Hospitality

No one likes a prophet.

Let’s be honest.

Prophets are noisy, nosy, troublesome people.

They poke around where they shouldn’t. They raise awareness of what we’d rather not talk about. No. Despite what we think, no one likes a prophet.

Today Jesus says, “Whoever welcomes a prophet as a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, and whoever welcomes a righteous person as a righteous person will receive a righteous person’s reward.” The trouble with this is…

No one likes a prophet.

I mean, look. Once upon a time, a beloved relative of mine donated gold to this statue. This beautiful statue. She and her people were going through a hard time. They were in the wilderness. They couldn’t plan. They couldn’t gather where they were used to gathering. All the restaurants were closed… because there weren’t any because it was the wilderness…. And then Moses comes down off the mountain, and like a jerk, tears down their statue! She couldn’t believe it!

Then this Moses guy starts saying all the stuff we can’t do anymore. Don’t murder. Covet. Steal. Bear false witness. How are we going to live? It’s not how my grandparents did it, that’s for sure. What’s the world coming to?

No one likes a prophet.

Oh, and my cousin! Once upon a time, he’s minding his own business and this guy shows up and starts yelling about the state of things. Now, I know we don’t talk partisanship in the church, but this guy says, “I’m Isaiah the son of Amoz, thus saith the Lord, the God of Israel, you have forsaken the ways of your people. You listened to fortune-tellers, and followed empty luxury, and your land is filled with idols, now I will bring you low.”[1]

How dare that man! Talking about my cousin’s hometown that way. Good, God-fearing people. All this stuff about getting sacked by Assyria and Babylon and what have you. We’re good folks. Too good for him to talk about us that way.

No, no one likes a prophet.

When they show up, we run them right out of town. They say such awful things.

Like Amos, remember the stuff he was spouting? He said that God hated our festivals, and our worship services. God took no delight in what we offered. Take away the noise of our songs. That really offended the choir and the praise band. Instead, let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.[2]

What a jerk. We put in so many complaints that we got his social media shut down and he won’t host another speaking engagement in this town again.

What’s really a shame is that promising young man. You know… the carpenter’s son. He comes back from seminary and preaches this sermon and we drove him right out of the church. We were going to throw him over a cliff.[3] But he passed through the crowd somehow. He now travels around the country with these 12 other guys. Like some traveling circus. I heard he caused some trouble with the money changers in the temple a few days back. You don’t mess with tradition like that. You don’t disrupt these carefully cherished traditions that we have.

No one likes a prophet.

So we cry out to God, HOW LONG?! How long, oh God must we suffer these annoying prophets? How long must we wear masks? How long must we refrain from our worship like we always have? How long must we hear about these protestors and racism? How long, oh lord?

Ohio had the highest amount of COVID-19 cases since April on Thursday. Almost 900. And 60% are in the 20-49 year range. [4]  We flattened the curve. But here comes the predicted surge. This is exactly what Dr. Amy Acton said would happen. She was right.

And what was the thanks some gave her? Protests at her house. Armed yelling men in the capitol building. She was called a liar, a hoax, and worse. No one likes a prophet. Give up these things so that others may live. It’s been hard. It’s annoying. I would rather do a normal Sunday with three services than one of these COVID ones we’ve been doing since March.

But the point of the prophet is not about you. It’s not personal. It’s collective. It’s about us. We want to stay home so that when we can gather again, everyone will be there. It’s hard to hear these words of prophets, but it’s about us. God’s vision for us. Our collective life together.

How long must we talk about race? We must talk about it until we no longer see it as a black problem. We must talk until we see our part in the story. In the story of our nation. In the story of our lives. In the stories of our neighbors. Because it’s about the healing of the nations. It’s about making and being disciples of all nations. It’s about OUR story. All of us.

We do the work not because of our reward. Or that it’s all going to be okay. But because God is with us through it all. We trust in God’s unfailing love; our hearts rejoice in God’s salvation.

A salvation prepared in the sight of every nation. A light to a hurting world.

