Jesus, the Stranger, Guest and Host

Jesus, the Stranger, Guest and Host

Luke 24:13—16; 28-32   |   5/11/2014

The Church of the Wayfarer

Norm Mowery, Pastor

          Three pastors met together for mutual nurturing and support. On one occasion they decided to confess their faults to each other.

          During the session the first pastor confessed that at times he drinks too much wine…….on occasion he has even finished off the communion wine!

          The second one confessed that he has the problem of flirting with women.

          It was the third pastor’s turn.

          He looked at the other two and said, “I have a terrible problem. I’m not sure that I should confess it.”

          After hesitating he said, “My problem is gossiping!”

          Today we pause to thank God for our Mothers. One thing that we all have in common is the fact that we have a mother who gave birth to us.

          We are thankful for those persons who have nurtured and cared for us throughout our growing up years.

          Throughout the Gospels we get glimpses of the nurturing side of Jesus.

          The account of the journey to Emmaus is one of those.

          It is as unique as it is ironic.

          Appearing only in the gospel of Luke, this story details the appearance of the risen Jesus on the road to Emmaus.

          This is a delightful post-resurrection account.

          Here we have Jesus as a Stranger, Guest and Host.

          All three roles are played by Jesus himself on the road to Emmaus.

          I heard of one church that welcomes strangers as guests instead of as visitors.

          The term 'visitor' implies that they're not here to stay.

          The term 'guest' implies that this is someone for whom you do everything you can to make them feel comfortable.

          The goal in that church is that each guest will receive a total of three greetings before sitting down in worship. These first impressions are critical. Our guests in worship are deciding whether or not to come back long before I speak.

          Stranger
          When two disciples are traveling to the village of Emmaus on Easter afternoon, the risen Jesus comes near and walks with them.

          But they don’t recognize him.

          Jesus asks about the events they're discussing, and one of them says, "Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?"

          Jesus is initially depicted as a stranger.

          The disciples practice philoxenia, which literally means "love of the stranger."

          Philoxenia is one of the Greek words used in the New Testament for hospitality. This approach stands in stark contrast to the attitude so prevalent in society today—xenophobia, "fear of the stranger."

          What would it mean for us to practice philoxenia in our church?

          We do it every time we speak to strangers in the fellowship hour instead of chatting only with our friends.

          We do it every time we make an effort to get to know a person who is different from us.
          This is philoxenia—love of the stranger. When we practice it, we discover that strangers really aren't so strange.

          Guest

          Fortunately, the two disciples rise to the challenge.      

          As they come near the village, Jesus walks ahead as if he is going on. But the disciples urge him strongly, saying, "Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over".

          So Jesus goes in to stay with them and he becomes their guest. They welcome and include him in their lives, and invite him to stay with them.

          Jesus wants us to take good care of the guests who come to us.

          He challenges us to feed the hungry and welcome outcasts. Since we are the body of Christ in the world we are his hands and continue his work.

          We show his presence in the world every time we practice hospitality whether we're feeding the hungry through I-help, going to Salinas to tutor or welcoming a guest in a service of worship.

          Guests are important to Jesus, which is why he played that role on the road to Emmaus. He wanted to challenge his followers to see him as a guest and take good care of him.

          Jesus says,

"I was hungry and you gave me food,

I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink,

                                  I was a stranger and you welcomed me.

          Jesus comes to us as a guest, even today.

          Host
          But notice what happens next.

          Jesus, the stranger, becomes a guest of the disciples when he accepts their invitation to stay.

          But then he quickly changes roles.

          When he's sitting at the table with them, he becomes their host—he takes bread, blesses it, breaks it and gives it to them.

          Then their eyes are opened

                   and they recognize him

                   and he vanishes from their sight.

          The disciples discover that, when they welcome a stranger, they welcome the Lord.

          The role of Jesus changes from stranger to guest to host when he sits at the table and breaks the bread.

          Sometimes, it's easier for us to help others than to receive help. We would rather be a host than let someone else be a host.

          At the Lord's Supper we permit Jesus to be our host.

          Open yourself to what he wants to give you.

          Like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, your eyes will be opened and you'll recognize him.

          The passage ends with the two disciples racing back to Jerusalem to share the news of their experience with the other disciples. They tell them what happened on the road, and how Jesus "had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread".

          Emmaus is where Jesus came to his disciples as a stranger, guest and host.

          Emmaus is where we learn how to welcome one another around a table, and then go out into the world with a proclamation.

          Emmaus is where we come together and strengthen our bonds with Jesus and with each other.

          When we practice radical hospitality, we become part of a mighty spiritual movement—one that can overcome divisions in a terribly polarized world.

          It all begins when Jesus breaks the bread, our eyes are opened and we recognize him.

          Viktor E. Frankl recounts that when he was in a Nazi concentration camp he was at the end of his rope from starvation. At this point he had lost every possession and was at the bottom of life. Then,

          “a guard secretly gave me a piece of bread which I knew he must have     saved from his breakfast ration. It was far more than the small piece of bread        which moved me to tears at the time. It was the human 'something' this man also gave to me—the word and the look which accompanied the gift."

          Keep on the lookout for that 'human something' the next time you break bread with another person. Their look may open the eyes of your heart.

          Do you know where the phrase 'getting the cold shoulder' comes from?

          In olden days, the lord of the castle would order his servants to serve cold lamb for dinner whenever visitors had overstayed their welcome.

          It was their sign to pack up and leave. We don’t do that!

          Benjamin Franklin's said: "Fish and visitors smell in three days."  I think that we should give them a few more days than that.

          We can see Jesus in strangers and guests.

          We are faced with two questions,

                    'Did we see Christ in them?

                     Did they see Christ in us?'

          Last week at the retirement seminar Donna Bailey read the following. (‘They're Playing Your Song’ By Alan Cohen)

          When a woman in a certain African tribe knows she is pregnant, she goes out into the wilderness with a few friends and together they meditate until they hear the song of the child. 

          They recognize that every soul has its own vibration that expresses its unique flavor and purpose.

          When the women attune to the song, they sing it out loud.

          Then they return to the tribe and teach it to everyone else.

          When the child is born, the community gathers and sings the child's song to him or her.

          Later, when the child enters education, the village gathers and chants the child's song. 

          When the child passes through the initiation to adulthood, the people again come together and sing.

          At the time of marriage, the person hears his or her song. 

          Finally, when the soul is about to pass from this world, the family and friends gather at the person's bed, just as they did at their birth, and they sing the person to the next life.

          There is something inside each of us that knows we have a song, and we wish those we love would recognize it and support us to sing it. 

           

          In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child.

          If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them.

          Then they sing their song to them.

          The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity.

          When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.

          A friend is someone who knows your song and sings it to you when you have forgotten it.

          Those who love you are not fooled by mistakes you have made or dark images you hold about yourself.

          They remember your beauty when you feel ugly;

                    your wholeness when you are broken;

                    your innocence when you feel guilty;

                    and your purpose when you are confused.

          You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not.

          When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn't.

          In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well.

          Just keep singing and you'll find your way home.

          On this Mother’s Day we pray that we will be bound together with love.

          As we sing, ‘Bind Us Together’toss the ball of yarn to your neighbor and let’s bind us all together.