Rev. Christine Dudley

 Scripture:   Genesis 18:1-8

Today's reading from Genesis tells a story of gracious and extravagant hospitality. Did you notice, when you heard the story, that when Abraham saw three strangers near his tent he did not casually get up and go and meet them but rather he ran to meet them and bowed down to them in a gesture of humility and generous welcome. Then Abraham lavishly cared for their needs: water to wash their weary feet and to refresh themselves; a shady place to find respite from the scorching heat of the desert; the finest food he had to offer; and his companionship as they rested and ate.

This kind of hospitality was the expected practice in Abraham's time and culture. For those living a nomadic life in the desert the practice of offering and receiving hospitality was a matter of survival.

The mandate and practice of hospitality carries on through the generations in the stories in the Bible. Jesus, who was steeped in the stories and culture of his Jewish heritage, continued the practice of offering and receiving hospitality. He would eat with anyone who invited him,, whether they were rich or poor, elite or outcast and would share what he had with others. Jesus and his disciples modelled sharing in community wherever they travelled and encouraged others to do the same.

I have often found, in my own life, that it is easier to be the giver of hospitality than to be the receiver. (Perhaps, you have also found that to be the case.) But, we all need to rest sometimes from the demands of our lives and allow others to care for us. I was reminded of this in a very real way, week before last, when I attended a ministers' retreat at Dutch Harbour with other ministers from Kootenay Presbytery. We had hoped at least 8–10 would be there but in the end only five, including David and myself were able to attend. Four women in our Nelson United Church congregation offered to provide meals for us and when we arrived at Dutch Harbour we were greeted with lavish and abundant hospitality. A table was beautifully set for supper with lovely flower arrangements, candles and cloth napkins. The meals served to us were gourmet in taste and quality and were lovingly prepared and presented. At first I was embarrassed by the low turn out of ministers and the fact that we practically had a one to one ratio of ministers and caterers. I felt that I would rather be in the kitchen with the helpers than being served and it was uncomfortable to be served by friends. It took the first afternoon and evening for me to get over this discomfort and to gradually lean into the blessing of being cared for so faithfully and lovingly. And, when I was able to let go and graciously receive I was given the wonderful gift of rest and recreation.

Over the past couple of years, as a community of faith, we have been intentionally making changes to our church building to make it a more welcoming space and we are continually seeking to be aware of how in our language, customs and behaviour, we can be more inclusive of others in the various ages and stages of their lives.

One article which I read this week commented that hospitality is really a "spiritual quality, a disposition of the soul. It may end up with the concrete acts of offering food, drink, and shelter to the stranger, but it begins with a letting go of suspicion, a suspension of judgements, and the cultivation of a genuinely open, spacious, welcoming heart. ...Hospitality requires the willingness and capacity to create an open, empty space into which strangers can come, and find themselves at home." (The Strangers In Our Midst by The Rev. Dr. Kathlyn James)

Some of this gracious and spacious hospitality can be learned from the wisdom and actions of the wise elders in our church family. I will never forget the openness of heart and mind which Sadie McClelland conveyed during our discussions a few years ago when we adopted an inclusive marriage policy. And, my most vivid memory of gracious hospitality was on the day of Jack McClelland's memorial service when Sadie and her granddaughter welcomed each person as they entered the sanctuary and thanked them for coming. It was as if she were greeting them at the door of her own home and in effect that is exactly what she was doing.

This community of faith is our home – our spiritual home – the place where we give thanks to God for the gift of life and where we mark the seasons of our lives together as an extended family. We celebrate our happy transitions and support each other in the difficult times in our lives and through the challenges and changes in our world. Our strength is the strength of God's presence and our hope is the power of Christian community to bear faithful witness throughout the generations in words and action.

I was reminded of this in a profound way on Friday when I went to the hospital to visit Sadie and found that she had died during the night. I visited with her roommate who was upset and then as I was leaving I bumped into a member of our congregation in the hallway. Sensing that something was wrong she asked me if I was all right and I shared with her my feelings of sadness and loss. She ministered to me and drew my attention to a young couple leaving the hospital with their new born baby – the circle of life – death and birth – endings and new beginnings. From the hospital I travelled to Creston to join others from Kootenay Presbytery in recognizing and celebrating the work of our Conference Minister, Kim MacMillan, who will be retiring at the end of next week. And so it is, in Christian community, that the joys and sorrows of our lives are interwoven and shared together.

The story, Learning To Fly, that I read earlier, illustrates in a humorous way the importance of encouragement, perseverance, practice and accompaniment in learning and growing together. It's about not listening to the nay sayers who tell us that our dreams are impossible and believing in more than what we can see at this very moment. We, in essence, believe ourselves into the fullness of life that God desires for us knowing that we are never alone in our challenges or in our successes.

We need not accomplish great things in our lives, according to the world's standards, but we do need to remember the biblical mandate to act with justice and loving kindness and to walk humbly knowing that God is with us every step of the way. (Micah 6:8) We also have Jesus' life and ministry as an example to guide us and we have a great cloud of witnesses, past and present, whose wisdom and actions influence our decisions and actions as we travel into the future with faith and hope.

Someone once said the best gift we can give our children is the gift of "roots and wings". The roots that we offer are the grounding of our faith tradition and the knowledge that Christian community, which has gathered to offer encouragement and support throughout the ages, will continue in the years to come. Being rooted and grounded in Christian community gives a sense of belonging to something larger than oneself. We are a part, not the whole, we do not need to do it all ourselves but we do need to do our part. Doing the impossible is God's work. It is God's spirit of hope, love and grace, which empowers us to take risks, to learn to grow, to spread our wings and rise to the challenges of life.

And, speaking to the graduates, there will be challenges. No life is without sorrow, or hardship of some kind, but I pray that with God's love the gentle winds of the spirit will lift, refresh, and guide you in your journey into the future. And so, with this in mind I'll close with excerpts from a poem by Joyce Rupp, entitled, "A Time of Happy Transition":

Delight of my Heart,
your joy echoes in my life.
I relish this happy transition
now shaping my days.
With the welcoming path before me,
I receive the promise of a new vista,
the benediction of an open road,
the pledge of an unfolding adventure. ...
How blessed is this passage of time
when confidence pervades my spirit
and peace permeates my mind.
I move forward with assurance.
Liberating Spirit
soaring with freedom in my soul,
I fly with the gift of newfound hope,
my inner wings stretching wide. ...
Thank you for this blessed transition
and the chance to enter life more fully. (Out of the Ordinary, page 228)

And so may it be,
for the grads we celebrate this day,
and for each of us in our own way.
Amen

Amen