Sunday Sermon - 14 June
One of the most important teachings Jesus leaves us, as his followers, is the teaching of hospitality. Hospitality is one of those words we use often, but sometimes we reduce it to something small. We think of hospitality as being a good host — having someone over for dinner, making sure people have enough to eat and drink, making someone feel comfortable in our home.
All of those things are important. But biblical hospitality is something much deeper. The spirit of hospitality is the willingness to open ourselves — not just our homes but also our hearts, our time, our resources, and our lives. The true spirit of hospitality is about giving of yourself, sacrificing, so that another person may know they are welcomed, valued, and loved. True hospitality tells a person that they matter.
Hospitality is not simply being kind to those who are already part of our circle. It is especially about making room for those who are outside our circle. It is showing kindness not only to a friend, but even more importantly, to the stranger.
Throughout Scripture, hospitality is not presented as an optional extra for particularly generous people. It is not a character trait that some have and others don’t. For us hospitality is at the very heart of what it means to belong to God. Hospitality is a necessary expression of our Christian identity. We see this beautifully presented in our reading from Genesis this morning.
Abraham is sitting at the entrance of his tent in the heat of the day when three strangers appear. Abraham does not know who they are. He does not know what they need. He does not know that, in welcoming these strangers, he is welcoming an encounter with God. Abraham gets up, he runs to meet them, he bows before them, he offers water for their feet, rest in the shade, and a meal prepared with generosity and care.
The remarkable thing about this story is that Abraham does not ask first, “Who are you?” or “What can you do for me?” or “Are you important enough to deserve my attention?”
He simply welcomes.
In that act of hospitality, Abraham encounters the promise of God. The strangers announce that Sarah will have a son — a promise that seems impossible because Abraham and Sarah are old and have long since given up hope of having a child. Sarah laughs because the promise seems too wonderful to be true. But the question God asks is the question that echoes through Scripture:
“Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?”
God’s life-giving work often begins in places where we see only limitation and impossibility. Sometimes that life begins through something as simple as a welcome. A meal, a conversation, a place at the table. Hospitality becomes the doorway through which God’s grace enters our lives.
We see this same pattern throughout the ministry of Jesus. Jesus was constantly crossing boundaries and creating tables where others saw walls. He ate with sinners and tax collectors. He touched those who were considered unclean. He spoke with those others ignored. He welcomed children. He restored those who had been pushed aside.
Jesus revealed that the kingdom of God looks like an open table. In our Tuesday evening Bible study on the miracles of Jesus, we reflected on one of the clearest examples of this: the feeding of the five thousand. This miracle is recorded in all four Gospels, which tells us something important. The Gospel writers all believed this story was central to understanding who Jesus is.
The disciples looked at the crowd and saw a problem. There were thousands of hungry people. It was getting late. There was not enough food. The easiest solution seemed obvious: “Send them away.” Send them away so they can find food somewhere else. Send them away so the problem belongs to someone else. Send them away because we only have enough for ourselves.
Jesus says something completely different: “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.”
That is such a powerful statement. The disciples saw scarcity. Jesus saw possibility. The disciples saw strangers and a burden. Jesus saw people who mattered. The disciples wanted to send people away. Jesus wanted to welcome them.
Then Jesus takes what little they have — five loaves and two fish — and he blesses it, breaks it, and shares it. Somehow, in the hands of Jesus, there is enough.
This is one of the great lessons of Christian hospitality: we do not offer hospitality because we have unlimited resources. We offer hospitality because we trust that God can work through what we have.
A little time.
A little generosity.
A little compassion.
A little willingness to make room.
God can multiply these things.
In today’s Gospel reading from Matthew, we see Jesus looking upon the crowds and feeling compassion for them. Matthew says they were “harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” Jesus does not look at people as interruptions. He does not see them as inconveniences or annoyances. He sees their need, and his heart is moved. And then he sends his disciples out to do the same work. He gives them authority to heal, to proclaim, and to bring God’s kingdom near. In other words, Jesus’ ministry becomes our ministry.
The compassion of Christ becomes the calling of the Church. We are called to be a people of hospitality. Not simply a church that welcomes those who already know where the doors are. Not simply a church that cares for those who are already comfortable. But a church that notices those who are searching, those who are lonely, those who are hurting, those who are lost, those who are hungry for belonging.
Hospitality is not just something we do. Hospitality is part of who we are. It is part of our mission and purpose as Christians. The Apostle Paul reminds us of the foundation of this calling in Romans:
“God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.”
Notice the direction of God’s love.
God did not wait until humanity had everything figured out.
God did not wait until we became worthy.
God did not wait until we had earned a place at the table.
God welcomed us first, opened the door first, offered grace first, loved us first and forever. As we have received and been shown such grace, we are called to extend that same grace to others. Today, we give thanks for and bid farewell to one person who has embodied and been an example of this spirit of Christian hospitality among us: Sheila Bishop.
For many years, Sheila has offered herself in loving service to this parish. She didn’t just arrive as the Rector’s wife. She also, like her husband, arrived as a pastor to this place. She has not simply attended St. John’s; she has helped nurture, build and sustain it. Through her presence, her generosity, her prayers, her commitment, and her countless acts of service, Sheila has helped make this church a place where people are welcomed, cared for, and reminded that they belong. She has shown us that hospitality is not only about what happens at the front door. She has shown us that hospitality happens in the quiet acts of love that often go unnoticed: the phone call, the helping hand, the encouragement, the faithful presence, the willingness to give when something needs to be done.
Sheila’s ministry reminds us that the life of the Church is built by people who say, “There is room. Come in. You are welcome here.” Sheila has shown us what it means to be a disciple of Jesus: someone who receives God’s hospitality and then offers that same hospitality to others.
That is the invitation before all of us. Every day, God places people in our path. Some may be strangers. Some may be new faces. Some may be people carrying burdens we cannot see. The question is not whether we have enough to offer. The disciples did not have enough food. Abraham did not know who stood before him. The early Church did not have unlimited resources. But they offered what they had, and God used it.
May we be a people who recognize Christ in the stranger, who make room at the table, who refuse to send people away, and who trust that when we offer ourselves in love, God will take what we bring and make it more than enough.
For nothing is too wonderful for the Lord. Amen.