People Get Ready
The Rev. Matthew Johnson-Doyle
Sunday, September 13, 2009

Reading: From Radical Hospitality by Lonni Collins Pratt & Daniel Homan

Catherine had never felt accepted. You know the kind of kid; you went to school with a few of them. It was as if she had been selected the very first day of kindergarten to be always on the outside. Maybe she was wearing mismatched mittens one day, or she still had peanut butter on her breath from breakfast. Maybe she worse the same shoes her sisters wore last year. …

Without knowing the details, you can be sure that Catherine spent a lot of very tough nights growing up. She must have wondered if her life meant anything and wondered if anyone would ever listen to her. She probably did not dare hope that she would ever be loved. . . .

On one of the worst nights of her life, Catherine called Mary …. She called Mary because once, when Catherine had dropped books and whatever else she was carrying, Mary stopped and helped. Mary extended the simplest of courtesies to this girl [who] had known only contempt. By taking a moment to look into her eyes, say a few words, and help in an awkward situation, Mary demonstrated to Catherine that she could be counted on to care. On the night when Catherine honestly did not know if she wanted to see another sunrise, she called Mary.

When we speak of hospitality we are always addressing issues of inclusion and exclusion. Each of us makes choices about who will and who will not be included in our lives. To make such choices is inevitable; we do not have time to be everyone’s best friend. The reasons we include and exclude are very personal . . . [yet]

Issues of inclusion and exclusion, while personal, are not just personal. Our entire culture excludes many people. If you are in a wheelchair, for example, you are excluded because there are places you can’t go. If you are very young, if you are very old, you are excluded. In high school you can be excluded if you don’t wear the right shoes or listen to the right music. Women are excluded, as are people of color, and those who practice a religion different from our own.

In our idealism about American life the poor are always excluded; they are our embarrassing little American secret . . . Somewhere, sometime, you were excluded. Remember what that was like. Some people life with the experience constantly . . .

As a culture, we are frightened people living behind locked doors, fashioning our homes as reclusive retreats from what we believe is a hostile world that drains us of the energies we most cherish. The world at our gate is a fearsome thing. We lock the doors, click on the security system, put on headphones, and enter a place where we hope to be left to ourselves but always keep an ear listening for the sound of disturbance. It’s no surprise that we are lonelier than ever before.

Hospitality has an inescapable moral dimension to it. It is not a mere social grace; it is a spiritual and ethical issue. It is an issue involving what it means to be human. All our talk about hospitable openness doesn’t mean anything as long as some people continue to be tossed aside.

. . . “the opposite of cruelty is not simply freedom from the cruel relationship, it is hospitality.” Hospitality puts an end to injustice. . . . [But] hospitality is no legalistic ethical issue. It is instead a spiritual practice, a way of becoming more human, a way of understanding yourself. Hospitality is both the answer to modern alienation and injustice and a path to a deeper spirituality.

Message: People Get Ready

Note: The sermon is an oral event. This manuscript may not reflect the exact spoken words. © Matthew Johnson-Doyle, 2009.

Arise and greet the day!
Dance with joy and sing a song of gladness!

Arise and greet the day,
for there’s a train a comin’.

Arise and greet the day,
for there’s a train a comin’,
and the whispers of all peaceable and loving amplitude
call to us
and come from us
irreversible as light years
traveling to open eye.

Arise and greet the day,
for there’s a train a comin’,
and who will join this standing up:
we will.
We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.

Arise and greet the day,
for there’s a train a coming,
and we are the ones we’ve been waiting for.
We are the ones –
we are Catherine, excluded, lonely, heartbroken.
We are the ones in need –
in so much need –
of love and hope.
Arise and greet the day,
for there’s a train a comin’,
we are the ones we’ve been waiting for,
and you don’t need a ticket to get on board.
Catherine doesn’t need a ticket –
she’s welcome.
She’s welcome. You are welcome.

Arise and greet the day,
for there’s a train a comin’,
and we are the ones,
we are the bullies, the excluders,
the ones who paid no nevermind,
who locked our doors and sat alone in fear of the world,
we are the ones,
we are these ones, too,
but we need not despair,
for though their may be no room for the hopeless sinner,
our faith teaches us that no sinner is hopeless,
no one is lost forever,
no one is irredeemable,
so open your hearts, pack your things,
and get on board.

Arise and greet the day,
for there’s a train a comin’,
and we are the ones we’ve been waiting for:
we are Catherine, we are the bullies,

and we are Mary,
who stops to help,
who answers the call.
We need not walk on water to perform miracles,
we need not raise the dead,
we need only this: to treat one another with love.
To be hospitable.

Arise and greet the day,
for there’s a train a comin’,
and we are the ones we’ve been waiting for,
we are the excluded and we are the ones who can include,
we are the conductors,
we are the passengers,
we are the ones singing “come and go with me” –
come to that land for which we are bound, together,
get on board.

Arise and greet the day,
for there’s a train a comin’,
and we are the ones we’ve been waiting for,
we are the guests and the hosts,
we are the travelers to new lands,
so people, get ready.

People, get ready.
The train is leaving the station,
so don’t find yourself back at home
dithering about what to pack.
The train is leaving the station,
people, get ready.
We’ve got a journey to make.
Get ready.
We leaving.
Now.
Get ready.

Earlier this week, I asked what people were getting ready for.
The responses were an interesting mix:
There were things that seemed practical:
home renovations,
a marathon,
a garage sale,
to go back to work after vacation.

