A while ago, our family lived in house that backed onto the MillCreek Ravine. The house was next to the church, and they were exactly the same architecture, same brick….there was no doubt that the house and the church belonged together…and that the occupant was likely the minister. As a result of that, we had quite a few visitors at the door. They weren’t all as eclectic as the dwarves in The Hobbit, but some definitely were.
One particular regular was named Mike. He had the kind of life where he would take one step forward and then stumble back a few. He was usually hungry and he was often smelly after a few nights in the ravine. We had gotten to know him and his story…so one December, I made the offer for him to come over, have a shower and stay for dinner. We probably made arrangements for a particular day for this to happen….and to be honest, I didn’t think much of it…we’d made plans to meet lots of times previously, and he’d show up a few days, a few weeks, a few months after we’d arranged to meet…that was normal. This particular year, Mike showed up on Christmas afternoon. It so happened we were hosting that year. Probably a bit obvious with multiple cars in the driveway. Unexpected, but what to do…He had a shower, did a load of laundry and stayed for dinner.
Mike didn’t empty out the pantry or come with a dozen of his friends. He was a perfect guest. Our extended family wasn’t really ready for this, but they were gracious and friendly. And they had a unique and interesting evening. It’s hard to remember one Christmas dinner from the next. They all kinda blend together…but I’ll give you this, that year sticks with us.
The wisdom we seek is really how to be hospitable when it’s inconvenient. Easy when we plan for it. Easy when we clean the house and prepare for guests. Not as easy when they show up when the house is the dirtiest, when there’s nothing in the fridge and when you’ve got twenty things to do.
Reality’s schedule…the way things turn out….is never so neat and tidy. As Anne Lamott describes in her book, she wasn’t ready for her son to be a father at 19. Neither was he. She wasn’t prepared to take financial responsibility for a new family when she was just enjoying her adjustment to a life that didn’t revolve around children.
But her self-described low-level hysteria about the whole unplanned situation had to make way for a new albeit unexpected role. Anne had to embrace the role of grandma….ready or not. Anne welcomed her grandson Jax into her life unprepared. She knows she’ll be ready to feed him, to take him for a walk, to change her life.
But that’s family. What about strangers?
One of the great pieces of wisdom I take from reading the stories of Jesus at various meal-time gatherings is his ability to welcome a stranger. Maybe I’m so fascinated because I’m really so jealous…or maybe just so crazily not like that. The whole invitation to a total stranger thing is not one that’s easy for me. As an introvert who can publicly act like an extrovert with some success, I can do it…but I’ve got to tell you….it’s difficult and it’s tiring.
You know what they say, “Hospitality is making your guests feel at home, even if you wish they were.”
That could be my motto….and I’m trying to be better at that…with various results.
As far as I can tell, the stories we read today of the dinner at Levi’s house…where there were tax men (or traitors, as their fellow Jewish neighbours would call them) and all sorts of disreputable characters….we’re told. So there’s that crowd…but there’s also the elite…the scholars and the perveyors of what is supposedly good and upright and decent, ask “What’s he doing eating and drinking with crooks and sinners?”
And Jesus, seemingly great at eavesdropping, says “Who needs a doctor: the healthy or the sick? I’m here inviting outsiders not insiders…it’s an invitation to change all our lives, inside and out.”
That one speaks right to me. I wonder if it speaks to you too? I’m the insider. I’m the one cooking meals, I’m the one with the roof over my head, not worrying about whether there might not be enough food for my family. I’m the one with a vehicle to drive wherever I want. Or if I didn’t have these things, I’d have the resources to find other means. I love and I hate the ambiguity of Jesus’ reply. It’s about an invitation to change all our lives…
So…you’re saying the point is for inner and outter change, but not just to the lives of the outsider? Oh…so what this is saying is that it’s not about charity? It’s not about the haves giving something to the have-nots. Oh…it’s about the fact that when the outsiders are invited, the change happens to the inviters just as much, or more, than the invitees.
Okay….so I’m invited to learn something when I open myself beyond my little bubble – my family, my comfortable little circle of friends, my mostly white and middle-class church community. I have to be with people I don’t know. Crap. Damn it. Why did we have to go looking for this wisdom?
The next story doesn’t get much better. Curses.
Jesus goes over to another one of those elite dinner parties. And it’s supposed to be this very refined affair. People probably put on their best robes for this one. Since houses in this place and at this time, we know, were partly open to the street – or at least toward a courtyard, the dinner party would have been able to be seen by those passing by. So into this party walks a woman who didn’t receive an invitation. A woman who the upper crust would say didn’t belong, and the woman herself would agree didn’t belong. She walks in, finds Jesus – the by now famed teacher of spiritual wisdom, and kneels to wash his feet with expensive perfume. She starts crying….she sees something in him that she wants to honour, that she wants to show respect. We understand that she suspects she might find acceptance or understanding from him…She’s heard of his compassionate manner towards people like her. We get that she’d like a taste of that goodness in the midst of her life which must have precious little of it.
As expected, the insiders want her out, want to condemn her, and want to condemn Jesus for allowing it.
He turns to them….again. the point is what the insiders take away from this little episode.
He says: when I came to your home, did you provide water to wash my feet? Did you treat your guests with such care? Did you provide anything for refreshing ourselves, and yet she has outdone you all. Impressive isn’t it?
Isn’t any wonder they wanted him dead for upending the social order?
He ignores the insiders and turns to the woman and shows her the respect that’s so rare for her. He indicates to her that she’s worth it. He speaks to her and praises her, honours her for what she’s doing. Speaks to her as a human being, not an object. He transcends what the culture thinks and behaves toward her…and cuts through it to just see a person…a person who, like any of us, needs love, wants health and goodness and wholeness and the best for her and whoever’s in her life.
And he says to her that this interaction…this human encounter is what makes her well….that she should go in peace, not worrying about the judgement of these buffoons. (I’m paraphrasing) That she is well because she has faith in the power of respect and human decency to make for a better life. Nobody’s ever told her that her human and humane way of being, her own goodness is enough. She is enough.
We are all enough. We all deserve respect. Everyone we encounter deserves it. We are all invited to the party.
What happens when we open ourselves to those experiencing life in such a different way from us? What happens to our compassion? What happens to our assumptions?
It would seem the wisdom that comes from the meals Jesus ate is that a lot of change can happen. Our hearts can be opened. Lives can even be saved from disaster.
A little later in the writings of Luke, after this story, the author offers this piece of wisdom: “To whom much is given, much is expected.” (Luke 12:48). We could also say it as Uncle Ben in Spider Man says it….With great power comes great responsibility.
I don’t know how I’ll make sure an unexpected guest can turn up at my dinner table in the next little while…maybe you have some ideas for your own meals and parties. But I’m interested…and a little scared…at how I might be changed, how I might learn, how I might be opened to the kind of compassion that could lead to great and unexpected places. I wish the same for you.
-Chris New
Comments are closed