Taking the Leap

Taking the Leap--June 25, 2018

"Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it. Remember those who are in prison, as though you were in prison with them; those who are being tortured, as though you yourselves were being tortured." [Hebrews 13:1-3]

There is no discounted "observer" ticket among for the Jesus-community.  If you are in, you are in all the way--and you take the leap.  That's the whole point.

This is one of the key differences between being a follower of Jesus and going to the bouncy-castle place they have set up in our local mall.  The spot at the mall will allow me to go in for free as the watching "grown-up" supervising my kids, but I don't have to (or am not allowed to, depending on how you want to frame it) jump in the ball pit, climb up the indoor jungle gym, or slide down the inflatable slide.  I am there simply to be an observer, safe and sane and sound, with no risk, no possibility of looking foolish, and no participation.  

But the community of Jesus are different--by design.  There is no option of the Observation-Only Wristband, which allows us to sit in a pew on Sunday and allow others in white robes and colorful assorted vestments to entertain (or bore) us for a Sunday morning, and then go back home untouched and unchanged.  There is no option where we watch from the sidelines and hear vacuous talk about "loving the neighbor" with no actual action for the sake of the neighbor.  There is no choice of being a spectator--at least, not according to the New Testament's own voices.

This is a crucial distinction, because I sometimes think that the 21st Century American Respectable Religious Crowd falls victim to some illusion that there is an Observer-Only status, one in which we do not risk ourselves for the sake of the other.  Sometimes, maybe because we are surrounded by plenty of other organizations that allow for uncommitted, un-invested "observer" status, we think that must just be the way of things.  We figure we aren't expected to jump into the ball pit or slide down the slide. We stand and watch, and we look down on those who do take the leap of putting themselves out there as foolish or childish or wrong.

But when the writer of Hebrews describes life among the people of Jesus, note here how there is not even the slightest hint of an option of standing and watching with twiddling thumbs.  There is daring.  There is a leap.  There is risk, yes, because that is the whole point--genuine love means an investment of one's self into the life of others.  And every investment--every act of self-giving--comes with the possibility that we could be taken advantage of, or mistreated, or not get back what we gave away.  That's the nature of the beast.  As the writer of Hebrews sees it, it doesn't mean we don't take the risk--it means we do it with eyes wide open, knowing we might suffer... and knowing that other folks around us might think we are fools for doing it.  But that's okay--the other folks standing and twiddling their thumbs or sitting on their hands don't have to "get it" for us still to take the leap into genuine love.

When the writer of Hebrews gets down to business to describe what genuine "mutual love" might look like, notice the kinds of "risky" actions he describes.  Welcoming strangers (the Greek word carries the sense of "foreigner" or "outsider") into our homes, neighborhoods, and lives... speaking up for those who are in prison, as if we were the ones imprisoned... caring for those who have been subject to torture and mistreatment... with the thought of what it would be like if we ourselves were the ones enduring the suffering.  This is risky stuff here.  You can imagine all sorts of reasonable-sounding excuses, too:  "Don't welcome strangers--they will just bilk you out of free room and board, or rob you when you go to bed, or take your car, or steal from your kids, or... or... or..."  Or maybe, "Don't have any sympathy for anybody who is imprisoned--after all, prison is for law-breakers, and if they weren't guilty, they wouldn't be in prison in the first place!"  These are all perfectly "reasonable" and perfectly "respectable" excuses... but they are not of Christ.

Here's the thing: the writers of the New Testament were neither naïve nor foolish.  They knew full well that welcoming the stranger into your home meant a risk... but they dared the people of Jesus to do it anyway.  In fact, they saw it as a great honor and privilege to that we might get to welcome them into our midst--we might, after all, really be entertaining angels without knowing it!  The writers of the New Testament did not blush at the thought that someone in prison might actually be guilty of a crime--they just thought that maybe mercy is for guilty people, too, because that's the whole point of mercy.  We sometimes come to these texts of the New Testament and assume "we just know better" than they did, or that they couldn't have meant what they seem to be saying, because that would mean risking ourselves and putting the needs of others before our own comfort and insulation from risk.

Well, let's get this out of the way and be done with it: the writers of the New Testament knew exactly what they were saying when they called the people of Jesus to take the leap into the ball pit and actually welcome the stranger right into our midst, and to actually empathize with those who are imprisoned, mistreated, and tortured--without any fine print that such love is reserved only for the wrongly-accused or those who we like.  And if that sounds like that means the Bible is calling us to put the needs of others before our own comfort and insulation from risk, it is because... the Bible is calling us to put the needs of others before our own comfort and insulation from risk.  There are no two ways about it: to be a part of the people of Jesus is to leap out onto the inflatable slide, to jump into the ball pit, to climb on the jungle gym... and decidedly not to just stand back making excuses that "this stuff doesn't apply to me."  There are no observer-only wristbands.

In this day, if we listen to the words of the New Testament and take them on their own terms, we will be dared to jump.  There will still be plenty of reasonable religious-sounding voices that say, "You can't be serious!  How can we be expected to let our guard down and let some stranger into our midst?  How can we be expected to show sympathy for law-breakers who got themselves in prison for their crimes?"   And to those voices, we will simply say, "Whether or not we end up entertaining angels when we welcome people to our table, this is what love looks like--and love is not a spectator sport." We are called to nothing less.

Now, take your shoes off, walk up to the edge, and take the leap with the people of Jesus.

Lord Jesus, grant us the courage to love as you have called us to--the love that takes the leap of risking ourselves for the sake of the other.  Show up among us, and give us the eyes to see you when we open our doors and our lives to you.