As delivered at BBC Radio Bristol this morning. I prepared this thought when the Breakfast Show was having the Bristol Refugee Festival as its lead story. As it happened it got bumped in favour of the news that Broadchurch III is filming in Clevedon. I had to add in a bit of last minute explanation:
The Bristol Refugee Festival starts today.
I loved the Tom Hanks' film The Terminal. He plays Viktor who finds himself unable to enter the United States due to inadequate documentation. But because of a military coup he cannot return home. The movie follows him working out how to live and survive at the airport terminal where he becomes a minor celebrity, and improves life there.
Our hearts have been tugged on many occasions over the last few years at stories of migrants and refugees. Their home situation too terrible to stay but leaving without any definite plans for an eventual home. Staying worse than a long trip in a leaky boat.
When someone says 'Fire, get out' one doesn't necessarily carefully plan where to spend the next night. If you don't get out you may not have any further nights to spend.
The Bible is full of stories of refugees - Moses leading his people for 40 years in the wilderness, Joseph's family fleeing to Egypt to avoid famine, Jesus' and his parents escaping Herod.
Down the ages people-movements have been a key feature of life on Earth. But with borders more and more settled over the years it is tempting to shut the doors to newcomers.
The biblical concept of hospitality is to receive from the stranger by removing the barrier of hunger or cold. I offer food and shelter so I can hear your story and be blessed by your life.
The Bristol Refugee Festival celebrates the contribution of refugees.
After Jesus' death and, we believe, his resurrection, it was Christians escaping persecution who took that message to other countries. It might have been an initial burden to those who welcomed them; but then they discovered the treasure they carried.
Showing posts with label Hospitality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hospitality. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 24, 2016
Monday, July 14, 2014
Training Days
A few weeks ago I flew to Malta using an e-ticket. I did not have to print it out at any point. I merely had to prove that I was me and offering my passport at the check-in worked fine, although the spell-checker just suggested offering my pastry, which would have been interesting. Hello, I'd like to fly, here's a custard tart. I digress. Must stop doing that in paragraph one.
So I went on Thursday to a small training event, part of a series organised by my national church through Eventbrite. I received an e-ticket. It told me to print it out before the event. I did so, which was annoying because it was an e-ticket, but then did not have to show it to anyone, which was worse. Neither was I asked to prove who I was. I simply signed against my name on a list at reception.
Reception. Hmm. The office of the Diocese of Bristol in Stoke Gifford is on the first floor of a building on a new business park. No travel directions were sent and my map was out of date. I still arrived ten minutes early for a 9.30 start. I was first. At 9.35 there were two of us, drinking coffee we made ourselves using a machine with slight complexities. It became apparent that nobody had expected to begin until 9.45. We eventually waited for the late-comers and started twice, at 10.00 and 10.05.
The assumption was made that a bunch of people who prefer social media, and were being trained in its better use, ought to be more enthusiastic in responding to the question 'Are you excited about today?'
This is about welcome, hospitality and joining instructions. They can alter people's expectations of the day and make them less excited about it than they would have otherwise been. Then the training work becomes a whole load harder.
So I went on Thursday to a small training event, part of a series organised by my national church through Eventbrite. I received an e-ticket. It told me to print it out before the event. I did so, which was annoying because it was an e-ticket, but then did not have to show it to anyone, which was worse. Neither was I asked to prove who I was. I simply signed against my name on a list at reception.
Reception. Hmm. The office of the Diocese of Bristol in Stoke Gifford is on the first floor of a building on a new business park. No travel directions were sent and my map was out of date. I still arrived ten minutes early for a 9.30 start. I was first. At 9.35 there were two of us, drinking coffee we made ourselves using a machine with slight complexities. It became apparent that nobody had expected to begin until 9.45. We eventually waited for the late-comers and started twice, at 10.00 and 10.05.
The assumption was made that a bunch of people who prefer social media, and were being trained in its better use, ought to be more enthusiastic in responding to the question 'Are you excited about today?'
