Peter's sermon 9/18/2011 - Hospitality

I'm starting to notice a pattern with my pastor, Peter. His "story for all ages" (my church's version of Children's Moment) always rubs me completely the wrong way, and then the sermon proper blows my freakin' mind with awesomeness.

Also, the message he delivers on Sundays when we're doing Something Else, like appreciation Sunday or the in-gathering service? Worthless feel-good fluff. Which is all right. He's not got much time for anything better during those services.

This Sunday, the Story for All Ages was about a king who dressed up like a beggar and went around to the homes of three townspeople, asking for a place to sleep. The first person refused him, slamming the door in his face. The second person let him in, but fed him janky leftovers for dinner and made him sleep in the garage in an old sleeping bag. The third person welcomed him in, gave him the best cut of meat, and let him sleep in the master bedroom so that he'd be the most comfortable. Later in the story, when the king is looking for a steward to mind his kingdom, he picks the third townsperson for the job over the other two because any steward of his kingdom must be welcoming and friendly and loving and blah blah blah.

What I get out of this story is the idea that if I'm not already perfect, I'm pretty well fucked, because you get one chance to be good and you're stuck in the bad category if you fuck up your one chance.

Shiny.

What I'd love would be to hear this story told the same way, right up to the ending. In the end, I'd rather the king send the third townsperson home and hire the two who weren't great to him. Take them in, teach them how to be more loving and giving. People can change and grow, but they're more likely to do it if they don't feel that they're being judged on something they did in the past.

Not sure the kids who were up there for the story would've cared either way, but I certainly did. Ruffled my feathers right on up.

Then the kiddies went off to Sunday school and Peter dove into the sermon. According to the folks I talked to after service, the sermon was long, but I didn't notice if it was. What I did notice was that it was absolutely amazing. Tight, challenging, interesting, and chocked full of stuff I'm still mulling over in my brain. The kind of no-holds-barred sermon that will come back to haunt you whenever you're a jerk to someone. That's mostly a good thing (in my opinion).

The topic was hospitality. Much as I'd love to write out a full transcript of the service a) I don't have said transcript and b) no one would read it, so we'll skip that part. The bits I found educational (or things that came to my while I was listening) were:

• It is easier to give of a surplus than to receive out of need. We are taught in this culture to be self-sufficient, so there is a good feeling associated with being magnanimous and a bad feeling associated with being grateful or indebted.

• Why do we NEVER see stories from the point-of-view of the "bad" guy? The one who slammed the door in the king's face, or the priest who did not do what the Good Samaritan did? I mean, maybe the guy had a good reason not to let the king in. Maybe fifteen other beggars had already turned up and he was full up for the night. We don't know. All we're told is that he's Bad for Not Doing Good, and I worry that we're teaching children to evaluate situations on their own perception, without bothering to gather facts.

• Peter defined hospitality as "the alchemical process of transforming strangeness into familiarity." That's so pretty, isn't it? He also said that, in Greek, the word for "host" is the same word for "guest," from which I'm concluding that we're all guests in all situations, because no two situations are exactly the same, so we are hosting others in our sphere of awareness just as they're hosting us. Not sure what that means, as far as taking action or changing my outlook or behavior, but it certainly is a neat thought.

• Mmm, then Peter started talking about the problem of groups that are close-knit. They give off a vibe of go-away-we're-closed through demonstrating to outsiders how close-knit and familiar they are with each other. I get this quite a lot at this church, actually. I'm much younger than the grand majority of members, so when they engage me in conversation, or vice-versa, we often run out of topics to discuss pretty fast. Smalltalk is hard when you have little in common! So then they usually draw someone else into the conversation, and then those two start talking about people or places or events that I know nothing about, leaving me to stand awkwardly on the outside of the conversation, unable to participate or escape. It's really quite uncomfortable.

• Peter didn't really talk about how to fix that. He neatly skirted the issue. I think maybe awareness is the key - awareness of insiders that they're doing it, and awareness of outsiders that it's a defense mechanism against awkwardness. Plus, the willingness of both parties to work with it, to recognize when it's happening and take steps to move beyond it. For example, asking a question about who the two are talking about. That's worked great for me. It shows that I'm interested and reminds the others that I'm new and haven't a clue what they're talking about. You do run the risk, though, of being dismissed or treated as an annoyance when you ask questions. That's the risk you take, joining a new group, and if the group is right for you, isn't much of a risk at all. If the group is wrong for you, you'll be mistreated a few times and you'll move on.

• Whiiiiiiich neatly brings me to my next point: the penalty of hospitality. Let's say that I bake brownies and package a few up to take to the homeless man who smiles and waves to me from his little corner of the Alewife station every day when I bike past. Let's say that, when I stop to give him the brownies, he flips out and starts howling at me for being condescending and goody-goody or something. Is that going to be my fault? No, but it IS going to be awkward with a capital oh-god-make-it-stop. It'll embarrass me. Make me feel stupid. Maybe even get me fussed at by someone who thinks I did the wrong thing, giving brownies to a hobo. That's going to suck.

THAT is the reason we're afraid of others, my friends (all none of you who read this blog). We're afraid of looking stupid or being scolded or getting embarrassed. We're afraid of doing the wrong thing. Stepping on a custom we didn't know was there. Offending someone without meaning to.

