Date: 25 August 2019 | Pre­a­cher:
Series: | Bible text: Psalm 23
https://sermons.seetal-chile.ch/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/Serie_Willkommen_daheim.jpg
Hint: This ser­mon has been machi­ne trans­la­ted. Plea­se note that we can­not accept any respon­si­bi­li­ty for the accu­ra­cy of the content.

What makes the Father in hea­ven the best host? Based on the well-known Psalm 23, we draw con­clu­si­ons about our own hos­pi­ta­li­ty. And we will once again be ama­zed at how gene­rous and good God is.


 

Our the­me for the year, «Wel­co­me Home», means that each of us per­so­nal­ly finds home with the hea­ven­ly Father, but also that we offer hos­pi­ta­li­ty to one ano­ther in this world. The Catho­lic priest Roma­no Guar­di­ni links the­se two strands tog­e­ther: «But if we are to be able to prac­ti­se hos­pi­ta­li­ty, we must bring in the one who is out­side, we must be able to offer him a home. To do that, we must first have one our­sel­ves.» A good host needs a home hims­elf. Tho­se who have found a home with God know that they have been given a gift, have found peace, have cla­ri­fied the ques­ti­on of mea­ning and no lon­ger have to pro­ve any­thing to anyo­ne. This is the best pre­re­qui­si­te for hos­pi­ta­li­ty, the love for the stranger!

An open, a wide heart – that’s what it’s all about when we talk about hos­pi­ta­li­ty. «We learn from the best» – «Lear­ning from the best, from the best». That’s what we want to do this mor­ning. We take time to ask: «How does God feel about hos­pi­ta­li­ty?» «What makes our Father in Hea­ven the ide­al host?«And so we do not search long, but take up this well-known Psalm 23, often lear­ned by heart in the sweat of the face by count­less gene­ra­ti­ons of reli­gious stu­dents. What do we learn about God the host in Psalm 23? Let’s just go in order:

«The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He feeds me in a green pasture.»

At the begin­ning, it is sim­ply a ques­ti­on of not­hing more than a plea­sant atmo­sphe­re. The word for «green mea­dow» in Hebrew descri­bes the lus­hest pie­ce of mea­dow bet­ween two streams. Mos­sy soft, strong green, plea­sant­ly cool on a hot day: that is the image David has in his mind when he wri­tes poet­ry like this. His God is a God who is kind to peo­p­le. A God who wants to do some­thing good for us. Being hos­pi­ta­ble means wel­co­ming my guest in a plea­sant atmo­sphe­re. But this is not to be con­fu­sed with per­fec­tion. Many peo­p­le apo­lo­gi­se when guests come to view their house that it is not tidy. I don’t know about you – I don’t feel most com­for­ta­ble whe­re the­re is not a speck of dust or a crumb to be found, but whe­re I have the good fee­ling of imme­dia­te­ly being part of the fami­ly. It’s okay to feel that peo­p­le live here and that they haven’t just pho­to­gra­phed the latest cata­lo­gue of some fur­ni­tu­re store. Per­fec­tion often looks ste­ri­le, arti­fi­ci­al – fri­end­ly cha­os makes you likeable. And I’m not just say­ing that becau­se I want to avo­id clea­ning at home!

This also appli­es to being at home in the church. Per­fec­tion can seem sober and distancing. The­r­e­fo­re, pro­fes­sio­na­lism must always be ser­vant and never mas­ter. Fric­tion­less pro­ces­ses and good aes­the­tics in and of them­sel­ves are not the goal, but mere­ly hel­pful sup­port for making peo­p­le feel safe as if they were at home.

«He leads me to the fresh water.»

This is an image for Refresh­ment. Fresh water allows you to brea­the free­ly, to catch your breath. With God, I don’t have to accom­plish any­thing all the time. I can sim­ply be. His love is com­ple­te­ly inde­pen­dent of my actions. He shows me, no, he even leads me to a place whe­re I can refresh mys­elf. Like when the cosy, beard­ed hut war­den shows me the way to the spring behind the house after an exhaus­ting moun­tain tour, whe­re you can quick­ly dip your head into the cool water of the foun­tain. And when you emer­ge, drip­ping wet, a fresh red-che­cked towel awaits you. That awa­kens the spi­rits. And that’s not just meant in a figu­ra­ti­ve sen­se. A glass of mine­ral water, a cool beer, the smell of fresh cof­fee – litt­le things, per­haps. But an indis­pensable ingre­di­ent to switch off, to switch into feel-good mode.

