Innkeeper Spirituality

...and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them. - Luke 2:7

As the migrant caravan of asylum-seekers makes its 2,000 mile trek toward the U.S., I'm reminded of two characters from the Gospel of Luke:  The Innkeeper of Bethlehem and the Good Samaritan.

Whose example do we want to follow?

The Innkeeper

Many Christians today practice what I call "innkeeper spirituality." Like the innkeeper in Bethlehem, they can't seem to find any available time, talent or treasure to answer when God knocks on the door in real need.

They have no shortage of excuses, however. I can imagine the innkeeper saying things like:

"I am tired!"
"I have already helped others! In fact, I'm the most generous innkeeper around!"
"The census is the busiest time of the year!"
"I have to protect my time with my family!"
"I don't trust outsiders--what if one of them is a thief or murderer?"

Maybe those excuses are valid... maybe not so much.

Some characters in the Bible get a bad rap, and the innkeeper is no exception. Truth be told we don't know much about this person. How much can we infer based on a single line of text from a 2,000+ year old document?

It's even more confusing when the document doesn't even say what we think it says. There was no actual mention of an innkeeper. All we are told is that there was "no guest rooms available" and then it says "for them" (as a side note, were rooms available to others and just not to this particular family?)

Still, it's not hard to imagine what went down. Here is a family traveling from out of town and the woman is about to give birth. Joseph as husband and protector probably explored every possible option, promised every favor imaginable and left absolutely no stone unturned. I'm sure he inquired with at least one innkeeper. Perhaps he approached several innkeepers.

The innkeeper probably felt more than a little twang of guilt. We imagine him sternly saying "No!" and then slamming the door to the Holy Family. The more guilt he felt, the harder he had to bite down on that guilt in order to push away this family in need.

But seriously, he couldn't ask some young person to move off the proverbial couch to make way for an expectant mother-to-be? A pregnant woman about to give birth should be the one condition that would cause most everyone--even some of the most fearful or hardest hearted people--to make some space available! If a woman was literally about to give birth and knocked on my door at night, I couldn't imagine saying, "yeah, go outside to the shed... watch out for raccoons" It's almost inconceivable.

The Good Samaritan paying the innkeeper

The Good Samaritan

What could the innkeeper have done differently?

Luke himself actually gives us the answer later in the gospel in the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37). Again, here is a stranger in need and another person who comes in contact with him by chance. Unlike the innkeeper in Bethlehem, the good Samaritan reaches out to the injured man. The Samaritan goes toward him. He takes the initiative. He takes personal responsibility for this man. He makes sure there is a room available for him by not only paying the innkeeper himself but also promising to return to personally check on him--to see if additional money were needed but perhaps also to check up on the innkeeper to make sure he did what he was paid to do.

This is no doubt a different innkeeper than the one in Bethlehem. Luke seems pretty hard on innkeepers. Still, isn't it curious that those who are in the business of providing hospitality seem to be the least hospitable in his gospel? It is outsiders who don't have as many resources to leverage who show us God's abundance!

The Samaritan does more than he is asked and goes the extra mile. The Samaritan was obviously busy and had somewhere to be, but he still made arrangements for his absence. Hopefully, he also reflected on why the man was injured in the first place and would raise his voice in public so that the road to Jericho could become a safer place in the future.

The Samaritan could have made all the same excuses as the innkeeper. No doubt the priest and the Levite who passed by the injured man gave those same excuses--the same excuses we tell ourselves when we drive by a person asking for a handout or when we close the border to people begging for help.

"Make every effort"

Hebrews 12:14 instructs us to "make every effort to live in peace with everyone and to be holy; without holiness no one will see the Lord."

It is clear that the Good Samaritan "made every effort." It is also clear that the innkeeper did not.

Perhaps sometimes we do need to say "no." Even the most charitable people will speak of the need to set limits or risk burning out. But are we making every effort before we arrive at that point?

Back to the migrant caravan: The U.S. has large tracts of available land and empty housing. It is the richest nation in the history of modern civilization. On top of that, immigration of all types is generally a boost to the economy. Despite that, many Americans say to migrants, refugees and asylum-seekers: "We don't have room! We can't accommodate!"

Meanwhile, a much poorer nation like Uganda hosts the world's largest refugee settlement. How is Uganda willing and able to open its doors while the U.S. is not?

We have a choice: We can practice the innkeeper spirituality that always says "we can't." Or we can follow in the footsteps of the Good Samaritan who said, "Yes, I can do something here."

