Entertaining Angels

Entertaining Angels

Don’t forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it.

Hebrews 13: 2

Hearing about the horror in Orlando felt like a physical blow, and I had to absorb it in small pieces over the course of a few days. I don’t want to become numb to these tragedies, so I’ve looked for solace and positive ways to respond. Many of my thoughts slide toward my grandmother, and I’ve been walking around with the image of her smiling in her kitchen, her faded apron tied around her middle. I’ve had a few moments of yearning for her huge hugs and completely loving presence. Tapping into who she was has been both a comfort and a guide.

Gramma was the most hospitable person I’ve ever known. She loved having company, especially members of her very large family. But, with boundless interest in new people and ideas, her ever-present warmth welcomed strangers too. When I took new friends to her little house in the country, she loved meeting them. I could have dropped in with anyone at any time, and a meal would have magically appeared. She would have put people at ease, listened carefully and asked them questions.

Her generosity of spirit extended out into her community as she volunteered to be with the “old folks,” even in her 60’s and 70’s. She was a faithful member of her small country church, providing whatever was needed—usually food. Once in a while, she had to play the organ on Sunday mornings. She admitted she wasn’t very good, but with a giggle, she’d say, “Well, if they want me, they’ll have to take what they get!” Nothing had to be perfect—not her food, her house, her music or her weedy gardens, brimming over with vegetables and flowers. It was never about money or status. For her it was about loving people right where they were. With a sturdy faith, she so appreciated what she had—her family, her friends, her community. She’s been gone for over thirty years, but her spirit of generous hospitality lives on.

I watched with awe as my students in prison welcomed strangers and likened it to Gramma’s care and concern. Many of the men I knew remembered what being frightened of the institution felt like when they first arrived, and they would show new and nervous inmates around, give them toothpaste, soap and shower shoes. They would tell them what to expect in the place. One student, who came in to lead a discussion on civility, noted, “Watch the Mexicans. They know how to take care of new guys comin’ in.” I found hospitable space in my classroom, and often that space felt sacred. I often felt the presence of holy men. Angels. They taught me to be aware of angels all around me—and in the most unlikely places.

With so many mass shootings, especially after so many people died in Orlando, it is easy to see and feel the presence of evil. The attack on LGBT people and Hispanics made this attack even more sinister and frightening. Certainly we need to confront it, figure out why it happens, deal with so many lethal weapons and the rancor and polarizing between us. But, my grandmother’s examples urge me to be open and warm to people who are different than I am—and to welcome strangers.

On NPR’s All Things Considered on Sunday, June 12, 2016, I heard Michel Martin interview one of the fathers in Orlando. He lost a daughter. On Father’s Day, instead of being bitter and angry, he expressed his pride in his daughter who had made it out of Pulse—but then went back in to her friend. He consoled our shaken president as once again, for the 16th time, Obama had to fulfill his role as “comforter-in-chief.” And this grieving father wants to meet the killer’s father and invite him into his house. He says he’s about love and forgiveness, not hate. He counts the gunman as the 50th victim. If you read his words or listen to his voice,  I think you will define this father as an angel. Right now, in our violent, divided country, we can use all the healing we can find. Angels help.

A Father’s Grief and Forgiveness in Orlando

 

 

 

 

 


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