First United Methodist Church, Birmingham, Michigan
Scriptures: Matthew 10:40-42, Romans 12:9-13, Genesis 19 (selected portions)
Apparently, a lot of you resonated to my comments about the banking industry (on the cover of this week’s Steeple Notes), and whether or not banks are supposed to be friendly. Some of you grew up in my era, when banks were supposed to be safe. For good reason. In those days, bank vaults contained a lot of money….real money….cash money. Bank robberies were big crimes. And bank robbers were the “Cadillac” of criminals. To be sure, people still rob banks. But, comparatively speaking, they don’t get much. And you’ve got to hit 15 or 20 of them in a row before you make the 11:00 news….or the front page.
But those of you who remember the old banks, remember the vaulted lobbies, the high ceilings, the bulletproof glass, and the little grooves in the marble counters, through which you passed your paycheck and your passbook to a waiting teller on the other side.
Today, my bank would rather I not come inside. It is inefficient, time consuming, labor intensive, and (therefore) costly if I come inside. They’d rather I use the machine out front, or the computer at home, to do my banking. Which I could do. And which I do, do. Sometimes. But I’d rather go inside and talk to Laura D’Agostino. Laura is my teller. She knows my name, my face and my account. I think she also knows my profession….which renders me “trustworthy” in her eyes. I ask her about her boy….“Now 13, going on 24,” as she says. He used to be “into” karate. Then he was “into” baseball. This year, he’s out for football. Which worries Laura, even though she admits that he is big for his age. How do I know all this? The ever-changing pictures of her son tell me. There’s a new picture every year. In every picture, he is wearing a different kind of uniform. All you’ve got to do is have eyes to see….and then be sufficiently nosey, so as to ask one personal question every third visit.
But I have news for you. “Friendly” may be coming back, where banking is concerned. After I wrote this week’s Steeple Notes cover, I received my July-August issue of Corp!….which bills itself as The Magazine of Successful Business. No, I do not subscribe to Corp!….nor to any other business magazine. But I get a few. That’s because, technically speaking, First Church is registered as a “Michigan ecclesiastical corporation.” Which makes me….on some computer lists, anyway….the CEO of this Michigan ecclesiastical corporation.
I almost never read the business magazines I receive. But the cover of this particular issue caught my eye. “Banking With Heart,” it said. So I read a pair of articles related to the title. One of them featured the bank owned by my golf-playing partner of a couple weeks ago, our own Dave Provost. The subject was “Private Banking.” And in the article, I read: “Private banking enables the financial institution to wrap its arms around the customer a lot better. Every phone call is answered by a live body….within two rings. And customers are known by their first names, as well as by their financial needs.” Then, in the second article, I encountered the verb “embrace” no less than three times. Apparently, some bankers not only want to welcome us, they want to hug us. Wow!
All of which I raise for a reason. Namely, to talk about welcome mats and whether they be out or in….along with hospitality, and whether it be out or in.
In my same Steeple Notes article, I quoted from a USA Today series entitled “Vanishing America.” I noted the observation that the always-open-church (the one you could enter any time of the day or night) is all but gone….along with front porches, neighborhood groceries and dinner parties in people’s dining rooms. I still eat a lot of meals in people’s dining rooms (or on people’s patios), so I can’t really comment on the oft-repeated claim that good “home cooking” is something that can only be obtained from a restaurant. I did once preach a sermon on “comfort food,” rejoicing in the fact that you can now consume it in even the very priciest of places. As I remember, I tied it in with Holy Communion (which I called “the ultimate in comfort food”). But that was seven years ago, meaning that you’ll have to imagine the rest.
And as for front porches, I miss ‘em. I live on a wonderful street….large homes….mature trees….personalized architecture. But nobody on my block has a front porch big enough for sitting….unless it be one person, sitting on one chair (a tall, narrow, upright, kitchen chair). Instead, we all sit out back where nobody can see us….or talk to us….unless we specifically invite them. Which has its advantages, I’ll admit….speaking as one whose lower-than-average privacy needs have to be met sometime. In a similar vein, we now have as many staff members who work on the second floor, as work on the first floor (where all the foot-traffic is). And there’s not a staff member on the second floor who’s ever complained or asked to come back down….so as to be closer to where the foot-traffic is. And should you poll those who remain on the first floor, I suspect you’d find a couple just itching to move upstairs.
