The Invitation List

 

Hospitality is one of the things I miss most about the pandemic.  For several years, we’ve regularly enjoyed having groups of new and old friends in our home for food and conversation.  We always want to make those evenings special!

Preparing for that sort of hospitality takes some planning…what to serve, when to have it ready, and, of course, who to include.

The two travelers on the road didn’t have the luxury of making plans.  Their hospitality for the Risen Christ arose out of a spontaneous encounter.  They felt compelled to include him.

But we are more likely to have the opportunity to contemplate who we want to invite into our circles…our spaces…our lives.

This week’s chapter from Nouwen and this little turning point in our Emmaus story—that moment of invitation, of inclusion—really made me think.  Two different questions kept coming up for me, different questions that resulted in similar answers.

1.       Who would Jesus tell me to include—or, more precisely, to not exclude?

2.       If I invite and include Jesus, exactly who am I including and what am I getting into?

Relying on scripture for the answers, both the narrative of Jesus’ life and the specific lessons he taught reveal a great deal.

When you take the long view of Jesus’ short life, there’s a thread that runs through it, from the annunciation to birth, through his life and up to his death.  The thread is this:  The nature of God is revealed to and through the people on the margins. 

Jesus wasn’t born wealthy.  The heavenly chorus announced his birth to shepherds with their smelly sheep in a pasture, not to the emperor’s gated community.  Jesus’ didn’t have a powerful, elite board of directors; he had a band of uneducated, working class men and women (don’t underestimate Mary Magdalene!) who were following him closely and working the crowds.

Next, take a look at who Jesus always included.  Jesus wasn’t focused on elevating the popular, the pure, or the priestly.  He wasn’t absolving the pious of their shortcomings.

Instead, Jesus was a health care provider, and he didn’t discriminate against the poor or anyone with pre-existing conditions.  Jesus was including, elevating, centering from the margins people with terrible, fetid skin diseases; tax collectors who were regularly shaking down the poor folks; whores and blind and deaf people; people who couldn’t get around; and people with apparent mental illnesses or emotional disturbances.

He included people who were way outside his religious community and ethnic group, folks declared to be unclean and unworthy. 

And who did he call out?  People who were at the center of the circle, real “insiders,” religious leaders who themselves excluded those who did not pass their purity tests. In fact, Jesus flouted those religious rules and purity tests himself (Matthew 12).

He called out people with a lust for money, power, and importance.  He didn’t damn them; he just condemned their attachment to money and material wealth (Matthew 19:16-30).

We’ve all experienced what it’s like to be excluded, to not be on the invitation list, to not be always at the center of the center, the inside of the inside.

But I know that I’m more of an insider than most, and I exclude others with my judgements, my assumptions, my scarcity view of the world, my attachments to what I have…or what has me.

What about that second question that I couldn’t shake this week:  If, like the two Emmaus travelers, I invited Jesus, exactly who would that be and what would I be getting into?

Well, neither the physical, historical Jesus, nor the person or apparition who was with those two Emmaus travelers in the breaking of the bread is with us now.

So where is Jesus today, and how do I get that invitation in his hand?  Who am I including and what am I getting myself into?

Darn it if he doesn’t tell us that he’s on the list of outcasts I just ran through.  He’s poor, he’s hungry, he’s naked, he’s sick, he’s a criminal in prison (Matthew 25:35-40).

Including the Baby Jesus, or the clean, white, northern European Jesus doesn’t ask much from me, or even take much faith.  It’s as comfortable a dinner party with friends who are just like me.

But if Advent is about preparing to really receive Jesus into my life, I’ve got plenty to do when it comes to my invitation list. 

It doesn’t necessarily mean being ashamed of being in the center, but I do think Jesus is calling us to use our power and position to widen the circle.

·         Maybe it doesn’t mean inviting the homeless man into my home…but it could mean using my position in the center to call out an injustice and speak truth to power when the voice of the homeless man cannot be heard.

·         Maybe I’m not called to tend to the medical needs of the person living with HIV, but I could widen the circle of inclusion just a bit by speaking out against bigotry and intolerance.

·         Maybe I’m not able to lead a massive movement to eliminate racism in our country, but I could widen the circle for someone who’s on the outside of it by summoning the courage to say, “I’m not on board” when a friend or relative tells a racist joke.

Including all of who Jesus says he is in the world today could perhaps be as transformative for me as it was for the two travelers.  Perhaps my eyes and (my heart) can be opened.

--Scott Elliff