are different than we are.
Some people, as my pastoral care professor notes, are “just plain difficult”. But,
I’ve never run into anyone who persecutes me or my faith. We don’t live in an
area that persecution runs rampant. There might be an occasional
passive/aggressive jab and my belief system, but generally I can avoid taking that
to heart.
Peter is writing around the time when Rome burned. The Romans believed their
emperor, Nero, had set the city on fire, because Nero loved to build, and in order
for there to be more building, Nero had to destroy what already existed.
The Romans were devastated. They were homeless and helpless, and their gods
had not prevented the horrible tragedy, which left huge religious implications.
Many Romans had been killed, and those who survived were bitter and resentful.
Nero was not a stupid man. He knew he had to redirect their negativity before it
exploded into something he could not handle.
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He blamed the Christians for the fires. Christians were already hated because they
associated with the Jews, and both groups believed in one God, verses the many
gods that the Romans believed in. Because of Nero’s blame game, Christians were
persecuted as far away as Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia. These
Christians were likely Gentiles converted by Paul.
Peter knew these new Christians would need confidence to go forward in the face
of great adversity, and spread the Good News of Jesus Christ further into Asia and
beyond.
So he writes to them to remain united and “maintain constant love for one another.
Be hospitable to one another without complaining.” That is a hard thing to do in
the best of circumstances, but imagine how hard it would be if there was hatred all
around you?
Peter walked with Jesus. He knew the problems Jesus faced, and also knew the
problems the new Christians were facing. But more than this, Peter knew that
God’s grace was present and active, moving and stirring within the hearts of the
Christians. Peter knew the Christians had the ability to speak the very words of
God. Peter knew the persecuted Christians could endure with the strength that God
supplies, and that through their actions, God would be glorified.
Our Irish Cara did not need to offer hospitality, especially as she was the
newcomer to the neighborhood. Yet she stepped out of her comfort zone, and was
richly blessed because of it. She finally could make Atlanta home, and do so
among good friends.
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Sometimes we have to step out of our comfort zone to offer radical hospitality.
We are not persecuted, but we do face difficult people or people that are different
than us. And, we may even face these different people as we leave this sanctuary
to go do whatever we are going to do, including working at the Apple Butter
Festival. I urge you to put your best face forward, so that when others see you,
they are seeing the face of God. You are the face of God. I am the face of God.
Let us share this face of God with everyone we meet. Let it be so with us, I pray.
Amen.
Benediction:
Now may God, who shows radical hospitality to the
marginalized and to all of us, be with us and show
us the way to act God’s love in the world. Be
blessed. Amen.
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https://www.guideposts.org/comfort-hope/navigating-life-changes/blessed-with-a-gift-forhospitality?nopaging=1
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