Inviting people who cannot invite us back

A couple of Miriam's Thanksgiving pies
Photo credit: Momiji S.

Although US Election Day is on many peoples' minds -- even here in the UK -- there is another day coming up in November associated with the US. 

Miriam and I had been looking forward to inviting some family around for a Thanksgiving meal at our place (one of my American cousins also lives in the UK), but the recent COVID-19 restrictions may change those plans.

When we lived in Manchester, every year we were invited to a Thanksgiving dinner by a couple originally from the US. My being an American was a prerequisite for being invited. Over the years, their Thanksgiving gatherings of American ex-pats and their families has grown. Folks pitch in the usual food: turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes and green beans, but the highlight is the variety of pies. Miriam would prepare apple pie; cherry and pumpkin pies were also regulars; and it was at these gatherings that I was introduced to the sweet frozen peanut-butter pie.

Jesus teaches about the importance of inviting people over to dinner. However, he adds a twist: rather than inviting people who have the means to pay us back, Jesus says to invite 'the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you; for you shall be repaid at the resurrection of the just' (Luke 14:13-14).

Jesus is, I believe, teaching us one practical way to seek the kingdom of God, and one way to become signposts of the kingdom. 

This teaching reminds me of a church I used to be a part of in San Diego, which every year hosts a Thanksgiving dinner for the local community. The church, in a low-income neighbourhood, opens its doors and serves anyone who comes in -- some of whom they never meet again, except perhaps for the following Thanksgiving dinner. 

The pastor of the church, Steve Rodeheaver, explains how this meal serves as a signpost of God's kingdom: 

Jesus as well as the prophets before Him compared the coming of the Kingdom to a great banquet. . . . The reality was hitting home that our feast to end all feasts didn't end anything, especially hunger. But for one night, for one meal, [they] all were satisfied. . . . We reminded them of the future. They participated in a picture of the Kingdom. . . . For one night, for one meal, for one moment, folks of all ages, races, incomes, and backgrounds entered into the Lord's house and banqueted together at His tables. And they all were satisfied. (Snapshots of the Kingdom)

Jesus' teaching challenges me to consider who are the vulnerable people I know personally or who are in my community -- the people who cannot invite me back -- whom I can invite into my life. 

Although I can't think of many examples of my actively following this teaching, one memory does persist in my mind. One evening at our church in Manchester, I was teaching a workshop. I had spent nearly a year thinking about, planning and preparing this course, and was excited to begin leading it. Like any good workshop leader, I made sure there was plenty of coffee, tea and biscuits for everyone, and I felt encouraged when a few people arrived and settled in. 

Then, towards the beginning of the workshop, someone else walked in through the front doors of the church. 

'I saw [one of the workshop attendees] hobble in and the light was on, so I thought I'd drop in', he said.

It was T., one of the regulars at our weekly allotment project, where some volunteers from our church and from a homeless charity in the city centre would work together growing vegetables in our church's garden. The purpose was to give work skills, experience and confidence to those volunteers transitioning off the streets into stable housing.

Normally T. was friendly, so I was glad to see him -- if not also slightly surprised, since I only saw him during the allotment project, whose season had long ended for the winter. But then he interrupted me as I was teaching. His glare did not have the usual vacant look; there was an edge to it. I don't remember what he said exactly, only that he was mostly unintelligible. After responding to him, I returned to my talk, only to be interrupted again soon after.

I realised T. was drunk and that his presence was bothering the other attendees. However, they were extremely patient and would quietly wait for me to finish speaking with him before resuming the workshop. At one point, I moved over and sat next to him and said he was welcome to stay but that he needed to stop interrupting me. I thought this would work, but several minutes later, his banter returned.

For some reason, I strongly felt it would be wrong to tell him to leave; something inside of me would not allow me to do that, so I simply trudged through the rest of the workshop. It ended fine, but I felt disappointed because of the distraction T. had been to the group. I wondered if I should have firmly asked him to leave for the others' sake.

Afterwards, while I was washing the cups, T. came up to me and explained that his friend had recently committed suicide. That explained why T. had been acting so aggressively. Although I still felt upset with him, it helped to know more of the reasoning behind his behaviour. We spoke for a little bit before he left. I reminded him that when spring came around, our allotment project would start again and we hoped to see him there. 

A few months later, when our allotment project began its new season, T. came as usual, and this time he was his normal self, wearing bright eyeglasses and a crooked smile. He remembered how he had behaved that night and apologised. I was relieved we hadn't asked him to leave. 

This story doesn't perfectly illustrate Jesus' teaching. We didn't host a dinner (although we did have refreshments, as is expected of a church function), and we didn't invite T. to our gathering. However, because of our relationship with T., he felt that he would be welcome and accepted at the workshop even without having received an invitation simply because our doors were open and he recognised some of the people walking in. 

T. knew that we loved him, and in this case, that was invitation enough.