About Hotels and Hospitals from Art and Faith by Lynn Miller

Ordinary time 13A

July 1-2, 2017

About Hotels and Hospitals from Art and Faith by Lynn Miller

One of the places most tourists visit when the come to Paris is the Cathedral of Notre Dame. It is situated on an island in the middle of the Seine River. Also on that island is the Palais de Justice, which is the French supreme court and contains St. Chappelle, a chapel built to house the crown of thorns. It is a magnificent chapel in that over 75% of the walls are stained glass, where every book of the bible is contained in the windows.

But most tourists are not aware of another huge building on the island, Le Hotel Dieu. Roughly translated it means God’s hotel. It is a hospital for children.

Whoever welcomes you welcomes me...[And] whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple -- truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward. Those are the words of the Gospel reading for Proper 8 (13)/Pentecost 4A (Matthew 10:40-42). Welcome and even a cup of cold water are as much issues today as they were the day Jesus said the words. How should we care for one another and respond to one another's needs? History gives us an answer (and perhaps a challenge) in the hotel-Dieu, which literally means hostel of God and was a generic name for hospitals in French-speaking regions.

Yes, hospitals. Think of today's conversations about health care, hospitals and costs. Do those conversations make you think of hostels? Of hospitality? Clearly hospital and hospitality share a root. That root is in the word host, which is itself rooted in the Proto-Indo-European ghos-ti (stranger, guest, host...a person with whom you had reciprocal requirements for hospitality). This relationship moves through the words hostel to the Old French hospital (shelter for the needy), the Latin hospitale (guest house, inn) on to hospitality. It isn't exactly what we think of today when we think of hospitals.

In medieval Europe the idea of the hotel-Dieu took on the meaning of a charitable institution that cared for the needy, both in terms of daily food and a place to stay along with health care. Hotels-Dieu were built and sustained in many places, though the quality of care no doubt differed from place to place.

In 1443, Europe was just coming out of the Hundred Years War in which plague and deprivation were the order of the day. In Beaune, a city in the Burgundy region of France, Nicolas Rolin, Chancellor of Duke Phillip the Good, established a hotel-Dieu that remains one of the most beautiful buildings in France. A combination homeless shelter, soup kitchen and health clinic, the physical plant of the Hospices de Beaune included two buildings around a courtyard.

The large room with a boat-inspired roof is called the Room of the Poor. The complex includes large kitchens and a pharmacy, all of which were established to meet the needs of the hotel's clients. In addition to the hospital, Rolin also established a religious order of sisters who staffed the facility.

Nicolas Rolin created the Beaune hotel-Dieuwith an eye toward the finest architecture and art. Masterpieces by Rogier van der Weyden hung on the walls. Sculpted beams and hand-crafted floor tiles adorned the Room of the Poor which was attached to the Room of the Poor so that infirm patients could attend mass from their beds.

Few of us would be happy to exchange 21st-century medical care for 15th-century care. Or 21st-century hygiene for that of the 15th century. However, the name and purpose of this and otherhotels-Dieumight be aspirational for us as we consider issues of welcome and care of all God's people.

End with story from Libby TedderHugus

In June of 2005, U.S. Navy SEAL Marcus Luttrell and SEAL Team 10 were assigned to a mission to kill or capture Ahmad Shah a high-ranking Taliban leader responsible for killings in eastern Afghanistan and the Hindu-Kush mountains.
Local sheepherders stumbled upon the team and ended up betraying the SEALS

to local Taliban militia, and a horrific gun-battle ensued. Marcus was the only survivor. Badly wounded, he managed to walk and crawl seven miles to evade capture. He was miraculously given shelter by an Afghan tribe, who at the risk of their own lives alerted the Americans of his presence, and American forces finally rescued him six days after the gun battle.

The Afghan man who gave shelter to Marcus is Mohammad Gulab. Mohammad lives by the “Pushtunwali” code of honor which promotes self-respect, independence, justice, hospitality, love, forgiveness, revenge and tolerance toward all, especially to strangers or guests.

Part of the Pashtunwali code is the concept of “Nanawatai” meaning sanctuary. Nanawati allows a person to seek refuge in the house of another, seeking asylum against his enemies. The host is honor-bound to offer that protection, even at the cost of his own family or fortune.
When Marcus found himself in enemy territory and bound by the beautiful “Pushtunwali” honor code, Mohamed prepared a table, a shelter for Marcus that literally saved his life. Mohamed was not only threatened during the time Marcus was sheltered in his home, but continued to face persecution afterward. The Taliban has targeted the whole village for being traitors.
Marcus and Mohamed have become dear friends, and Mohammed has since immigrated to the USA with his family because the persecution was so strong from the Taliban, a consequence for providing shelter to a complete and total stranger who found himself in enemy territory.

For Matthew, this was not a call to the twelve disciples alone: this was a call to all disciples of Jesus. A call to deeply faithful representation of God’s heart of hospitality found in Jesus.

At the distilled heart of God’s mission is this startling reality: welcoming the other, the stranger, the outsider, the foreigner, even the bedraggled traveling missionary is enough, in God’s books, to be rewarded. The reward is centered in the deep hospitality found in God’s welcome of us. We were first welcomed, and offering welcome to others is the reward of being found in the sacred loop of God’s very own heart: a heart of hospitality, a heart of welcome.

Acts of hospitality are possible at all times. Cups of cool water, shared meals, clothing, shelter, a listening ear. When we offer hospitality, we welcome the unknown. We invite the new, the different, the possibilities of fresh perspective and vulnerable sharing.

Matthew chapter ten is Jesus’ high calling and sending of the twelve disciples (and therefore all willing followers) into God’s mission. It is demanding, it is potentially dangerous, it is stark.

What if Christians took to heart this call to discipleship, and the reward for hospitality as seriously as MuhomedGulab did when he welcomed Marcus Luttrell into his home? What if we bound ourselves to God’s hospitable welcome of us, like Mohamed did to his tribal understanding of the Pashtunwaliq code, especially in the case of strangers and guests. What if, like Mohamed, we were prepared to offer “nanawatai” or sanctuary to more than just Jesus’ emissaries, but even to our enemies?

Will the world know we are Christians by our love and hospitality, or by our short-sighted and selfish boundaries?

What does the welcome mat in front of your church and home represent? Does it reflect to the world that you are an ambassador of the full presence of God in Jesus? Or does it subliminally indicate ‘stranger danger’ to the outsider unfamiliar with the Jesus you say you follow? Do outsiders shake the dust from their shoes when leaving your place of worship and residence?
Let us welcome Jesus and the One who sent him by opening our lives in generosity and hospitality to those who cross our paths: whether friend or foe. By our hospitality we will be known as Christians. By our acts of hospitality we will be included in the very great reward of God’s own welcome of us who were once but are no longer strangers to love.