It may feel painful. It is painful. Author Glennon Doyle thinks of pain as a travelling professor. And the wise welcome pain in and say, “What are you here to teach me?”

Hospitality is radically counter-cultural. Especially with pain. Jesus says to, “Take up your cross and follow me.” Crosses are painful things!

Dennis Windling, the chaplain at Medina Hospital knows the role of pain in the healing process. He notes how when the doctors are doing an exam and they say, “Does it hurt here? Or here?” and when they touch where it hurts, we flinch and withdraw in pain. Yet for us to heal, we must be open to the pain. For that’s part of the healing process.

A process that ends in joy. A process that ends with us feeling better or being better. In the general, metaphorical sense.

No one likes a prophet. They point to where the pain is. But the wise can listen and determine how to adjust, and find themselves in their neighbor. They can find themselves in the very life of God. The very image of God.

Hospitality is a radical thing in our world which likes to divide on everything. On wearing masks or not. Or protesting or not. Or what political party you vote for or what team you root for. Hospitality means remaining at the table, hearing the pain of others, and finding the way forward together.

I’ve been at the bedside. I’ve been at the graveside. I’ve seen pain. I heard the stories. Have felt the hot tears. My heart has broken. And through it all, God has been with me. It is my call to point us to God. To be the border collie for the Good Shepherd. I do it at weddings and at funerals. I try to do it with all that we’ve done on social media and live streaming and calling and writing letters and doing tonight’s vespers. And some will say that it hasn’t been enough, and they are right.

I am an imperfect vessel. Trying my best. As we all are. I’m trying my best to offer a cup of water to the thirsty. To point us to God. To help us hear the prophets of our day crying out for the poor, oppressed, and marginalized. It’s a hard message to hear. I am trying to be with you in the pain of this pandemic because I’m feeling it, too. I’m trying. And you’re trying. And we’re trying, and we must be on the lookout for when God shows up.

Maybe we’ve been flinching from the pain, resisting saying where it hurts because it shakes our comfort. But we can’t heal. We can’t grow that way.

The good news is that God is with us. That we are with one another, reaching out and connecting in amazing and creative ways. We are healing from things we didn’t notice before. The Divine Physician sends out prophets for us. And anyone who welcomes them welcomes the one who sent them.

Who are you listening to? What pain are you attending to? Have you mentioned this pain to someone you trust? There is great power in naming. There is great healing in saying, “Doctor, it hurts here.”

We often don’t want to trouble folks with our ills. Yet this is how love works: there are other hands that are not yours that can work with you. There are many tears that are not yours that can cry on your behalf. There are many voices that are not yours that can ask “how long, oh Lord?” and pray on your behalf. There are many feet that can walk on your behalf when you need to sit down. This is the truth I tell you now, we need one another. Now more than ever.

We used to be able to pretend that we didn’t. We used to pretend that we could be self-sufficient until the weight of it became too much to carry. And that is good news. That’s what Christ was pointing us to all along. And all the saints and martyrs and pastors and poets and unnamed prophets. No one likes a prophet because they tell the secrets everyone knows but no one wants to talk about. Because of the shame. Pain. Embarrassment. Shot to the ego. Our pride couldn’t take it.

There is life beyond the temporary pain. There is healing within and among us even now. Yes, there is trouble and chaos, but there is also growth and peace and God. The currency of God’s kingdom has never changed. It has always been love. We can end the strife. The prophets have told us that from Moses on up. The prophets are telling us now. We can end the strife if we have the strength to love. To name the pain and listen to others say, “It hurts here.” To tell of the secret pain we all bear so that our community can bear it, Christ can redeem it, the Spirit can bless it, and God can say, “Look around you. You were never alone. Not for a second. And you’re not even alone in thinking you are. I love you. Be healed. Welcome home.”

Works Cited

[1] Isaiah 2:6-11, Pastor Luke Paraphrase

[2] Amos 5:21-24

[3] Luke 4:16-30

[4] The Ohio Channel https://youtu.be/mW_04fXi1-g

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