«He restoreth my soul.»

The Hebrew word for soul is näfesch. It deri­ves from the term «throat» and took on the mea­ning of breath and the breath of life, only to be equa­ted with life its­elf. näfesch also means «to wish», «to desi­re», «to hope» and «to seek». After the throat is mois­ten­ed and the stress slow­ly subs­i­des, ano­ther thing beco­mes clear: hos­pi­ta­li­ty is about the who­le per­son! Holism. Cer­tain­ly a fashionable word of our time. But indis­pensable when it comes to hos­pi­ta­li­ty: the outer thirst is quen­ched, but also the inner thirst, the needs of our soul are taken serious­ly and per­cei­ved. This is also cal­led «soul food». Good food and drink open me up to make my inner hun­ger the sub­ject of con­ver­sa­ti­on. A good con­ver­sa­ti­on often comes about after a good meal. And then more than the sto­mach gets full, the soul also gets its «food». It beco­mes clear that hos­pi­ta­li­ty is not only gas­tro­no­my, but also a spi­ri­tu­al event.. The core of hos­pi­ta­li­ty is encoun­ter. «You can let someone in the door and he still feels that he has stay­ed out­side. His body has been allo­wed in, but the soul has not. He must also be taken in spi­ri­tual­ly»(Roma­no Guar­di­ni). This spi­ri­tu­al recep­ti­on hap­pens in mutu­al sha­ring and par­ti­ci­pa­ti­on in each other’s lives. We may start out in shal­low waters, exchan­ging pleas­ant­ries and news, gos­si­ping a bit – but then the con­ver­sa­ti­on takes on depth. We share each other’s hap­pi­ness and sor­row, take in each other’s joys and bur­dens. Real encoun­ters suc­ceed when all par­ti­ci­pan­ts are given space and attention.

«He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness.»

The right-wing street is one of tho­se things. It stands for direct, even some­ti­mes edgy, action. Hones­ty. A good host does not but­ter me up unneces­s­a­ri­ly. If neces­sa­ry, it can also be an uncom­for­ta­ble mir­ror. Not becau­se he wants to screw me, but becau­se he is real­ly inte­res­ted in me and only wants the best for me. That’s why he will also ask me one or two uncom­for­ta­ble ques­ti­ons. That’s whe­re his heart beco­mes visi­ble, that’s whe­re I feel his care. He is not indif­fe­rent to me and that is pre­cis­e­ly why he also «gets on my case» here and the­re. God’s hos­pi­ta­li­ty always has some­thing of an inven­to­ry. I look back and see the twists, turns, detours and short­cuts of my life and may look back and look for­ward tog­e­ther with a bene­vo­lent friend.

Wit­hout truthful­ness, our con­ver­sa­ti­ons beco­me a flat exch­an­ge of harm­less nice­ties; wit­hout love, we slap them in each other’s faces like a wet rag. When the two come tog­e­ther, it’s like hol­ding out a warm coat for each other to slip into.

«Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.»

Genui­ne hos­pi­ta­li­ty does not exclude the hard things in life: HEAVY has its place. The pain­ful sides of life such as ill­ness, suf­fe­ring and also death are part of it as a mat­ter of cour­se, becau­se they are part of life. And even uncom­for­ta­ble topics like guilt, fail­ure and fear are not left out. Rather, they are dealt with in a frame­work of abso­lu­te SECURITY cau­tious­ly addres­sed. Secu­ri­ty means at least two things: sec­re­cy and free­dom of jud­ge­ment. That means I don’t have to fear that even one sen­tence will lea­ve the fami­li­ar frame­work and I cer­tain­ly don’t have to be pre­pared for dis­pa­ra­ging looks when my dark sides come to light. I can drop my mask and look into a face full of good­ness that does not turn away, but stays the­re and bears with me, does not make big words, but is sim­ply the­re and stays the­re. We have a God who stays the­re even when it is hard­ly beara­ble. «For you are with me.» BE THERE – plain and simp­le. Being is the most important ser­vice when someone is going through a dark valley.

«You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.»