I’ll skip neighborhood groceries….although if the economy were built around people like me, Kroger’s would be in bankruptcy and there would be a Quarton Market on every third corner. And, under the heading of “locked churches,” I hate ‘em, and have fought against ‘em every place I have served. Although I’m not naïve. I do understand the realities of urban living and the safety needs of vulnerable employees. Fortunately, the Bishop is allowing me to play the back nine of my career in Birmingham, where we can keep most of the doors open for most of the hours of the day. Which means that nobody will ever have to read a sign that says, “We are a friendly, welcoming congregation,” and then have to buzz their way in and have their every movement monitored by surveillance cameras, hidden in the ceiling. Which is the way it is in a lot of churches, don’t you know.
“What happened to hospitality?” people cry. Well, what happened to hospitality was insecurity. When people no longer felt safe, they buttoned things up. They installed locks, buzzers, cameras, gate houses and tall hedges….along with any number of things that controlled access. They became “selectively social,” given that you never know who may be out there. A fascinating sign of our time became that small poster which featured the print of a child’s hand. Some of us placed it in our windows as a signal to children, walking down the street, that ours was a “safe house”….should they ever need a place of immediate refuge on their way to or from school.
But “security” was not the only issue that privatized hospitality, turning “welcome” into a highly-selective verb. Privacy also entered in. People began to define their space more carefully….setting limits….establishing parameters. I find it fascinating that, over the last four or five years, one of the “in” topics in the pop-psychology publishing field concerns “the art of setting personal boundaries”….coupled with “assertiveness training,” so as to assure that once we set a boundary, we can announce it, maintain it, and appropriately punish any and all violations of it.
All of which is understandable. Maybe even laudable. But much of this runs counter to the spirit of scripture….which would seem to be bullish on glad-hands, open doors and generous treatment of guests (even if they be strange and potentially suspicious). Some of which represents a blend of Bible and culture, given that the entertainment of sojourners was recognized as a sacred duty throughout the Mediterranean world, and was more strictly kept than many a written law.
This mandate was especially appropriate to “nomadic life,” when people moved around a lot, but where public inns were a rarity. Some people took strangers in, out of a fear that the strangers might harm them if they didn’t. But others felt that each potential guest might be “more” than meets the eye, not “less”….meaning that you might be offering your guest room to God himself, or (perhaps) “entertaining an angel, unawares.” But factored into the mix was the knowledge that you, too, might be a stranger tomorrow. And if you wanted to ensure that a “Vacancy” sign would be posted in your future, you had better light one up for somebody else in the present.
A guest, in Bible times, was treated with respect and honor. He was provided provender for his animals, water for his feet, a generous feast for his stomach, and a bedroll for his weary bones. Guests enjoyed protection, even if they were perceived as unfriendly or adversarial. Such protection was extended for three days (or 36 hours after actually eating with their host). This was equal to the number of hours the host’s food would remain in the guest’s digestive system.
One of the ugliest incidents in the Old Testament concerns this issue of hospitality. Two guests come to lodge with Lot (who says to them, in effect: “Far better my place than the street.”). Whereupon several men from the neighborhood bang on Lot’s door (saying): “We want to have sexual relations with your male guests.” When Lot is seemingly unable to deter the men at the door by any other means, he calls out to them: “How about if I send out my two daughters….my two virgin daughters….that you may do to them as you please. But do nothing to these men who have come under the shelter of my roof.”
Ugly? Of course it’s ugly. The fact that Lot’s two guests turn out to be angels….who strike the men at the door blind, and deliver Lot and his family from Sodom, just prior to its destruction (save for Lot’s wife who dares to look back and immediately becomes the world’s first salt lick)….even all that does not diminish the ugliness of Lot’s choice. Strangers or daughters? Strangers or daughters? Strangers or daughters? But there you have it….a biblical glimpse into the concept of“hospitality”….as a command rather than an option….as an expectation, rather than an invitation.
Eleven times in the New Testament, Jesus either assumes or receives the hospitality of others for his daily care and lodging. How else do you think he survived? Furthermore, hospitality is assumed by Jesus in the sending forth of the apostles (“He who receives you, receives me,” Matthew 10:40). And the early church would never have made it, had it not “practiced hospitality” as Paul mandated in Romans 12. Traveling missionaries stayed in homes….conducted worship in homes….served the sacrament in homes….and took up collections for those engaged in the work of the Gospel in homes. In the first two centuries of the church’s existence, any talk about “the house of God” literally meant a house….somebody’s house….where the people of God gathered, and where the servants of God bunked (while passing through). Which is why First church has decided to sell all three parsonages. We ministers are moving in with you until, like fish, we begin to stink after three day’s time.