We spend much of our lives getting ready for things like this.
And though I called them practical,
these things are a big deal.
The woman preparing for renovations has mixed feelings
about still living in the town where she lives,
and to sink some money into her house is a big deal.
The woman doing the marathon –
she’s a Lutheran pastor friend of mine,
and her kids are getting a little older,
and throughout her life she is being more assertive about who she is,
what she values –
she’s doing less of what other people tell her to do,
and more of what her own heart tells her,
listening less to tradition
listening more for God’s whispering and singing voice.
Garage sales are a big deal to –
to get rid of what no longer serves your life,
include toys your child outgrew,
things your parents gave you but just aren’t you,
to get rid of these things and to make space in your home for new possibilities –
this is something to get ready for.

And to go back to work after vacation –
to return to a life of responsibility, of service, of challenge, of projects –
this is something to get ready for.

Another friend is getting ready for his Church’s 50th anniversary.
That’s a big deal –
and I know that when they celebrate this anniversary,
it will be for that church a time of reflection about who they are becoming
as much as about who they have been.
It’s a thing to get ready for.

A cousin said she was getting ready for Armageddon.
That made me laugh,
and she meant it as a joke –
she’s got one of those great dry senses of humor.

But this is a good time to say,
just so I’m clear,
that I didn’t ask the choir to sing People Get Ready
for its eschatological overtones.
That’s not my theology, and not the point today.

I’ve got a CD in my car I’ve been listening to for the last few weeks,
and there’s a song on it:
I’m not waiting for the second coming of the lord,
once was enough for me,
I think by the second coming,
he meant for me to come to him.

When I say, people get ready,
there’s a train a comin,
I don’t mean to get ready for Armageddon.

I mean to get ready for a life of more meaning and hope,
purpose and love,
in this world,
right now,
here, where we live.

Another cousin – the sister of the one with the dry wit –
said she was getting ready for someone to press play again –
her life has been on pause;
she moved across the country and hasn’t yet found a new job.

Another said she was about to start looking for a new job in a new place.

There is always that period of time,
when we stand on the platform,
and the train hasn’t arrived yet.
We worry it won’t be on time,
and that we might miss our connection.
Part of getting ready is waiting,
for a little while.

But we are the ones we are waiting for,
and we can’t wait on someone else to give our life meaning,
only we can do that.

What about you?
What are you getting ready for?

Are you getting ready to make a commitment to the place you live,
despite doubts you might have?
Are you getting ready to run your own marathon,
to listen to your own voice,
to assert your own being into the world?
Are you ready to make space in your life for the new,
and let go of the past,
even if it is cherished in memory?
Are you ready to get to work?
Take up the responsibilities of maturity?
Are you ready to celebrate and chart the future?
Are you ready to laugh?
Are you ready to make for a better life, here and now,
and not delay for some future world?
Are you ready to jump off the edge,
to fly into the unknown,
to press play and sing out loud?

What are you getting ready for?

I don’t know about you,
but I’m getting ready to live with more hope.
I’m getting ready to assume the best.
I’m getting ready to make some hard choices,
if that’s what it takes to live my values.

I’m also getting ready for all that we will do as a church this year.
At a board meeting earlier this summer,
when we discussed all that was before us,
one of the board members said,
I feel as though we are standing with our toes over the edge of the diving board,
ready to get wet.
That’s exactly right.

People, get ready – because the water’s fine,
and it’s time to get wet.

We’ve got a lot to get ready for as a church community:
to describe together who we are, what we value,
our vision and our calling
to discern together how we will make a sustained impact
on a issue of social concern
to get to a state of financial health
so that we can do church without one hand behind our back
and, to welcome the new into our midst.

To welcome the Catherines,
the ones who long for a connection,
the ones excluded by other religions,
who come seeking and hoping to this place.

You’ve taken a big step today,
you really have –
to have a parking lot that looks nice, is safe,
that, instead of saying,
we are another Rockford institution on hard times,
says, we are open, we are operating at full speed,
we are making a commitment to this place and this time,
this is an important step in getting ready.

We have more to do.
Some of it is going to be hard.
Remember the garage sale –
you have to sell off sometimes cherished things,
when they no longer serve.
Remember the marathon –
when you start to take charge of your own life,
when you push past boundaries.
Remember the one who moves to a new place,
who jumps off the edge and learns to fly,
who leaps into possibility.

Some Sundays, we are pretty full around here.
There’s a train a comin’,
and if we are serious about our values of inclusion,
if we are serious about the spiritual practice of radical hospitality,
then we had better figure out how to make sure
there is enough room on the train for everyone
who wants to come on board.

Enough room for those who might,
some days, feel hopeless,
but who, with some love,
with some welcome,
with a message of – yes, you are a human being,
yes, you are a child of the one spirit of life and love,
yes, you have a purpose to your life,
with that message they will know there is a seat for them
on this train.

So we’ve got that to get ready for too.

People, get ready.
Arise and greet the day,
for there’s a train a coming,
and we are the ones we’ve been waiting for,
we are the excluded and the includers,
we are the passengers and we are the conductors.

People, get ready.
There’s a train a coming
are you ready to get on board?
Are you ready to be the one who includes?
Are you ready to answer that call,
to help someone pick up the pieces?
Ready to welcome someone new into your life,
even if it means you have to make some adjustments,
have to make some space in your home and your heart?

Are you ready to be the one who whispers and sings,
the ones who stand up and march in the dust?

Are you ready to make your values real in the world –
as hard as that is,
even though you might have to make hard choices,
are you ready to try?

Are you ready to be the one who sings in that land
where we are bound?
who makes freedom and justice real in that land?

Are you ready to love?
to be loved?

Are you ready to grow?
to change?
to be transformed into something new and even more wondrous?

Arise and greet the day!
There’s a train a comin’,
and we are the ones we’ve been waiting for.
Get on board.
You’re welcome here.
Arise and greet the day!
There’s a train a comin’.
Let’s sing.