An Open Table - All Are welcome

Luke 15:1-32

 

Driving through south-western Victoria recently, I became aware, in a way I had not been before, of Australia as a fenced country. Ownership of the land is defined and marked out by fences, fences of all types, stone and rock, wood and wire, roads and rivers. It occurred to me that fences speak about where we place people in the geography of our country, the value we place upon them in our economy and the lingering presence of past definitions and practices.

 

Our gospel reading opens a window into the slurs and asides spat at Jesus by his detractors and opponents. ‘“This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” In shame based societies proper conduct in public, keeping appropriate company and not keeping inappropriate company was all about keeping up appearances. You kept company with those of a similar status as yourself or made the effort to engage with those above or beyond your class. You did not keep company with those deemed to be below you – not consorting with the servants, slaves, prostitutes or drunks.

 

Table fellowship, whom you ate with, was the place this was most obviously evident. When people challenged Jesus about who he was with, it wasn’t a comment about his open and generous nature or his willingness to include everyone, it was about how radically he disregarded the sacred nature of table fellowship. Jenks suggests “the slander is more a marker of social conflict between Jesus and his opponents rather than an index of his personal values and conduct.’

John Dominic Crossan writes:

“In the first as in the twentieth century, a person might create a feast for society's outcasts. The could easily be understood even or especially in the honor and shame ideology of Mediterranean society as a benefaction and one of extremely high visibility. No doubt if one did it persistently and exclusively there might be some very negative social repercussions. But, in itself, to invite the outcasts for a special meal is a less socially radical act than to invite everyone found on the streets. It is that "anyone" that negates the very social function of table, namely, to establish a social ranking by what one eats, how one eats, and with whom one eats. It is the random and open commensality of the parable's meal that is its most startling element. One could, in such a situation, have classes, sexes, ranks and grades all mixed up together. The social challenge of such egalitarian commensality is the radical threat of the parable's vision. It is only a story, of course, but it is one that focuses its egalitarian challenge on society's mesocosmic mirror, the table as the place where bodies meet to eat. And the almost predictable counteraccusation to such open commensality is immediate: Jesus is a glutton, a drunkard, and a friend of tax collectors and sinners. He makes, in other words, no appropriate distinctions and discriminations. He has no honor. He has no shame.”

 

Jesus was pulling down fences and breaking the sacred nature of table and the rules set up to protect it. Jesus simply doesn’t recognise those rules and lives with little regard for social ranking in terms of who one eats with. One may in fact include many people from many different social rankings thus causing confusion about what is and is not acceptable.

 

Here is a principle worth considering  by the world and by the church.

 

Australia, we are told is a classless society, one in which everybody has equal opportunity to be well fed, well educated and to be happy. There are no privileged classes and there are no underprivileged classes in the telling of this story. Yet we know that this is not true. A recent article suggested that good looking students get better grades than not so good-looking children and we suspect this also applies to university entrance and job success. We know that if you go to a private school you will have better resources, better social networks and that more opportunities may indeed come you way. We know that certain suburbs and types of people are to be avoided if you wish to live amongst your own social class. Aspirational people seek to live closer to schools with a good academic record to give their children the best chance, value education and tutoring and avoid their children mixing with the wrong peers.

 

Social ranking matters. Symbols of social ranking matters, Houses in the right suburbs, children in the right schools, overseas holidays, right labels on clothes and the right badge on the care all matter, otherwise why would people incur great debt to achieve them

 

Once we have arrived at such social acceptance we avoid those we have left behind. We move on and begin to look for the next plateau in the social ranking game.

 

Jesus sets the challenge in this story. His behaviour is radical and anti aspirational. He spends time with those he likes, those he befriends, those who enable him to be the fully engaged human being he was. He is not stifled by societies expectations but takes social, intellectual and spiritual stimulation from the most interesting and alive people he knows, those without expectations and fences, those outside expectations and fences. He challenges us to let go of our dependence upon our class aspirations and become classless and at home with whoever we wish to share table with.