There are signs that hospitable environments are making a comeback. Outdoor cafes, reading lounges in bookstores, a proliferation of coffee houses….all seem to be secular responses to William Tyndale’s famous admonition: “Be ye of a harborous disposition”….meaning: “Welcome the ships that would otherwise pass (or crash) in the night.” Which some of us know to be good advice. For while there are days in which we will be the harbor-providers, there will be other days in which we will be those ships that are passing and crashing.
But cafes and coffee houses, while wonderfully secular responses to a biblical mandate, are far from enough. Churches must be so, too. Which brings me to a brief word about our Welcome Center.
First Church is a 50’s building. And in the 50’s, it was architecturally fashionable to build public buildings with tons of rooms….all separated….designed for one group (or one activity) only….and then connecting these rooms by long, narrow hallways, through which people would quickly walk on their way from one room to another.
Absolutely nobody would build a 50’s church in the nineties. Hallways are passe….except where absolutely necessary. Single-use space is out….save for highly specialized areas like nurseries and sanctuaries. Big gathering spaces are in….especially adjacent to sanctuaries. Gone are closet-sized vestibules. Gone are narrow, rectangular narthexes. Gone are lobbies, where the primary emphasis is on a place to hang your coat and hat.
If I were going to start from scratch and build a sanctuary, I’d want the gathering space to be at least 50 percent of the size of the sanctuary (if not equal in size to the sanctuary). And I’d include provisions for kiosks, conversation centers, countertop displays and coffee service, along with a bookstore.
In doing our renovation, we did not start from scratch. Neither did we move heaven and earth, economically or architecturally. But we did change the space outside the sanctuary to warm it up, brighten it up and open it up. Which very few of you understood at the time. But which virtually all of you applaud now. As concerns our new-and-improved space, we’re still figuring out ways to use it. We’ll have brochures there. We’ll have sign-ups there. We’ll have bread for first-timers there. And we’ll also have hosts and hostesses there….every week….every service. We won’t offer up our virgin daughters there. But we will open our hearts to anybody who passes by there. In a church that often defines and defends its turf (choir here….youth group there….“don’t eat in there”….“don’t drink coffee here”….my cupboard….your cupboard….their cupboard….locked cupboard), this will be user-friendly space. But, in order for it to work, it needs a lot of user-friendly people….people who will respond to our burgeoning need for hosts and hostesses. We need more greeters. We need more glad-handers. We need more bread-handers. I’ve asked Ann Windley to be there this morning (Ann, for whom the word “graciousness” was coined, and by whom the word “hospitality” is defined), so that you can sign one of her sheets. In doing so, you will be saying: “Go ahead, Ann, give me a call. I will lend my body to this new space a few times a year, the better to meet whatever ‘angel’ comes through the door, disguised as a strange and ordinary mortal.”
Jim Dobson once told about a friend of his who was piloting a single engine plane, along about dusk. He was headed toward a small country airport. But night fell more quickly than he anticipated. Upon reaching the airport, it was impossible for him to distinguish the paved landing strip in the dark. No moon was shining. Nor was his little plane equipped with lights. What’s more, there was nobody around the airport to illuminate the runway. He started circling the airport, uncertainly. For an hour he flew around in the darkness, not quite knowing what to do. At any moment, he could run out of fuel and plunge to his death.
What happened next had to be an answer to prayer. Someone on the ground heard the circling plane and guessed the problem. Jumping into his car, he headed for the airport. Not knowing how to switch on any of the airport’s lights, he settled for driving his car up and down the runway. With his lights on high beam, he was able to illuminate the dimensions of the landing strip. Then he pulled his car to one end of the runway and, with headlights still beaming, guided the pilot to a safe landing.
Which kind of puts Tom Bodette and the Motel 6 people to shame, wouldn’t you say? But what it also does is recall the words of an old hymn:
Brightly beams our Father’s mercy
From his lighthouse ever more.
But to us He gives the keeping
Of the lights along the shore.
Let the lower lights be burning,
Send a gleam across the wave,
Some poor fainting, struggling seaman
You may rescue, you may save.
“Be ye of a harborous disposition.”
