Day 28 - Community and Hospitality

It came as something of a shock to think that with the Sunday that’s about to dawn, we will be ¼ of the way through this time of sabbatical. The past days have been mostly travel punctuated with truly wonderful opportunities. Leaving Iona, I made my way to Edinburgh, and a delightful evening with Syd Graham (who sends his best wishes to all!)

Included in our time was attendance in the closing session of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland. This is a church that is steeped in tradition, which fairly oozes out on such occasions. The meeting begins with the Moderator’s silent bows to those gathered, and ends with a speech by the Moderator and the Lord High Commissioner—the Queen’s representative who is carefully located in a chair above and behind the Moderator, where he can observe the proceedings, but participates only in the form of this closing speech.

The evening includes recognition of all the retiring clergy, and all those who have been ordained in the last year. There is a real sense of the continuity of this church’s life.

Through a wonderful dinner with Syd we talked about his long experience with the Iona Community. I think the most striking part of the conversation was a distinction that came clear in my mind between community and hospitality. Community, as I’ve noted in previous posts, is hard work, and requires people to give of themselves in ways that are not quite natural in this world we live in. But hospitality is a different gift—it requires a mindfulness to those who ar eon the fringes, who perhaps don’t share your core values, or agree with you, but are present to you nonetheless. I was reminded of the definition of true community as the place where you find yourself across the table from the person you’d least like to share a meal with. Hospitality requires us to look beyond ourselves, and to welcome the stranger, which I KNOW, but don’t always treat as an angel unawares.

It got me to thinking about the life of our congregation, and wondering if there are times when our community makes us less hospitable than perhaps we should. I recall a conversation with one of you about the odd fact that we can have good, meaningful interaction with the Islamic Society, but it’s hard for us to talk with fundamentalist or evangelical Christians. I realize that one reason I find that table of fellowship uncomfortable is that I’m thinking of it as a place of community, and grieve the fact that we are so often so far apart on what I think are core values in my faith. But what, I wonder, would it mean to look at these conversations as opportunities for hospitality, instead—welcoming without judgment the one who is your neighbor.

Of course, the guest has different expectations to the brother or sister in community, too. But it seems worth thinking about to me.