 

For the church this is another great taboo, who shares table with us? Is this life-giving table available to all or only to those who are like us, come from our class and share our world view? Over the recent years the church has had to, and continues to be challenged to redefine who is welcome, including slaves, non-whites, women gays, trans-genders, believers from other denominations and people of other faiths. What was once only a denominational practice, open only to those who believe like us, is now challenged by the diversity of our understanding of who are recognised as persons (slaves, indigenous,LGBTI people and women and children). Our Archbishop, in a press release Friday reminds us all to be open to the possibilities with in the upcoming plebiscite on marriage equality and that we, as reflective people, are to exercise our consciences on this matter.  Our church, the Anglican Church has had to face this because of its historical attachment to the establishment and has come rather late to practice a welcoming hospitality to all, at least to some degree.

Who is welcome at this table – there is no limitations based on class, gender or race; there is no fence built to keep people away. All are welcome. This is the church and the society Jesus speaks up for and challenges the table based social ranking of his time. This the church and society we are to speak up for and challenge the fences built to keep people in or out of our own safe places. Amen. 

Abraham, Sarah & Trayvon Martin

 “The Lord appeared to Abraham by the oaks of Mamre, as he sat at the entrance of his tent in the heat of the day. He looked up and saw three men standing near him. When he saw them, he ran from the tent entrance to meet them and bowed down to the ground.” Genesis 18:1-10a 

One of the interesting things about staying in Brooklyn, New York, was that I was often the only white person on the subway, on the street or in the shops. The first time I hopped on the subway, it was more than a little confronting to realise that there was no one else in the carriage with the same colour skin as mine.

Standing on the corner of 116th St & 8th Ave (Frederick Douglas Boulevard) in Harlem was another very distinct experience of isolation and alienation. It was late afternoon, it was raining and I was huddled undercover with a number of people very different in appearance to myself.

I was alone, in the sense that I was not 'normal' for that environment. I was different.

My experience in Louisville was very different where, once again, I became part of 'normal' society. I looked the same as everybody else - white! Louisville seems to be a segregated city to me. Perhaps I'm wrong.

During my time in New York, the trial in the Trayvon Martin case was the dominant story. Dominant, not just because he was shot in the street by a stranger, but because of the colour of his skin. Trayvon Martin was African American, and regardless of what people have written and said about this case, the colour of his and his assailants skin was at the fulcrum around which it revolved.

When I commented that I had had no incident of 'Stop and Frisk', the much discussed New York police policy of stopping and frisking without cause, the answer was quick: 'Of course YOU wouldn't, you are not black.'

John Howard Griffin, a friend of Thomas Merton, wrote one of the most significant books of the 1960's.  It was called Black Like Me and chronicled his experiences when he changed his appearance from white to black and he went to live amongst the black people in the American South.

Here is a snippet of his experience:

'I was the last to leave the bus. An elderly white man, bald and square of build, dressed in worn blue work clothes peered intently at me. Then he crimped his face as though I was odious and snorted, "Phew!". His small blue eyes shone with repugnance, a look of such unreasoning contempt for my skin that it filled me with despair.

It was a little thing, but piled on all the other little things it broke something in me. Suddenly I had had enough. Suddenly I could stomach no more of this degradation - not of myself but of all men who were black like me.' (BLM, pp 153-4)

Much of the discussion about the Martin case, amongst the African American people, was how do we protect our children, particularly young men? How do we stop this happening again?

How do we move past colour as the first door into people's lives? Christopher Pramuk in his book Hope Sings, So Beautiful makes the case clearly and is well worth reading, not just to understand the race issue in America but the issue of privilege and poverty and it's roots in colour and race right around the world, including Australia.  He writes authoritatively as one who,with his wife, has adopted two Haitian children and has lived and worshipped within an African- American community.

Pramuk writes graphically of the long line of Haitian citizens who line up everyday, way before dawn, dressed in the Sunday best, to apply for a visa to 'the promised land'. They pay four hundred non-refundable US dollars just to apply, and of the 'tens of thousands who apply each year, less than 2 percent will be granted a visa.' (HSSB, p6) And you are only allowed to apply once!

