Relating, Creating, Transforming

Posts tagged ‘hospitality’

How Do We Get Distracted?

Luke 10:38-42

distract
What makes you feel distracted?
What distracts you from being your true self?

Facundo-Cabral
Facundo Cabral, Argentine singer, songwriter, and philosopher (1937-2011), once wrote about distraction and depression. Here is an excerpt:

You are not depressed; you are distracted. You believe that you have lost something, which is impossible, because everything that you have was given to you.  You did not make a single hair of your head so you can not own anything.  In addition, life does not subtract things, it liberates you from them. It makes you lighter so that you can fly higher and reach the fullness. From cradle to grave, it is a school, and that is why those predicaments that you call problems are lessons, indeed.

Liberate yourself from the tremendous burden of guilt, responsibility, and vanity, and be ready to live each moment deeply, as it should be.

Love till you become the beloved, and even more! Love till you become the love itself!

This NT Gospel story is about distraction and about choosing a better way.
Here’s how it
goes:

Martha extends cultural hospitality to Jesus.
Mary sits and listens to Jesus’ teachings.
Martha completes the obligatory tasks of hospitality.
Martha complains that Mary has neglected said tasks.
Martha asks Jesus to tell Mary to help her.
Jesus responds that Mary has chosen the better activity.

This story follows the parable of the Samaritan. This is a parallel tale.
Samaritan story: a dying man on the side of the road, but the obligation to help is not there for priest & Levite. They walk on by. The Samaritan is not obligated either, but chooses to help out of compassion.
Mary/Martha story: Jesus comes to their home. Martha feels obligated, according to the customs of society, to offer food and drink to Jesus. She considers that to be the most important thing. Mary shows hospitality to Jesus also, but not out of obligation. She sits at his feet and listens. Martha’s anxiety over getting the hospitality thing out of the way leads her to possibly resent Mary’s sitting.

Don’t be fooled, though. This is not Martha vs. Mary. Jesus does not rebuke Martha, remember. He simply states that Mary has chosen the better thing, just as compassion is better than obligatory service in the Samaritan story. Mary chooses to love and to show hospitality, but in a way that society did not require. Martha’s hospitality was fine, but it didn’t go the extra step. This is why Martha felt anxiety and was distracted. Or maybe Martha was anxious because she couldn’t find Pokémon? 

pokemonGo
Also, compare Mary to the Samaritan—both heroes in these stories.

The Samaritan was obviously an unexpected hero who fulfilled the law by acting with compassion. Mary, a female, was an unexpected hero by not filling the typical role for a woman and instead acting out of genuine love and desire to learn; she became a student/disciple.

The thing is, Martha is fine, too, until she lets her anxiety get the best of her. When she calls out Mary, she has stopped being hospitable. Now it’s all about her.

Jesus visits her house, not to praise her for what she does or how well she does it, but instead, Jesus comes to tell Mary and Martha that they are both valued for who they are as children of God.

This is the better thing—to listen to that voice, to embrace your value as a person; to not measure your deeds or to compare yourself to others. When we do that, we get distracted.

My take: we can do a lot of things. We can fill schedules and calendars. We can appear busy. And yet, if life is just about completing those tasks, where will we find love, compassion, and peace? Will our actions just be another thing to check off of a list, will we start to resent others who don’t “work” as hard as we do? Will we ever stop to just sit and listen, which to me, is checking in with ourselves? This kind of life can be depressing and empty.

At the same time, though, it’s not just about sitting and listening. The listening helps us to hear a good word about who we are as human beings—that we are loved and our worth is not measured by what we do or don’t do. After listening, though, we find strength to live, to do good things in the world. Look, this planet we live on is wrought with heavy and sad things—plenty with which to distract us and make us feel more anxiety and worry. 

