"radical hospitality"

Genesis 9:8-17
Mark 1:9-15

I want to share a snippet one of you e-mailed to me this past week. The following is a theological treatise, written by Danny Dutton. Danny is 8 years old. He wrote this for his third grade homework. The assignment, to ‘explain God.’

Hear the words of this budding theologian: Jesus is God’s child. Jesus used to do all the hard work, like walking on water and performing miracles and trying to teach the people who didn’t want to learn about God. They finally got tired of him preaching to them, and they crucified him. But he was good and kind, like his parent, and he told God that they didn’t know what they were doing and to forgive them, and God said, “OK.”

Let us pray…

Sometimes, it really is that simple. Jesus is God’s beloved. He did all the hard work. Traveling around, sharing a message of good news with people who really needed good news. The poor. The sick. The diseased. The outcast. The hemorrhaging woman. The bent over woman. The leper. The man with an unclean spirit. Trying to teach people who, as Danny puts it, didn’t want to learn about God. He disrupted things. And people resented him for it. People betrayed him. Even to the cross. But Jesus was good and kind, and even though he made people mad and even though Jesus himself got mad, he taught forgiveness. Reconciliation. And God said, “Ok.”

Sometimes, it really is that simple. Noah and his son had seen devastation. Witnessed it first hand. Their homes and communities and farms, destroyed. Northeast Iowa knows the havoc flooding can bring. And then God said, “We’re going to have a new covenant. It begins again, here. And it will last forever and ever. This covenant is with you, Noah, your son, all your descendants after you. And also, with every living creature…all the flesh, the scriptures proclaim…the birds, the animals, both pets and wild…everything that lives and breathes. No exception. This is the covenant. I will never again send a flood to destroy the earth. (Note, the covenant isn’t that all flooding will cease. But God will never again cause a flood. Will never again desire or bring destruction. Ever.) And so we both remember this covenant, God says, I’m creating this beautiful bow, a rainbow, we’ll call it. Colorful and magical. All the colors of the earth. All of earth’s beautiful variety. This rainbow, it will be a sign for all future generations. Whenever clouds gather, whenever the waters get a bit rough, whenever there is a storm, look for this rainbow.

God knew that both God and Noah needed a reminder of this covenant. After the first flood, the people needed reassurance. Needed to rebuild their homes and communities, and their trust in God. Knew that if God was going to be God, and they were going to worship God and order their lives around God and love God with all their hearts, they needed to know, for sure, that God would never again do anything to harm them. And God said, “Ok.”

Sometimes, it really is that simple. Jesus was baptized by John in the Jordan River. When he was coming out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart, and the Spirit descended like a dove. A voice called down. “You are my child, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Jesus’ ministry was hard. He preached justice and peace and inclusive love to a people bent set on injustice and division and drawing distinctions between Us and Them. He gained a rag tag group of disciples, who are generally more confused by his parables than they are enlightened. And as the controversy around him heated up, as things got messy, as the cross began to loom, as he was baptized by this strange prophet wandering the wilderness with camel’s hair for clothes, eating bugs and honey, he heard from the heavens, “You are mine. Beloved. With you I am well pleased.” And Jesus knew this was Good News. The kind of good news that sinks down into your bones. The kind you need to hear over and over again, to really believe. The kind of news that once you believe it, everything is different, for evermore. Jesus knew this news needed to be shared with everyone else. All God’s children. And, because God had this covenant with all the earth, with all of Noah’s descendants, all the living, breathing, walking, creeping, crawling things, Jesus knew this good news extended to everyone. You are mine. Beloved. With you I am well pleased. And God said, “Ok.”

Forgiveness. A new, everlasting covenant, where God’s desire is always for good, and God’s effort, ever, to destroy, is laid to rest. Our baptismal promise. We are God’s. You are God’s. Beloved. Sometimes , it really is this simple.

Today begins our Lenten journey together. For those of you who were at the Ash Wednesday service, those who attended Lenten Lunch, those who were at yesterday’s Immigration Prayer Vigil, well, we have already had the opportunity to reflect on the Lenten journey together, to bless and strengthen each other on the journey. Lent is a time of wilderness wandering. As we journey the 40 days, plus Sundays, to Easter, we remember Jesus’ 40 days in the desert. Tempted, and tormented. In Lent we prepare ourselves for the celebration of Easter. We are called to confess what we need to confess in order to feel God’s forgiveness. We are called to let go of what we need to let go of, to receive new life abundant. We are called to stare long and hard at suffering when it’s easier to turn away—Jesus’ suffering. Our suffering. The suffering of our brothers and sisters. So that we might recognize Resurrection Power.

In Lent, it all gets pretty messy, pretty fast. Penitence. Suffering. Confessing. Wilderness wandering.

Today also begins a sermon and worship series on the 5 Practices of Fruitful Congregations. This series will carry us through Lent, to Palm Sunday. Today we are centered by Radical Hospitality. The hospitality part should be self evident. Hardly a gospel chapter goes by where there isn’t some mention by or act of Jesus welcoming the stranger, showing hospitality. Feeding those who are hungry. Welcoming the foreigners, those who are lost. This is the basis of our salvation, how we entertain angels, without knowing it. But when you throw the word radical in there, well, it gets complex, right? But in case the word “radical” is a hang up for you, hear Bishop Schnase’s definition. “Radical means drastically different from the ordinary practice, outside the normal, so that it exceeds expectations.” Radical. Like God forgiving the people and powers that tortured and crucified God’s Son. Like a new covenant, formed out of devastation, that says Never Again. From now on, God will only work for good. Like the heavens parting, and God proclaiming, “You are mine. Beloved. With you I am well pleased.” And then, God extending this promise to each and every one of us. Because, well, we need it. And God says, “Ok.”

Our journey continues. It gets messy. It gets complex. It ain’t always easy. But. In the midst and mess of it all, the covenant remains strong. The rainbow, our sign, even or especially when storm clouds gather. The baptismal promise covers us still. We belong to God. All of us. In this sanctuary, and outside of it. Beloved. With whom God is well pleased. Sometimes, it really is that simple. Thanks be to God. Amen.