30th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Cycle C
Thanksgiving is only a few weeks away. How many of you
have a tradition at your house to invite people to Thanksgiving dinner who
don’t have family or friends here? We always seem to have a place for someone
who was planning on spending the holiday alone. We like having new and
different people at our table. We don’t do it out of pity or some sense of
obligation. We want to share the joy of the day with others, no matter who they
are. Usually the invitation is given at the spur of the moment. You don’t have
plans for Thanksgiving? Then why not come over to our house? At first the
opportunities just came up every year, but now it’s sort of a tradition, and we
actively think of people we can invite.
I guess part of it is that we don’t want people to be
unhappy, and to us, spending a holiday like Thanksgiving alone would make us
unhappy. Maybe some folks like to be alone on Thanksgiving. Maybe being without
family or friends at that time brings up painful memories of a loss or of a
broken relationship. Maybe they are estranged from their families or have had
bad experiences around the dinner table. I never think of those things. Doesn’t
matter. I usually just jump in and invite anyone who will come.
To me and my family that’s hospitality. It’s hard to
nail down the definition of hospitality. Part of it is cultural, I guess. I
grew up with lots of different people around the dinner table. I was raised to
believe that it is better to give than to receive. And, I basically just like
people. But is it more than that? Is hospitality a matter of faith or just a
social construct?
To the people of the ancient Near East, at the time
the book of Exodus was written, hospitality was more than a cultural thing, it
was often a matter of life and death. Recall the story of Abraham, who was
sitting in the entrance to his tent one day when three strangers approached.
Abraham jumped up, greeted them heartily, and insisted they stay for a meal. He
treated them as important people. He killed some goats and prepared a big meal
for them, after ushering them into his tent where it was cool. Turns out they
were angels, and they told Abraham in return for his hospitality his wife would
bear a son in her old age. Who knew?
In the desert, food and water was in short supply.
They were wandering Bedouins, and oftentimes the only way you would eat that
day is if you came upon another wanderer who gave you some food. Hospitality
was necessary for survival, and people gave it without question, because they knew
that someday they themselves would have to rely on the hospitality of someone
else.
What does it mean to love your neighbor as yourself? Is
it as simple as extending hospitality to one another? In scripture, God talks a
lot about reciprocity. Love your neighbor as yourself. You will be forgiven to
the extent that you forgive. Welcome the alien because you were once aliens.
Abuse the widows and orphans and I will make your wife a widow and your
children orphans. That whole Golden Rule thing is about getting what you give,
in similar proportions. Treat people as you want to be treated. And there seems
to be a built-in quid pro quo. We do it because we want to receive something in
return. But is that really love?
Do we extend hospitality because someday we want to
receive it? Is that how it should be?
Remember the story of the Good Samaritan? St. Luke has
this same story in his gospel, but it is not the Pharisees who were questioning
Jesus but a righteous man. Remember that the man wanted to justify himself, so
he asked snarkily “But who is my neighbor?” Jesus answered him with the parable
of the Good Samaritan. The Samaritan extended compassion and mercy to the man
beaten by robbers without asking who he was, or what tribe he belonged to, or
what his politics were or how much money he had. He didn’t help him expecting
to ever be repaid. He offered hospitality even though he knew he probably would
never need the same help himself. Jesus said that is what a true neighbor
is.
We heard in our first reading today from the Book of
Exodus, “You shall not molest or oppress an alien, for you were once aliens in
the land of Egypt.” We talk a lot about aliens in this country these days,
don’t we? And there are strong feelings on each side, each with valid points of
view. If hospitality is just a social construct, then it is easy to look at the
quid pro quo of immigration, legal or illegal. We must protect our borders. We
can’t keep on spending so many resources on people who are here without
permission. We need to concentrate on our own people first. We can’t just open
the door to everyone. Valid arguments.
But if hospitality is a matter of faith, what are we
called to do? How did Jesus offer hospitality? Did he ever discriminate against
anyone who came to him? Jesus never rejected anyone who wanted to follow him,
even though he was often rejected himself. He offered lifegiving water to the
Samaritan women at the well. He invited himself to dinner at the home of
Zacchaeus the tax collector. He forgave Peter his betrayal. He spoke in
parables of the absurd generosity of the Father.
Jesus offered hospitality to everyone because of the
way he viewed them. He saw each and every person as being special, as having an
inherent dignity just because God had created them. Every person created is a
reflection of the Creator. Every person images God, and so has God within him
or her.
If God showed up at your door on Thanksgiving, would
you let him in? Would you notice his race, look at the way he is dressed, how
well groomed he is, determine his social status? Would you ask yourself what
God could give you in return if you let him in? Or would you welcome him in
just because he is who he is?
The hospitality of faith transcends all the
complicated social, political, economic and racial arguments, and narrows the
criteria for acceptance down to one simple reality – your neighbor really is
yourself. If God has offered you his hospitality just because you are his son
or daughter, you must do the same, because we are all His sons and daughters.
All that matters is that God made you. And he made us all for himself.
God shows us the ultimate hospitality. He shows us the
ultimate dignity. He dignified humanity to the point of becoming human himself.
He showed the value of every human life by dying on the cross for each and
every human being ever created. He showed the value of the lowest of the low –
he was condemned to a traitor’s death – in his very self. It was when he was
brought low that he was raised up high.
The hospitality of faith and the hospitality of
society are not exclusive of one another, but build on each other. Social mores
and laws are necessary for the survival of our culture. But as we determine
what they are to be, we, as Christians, must begin with the reality that each
and every human being has inherent dignity because we are Children of God. It
is not quid pro quo. It is just because.
We don’t create just laws because of what we will get
in return. We don’t decide how to treat other people based upon what they can or
cannot contribute to us or to society. Who are we to decide the worthiness of
another person’s life? Jesus Christ has already settled that on the cross. We
create just laws because they are just. Because God is just.
And it goes beyond laws and social norms. It goes to
all our relationships. The alien is anyone who is different from us. Aliens are
treated with suspicion. Aliens are not part of us. They can be scary. They can
force us out of our comfort zones to perhaps take a different look at
ourselves.
Aliens disagree with you. Aliens belong to a different
political party. Aliens belong to a different religious group, or hold no
religious beliefs at all. Aliens have physical or mental disabilities. Aliens
have tattoos and piercings. Aliens are the old and frail who can no longer
contribute to society. Aliens are the inconvenient unborn in the womb. Aliens
are conservative, aliens are progressive. Aliens are older than you. Aliens are
younger than you. Aliens have less money than you. Aliens have more money than
you.
You are an alien, and I am an alien. And together, we
are wonderfully made.