I remember a film we watched in one of my Linguistics classes. An American man and a Saudi man met for a business meeting in California. The American brought in coffee, then sat down across from the Saudi and put his ankle up on his knee. He started the conversation with how are you, how was your trip, how's your family. Then, when the Saudi didn't respond as the American was expecting, the American moved right into business.

If you know anything about Saudi culture, you can see the problem.

First, showing the bottom of your foot is like flipping someone off in Saudi Arabia. Second, discussing ... it's either family or the wife in particular, I don't recall which, now ... is offensive to Saudis. And third, going straight into business is considered abrupt and rude and offensive.

But! But-but-but-but-but.

In this film, the business meeting was being held in California, USA. Does that not mean that the culture should be US culture? Taking offense at the bottom of the foot, okay I get that - it's a cultural thing. But chalk it up to culture clash and move on. The wife and family thing - again, not something you're comfortable talking about, but instead of clamming up, pouting, and then complaining about the American off-screen, pick a topic YOU are comfortable with and try to make conversation. And finally, if you don't like abrupt to-the-point business, don't work with Americans. It's how we do business.

I brought that up, suggesting that the American should have learned a little bit about his visitor's culture, but also that the Saudi should have studied up on American behaviors, so that he'd be more comfortable and less ... I don't know, he was terribly snooty in the video. All scripted, of course. I was told by the prof that that was NOT the point, and would I kindly stop thinking critically, it was really cramping his style.

THE POINT IS: We have to remember to be both the host and the guest in any situation. Yes, people can be very offensive, yes you can look stupid doing your best, no, your good deeds will not always be welcomed, recognized, or even valued as good. Having a bad experience when you try to stick your neck out will scar, it will be a bad memory, but it's important to keep trying, as much as you can.

And hell, if you need to slam the door in the king's face every so often, go for it. I don't believe in no second chances, and I don't think very many situations do either.

A Sunday School Memory

I have two memories from Sunday School that stick very close with me, even all these years after they happened.

The first happened in ... oh, I'll say fourth or fifth grade. The Sunday School teacher said we were all going to go to Disney World on a big, air-conditioned bus (make-believe, of course). He went dancing around the table asking each of us, "You want to go to Disney World? And you? And you?"

When he got around to me, I said no, I didn't want to go. I smelled a rat. He sighed and moved on to the next person.

The teacher - let's call him V - pretended to drive the bus, once he'd gotten everyone to sign up for this Disney trip. Then he mimed opening the door of the bus and said, "All right, we're here! Only we're in Somalia. Everyone is starving, they have no clean water to drink, and it's 100˚F outside. What are you going to do to show these people God's love?"

Talk about betrayal.

Some kids said we could let the Somali people onto the bus to cool off in the AC. That idea was shot down because the bus was too small for everyone to get in and cool down. Others said we could share our food and water with them. Again, shot down because we didn't have enough. I shrugged when it was my turn to talk and said, "I said I wasn't going." I wish now I'd said, "Let's take them all to Disney with us" instead.

But the worst part was that there was no resolution. No way to reach out and help these people. I'm sure the point was to raise awareness of refugees or something, but damned if I can remember V making that point. I left feeling impotent and helpless, and that feeling of "What's the point of helping? I can't help everyone" has stuck with me ever since, even when I do try to reach out and help with some cause or another.



The second memory predates this one, I'm pretty sure, but it has to predate it pretty closely, because it was the same classroom as the first memory. Different teacher, this time - we'll call him K. I don't remember what K was talking about that day, don't remember the lesson or the scripture or whatever. All I remember was that he was talking about epiphanies, or Epiphany (don't remember), and I raised my hand with a statement or a question (again, don't remember - this story is so going places) and K got all excited, jumped to his feet, pointed at me, and said: "YOU ARE AN EPIPHANY!"

I now know that that's, uh, not really the proper use of the term. But that day, it didn't matter. That day, I was special. I was smart. I was an epiphany, and I was going to go out and do God's work!

That urge kind of dissipated after the experience in V's class. But not entirely.



I'm grateful for both of these experiences.

K was right (despite his misuse of the English language). I have a decent head on my shoulders, a pretty passionate fire burning in my chest, and a big ol' mouth for getting my ideas out there. I have power to persuade people, and hopefully God guiding me to persuade people in a positive direction.

But V was right, too - you can show up with all your good intentions and comforts, but you can't help everyone. He seriously missed the boat when it came to impressing the you can still help some, though point onto my impressionable young mind, but hey, nobody's perfect.

I've been to impoverished places. I've seen suffering that can't be fixed with a trip to Disney. But I'm an epiphany, whatever that means. Maybe it means instead of saying no to a trip to Disney, next time I should look my teacher in the eye and say, "Hey, let's go to Somalia instead."

Wouldn't that just beat all.

God is not synonymous with Hate

Ahh, another of those "copy and paste this to your status if you agree" things cropped up today and made me see red for a good solid minute. This one reads:

"Tornadoes this summer, Category 3 hurricane headed up the East coast and now a 5.9 earthquake in Virginia.. felt all the way to NC ,along with one in Colorado (5.3) yesterday ! And people are fighting to take GOD out of everything... seems to me GOD is sending an awfully loud message !!!!"

The God I believe in - the God I see, feel, hear, whatever you want to call it - doesn't hate its creations. Global warming, on the other hand ...