Hospitality
without borders – the art of generous giving
Birth
mothers, adoptive mothers, step-mothers, those who have been like-a-mother to
us: everyone has had at least a
mother, and quite possibly more than one.
Today,
at least in our country, is Mothers’ Day. A day to express thanks to, and for,
the mothers in our lives. And this can be complicated, because – despite what
the card industry depicts – mothers are not perfect; and neither are their
children. So we pour out the bitter-sweet perfume of love and regret and loss
and a whole host of emotions at Jesus’ feet, in the hope that in his presence
our complex lives might become something beautiful.
Today
is also Mothering Sunday, an observance with a longer history, when we are
invited to express thanks for our ‘mother church’, the local community of
Christians who first nurtured our faith, perhaps before we were able to own it
for ourselves. For some of us, that
church is this church, Sunderland
Minster. For others of us, we are able to call to mind other churches, perhaps
more than one, communities that have been a mother to us, in different ways, at
different stages of our journey of faith. And as with singular human mothers, churches
are not perfect, and so, again, we pour out a heady mix at Jesus’ feet.
These
two strands – mothers, and mother church – are woven together in the Mothers’
Union. Recently, I had the privilege of listening to the wife of the Archbishop
of Burundi speak about the way in which the Mother’s Union there has been the vanguard
for reconciliation in the wake of a troubled history; is a voice for unity in a
very uncertain present; and will undoubtedly be mobilised for healing communities
in a future as yet unmet.
This
Lent we are exploring the great theme of Christian hospitality. Within the
history of a distinctly (though not uniquely) Christian hospitality is
hospitality extended to those on a journey, or a pilgrimage.
In
our first reading, Paul, intending to visit the church in Rome on his way to
carry the gospel to Spain, writes, ‘For I do hope to see you on my journey
and to be sent on by you, once I have enjoyed your company for a little while’.
Unlike his travels around the eastern Mediterranean, we have no written account
of Paul’s journey to Spain; though that
he did indeed fulfil his intention to go there is testified to by several
writers of the Early Church.
In
our reading from the Gospel, Mary is no doubt aware that Jesus’ life is in
danger as a direct consequence of his
having raised her brother Lazarus
from the dead; and that Jesus is nonetheless on a journey to Jerusalem and
inevitable death; and her response is to receive him for now as honoured guest
and send him on his onward journey provided for, prepared for
the day of his burial.
Two
incredibly rich passages to mediate on, over the coming days.
At
the heart of the vocation of motherhood is the receiving of another as if they
were sent to us by God; making room for them for a season; and then sending
them out again, on their onward journey, ultimately back to God who
had sent them to us. In this great blessing is to be found, though at great
cost. The receiving, the making room, the sending onward: any or each of these
can leave their stretch marks on us.
One
of our great bitter-sweet privileges here is the way in which God keeps sending
us international students; and asylum seekers; and more local people who would
describe themselves as being on a spiritual journey: people we welcome,
enjoying one another’s company for a little while, and then have to send onward
on a
journey in which we have partnered with them but on which we cannot accompany
them. But in another sense, this is true of every one of us, from the
teenagers who spread their wings to the very oldest passing from time into
eternity.
We
are all pilgrims on the Way. Historically, monasteries sprang up along the way*
offering shelter. As you may have already heard over the past few days, the
Minster café, which has been operating as an external franchise, has come back
to us this weekend. We were not looking for that to happen; the short-notice of
it all is a massive challenge. Why this,
God? Why now, God? Why, in the midst
of a series exploring hospitality? Why, for a community placed by God on a busy
pilgrim route, albeit not a traditional one? … We’re going to call the café Biscop’s@theMinster
– Biscop’s – after the patron saint of Sunderland, who went on six long
journeys, and found a welcome along the road. Would you pray that this
opportunity being birthed in our midst would help us fulfil our call to be a
place of hospitality on the Way?
*We
tend to think of places like Iona and Lindisfarne and Monkwearmouth as being,
deliberately, off-the-beaten-path. But, in fact, in a time when international
travel was by shore-hugging boat, they were located at the ‘airport hubs’ of
their day.
No comments:
Post a Comment