The Unexpected Guest
Genesis 18:1-10a Luke 10:38-42
Perhaps the most revealing measure of hospitality is how the unexpected guest is received.
Abraham and Sarah and Martha and Mary all received unexpected guests in the stories we just heard.
It is easy to stereotype the hospitality of Martha and Mary — to put
them in little boxes with tight fitting lids like Ziplock throw-away
containers. It’s easy to define their characters in black or
white if we take too much at face value.
The stereotypes might go something like this:
Martha is a no-nonsense woman. She efficiently oversees the
running of her large household. She cuts to the chase. She is
often anxious and uptight because she wants everything to be perfect —
especially when Jesus visits. When he visits unexpectedly, she is
thrown into a panic. She is sharp-of-tongue and steps on toes to get
things done her way. She was the first one up that morning and will
undoubtedly be the last one to leave the kitchen at the end of the
day. She has a big martyr complex. “Why do I always have to
make the pita bread?” she moans. Nothing is done right around here,
unless I do it myself!” she complains. “No one appreciates the many
things I do to properly entertain our guests,” she mutters.
On the other hand, Mary clearly has her head in the clouds. She
meditates; she contemplates; she postulates…She burns the pita bread
and drops the earthenware vessels. As they smash to the floor, she
retreats to the garden. The kitchen is the last place she wants to be.
She is an impossible dreamer and a dyed-in-the-wool mystic. She leaves
the kitchen chores to her efficient sister.
I think our human tendency is to put ourselves and others into boxes
with tight fitting lids. We expect certain behavior and that is
all we can see. When we see the negatives in ourselves and others; our
negative image is confirmed. Often we are blind to the unexpected
goodness that shines forth when it is least expected both in ourselves
and in others.
Jesus doesn’t throw out the baby with the bath water. I don’t think he
wants us to do that either. He says to Martha: “Martha, Martha, you are
worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing.
Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from
her.” I don’t think he is saying: “Martha, you are bad. Mary is
good!” I don’t think he is saying, “Working in the kitchen is bad. It’s
better to contemplate.” I think, perhaps, he is saying to Martha
and to Mary and to you and me, “Whatever you do, do it with focus and
love, with all your heart and soul.
If Jesus comes to our door unexpectedly, it’s perfectly okay to share
yesterday’s pita bread with him. He doesn’t want us to choose the
frantic, anxious road. He doesn’t want us to dump guilt and
recrimination on those who choose a different way. The better part is
to offer the best of ourselves to our Lord and to one another. The
better part is to greet the unexpected guest in any situation with love
and charity.
Many of the stories in the New Testament are open-ended. I love
that because I can imagine my own endings. I can look between the lines
for clues that remain unwritten and unspoken. What if, instead of
the stereotyped hospitality of Martha and Mary in the story, we see
this:
Martha will always be a person who is goal oriented, just as Mary will
always be more contemplative. What a wonderful combination of gifts to
share when their Lord comes unexpectedly to their door, if only they
can value each other’s gifts. And what a wonderful combination of gifts
we have here in this congregation when our Lord comes unexpectedly to
our door, often in the form of someone in need. All kinds of
needs are here if we open our eyes to them. When we can pop off
the tight lids of our little boxes, a light may shine on gifts in
ourselves and others that we didn’t even know existed. Weaving them
together we can form an incredible tapestry of love and servanthood. We
can lovingly offer bread that’s made out of flour; but we can also
offer to share the bread of heaven, each in our unique ways.
In my ending to the story, I like to think that Martha and Mary heard
and understood what Jesus was saying. I like to think Martha
didn’t go back to the kitchen to pout and slam pans. I like to
think that Mary suggested that they serve yesterday’s pita bread with
some nice fresh cucumbers and feta cheese. I like to think she
invited Martha to join Jesus and the other unexpected guests for awhile
saying that she — Mary — would help her prepare the meal when it
was time. And in my wildest imagination, I like to think that Martha
joined them and added her beautiful voice to their singing. And
in my wildest of dreams, Mary did the dishes!
This story centers on two women—two sisters. But true hospitality is
not dependent on gender or age or worldly status of any kind. On
a hot and dusty day in the desert, Abraham provided cool water to wash
his unexpected guests’ feet. He and Sarah offered the choicest flour,
the best calf, the freshest cottage cheese to guests they didn’t even
know. And this hospitality was graciously and lovingly offered.
I have observed here at St. James’ wonderful instances of love and
sharing of gifts. They illustrate “the better part” that Jesus
tells us about. The crew of men, women and children who painted a
house, and fed each other and worked together in a spirit of
love. The woman who took a picnic to Eureka Springs Hospital to
share with someone who had been eating hospital food for weeks.
The man who went to the Holiday Island gas station to get burgers and
fries to share with an old man who is so hungry for male companionship.
The couple who regularly invite others to join our worship and then
offer to pick them up. The woman who always remembers to pray for
and then to phone those who are sick to see how they are doing. The men
and women of The Open Door who share both tangible bread and loving
hospitality. The list is endless because there are so many of you
who share, who stretch yourselves to quietly offer the better part to
the unexpected guests who appear in your lives.
This is a great day of joy and celebration for us because we are
rejoicing with Billie McCabe as she celebrates eighty-five years of
precious life. It seems appropriate that I share a Billie story
with you. The first time Clifford and I visited St. James’ we
attended the 8 o’clock service. Someone invited us to come down
to the undercroft after church for the best Sunday breakfast in Eureka
Springs. We did and it was!
We were a bit late coming downstairs because we were visiting with
people. When we entered the room, people naturally turned and
looked at us unexpected guests. It was just a little unnerving for a
minute.
And then this gracious woman came out of the kitchen and greeted
us. “I’m Billie McCabe and we are so pleased you are joining us
for breakfast.” She seemed like an angel in an apron to me as she
escorted us through the line. The better part was she didn’t disappear
back into the kitchen. She got a plate and sat down with us. I
had on my collar and she asked about me and my ministry. But then, the
best part, for me, was that she turned to Clifford and asked him about
himself. Intuitively, she combined the hospitality of Martha with
the hospitality of Mary. She left the pots and pans, and whatever
she was doing to focus on the unexpected guests. It is a memory that I
will always treasure.
We are blessed with opportunities to offer hospitality to the
unexpected guests in our lives. We are blessed to see the face of
Christ in each one of them. And we are blessed with a multitude
of gifts to feed the hungry — their bodies and their souls in beautiful
and unexpected ways each day of our lives!
Amen.
The Rev. Betsy Porter
22 July 2007
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