And yet, we can stop to sit and listen. We are capable of that. Sometimes stopping and listening means that you stop talking and actually listen to another person’s point of view or their story without planning how you will respond. Maybe you’ll just listen. Or you may sit for a moment, take a break from your schedule and live a few moments that are unplanned. Or perhaps you need to hear the kind and compassionate voice in the midst of all the heavy and hateful voices. The kind voice says that life matters most above all things, and so anyone’s life in danger is your life in danger. And that is motivation to show love to people at all times; that is motivation to show love to yourself.

So may you find moments to sit and listen in a world that doesn’t seem to encourage that better activity. May you listen to others. May you embrace your whole self, realizing that your value is not measurable by the number of things you complete in a day, a week, or a lifetime. May you not compare yourself to others. May you listen to and embrace compassion, and then may you show it to others.

 

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Why Welcoming Everyone is Crazy

Mark 3:20-35

Two Sundays ago I called the Norristown Courthouse eight times.

Eight times.

You see, a month ago, I received my fourth summons to appear in Norristown, PA for jury duty.

juryDUty

Now this won’t be a rant about someone’s “civic responsibility” or bureaucracy, or the government, or whatever. Instead, I’m going to tell you my jury duty story, because something happened there that mattered to me.

I was shown great hospitality when I didn’t expect it.

Let’s go back to Sunday night. I didn’t sleep well. Perhaps I was anxious and overly tired, because I usually am on Sundays, and Monday is my day off. Or maybe I was anticipating something new and interesting; after all, I had received jury duty summons before but never actually had to show up. My lawyer friends scoffed, knowing that a clergyperson such as me would never get selected for a petit jury, much less a criminal case. But I couldn’t sleep, maybe because I thought: why not?

I rolled out of bed on Monday morning—resembling the freakiest of zombies—and I made my way to the courthouse. I went through the metal detector, scanned my little summons paper at the door and showed my ID. I put on my plastic badge with my juror number; I was in!

The room was packed. There were 300 people in there. Whoa. I couldn’t believe it.

jurorNo food, no drink. Just sit down.

That’s what the sign said.

Everyone looked tired. Some were visibly cranky. One guy all dressed up in his suit and with a briefcase, sauntered about the room as if to say:

Look at me. I’m so important. Can’t you see I have better things to do? Look at me!

One lady, in front of me, was intensely knitting something as if to say:

This is our lot in life. Suck it up, grin and bear it, we’ll be here for a WHILE.

Two other ladies in front of me gossiped about their families; a woman in a hijab asked me and the woman sitting next to me if we knew exactly what these numbers meant on our plastic badges. One lady didn’t my eye contact with a single person while she frittered away on her laptop. People kept coming in; some were visibly frustrated with traffic, or the parking, or perhaps…life in general?

The lady on staff who scanned us in and gave us our plastic badges entered the room periodically and said:

Juror number 5609, you need to fill out your juror info form. 5609? 5609?

Bueller, Bueller, Bueller?

bueller-anyoneThough we were all supposed to arrive at 8:00 a.m., it wasn’t until about 9:00 a.m. that the same lady patiently calling out numbers put in a DVD to fill us in on all the details of being a juror. The DVD speaker, Larry Kane of Comcast, reminded us:

If you are in need of an internet connection, you may visit the juror’s lounge and ask for the internet connection cable. That way, you can connect it to your laptop.

Yeah, thanks, Larry. But the nice lady calling out numbers just told us that wi-fi was free.

The DVD mercifully ended with Larry telling us how much of a privilege it would be to serve as a juror.

Another period of time passed.

tell-me-again-about-jury-duty1The kind lady who scanned us in, gave us our plastic badges, called out the numbers of people who hadn’t filled out their info forms, explained the DVD, answered a multitude of questions, and continued to run back and forth to the courtrooms—finally addressed us again around 10:30 a.m.

She maintained her bright smile and said:

Okay, everyone, thank you so much for your patience. They are ready for you, so what I’m going to do know is to read off 50 juror numbers. If your number is called, that means you have been randomly selected. Please stand and I will escort you to where you need to go.

She paused and smiled.

