This Fellow Welcomes Sinners

“This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” Every week people of every sort and in every possible condition imaginable gather around the altar of the Church of St. Gregory of Nyssa in San Francisco. Some of them may have gathered with the rest of the congregation on Sunday to partake of the Eucharist from that altar. However, on a weekday, they gather to receive physical food – cans and boxes, fresh produce, bread, and meat. Many of them are people with whom you and I would hesitate to rub shoulders, people from whom we would probably turn away, people whom we would cross the street to avoid. They are poor and uneducated. They are recovering druggies and alcoholics. Some were prostitutes, some spent time in prison. Some are homeless. They are men and women, old people and children. They represent every ethnicity found in San Francisco. They have one thing in common: they are hungry. And every week they receive food – eleven tons of it altogether. They “taste God in “holy food and groceries,” says Sara Miles, the founder of St. Gregory’s food program. Everyone who comes receives food, there are no tests of worthiness or deservedness, and no one is turned away.

In its welcome of all, St. Gregory of Nyssa practices what some have called “radical hospitality.” St. Gregory of Nyssa uses its altar to feed both bodies and souls. St Gregory of Nyssa also welcomes all in yet another important way. Everyone who wants to volunteer is given a job. No one is denied the gift of contributing to the food give-away. Even the homeless people are allowed to volunteer. There are only a few rules for volunteers: volunteers must not be intoxicated, they must not steal, and they must train two more people to do their job in case they cannot. Beyond these few rules, all, whether “inappropriate or unqualified,” are welcomed as valued members of the program, and they are accepted as necessary to its operation.

Radical hospitality. If Jesus were walking among us today, perhaps he would visit St. Gregory of Nyssa. Perhaps he would welcome and break bread with all that motley and diverse group of people who find their way to St. Gregory’s. Perhaps he would bless their efforts to reach out to all those in need. Indeed, our Gospel for today shows us a Jesus who could and did offer radical hospitality in the flesh. We’re still on the road with Jesus, heading towards Jerusalem and the events that we know will take place there. In Luke’s account, Jesus keeps stopping to teach his followers. Much to the consternation of the religious leaders, Jesus’ influence seems to extend well beyond his inner circle. In the incident depicted in today’s reading, the “tax collectors and sinners” are crowding around him, eager to take in his teachings, eager to be fed by him spiritually. The religious leaders are aghast. They criticize Jesus, saying in effect, doesn’t he know any better than to associate – and defile himself by eating – with people like that, a supposedly learned rabbi like him? Not addressing the religious leaders directly, Jesus answers their criticism by telling three stories. Two of them we will hear in September, i.e., the story of the shepherd leaving the ninety-nine sheep to go in search of the one that was lost, and the story of the woman sweeping the corners of her house until she has found the coin that she lost. We hear the third of the three stories today. All three stories are about the finding of something “lost,” about the return to community of something separated from that community. All three also end with joy and celebration. All three, in answering the criticism of the Pharisees and scribes, shed light on Jesus’ understanding of his mission and the kind of community he is creating.

To begin with, through the figure of the father in the story we learn that Jesus eagerly waits for people to come into his community of love. No matter what people have done, Jesus is waiting for them. Jesus sees people coming from far away and comes running to them, closing the gap between him and them. And Jesus expects only one thing of them: that they “come to themselves,” or “come to their senses,” i.e., that they acknowledge that they are children of God, creatures, not self-made, self-dependent entities, and that they understand themselves as members of God’s family, God’s beloved community. Wherever they come from, wherever they’ve been, whatever they have or haven’t done, they are welcome: Jesus doesn’t ask people to show their identity card, their honorable discharge papers, or their diploma before welcoming them. Moreover, Jesus doesn’t ask for breast-beating or groveling. He only asks that those who come to him know who they are in relation to God. So note that the younger son’s first – and in my opinion most important – word is not “I have sinned,” or “I am not worthy.” Not that acknowledging one’s sin is unimportant – we say the confession in every Eucharist. The most important word the younger son says is “Father.” Acknowledging God’s reality is all that is needed for Jesus’ gracious acknowledgement and embrace of his followers, and no one who acknowledges Jesus is excluded from his embrace. Like the folks at St. Gregory of Nyssa, everyone is welcome. What is most important, the return of anyone to the fold of God’s love is an occasion for rejoicing, for bringing out the best clothes, the best food, the musicians, and the leaders of the dances.

And note this. Jesus’ welcome also includes those self-righteous Pharisees and scribes, those, who like the elder brother refuse to acknowledge a relationship with the “lost” who have returned, refuse to consider the possibility that they too need to be “found,” and refuse to participate in the radical hospitality that Jesus models for them. Unfortunately, the story and the Gospel account both leave us hanging. Did the elder brother break down and join the party? Did any of the Pharisees and scribes come to accept that others besides themselves could be welcomed by God? We don’t know. Perhaps in God’s good time they all did.

So where do we find ourselves in this story? Here’s a radical thought: the Church, both in its individual parishes like this one and as a whole, is the Body of Christ. The Church is Christ incarnate and manifest in the world. Could the father in this story possibly be an image for the church itself? Could a faith community whose model is Jesus, whose members strive to grow into the fullness of Christ, could such a community be like the father in this story and extend that same kind of radical welcome to all who come through its doors? Could such a community go out and meet those who are still on the way and welcome them into a community of faith? Those of us who are already here have perhaps experienced in our own personal lives the radical welcome that Jesus offers. We too know that whatever we have been, whatever we have done or not done, whether we were divorced, whether we were alcoholics, whether we spent time in prison, whether we are rich or poor, male or female, young or old, Asian, Latino, Anglo, African-American, or anything in between, we are welcome in this place.

But if we are the Body of Christ, we are also called to offer that radical welcome to others. In the promises we make or reaffirm at Baptism we pledge to “seek and serve Christ in all people.” Did you hear that word, “seek?” If we are to be a faith community whose members strive to be Christ in the world, then we too are to go out of the church and seek those who need to be welcomed by our community. In that seeking, how do we treat those who are hungry? Do we ask them why they are hungry? Do we try to determine whether they deserve our help? Or do we just feed them? Who are the lost among us? Who are the unwelcome among us? In our “Undie Sunday” (on Saturday), we begin to model a community that seeks the needy, that welcomes all without conditions. Are there other ways that we can be more like Jesus? Other ways we can do what St. Gregory of Nyssa does? What else can we do to be the radically welcoming community that Jesus has called us to be?

“This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” So may it be said of us!