True
Hospitality
a sermon based Genesis 18:1-15
by Rev. Randy L. Quinn
Last week I said the
primary Biblical metaphor of faith is the journey. If that is true,
and I believe it is, then the primary Biblical metaphor of service is
the host. Our text today is about the host.
Read text.
I’ve
stayed in lots of motels over the years. And I’ve eaten at lots of
restaurants. And I’ve shopped in lots of stores. I’m sure you have,
too.
And
over the years, I’ve learned that some are better at welcoming
customers than others. Some welcome us in a way that makes us feel
special, some welcome us in a way that makes us feel like an intruder.
We
stayed at a motel not too long ago where we were welcomed at the door
of our car. Once we began the registration process, we were no longer
‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’, we were called by our names.
Rather than giving us a key and sending us to our room, we were
escorted to the room where our ‘host’ walked in first to make sure
everything was in order. He also refused to let me carry our
luggage. He insisted that he carry at least some of the bags.
And
when we checked out, I saw that the spelling of our name on the bill
had been corrected.
This
was a place that knew how to welcome a guest. They practiced true
hospitality.
Not
every motel is like that. Most of the time we learn early on that we
are an interruption to be endured. Sometimes the clerk at the counter
doesn’t even make eye contact with us. And if they say, “Thank You,”
it’s a well rehearsed line that has no more meaning than if they had
said, “Get Lost.”
We’ve
had similar experiences in restaurants.
Sometimes we’re not waited on. Sometimes we’re doted on. Sometimes
we have to chase someone down to take our order. And on more than one
occasion I’ve gotten up to refill my own cup of coffee.
Those
experiences make us go to a place where the food may not be as good
and the prices may not be as economical but the service is
exceptional. We’d rather be treated with some respect where smiles
are shared easily.
A
good host makes even the worst tasting food taste better. That’s why
I’ve never eaten at the restaurant in Sedro Woolley with the sign that
says, “Great Food, Lousy Service.” Service is important to me when I
go out to eat.
Churches have similar dynamics, as well. It’s not service that is
important, but hospitality IS.
Some
churches invite you in with open arms. There is a sense of love and
joy about the congregation that welcomes you.
Other
churches make sure you know that you are sitting in someone else’s
pew. You’re expected to know when to stand and when to sit. And if
you aren’t one who can meet strangers, you’ll be left alone in any
time of fellowship.
When
we were on vacation last fall, we went to church on Sunday morning.
Our first dilemma was trying to determine when worship began. Then
when we arrived, the person with the bulletins handed us one, but it
was clear that he was waiting for someone else, so we were left on our
own to find our way into the sanctuary and choose a seat.
After
we were seated, we read in the bulletin that there was a Children’s
Church, but we didn’t know where or when or for what ages. So we sat
with Melissa and Sherel.
No
one talked to us before church. No one spoke to us more than a casual
‘hello’ after church. No one invited us to coffee hour until we spoke
with the pastor.
I’m
sure if you asked, they would have told you they were a friendly
church. But they were only “friendly” to their friends. They didn’t
know how to be good hosts. They didn’t understand true hospitality.
The problem is that we don’t often
experience our own church as a visitor does, so it’s harder to tell
what we look like and feel like to a newcomer. I can tell you what
some folks have said about our church, but I don’t know about everyone
who walks in our doors. (Most of the comments I’ve heard suggest that
this church has a tradition of being good hosts. I hope you will
continue to practice true hospitality.)
In our text for today, Abraham sees
some people coming. He doesn’t know who they are. But it’s hot and
they need a rest. So he becomes their host. He invites them in and
serves them a meal.
“Sir,” he says, “let me take your
coat. Here, sit in the comfortable chair.”
“Would you like something to drink?”
“I’ve got a little dessert here, would
you like some?”
“Can I get you anything else?”
Certainly Abraham doesn’t do
everything by himself. Sarah is a willing and important partner in
hosting these guests. But they both understand what they are about.
They are welcoming a stranger.
They were practicing true hospitality.
They are not much different than the
staff at the motel we stayed in. It wasn’t just the clerk behind the
counter who knew how to treat us. It was the cleaning lady who was in
our room when we returned from a sight seeing trip. She was more than
willing to leave and come back or to work around us or to negotiate a
better time to come back. Everyone at that motel knew they were there
to host guests.
Just like everyone in this church
needs to see themselves as hosts to visitors. On more than one
occasion, I’ve had someone ask me on Monday or Tuesday who that person
was who was in church. My response is simply, “you should have asked
them.” I don’t always get a chance to meet people who are in church.
Abraham and Sarah and their servants
all served as hosts. They knew how to treat a guest.
While the strangers ate, Abraham stood
near by, so as not to intrude, but close enough to refill their cups
and plates. He not only knew how to practice true hospitality, he
serves as an important role model.
In fact, there are dozens of examples
throughout the Old and New Testaments of people practicing true
hospitality. From the widow of Zarephath who welcomes Elijah (1 Kgs
17:8) to Lydia of Philippi who welcomed Paul and Luke (Acts 16:15).
In Hebrews, we’re encouraged to “show
hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained
angels without knowing it” (Heb 13:2). And Jesus himself says that
when we welcome the stranger, we are welcoming him (Mt 25:35, 40).
In a few weeks, you will have a new
pastor.
You will have the opportunity to
practice true hospitality. I know you know how to do that. This text
simply suggests a few pointers.
Anticipate their needs. When you see
them coming, imagine what it is like to be in their shoes. Give them
a place to sit. Give them something to eat.
I spoke with a pastor this week that
said that on his first Sunday in a new church they served leftover
cake during the coffee hour, leftover from the previous pastor’s
farewell party. <pause> That is not what it means to be a good
host. True hospitality means making fresh bread (Gen 18:6).
Make your new pastors feel welcome.
Make them think you have been waiting for them to come. They will be
excited to be here, help keep that enthusiasm alive by practicing true
hospitality.
That is the lesson of Abraham and
Sarah for us today. Be good hosts. And you will be rewarded with
blessings you can only begin to imagine.
And so will your new pastor.
Amen.