This is about welcome, hospitality and joining instructions. They can alter people's expectations of the day and make them less excited about it than they would have otherwise been. Then the training work becomes a whole load harder.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Show em yer warts
Lovely time round the lunch table yesterday with some nice people:
My Curate colleague, her husband and little boy
A couple from Trendlewood church we have got to know
A couple we met at the pub (he) and then when I married them
A couple we met through Alpha then a baptism contact and their little girl
But I think this may be odd behaviour for round here, with some notable exceptions.
A few year's ago a Christian course was published called 'Friendship Evangelism.' I recall remarking at the time that if the only bunch of people who had a specific brief to build relationships with outsiders had to have a course on how to make friends wasn't that a bit of an indictment about how well we were doing after 2,000 years? Maybe it was because I had lived in the Midlands or the north all my life, a dining room table constantly surrounded by people and a kitchen permanently inhabited by someone who had dropped by for tea and a chat.
A fellow church employee, who I supervised, asked me a few years ago, 'Steve, are we friends?' I found it a difficult question. Firstly, if he had to ask, clearly there was some doubt in his mind. Secondly because I operate without a category 'friend' in my head most of the time. I meet people, I behave in a friendly way towards them, I build a relationship. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but until they screw me over I continue to trust them and want to get the relationship better.
I have three or four really close friends and a nice family. Thereafter I don't use the friend word very much.
Regardless of what you mean by 'friend' it has been much harder than I ever thought here in the south-west to gently encourage this attitude of building relationships with outsiders. It simply doesn't come naturally to most people. No-one is unfriendly, but few are lowering the drawbridge.
Is it fear? A couple once told me they would invite me round for a meal when the ensuite bathroom was finished. What a terrible, all-consuming fear it is that people might see us in a state of less than perfection, even in a room there was no chance of my ever going in.
If you want to make friends you have to show everyone your blemishes, make your mistakes in public. When people come round for a meal here sometimes they get asked to peel stuff, stir pans or serve the drinks. They certainly see the last minute cooking panic since the kitchen and dining room are open plan. Clearing up is often a communal event. No-one minds.
I have heard someone describe having guests for a meal as 'outside my comfort zone.' I have been in lounges I think no one else has ever been in. It doesn't even have to be a meal you cooked. 'Let's share a take-away.'
People of Nailsea. Next time you meet the neighbour in the drive why not say 'Would you and Mr(s) neighbour like to come round for a drink and a chat next (name)day?'
For goodness sake, what's the worst that could happen? And I have seen those Dr Pepper ads.
My Curate colleague, her husband and little boy
A couple from Trendlewood church we have got to know
A couple we met at the pub (he) and then when I married them
A couple we met through Alpha then a baptism contact and their little girl
But I think this may be odd behaviour for round here, with some notable exceptions.
A few year's ago a Christian course was published called 'Friendship Evangelism.' I recall remarking at the time that if the only bunch of people who had a specific brief to build relationships with outsiders had to have a course on how to make friends wasn't that a bit of an indictment about how well we were doing after 2,000 years? Maybe it was because I had lived in the Midlands or the north all my life, a dining room table constantly surrounded by people and a kitchen permanently inhabited by someone who had dropped by for tea and a chat.
A fellow church employee, who I supervised, asked me a few years ago, 'Steve, are we friends?' I found it a difficult question. Firstly, if he had to ask, clearly there was some doubt in his mind. Secondly because I operate without a category 'friend' in my head most of the time. I meet people, I behave in a friendly way towards them, I build a relationship. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but until they screw me over I continue to trust them and want to get the relationship better.
I have three or four really close friends and a nice family. Thereafter I don't use the friend word very much.
Regardless of what you mean by 'friend' it has been much harder than I ever thought here in the south-west to gently encourage this attitude of building relationships with outsiders. It simply doesn't come naturally to most people. No-one is unfriendly, but few are lowering the drawbridge.