And I know that you’re tired and that the weather isn’t great, but hang in there. We will get you moving, and those of you who aren’t called, you are free to use the facilities or to get a drink of water, or whatever you need. Thanks again for your patience and your service.

One guy behind me sighed so exasperatingly loud that I could feel his eyes rolling even though I couldn’t see them. Another lady to the right shook her head in disgust.

But the patient, kind lady wasn’t fazed. She started calling juror numbers. My number ended with a 09. Numbers 08, 07, 06, and 10 were all called, but not mine.

Some people breathed a sigh of relief, others scoffed in disappointment.

And…the 50 chosen—they left…

Never to be seen again.

Finally, it was about noon and the kind-hearted, smiling, patient, hospitable lady [how I now thought of her] addressed the remaining lot by saying:

Some news, everyone. The last case to be tried is a criminal case.

Some groans in the crowds.

It has now gone to bench. So yes, I’m sure some of you know what that means. You’re free to go home! Don’t forget to scan your papers on the way out so you receive your stipend check in the mail. And thanks for your service.

And with that, three people actually said, a la Homer Simpson:

woohoo

We filed out of the courtroom. Some people were actually running. I’m not kidding. Cars whizzed out the parking lot.

As I sat in my car, I reflected on how jury duty experience had been so less painful than I thought. Why? The welcoming, hospitable, incredibly-patient lady on the petit jury staff who led our tired, grumpy lot through the morning.

On an early Monday morning in Norristown’s Courthouse, that seemed crazy.

Crazy, why? Because true hospitality is crazy. Do you know who was in that crowd of 300? Women and men of various socio-economic levels; people of all sorts of cultural and ethnic backgrounds; transgender folk; religious and non-religious folk; people late and people early; people eager and people confused; full of all kinds of people.

And yet, that woman welcomed us all. Truly. I saw it.

And you may think I’M crazy for saying that this staff member of Norristown’s Courthouse was more like Jesus than most churches, but for me, it was true.

So let me explain why, and then you can draw your own conclusions.

Jesus of Nazareth, in Mark’s Gospel narrative, even as early as chapter 3, is already called crazy. The crowds who followed him, his own disciples, his own family—they are all confused about what he’s doing and saying, and they’re afraid of what might happen to him. Already Jesus had cast out a couple of demons and healed some sick people, and it was getting worse. He hung out with so-called sinners [called the untouchables]. One of his disciples collected people’s taxes; Jesus found it convenient to heal people on the Sabbath. So from the get-go, Jesus’ brand of religion did not fit the religious laws or social customs of the day.

So it’s no surprise, don’t you think, that people called Jesus crazy. Well, in their words, they called him demon-possessed, but in our context, demon-possessed would be batty, nuts, bananas, 5150ed, bobo, bonkers, certifiable, cray-cray.

Even his own family thought he was a little coo-coo, and that’s why they started to get protective. Can you blame them? Any parent out there, do you want your son or daughter to be at risk? Would you be happy if they chose a vocation or a calling that led them into danger, no matter how important it might be? Parents and family go into protective mode.

Jesus, stop. Just stop already. Tone down this radical hospitality to all people. It’s dangerous.

It’s been my experience that most Christians who regularly attend churches often think of hospitality as being friendly and nice to people—especially new visitors. But it’s usually temporary, because eventually, most church folk expect said new people to blend in eventually and learn the way that the church already does things.

Well, that’s not cray-cray Jesus’ brand of hospitality. Instead, Jesus meets people where they are and as they are. Everyone’s invited, no matter how messy and chaotic it may become.

That’s called radical welcome.

So I’m left with this question: are we considered crazy for the radical hospitality and welcome we show to all people?

We should be.

We should be pushing the limits of what hospitality and welcome mean—no matter how crazy it may sound or if it’s not religiously or socially acceptable.

If we truly embrace the radical welcome of Jesus for ourselves, this ought to be reflected in our treatment of others—how we welcome and accept them as they are.

How crazy are we?

Not nearly crazy enough…

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