Thankful Memorial, Chattanooga; September 1, 2019;Year C, 12 Pentecost, Proper 17

Jeremiah 2:4-13; Psalm 81:1, 10-16; Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16; Luke 14:1, 7-14

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

NPR’s Invisibilia podcast had an episode last spring called “A Very Offensive Rom-Com.”[i]  The short-version of the story is this: in her early twenties, an Asian-American women called L, who considers herself to be open-minded and progressive, realizes that she only dates white men.  Somewhat horrified by her limited preferences and the lack of diversity in her love life, she decides to take on a kind of personal experiment and resolves to only go on dates with men of color.  It’s this decision that makes her romantic comedy very offensive to some: the inherent racism of it, that you have been chosen as a date based solely on the color of your skin.  The storyteller keeps coming back to the problematic nature of L’s experiment, but is also intrigued by L’s story, by her self-conscious quest to seek out relationship among the very people she’s not naturally drawn to. 

I’m intrigued by L’s story as well.  Although her experiment is offensive on one level, it’s also weirdly brave in another way.  How many of us would be willing to push back against what we perceived to be our ingrained inclinations – in our love lives, in our careers, in our families – to so intentionally broaden our horizons and open our minds and hearts to new experiences, new people?

“Let mutual love continue,” says the writer of the letter to the Hebrews.  “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels.”  And in Luke’s gospel, Jesus tells his religious compatriots something similar: “When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or your rich neighbors…

invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.  And you will be blessed…”

The list of invitees that Jesus suggests are the last and the least, the marginalized and the left-behind.  So his admonition that those more privileged invite these folks to their banquets was radical.  That was not the kind of society that Jesus’ colleagues would have wanted to associate with.  Let’s be honest, they’re not the sort of people that most of us would think of first to invite to our next gathering either.  But in an even more general way, “the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind” are also representative, very literally, of the “strangers” towards whom the letter to the Hebrews encourages hospitality, too.  After all, what is a stranger if not someone who is strange to you, someone who is wholly different to your experience, your own sense of identity, your way of operating normally as a blind person would seem to someone with sight, or the very poor to the very wealthy. 

In her commentary on this passage from Luke, the Rev. Kathryn Matthews puts it this way: “Our generosity toward strangers and all those we might consider ‘strange’ is often offered from a distance, without personal contact.  But love doesn’t mean ‘love your own family and friends’ – it means love the stranger in your midst… Jesus’ challenge reaches across boundaries of place and time, calling us to be more aware of those from whom we are inclined to avert our eyes.”[ii]

So, while it’s true that we’re not very likely to invite “the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind” to our next banquet, I wonder who the other strangers are in our lives whom we’re encouraged to invite, too.  And, the answer to that question might be different for each of us.  Perhaps the strangers in your life include folks from another racial or ethnic background, or those who practice a religion other than Christianity, or someone whose political stance seems antithetical to yours. 

Which brings us back to L from that Invisibilia podcast episode.  What is so striking about her “very offensive romantic comedy” is that she purposefully goes outside her comfort zone in her search for someone to love; she ignores her inclinations and invites into her life those who are “strangers” to her, those whom she wouldn’t otherwise consider. 

And if we all did the same thing in all the ways we interact with people, think how startling that would be. If we each started inviting the “strangers” in our midst for a shared meal on a weekly basis, imagine all the unlikely lunch dates we’d start to see.  The progressive liberal would be seated across the table from the staunch conservative.  The blue-collar worker would break bread with the banker.  The white evangelical Christian would commune with the Arab Muslim. 

But there’s risk to all of this, too, of course.  There’s always risk when Jesus is involved.  At the very least, there might be some very awkward conversations around those tables shared by strangers.  Conversations as awkward as the one Jesus started in Luke’s gospel today. 

But that’s not the only risk, far from it.  “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers,” says that letter to the Hebrews, “for by doing that some have entertained angels.”  Some have entertained angels.  But only some.  There’s no guarantee that the person across the table from you is going to respond angelically to you after all.  If you do follow Jesus’ command to invite the one you would least expect, if you open yourself enough to engage another, you effectively sacrifice your power in some very real ways.  Because you don’t have any control over that stranger’s response to such hospitality, such vulnerability.  Indeed, their response might be down-right mean-spirited or scary or heartbreaking to you. 

But, here’s the thing: righteousness just is risky.  The righteous ones are the risk-takers, those who are willing to be vulnerable to others for God’s sake, for the sake of God’s “mutual love.”  That’s why Jesus’ admonition to invite “the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind” comes on the heels of another instruction about being humble.  Because those who know themselves to be loved by God don’t have to worry about where they stand in the eyes of others.  Those who know where their true identities lie aren’t anxious about their place at the table.  And instead, those righteous ones can afford to be humble; those righteous ones can risk being vulnerable to others, even the strangest strangers in their midst. 

May we all be so righteous as to risk loving others with such abandon, and discover the blessings of such love.  Amen. 

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[i] “A Very Offensive Rom-Com.”  Invisibilia podcast.  April 5, 2019.

[ii] Kathryn M.  Matthews in “Sermon Seeds” for September 1, 2019.  https://www.ucc.org/worship_samuel_sermon_seeds_september_1_2019