ESSEN plays a big role in the Bible. Food is whe­re it all hap­pens. The bir­th­right chan­ges hands for a deli­cious len­til soup. The Son of God sits with the litt­le ras­cal Zac­chae­us at the meal and the reli­gious eli­te turns away in dis­gust. The­re the sin­ner with her hea­vy heart sneaks in among the men’s com­pa­ny at snack time and breaks a jar of pre­cious per­fu­me over the cheese feet of Jesus. Meal time is the time for the grea­test mira­cles: a two-man rati­on fills a foot­ball sta­di­um. After the wed­ding feast, the­re is an unex­pec­ted sup­p­ly in the wine cel­lar. If you ask Jesus what it will be like in hea­ven, he speaks of a ban­quet at which the tables will bend. And in the last hours befo­re his death, Jesus took amp­le time to have table fel­low­ship with his disci­ples. It is at the meal that the essen­ti­al hap­pens. That is why the bis­tro is so important in our church life. It is in eating that exten­si­ve hos­pi­ta­li­ty hap­pens. We are wel­co­me to use this offer even more as a good frame­work to con­scious­ly live this hos­pi­ta­li­ty. Throats (näfesch) should be refreshed.

Enjoy, but plea­se IN SILENCE. It can be stor­my out­side or life can be chao­tic, but at God’s table the­re is peace for the time being. And I don’t mean the strict table man­ners. No, the storms of ever­y­day life have a break at the begin­ning. Now it is feast day. It feels like being in the eye of a hurricane.

«Thou anointest my head with oil, and poureth me full.»

In an old Swiss dialect trans­la­ti­on, this ver­se reads: «You’­re fil­ling up my cup of schwib­be­li-schwab­be­li.» Here is from OVERFLOW or from Gene­ro­si­ty the speech. When the glass is so full that on the way to the mouth, some­ti­mes some­thing is missed. God is a gene­rous host. He does not count calo­ries, but ser­ves a des­sert after the deli­cious main cour­se, even though the sat­chel is alre­a­dy stret­ched. In God’s near­ness the­re is much more than we expect. His hos­pi­ta­li­ty only real­ly gets going when we are alre­a­dy com­ple­te­ly satis­fied. It is the­re that he real­ly shows off his strengths as a host and thus gives us a fore­tas­te of the hea­ven­ly home:

«Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.»

Abide in the house of the Lord fore­ver. Once you have expe­ri­en­ced this kind of hos­pi­ta­li­ty, you want more of it! And God’s hos­pi­ta­li­ty is about not­hing less: a fore­tas­te of hea­ven. God’s hos­pi­ta­li­ty makes you want more! Quo­te Guar­di­ni: «This is the deepest mea­ning of all hos­pi­ta­li­ty, that one per­son gives ano­ther a rest on the gre­at jour­ney to the eter­nal home..» Our hos­pi­ta­li­ty here on earth is also meant to be a «fore­tas­te» of hea­ven. A «Rest on the gre­at wan­de­ring to the eter­nal home». He sets the bar pret­ty high…

 

Do we accept this chall­enge that our homes and also our church should be tran­sit sta­ti­ons on the way to hea­ven­ly eter­ni­ty? What should they look like and how should they be desi­gned? With what inner atti­tu­de will we, as God’s accom­pli­ces in hos­pi­ta­li­ty, be at the start? We can learn a lot from the host of the gre­at ban­quet at the end of time! What images come to people’s minds when they think of the hos­pi­ta­li­ty of the Church? At the ent­rance door (pro­jec­ted image!) the­re are many pro­hi­bi­ti­ons: No ani­mals, no inline ska­ters, no pho­tos, no prams in our pre­mi­ses, no lea­ving per­so­nal belon­gings lying around, no ice cream, no wea­pons and plea­se no smo­king. The­re are alre­a­dy enough bans and pre­ju­di­ces. Today’s peo­p­le know enough of that. Accor­ding to the mot­to: befo­re you belong to us, you first have to fol­low the­se rules. What if we sur­pri­se them ins­tead with a hos­pi­ta­li­ty that we have lear­ned from the best? That we beco­me hos­pi­ta­ble res­t­ing places for hea­ven­ly through traf­fic. May God help and bless us to do so.

 

 

Possible questions for the small groups

Bible text rea­ding: Psalm 23

  1. How would you descri­be God’s hos­pi­ta­li­ty after rea­ding Psalm 23 from this point of view?
  2. What qua­li­ties of God the host appeal to you most?
  3. What qua­li­ties do you want to learn from and implement?
  4. What do you think of the idea that our hos­pi­ta­li­ties are rest stops for hea­ven­ly through traffic?
  5. When will you enter­tain guests next time? What do you want to do then?