Is it fear? A couple once told me they would invite me round for a meal when the ensuite bathroom was finished. What a terrible, all-consuming fear it is that people might see us in a state of less than perfection, even in a room there was no chance of my ever going in.
If you want to make friends you have to show everyone your blemishes, make your mistakes in public. When people come round for a meal here sometimes they get asked to peel stuff, stir pans or serve the drinks. They certainly see the last minute cooking panic since the kitchen and dining room are open plan. Clearing up is often a communal event. No-one minds.
I have heard someone describe having guests for a meal as 'outside my comfort zone.' I have been in lounges I think no one else has ever been in. It doesn't even have to be a meal you cooked. 'Let's share a take-away.'
People of Nailsea. Next time you meet the neighbour in the drive why not say 'Would you and Mr(s) neighbour like to come round for a drink and a chat next (name)day?'
For goodness sake, what's the worst that could happen? And I have seen those Dr Pepper ads.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Young and Old
From time to time I am reminded that people don't take you as they find you, accept you at face value, assume the best of you etc.
For instance, 'Would you like a cup of coffee?' Simple question and all but the most indecisive, only those completely unaware of their own personal current hierarchy of needs, will fail to answer yes or no to this one. You reckon?
I probably offer more teas and coffees to people than most other folk in Nailsea. Just a guess but if you want to rise to the challenge please do so.
I do get quite a lot of straight answers but also very many responses of, 'Are you having one?'
Why do we have this desire to put people to no trouble when trouble has been clearly offered? If it was going to be a hardship to offer you a coffee I would have said so, although the only circumstances in which I can imagine this would be a lack of time, ingredients or recipe.
By and large it is older people than me who give the 'It depends' response. Younger people give a straight answer.
'Would you like to stay for supper?'
'Is that OK?'
'Of course it's OK; I wouldn't have invited you if it wasn't OK.'
Now occasionally young people respond politely and hesitantly to this invitation but, and here is a response no older person would ever give, sometimes they say, 'What are we having?' Are they wondering if there may be a better meal elsewhere possibly?
I have a new regular guest who, on being offered a cold or hot drink said 'Both.' Guess the age. Insiders can't play.
For instance, 'Would you like a cup of coffee?' Simple question and all but the most indecisive, only those completely unaware of their own personal current hierarchy of needs, will fail to answer yes or no to this one. You reckon?
I probably offer more teas and coffees to people than most other folk in Nailsea. Just a guess but if you want to rise to the challenge please do so.
I do get quite a lot of straight answers but also very many responses of, 'Are you having one?'
Why do we have this desire to put people to no trouble when trouble has been clearly offered? If it was going to be a hardship to offer you a coffee I would have said so, although the only circumstances in which I can imagine this would be a lack of time, ingredients or recipe.
By and large it is older people than me who give the 'It depends' response. Younger people give a straight answer.
'Would you like to stay for supper?'
'Is that OK?'
'Of course it's OK; I wouldn't have invited you if it wasn't OK.'
Now occasionally young people respond politely and hesitantly to this invitation but, and here is a response no older person would ever give, sometimes they say, 'What are we having?' Are they wondering if there may be a better meal elsewhere possibly?
I have a new regular guest who, on being offered a cold or hot drink said 'Both.' Guess the age. Insiders can't play.
Friday, April 01, 2011
Hospitality
Is hospitality a gift a or a craft? A skill to be learned or an attitude?
I've been thinking about this over the last few days. I heard of a person who lived in a nice house who wouldn't consider offering his home as a venue for a small Bible-study group. Too risky. A couple then told me that inviting some people round for dinner was outside their comfort zone. Another man lamented that people never dropped round for a cup of tea in this town. A while back someone told me they would have me round for a meal as soon as the en-suite was finished. 'I'll go home when I need the loo' was not received well.
So let me tell you about some people I know. Take your shoes and socks off people they are holy ground.
