Sermon: Hospitality and Fear

‘Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing so some have entertained angels without knowing it.' (Hebrews 13.1&2)

Hospitality is a crucial aspect of the mission and ministry of this cathedral. Indeed it is not too much to say that it is inscribed into its traditions, fabric and life. On the tradition side we have the many centuries of the monastic foundation to draw on where, as you probably know, the monks lived under the Rule of St Benedict that required them to welcome the guest as Christ himself.  In terms of the fabric there is the famous sanctuary knocker, a symbol of the safety that would be afforded to those who might come here for refuge pending a swift exit from the country.  And in terms of its life today there is our determination to keep entrance to the cathedral free to any who wish to enter.   You might say that hospitality is the DNA of Durham Cathedral. If this edifice were a piece of confectionary rock rather than a pile of sandstone the word running through the middle should be hospitality.

That's all very well you might be thinking but what does he mean by hospitality? What does the cathedral mean in practice by seeking to be a hospitable place? The monks have gone, the knocker has been removed to keep it safe (some irony there) and replaced by a replica.  The only thing remaining is the free entry and in today's economic climate maybe that could come under threat.   

That dilemma is hypothetical but I suggest it to make the point that hospitality invariably involves facing practical and difficult questions. Indeed I would go so far as to say that if it does not, if it is too easy or cosy, then it is probably not hospitality at all.  As Rowan Williams commented when talking about the ministry of ‘Radical Hospitality' that unfolded at the chapelry of St Paul's Broadway on Manhattan Island after 9/11, ‘hospitality means mess'.  When I was on sabbatical in New York in 2003 I spent some time with the priest in charge of the chapel and who allowed the extraordinary ministry to fire-fighters and construction workers to emerge. It had clearly been a very costly experience for him, not only because it meant encountering the trauma and exhaustion of those involved in dealing with the grizzly aftermath at Ground Zero but also in terms of various relationships. Welcoming different and needy others, opening up to a new ministry, can often upset those who are happy with things as they were.  

Others who have been involved in genuine hospitality can probably say the same. I think of those couples who become foster parents of ‘hard to place' and ‘hard to manage' children and teenagers. I think of those who staff the hospices which give space, support, comfort and love to the dying and those close to them.   As it happens, I am going to a small conference in Birmingham to discuss the question of what Anglican hospitality means in our multi-faith society.  Reading through the short papers that most of us have written in advance one thing that came across to me very strongly is how much fear there is both in the words and between the lines.  But this is not mere xenophobia or Islamophobia; it is more a fear of the unknown future that true hospitality might begin to open up. The question behind the fear is not ‘what are they really like?' but ‘what am I getting into here?'

Hospitality invites the stranger to come into our own safe space and thereby turns the place of safety into a place of risk. Hospitality is an adventure that you have without travel.  Hospitality implies and requires the questioning, stretching and maybe transgressing of the boundaries that make our life orderly, predictable and pleasant. True hospitality lets things get under your skin.  

This implies that there are forms of kindness to strangers which are less than hospitality. The fact that people mistake these practices of ‘less than hospitality' for the genuine article is one of the reasons that we do not often grasp the full Gospel challenge implicit in Christian hospitality. For instance, to call entertaining friends ‘hospitality' is to water the concept down to something far too banal.  The so-called ‘hospitality industry' takes things a step further and robs the word of its full ethical significance. The strangers to whom we are to show hospitality are rarely going to be paying guests. But neither will they always be simply un-paying guests.   To be hospitable is not merely a matter of being magnanimous. Magnanimity is a virtue which goes back to Aristotle and is about being kind and generous from a position of strength. Unlike hospitality it does not involve working out of weakness or becoming vulnerable yourself.

So I would suggest that magnanimity stands in relation to true Christian hospitality as pity does to compassion. In hospitality, as in compassion, there is a mutual encounter; when we are hospitable, as when we are compassionate, there is good chance that we ourselves will be changed by the experience.  That is to say, we go into hospitality or compassion with our defences lowered and trusting God that our foolishness is not foolhardiness. 

Here, at last, is a definition of hospitality: it is an encounter so close to us that it takes place within the space usually guarded by our defences.

That's certainly the dynamic of hospitality in the gospels. But there is another side to it too. In the gospel stories of hospitality and table fellowship there is often a subtle interplay between the roles of guest and host.  Take for example the story at the home of Simon the Pharisee (Luke 7). Jesus is the guest but he challenges and subverts the rules of the house by himself playing host to the affection and love of the forgiven woman who anoints his feet. Maybe Simon thought he was in for an evening of witty banter or stimulating conversation. The result was more profound than that. It was a down to earth challenge about the nature of love, forgiveness, God and yes, hospitality itself.

And what is the dynamic of hospitality in our Old Testament lesson where Moses, who is working for his living in the household of his father-in-law turns aside to see the great sight of the burning bush, encounters the voice of Yahweh and has his life and the life of his people turned around.  Now that's an encounter. It causes Moses to take off his sandals but also to protest that he was certainly not the man for the job. But at the end of the day it proved to have been a supremely pivotal moment, but notice that Moses was afraid, and could not look at the face of God.  God promised Moses a new hospitality in a new place. But there is a price to be paid in terms of obedience and loyalty which as we know is too hard for Moses and the people to bear. That's the trouble with being hospitable; you sometimes get seriously let down. Hospitality is always a risk. But there is no alternative. Spiritual growth only happens when we let God and others into the space we would like to keep and neat, tidy and defended; it only happens when we let others into our home and our hearts.

This sermon has been expounding the virtue of hospitality based on Hebrews 13.2.  It is worth noting before we close how chapter 12 of Hebrews ends.  The last two verses are these.  ‘Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us give thanks, by which we offer God an acceptable worship with reverence and awe; for indeed our God is a consuming fire.'

It is startling to me that the author should put talk of hospitality so close to talk of fire. The last thing we want is a consuming fire at home. And yet it is out of the burning bush that the Lord appears to Moses.  No wonder people equate hospitality with fear. There is a lot to be afraid of.  And it's all very well the author to the Hebrews saying that we might entertain angels unawares. But there is nothing like an angel for creating fear in human beings. Which is why they invariably begin their messages with the words, ‘fear not'. ‘Fear not, Mary' said Gabriel when he was inviting the young woman to a ministry of radical hospitality (Luke 1.30). ‘Fear not', say the angels at the tomb when introducing the women to the truth of the resurrection (Matthew 28.5).

The Gospel of Christ invites us to become hospitable, compassionate people of us all and hospitable communities of our churches. If that fills you with fear - then join the club. But I would suggest that until you become hospitable you will never know the assurance of the words ‘fear not'.