The Genesis story of Abraham and Sarah's encounter with strangers suggests very clearly what we need to do and it is simple, like Abraham and Sarah we are to look at all others, legal or 'illegal' refugees, black or white, gay or straight, male or female, able bodied or disabled, as an opportunity to offer welcoming hospitality. It is to look, not for sameness or difference, but to see the person in all, and be open to the possibility of relationship, blessing and hope.

Abraham is sitting just inside his tent on in the middle of the day. Maybe it was a great spot to catch a breeze, maybe it was out of earshot of Sarah or maybe it was where he could get a good look at what is going on around him and his home. He was doing the equivalent of sitting on his veranda watching the world go by.

Each morning, when I walked down Winthrop Avenue, Brooklyn, on the way to the subway I was greeted by a cheery good morning from the two elderly ladies sitting on the stoop, the veranda, of their home which sort of fell into the street. A little further down was the elderly gentleman, occasionally further down was the young mum and her baby, each would say hello, comment on the weather and wish you a good day.

Like Abraham they were expecting and greeting those who passed by, strangers they did not know but welcomed into their lives by this little daily routine.  Sometimes they were there when I returned. Either way they were a joy in my life, people who connected me to my community, as it became while I was there.

They expected strangers and so did Abraham.  It was midday, it was hot, and people travelling at that time needed hospitality and a welcome. Abraham made sure he was there to care for those who were out in the midday sun. And so was Sarah – absent from the stoop but within calling distance if required to provide hospitality.

Notice when Abraham sees the strangers he does not hesitate. ‘When he saw them, he ran from the tent entrance to meet them and bowed down to the ground’. He didn’t wait to see if they had come through the right immigration channels, if they had their papers, if the colour of their skin was the same as his, if they were acceptable for someone like him to greet.  He made no assessment of character, no check on the geneology website, and made no attempt to see if they would rob or murder him and his family.

He simply welcomed them, not as strangers, but as guests and friends.  The hospitality wasn’t over the top. It was basic. It met their needs. They were cleansed, given something to eat and drink, and made welcome.  Abraham didn’t bring on entertainment or a feast fit for celebrities.  He simply welcomed and cared for them. Nothing more, and nothing less.

And Genesis says, ‘The Lord appeared to Abraham’. And a promise of a child was made again. Neither of which Abraham sought or desired when he welcomed the strangers.  He simply did the hospitable and the ordinary – he welcomed strangers without judgement, without fear, without question. And he received much more than he expected.

Standing under the awning in Harlem as the rain bucketed down, I was joined by a young African American boy, just a bit older than Trayvon. He was a solid young man and we exchanged greetings.  As the time went on, the sun went down and the street came to life, he stayed next to me, not talking just standing there, occasionally glancing my way. Just before I was to leave he looked at me and said, ‘Now, you take care’, and disappeared. It was then I realised he was my guardian angel, he had taken it on himself to stand beside this rather strange Australian who had obviously wandered into the ‘wrong’ part of town.

Like Abraham he welcomed the stranger and I entertained an angel. How differently life would have been for Trayvon, and could be for us, if only we could let go of our prejudices and entertain strangers as Abraham and Sarah did. It is simple, but seems never to be easy.

Welcome to 2011

Well, here we are, back at the beginning of another school year! I hope all had a great break and are ready for whatever this year surprises us with.

I am mindful that we are all aware of the tragedy which has affected much of our country - the floods across Queensland, NSW and Victoria, and the bush fires in WA. Our country is a place of diverse experiences and is always challenging us through the extremes of its climate. Sometimes it is easy to forget the harshness inherent in the place in which we live, but nature finds ways to remind us that life here is fragile and risky.

There are some changes on this blog for 2011. Firstly it will be used to update the school community on happenings in the chapel. A new link has been included called 'What's On In The Chapel'. If you click on it you will see the latest details of events and activities being held weekly in the chapel.

Another new link is being added called "Community Corner" which has information for the wider school community, particularly parents. This will announce events and activities specifically for parents.

This blog will be updated weekly with copies of sermons, topical information and more. You are invited to comment, subscribe, suggest ideas and much more.