You're Welcome!

Psalm 89: 1-4 p 475
1I will sing of your steadfast love, O LORD, forever; with my mouth I will proclaim your faithfulness to all generations.
2I declare that your steadfast love is established forever; your faithfulness is as firm as the heavens.
3You said, “I have made a covenant with my chosen one, I have sworn to my servant David:
4‘I will establish your descendants forever, and build your throne for all generations.’”





Matthew 10:40-42 p 791
40“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.41Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous;42and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”






Welcome. We see and hear that word a lot. On our doormats. On signs in our homes, usually hung up in the kitchen. Even at the store: “Welcome to Walmart”! We are told.
Some people have the spiritual gift of hospitality. They know how to welcome people, and they do it well. It does not mean that there are elaborate plans made, elaborate feasts prepared. It does not mean they act like Martha Stewart. But by careful observation, these gifted people know just how and what to say, what questions to ask, how much or little to leave a person alone. They read people well, and extend the right kind of hospitality to them.
Yale Divinity school professor Siobhan Garrigan tells a story from her travels around Ireland. Arriving at a Presbyterian church in Northern Ireland, she was greeted at the door by two women, church members, who seemed to invite her into conversation. After a moment, Dr Garrigan realized that these women were ushers of some sort, whose job it was to stand at the door and interview newcomers as they arrived. They quietly asked her name and the first name of any other approaching strangers who wished to join in the morning worship.
Then Dr Garrigan figured out what was going on. Hearing the first names, the ushers would draw conclusions about the cultural and religious identity of each. Those with Protestant names were welcomed warmly and shown their seats. Those with apparently Catholic names, like Maria, or Patrick or Catherine, were told that they were surely in the wrong church and sent on their way.
Surely, that was a long time ago, we might think. But Dr Garrigan assures us it is current practice still today. Surely, we think, that happens over there, in Northern Ireland, but not here. Here—here we are welcoming, here we are hospitable. We are not like that here, are we?
In her book Amazing Grace, Kathleen Norris tells the story of the opposite side of hospitality: a nun who, although she has Alzheimer's, still asks, every day, to be rolled in her wheelchair to the door of her nursing home so she can greet every guest. Said one nun of her sister in ministry, "She is no longer certain what she is welcoming people to...but hospitality is so deeply ingrained in her that it has become her whole life" (265).
The gospel lesson invites us to ask ourselves about the quality of welcome we give and receive.
The text this morning is the tail-end of the Mission Discourse that began in chapter 9. The disciples were being sent out, all 12 of them, on a mission trip. They were given instructions by Jesus on where to go, what to pack, and what not to take. They are to proclaim the good news, and have no fear, even though their reception will not always be pleasant.
But for those who welcome the traveling disciples, it will be as if they were welcoming Jesus himself. And for those who welcome Jesus, it will be as if they were welcoming God.
The Christian church is founded on hospitality. The early church was formed out of, and took in, those who were unwanted by society, those who were cast out of their families, those who were rejected. In fourth century Egypt, a man named Pachomius was one of a group of people abducted by roving gangs to be sent down the Nile to work as salves for the Roman army. The group was imprisoned in Thebes before being deported for work. When Christians in the city learned of the prisoners’ plight, they brought them food and drink. Their generosity prompted Pachomius to ask who those people were. He was told “they were Christians, who are merciful to everyone, including strangers.” This act of unexpected hospitality led to Pachomius’ conversion to Christianity.
Theologian Gordon Lathrop reminds us that, at the center of the life of the Church and of every congregation, there stands the one who came to live among and share the table with outsiders, those not included in faith community. Whether it was with the prostitute or tax collector, the Samaritan woman at the well or the Syro-Phoenician woman who begged him to heal her daughter, Jesus insisted on opening the fellowship of the faith, drawing in those who are outside it. So it must be with the core ministries of the Church that gathers in his name
But hospitality is a two-sided coin—we are to accept it as well as extend it. We are to be open to others who give to us, as well as seeing ourselves as the hospitable ones, to know we are not the only giving ones.
We are to take whatever hospitality is offered- even just a cup of cold water—and give it and receive it—all in Christ’s name, all with the love of Christ.
And we are to do it out of gratitude—not because hospitality is easy, or fun, or even because we will get a reward. When Jesus talks about people getting a prophet’s reward for their hospitality, I’m not sure that’s entirely a good thing- after all, prophets are pretty unpopular, kicked out of their hometowns, shunned and rejected—much like Jesus himself—but we are to extend hospitality in response to God’s steadfast love, as the psalmist says. God’s chesed- but in doing so we will be blessed.
Kathleen Norris tells another story, of another nun. Kathleen had traveled all the way from South Dakota to California, to be live with members of a convent in California for a time. She was late coming into vespers. An elderly nun, seeing her there, whispered loudly, after the service had started “Who are you?” when Kathleen tried to whisper back, the nun replied: “don’t bother. I’m hard of hearing. It doesn’t matter. We’re all God’s children.”
We’re all God’s children. We all are thirsty at times, we are all in need of bread and water.
Mother Theresa said “not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” A cup of cold water- how small is that ? But it is something we can do.
The ancient fathers and mothers practiced radical hospitality. Whoever showed up, they took in. Without question: prostitutes, unwed mothers, the homeless—because they knew to welcome others was to welcome Christ. One desert father, upon seeing yet another hungry, poor traveler journeying toward the convent, looked up and said “Jesus Christ, is it you again?”
So, in this nest week, I want you to look with the eyes of faith: who gives you water? And to whom do you extend a cup of cold water—a smile—a card—a prayer? And what—and who—do you receive in return?