What’s an Abbey: Hospitality
“The Lord appeared to Abraham by the oaks, as he sat at the entrance of his tent in the heat of the day. He looked up and saw three men standing near him. When he saw them, he ran from the tent entrance to meet them, and bowed down to the ground. He said, ‘My lord, if I find favor with you, do not pass by your servant. Let a little water be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree. Let me bring a little bread, that you may refresh yourselves, and after that you may pass on—since you have come to your servant.’ So they said, ‘Do as you have said.’ And Abraham hastened into the tent to Sarah, and said, ‘Make ready quickly three measures of choice flour, knead it, and make cakes.’ Abraham ran to the herd, and took a calf, tender and good, and gave it to the servant, who hastened to prepare it.Then he took curds and milk and the calf that he had prepared, and set it before them; and he stood by them under the tree while they ate.” (Genesis 18)
In Ireland, every abbey contains three important things: a well for fresh water, a fire altar or warming room for…well, warmth, and space for community. Community could be found amongst the farm where seeds were sown and grains were harvested, or in the kitchen where the bread was baked. Community could be found in the pasture where the animals grazed, the livestock were milked, or in the churning of the butter. Community space existed in the Prior’s office for administration, in the dormitory for rest, in the infirmary for healing, and in the sanctuary for worship and prayer. Abbeys promoted community that cared for everyone, for no other reason than to simply welcome folks. Abbots didn’t just keep all the goodness of an abbey to themselves; instead, they invited, hosted, and shared their resources with strangers, friends, and guests, planned and unplanned.
St. Brigid (Brigit/Brid) built an abbey famous for its warm welcome. In such, her miracles are inherently domestic. But for Bridget, butter and beer and bread and bacon are sacred commodities. 100, 200, and 300 years later, the folks who tell her stories–men, of course–began experiencing complicated feelings about her leadership. The waves of patriarchal, Romanized Christianity had washed up on Ireland's shore. While Bridget was an ordained bishop leading in a more egalitarian time, the stories people shared, especially as time wore on, paint her as more domestic than pastoral.
Bridget, or Brigid, unlike St. Patrick, is actually Irish. Brigid is the bright eyed daughter of a Druid chief. Her father sells her mother away into slavery, but fortunately, Brigid churns so much butter she liberates them both and reunites the family. A Druid Priestess places Bridget on the “Who among Irish toddlers list” with a prophecy of her importance. Brigid is fed the milk of a ‘sacred cow’ and, like her namesake, the Celtic goddess, she is filled with a divine spark.
Brigid wants to build a community in this new christianity. So, after giving her Dad’s stuff away over and over and over, he finally acquiesces and she liberates herself again. Bridget seeks land for her cattle and community, so she approaches the local lord for a donation. He offers her as much ground as she can cover with her cloak, which to his shock (and my delight) begins to stretch across the fertile plains of Ireland.
Brigid births a community full of abundance. Her miracles center around welcoming folks and setting the table, even when others didn't believe there was enough food in the pot. She turns water into milk, and water into beer. Once, she even creates enough beer to serve 18 parishes! However, the early church grew more focused on the altar table and thus spread stories of her domestic miracles to keep Brigid (and all women) in her place. But, that’s where the church lost its way, because the kitchen table is as sacred as the altar table. Beer, bread, butter, and bacon are miracles of the highest order.
Brigid’s hospitality is a sacred expression of her faith. She does this work because she learned it from Jesus. He does this work because he learned it from his tradition. My favorite story that I can listen to, just like Jesus would have, is the story of hospitality from Abraham and Sarah.
Abraham is looking out of his tent as the heat of the horizon gives way to three strangers walking in his direction. He runs to them, greets them as a servant, and offers food, water, and shade. Abraham then invites his whole household to participate in the work. Sarah is making cakes while Abraham picks out the best calf and prepares it to serve. He is serving the strangers his best calf, rather than saving it for his birthday party. And in the end, when folks have rested and enjoy full tummies…you may know what happens…the big reveal…it comes to light that Abraham and Sarah were entertaining Angels! They were hosting the divine. Hospitality is rewarded.
Every Mediterranean culture in this time followed an honor code regarding hospitality (because folks who travel are vulnerable and they don’t have Hilton honors points and a Starbucks yet). Hebrew people shared stories of hospitality around campfires and in the synagogue as a reminder to practice it. Hospitality and hostility are from the same root, which leads us to the next chapter in Genesis. The next chapter is more stick than carrot and you probably know it: the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. This time, the three strangers are greeted with hostility. While an unfortunately popular teaching point, the sin of Sodom is not about human sexuality, but about assault, violence, and hostility to the stranger. Here, there is no blessing, but a curse; there is no reward, but punishment. This, too, is a story told around the campfire and the synagogue as a reminder to practice hospitality.
Jesus listens to these tales and practices hospitality tangibly. He offers feasts on hillsides and feeds folks wherever he goes. He eats with people no one wants to eat with. He keeps the wedding party going by transforming water into wine. And because of him, people like Brigid imagine themselves in the story. She speaks the story of hospitality over hostility; with simple gifts of beer and butter, bacon and bread.
Hospitality is hard work. It is risky and has costs. If it was easy it wouldn’t be an industry. This is the work of an abbey. It always has been. May we have the courage to keep this tradition alive.
May it be so. Amen.