Person one held a house-warming party. I wasn't there but it has passed down into folklore that when people arrived they were surprised to see underpants drying on a rack by the fire.
Person two constantly has a house full of visitors. Popping round you may bump into people wearing court-ordered leg-tags, drug users, guys with convictions for violent offences and middle-class teenagers doing a Bible study. In the midst of this the lady of the house will be sitting on the sofa, reading a book and drinking tea.
It seems to me that the trick of being hospitable is relationship. Come and join me as I am. The whole business of sharing home yesterday with eleven people for lunch and about the same for supper was the better for watching how people treat the house as if they live there, being careful about things I care about and helping stir the pot, lay the table and clear the dishes. It was great.
B separated from his wife and was homeless. He moved in with us for six months and one of our sons gave up his bedroom and shared with his brother. P got a job at a local shop but had no address after her landlord threw her out because she had no money because she had no job. She stayed a few months. Sons made the sacrifice again. Finally C wanted to finish her studies in the town where she lived but her parents wanted to move. She moved in with us for a few months. We were not in the habit of drying our pants by the fire or particularly in touch with the tagged but we didn't tidy up before they moved in. And for those who know how we live now; we were not always this tidy. Five bedroom vicarages are generous space for two.
I think I've answered my own question. People are more important than things. Suss that out and you will never hesitate before welcoming people in. How do you, as a Christian minister, value people in their own right and not simply treat them as evangelism-fodder? Feed them. For no reason. There is no skill whatsoever involved in being hospitable unless you haven't got the hang of showing people the real you yet? Then you're in big trouble. If you're living a lie you can never have people drop in.
If I'm in the door is usually open. Ring the bell and walk in. Really. If you want to stay to supper you may get given a job to do. Like cooking it.
I've been thinking about this over the last few days. I heard of a person who lived in a nice house who wouldn't consider offering his home as a venue for a small Bible-study group. Too risky. A couple then told me that inviting some people round for dinner was outside their comfort zone. Another man lamented that people never dropped round for a cup of tea in this town. A while back someone told me they would have me round for a meal as soon as the en-suite was finished. 'I'll go home when I need the loo' was not received well.
So let me tell you about some people I know. Take your shoes and socks off people they are holy ground.
Person one held a house-warming party. I wasn't there but it has passed down into folklore that when people arrived they were surprised to see underpants drying on a rack by the fire.
Person two constantly has a house full of visitors. Popping round you may bump into people wearing court-ordered leg-tags, drug users, guys with convictions for violent offences and middle-class teenagers doing a Bible study. In the midst of this the lady of the house will be sitting on the sofa, reading a book and drinking tea.
It seems to me that the trick of being hospitable is relationship. Come and join me as I am. The whole business of sharing home yesterday with eleven people for lunch and about the same for supper was the better for watching how people treat the house as if they live there, being careful about things I care about and helping stir the pot, lay the table and clear the dishes. It was great.
B separated from his wife and was homeless. He moved in with us for six months and one of our sons gave up his bedroom and shared with his brother. P got a job at a local shop but had no address after her landlord threw her out because she had no money because she had no job. She stayed a few months. Sons made the sacrifice again. Finally C wanted to finish her studies in the town where she lived but her parents wanted to move. She moved in with us for a few months. We were not in the habit of drying our pants by the fire or particularly in touch with the tagged but we didn't tidy up before they moved in. And for those who know how we live now; we were not always this tidy. Five bedroom vicarages are generous space for two.
I think I've answered my own question. People are more important than things. Suss that out and you will never hesitate before welcoming people in. How do you, as a Christian minister, value people in their own right and not simply treat them as evangelism-fodder? Feed them. For no reason. There is no skill whatsoever involved in being hospitable unless you haven't got the hang of showing people the real you yet? Then you're in big trouble. If you're living a lie you can never have people drop in.
If I'm in the door is usually open. Ring the bell and walk in. Really. If you want to stay to supper you may get given a job to do. Like cooking it.
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