Resurrection Revolution Part 2--Radical Hospitality

Our faith in the Living Christ calls us to live completely counter to the world as we know it. The Biblical stories of Jesus and his disciples after his resurrection give us a model for these ways that are counter-cultural and at times radical. In this 5-week series, we'll listen for God's call to disrupt the world with a Living Love. To truly live as resurrection people might even be a revolution. In this second episode, Rev. David discusses Radical Hospitality.

Transcript

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We don't know why the disciples can't recognize Jesus. It just says their eyes were kept from recognizing. Does Jesus look different? Was it some sort of divine intervention that prevented them from seeing? Or was it the idea of a guy they saw crucified days earlier walking on a road so far-fetched that their minds wouldn't let them believe it? We don't know. It just says they couldn't recognize him. But these two disciples are walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus, and they're talking about all of these things that happened. Jesus' crucifixion and this strange news that they had received, but were maybe not ready to fully believe that he has risen from the dead. And while they are walking and talking, Jesus comes walking alongside them, but they don't recognize him. And he asks, What are you talking about? And they stop, and it says, they looked sad. And the one named Cleopus says, Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days? Now, this question is more than just befuddlement for why this guy doesn't know about all these things that everyone else is talking about. The fact that they call him stranger is important. It clues us into who they thought he was. First of all, strangers were not to be trusted. We have our own understanding of stranger danger, but even more so in that time and society, strangers were suspect. And especially while traveling. These secluded trails between towns were notorious places for people to rob you. You know, out in the middle of nowhere when no one is around, no ability to call for help, no police to rescue you. And so for them to talk to a stranger while traveling is unusual. But calling him a stranger is more significant than what you name someone you don't recognize. You see, the Greek word used here for stranger is paraoikos, means foreigner. Specifically, someone who lives in a country but is not a citizen. The disciples think he is an immigrant, an alien, someone completely different from them. Maybe it's hardest to recognize the image of God and those who don't reflect ourselves back to us. Those who were most foreign to us. But Jesus plays a coy and asks, What things? And so they recount all the things that have happened and how they thought Jesus was the Messiah and the awfulness of his death, and now they're confused because the women said the tomb was empty. And then as the stranger, Jesus practically scolds them for not understanding and walks them through how all of these things are the fulfillment of the prophets. And so then when they get to Emmaus, the stranger keeps going. But they invite him to stay with them. It's getting late. It's not safe for him to be out there alone. And so wherever they are staying, they made room for him too. They share their food and provide a meal for him. And while they eat together, Jesus blesses and breaks the bread. Similar to how he had done at their Passover meal just a few nights before, and it says their eyes were opened and they recognized him. Now they see that it is Jesus. But as soon as they recognize him, he vanishes. And they say, did not our hearts burn while he was with us? Once they welcomed the stranger. Once they offered him hospitality, then they recognize Christ in their midst. I think we most often wait for the opposite. We're waiting to recognize something familiar in the stranger, to get a glimpse of the divine before we make space and are hospitable to others. But according to this story, the welcome and hospitality comes first. Then the image of Christ is revealed. It's a mind-boggling reversal of our normal ways. You know, the belief that the image of God lives in all people is foundational to our faith. It's something that we want everyone who comes to this place to know and experience. That whoever you are, with all your accomplishments and failures, with all that you possess or don't possess, wherever you've come from or are going, the image of God lives in you. I hope every single one of you know and believe that. That is a core belief that I hope we have ingrained in these graduating seniors and that they take that with them and never forget it. The problem is when we start believing the image of God only lives in us. Or maybe I should say it this way: when the image of God only lives in us. And it's especially problematic, as we've seen recently, when we start to believe that God is the image of us. Again, maybe it's hardest to see the image of God in strangers because we're looking for reflections of ourselves. That's what makes this resurrection story seem so radical. That the disciples offered hospitality to a stranger, someone foreign to themselves. Maybe even a risk to themselves. But in doing so, they discover they are in the presence of God. As we've been exploring these stories of Jesus' encounters with his followers after his resurrection, we are discovering that this new life with the risen Christ is radical and revolutionary. It's a resurrection revolution. It's so counter to the normal ways of the world. This world who tells us that there is no place for the parroquoist, the stranger. And not only should we not make room for them, we need to protect our space from them. The world who tells us that those who are different from us, those who look different and love different and worship different and vote different and smell different and live different, well, we can't see the image of God in them because we're looking for a reflection of ourselves. And so it seems revolutionary and radical when God says, when you welcome the stranger, when you make this world more comfortable and hospitable for those who are different from yourself, you will discover God in your midst. What makes radical hospitality radical is not the great comfort we provide. It's who we are welcoming. It's offering comfort to those who may make us feel uncomfortable. And if we live like this, this new life with the risen Christ, well, people might think we're starting a revolution. Now I know that for many people in this church, this actually doesn't feel revolutionary and radical. Welcoming the stranger seems like the basics. I get it. That's this church's sweet spot. It's who we've been for a long time, but especially in the past several years, we have worked very hard to be a place of welcome and belonging for all people. Whether it's the hospitality we offer through our community cafe to our friends experiencing homelessness or around issues of gender and sexuality or race and ethnicity, we've built relationships with different faith traditions. This is a church that values radical hospitality and welcoming the stranger. But before we strain our elbows from giving ourselves pats on the back, we must ask ourselves if in our attempt to welcome those different from us, have we made new strangers? One of the criticisms we've received as a church over the past several years is that people whose politics don't align with the majority of our members don't always feel comfortable and welcome here. Some have told me about the awkwardness that they've experienced because of their party affiliation or wanting to exist somewhere in the middle or not even really wanting to engage at all. And I know I'm a big part of creating that, and I regret anything I've said or done that's caused that. But they don't mean just from the pulpit. It happens in Sunday school classes and Bible studies and casual conversations, comments that don't just state political opinion, but maybe make people feel excluded or unwelcome. Let me say this: being hospitable to those you disagree with doesn't mean you have to accept their opinion. It doesn't even mean that you have to find middle ground. And it doesn't mean that we excuse policies and behavior that hurt other people. It just means that we admit that while we have a hard time seeing our reflection in them, the image of God is still there. Maybe, maybe for First United Methodist Church, this is the next radical edge of our hospitality for all. And I'm not saying this because there was another political assassination attempt last night and it's a call for unity. I'm saying it because the church should not be another in a long list of places divided by party and politics. Even as we as we take a solid stance for God's justice and peace, the church should be a place where people who are different and disagree can still love one another, make space for one another. As strong as my opinions are, as right as my opinions are, I'm not ready to give up on that yet. And I know that will make some people uncomfortable. They won't like that I said it. But maybe that's part of what the disciples meant when they said, did not our hearts burn when he was with us? Could that have been a double entendre? That they were experiencing a little heartburn and discomfort? That the one who once made them uncomfortable, who was a stranger to them, revealed the very presence of God. If we want this world to be different, if we want things to change, and oh how they need to change. The resurrection revolution requires radical hospitality. Even as in all forms, our hearts burn.