But if we turn them away, I have to ask:  How could they possibly be a burden? We could welcome in this whole migrant caravan of asylum-seekers and the vast majority of Americans would not feel even the slightest inconvenience.

My prayer: I hope each of these asylum seekers find safe harbor and a warm Christian welcome here in the United States.

Inclusion: The Default Christian Stance

Picture taken from here.

Make every effort to live in peace with everyone and to be holy;

without holiness no one will see the Lord. 

- Hebrews 12:14

News of the "migrant caravan" on its way to the U.S. border from Honduras has taken over the news cycle.

How are Christians to respond?

In all the arguments on all sides, there is one perspective I almost never hear:  "Make every effort" as the quote from Hebrews states.

There is no shortage of debate in this country. Arguments run the gamut from securing borders to opening them, to making short terms allowances to long-term immigration reforms.

Christians often get tangled in the tediousness of moral arguments.  They ask:  "Does a nation have a right to secure its borders at all?" "Can a Christian ever make the decision to exclude someone?"

The problem with the way we ask those questions is that we easily get lost in the details. Most theologians and pastors would argue that there are indeed times when we can exclude. But the question is: Should we? And should we now in this particular instance?

The fact that we can exclude in some very limited scenarios does not give us license to exclude in every scenario. This is the logical fallacy I hear being played out in debates on this subject ad infinitum. Those times it may be regrettably the right decision to exclude someone may be few and far between and in very specific cases.

The Christian ought to the on the side of the outsider. The Christian should be listening to the cries of the poor. The Christian should be bending over backwards to include. In fact, "inclusion" should be the default stance for a Christian: There is always room at the table for more. There is always extra food in the pot. And when we're not sure if there's enough, we'll trust in God to help us find a way to make way.

“…I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.” 
Isaiah 43:19

Let the theologians argue whether it is ever possible to exclude someone. Perhaps it is. But are we making every effort, as the quote from Hebrews above says? Are we showing sorrow when we have to close the door? Do we believe that God is "making a way" or do we throw up our hands after making little effort and say that nothing is possible?

The U.S. is the richest and most powerful nation in the history of the modern world. We have ample, available land for newcomers. On top of that, immigrants are most often a boost to the overall economy. If that weren't enough, it is quite often U.S. policies in the first place that may be forcing much of this migration of asylum-seekers. Looking at all that, under what criteria can we actually exclude those who come to the door seeking safe asylum?

We should make every effort to include. That should be where our heart is. That should be where our efforts are. If we ever make a decision to exclude some people, we should do it with a very heavy heart. We should regret it and feel sorrow. Most people who are against welcoming newcomers are those who almost certainly have not even tried to sympathize with their circumstances or have even tried to make room for them before reaching their decision to exclude. This is the scandal: The Christians who want to exclude migrants are most often those who haven't even tried to include them, and I don't see much sorrow about their decision.

If we have to reach the unfortunate decision to exclude someone who comes seeking safe refuge, we should do with all the sorrow as if we have indeed closed the door on Christ himself, because, in a very real way, we have (as Dorothy Day from the Catholic Worker movement reminded us over and over).

River Current: The Physics of Prayer

Floating in style.

Most religious traditions affirm the practice of prayer. But have you ever thought deeply about how prayer works?

Do we think there's a man up in the clouds who hears our prayers and decides whether or not to grant them? Why do we need to pray over and over for something—why isn't once enough? Why do we pray at all if God already knows our thoughts and desires? Do we think God will be more likely to grant our prayers if we pray for something fervently and repeatedly? Are we trying to prove to God how important something is to us by praying so hard? Are we trying to control God?

Much of that sounds like the Prosperity Gospel and seems to go against the Protestant notion of works-based righteousness. We can't earn God's favor or work hard to deserve a reward in the form of an answered prayer. It also seems to turn God into an unpredictable genie who sometimes grants wishes and sometimes doesn't.

So what exactly does prayer accomplish? How does it "work"?

River Current

I liken the spiritual life to the current of a river. Okay, that sounds cliché, but hear me out:

We are born into this river and that's where we live our lives. It is all around us, and it has energy and movement. Like a person swimming in the river, we are a part of it and yet also have some autonomy. Life and all the world we know are like the river itself. The Spirit is the current of this river.

We have the ability to either swim with the flow of the current or against it.

There are things we can do—or things that can happen to us—to align ourselves more closely with the Spirit.

Religious traditions have identified methods that can put us more or less in line with the current of the river. These include prayer, meditation, academic study, works of charity, artistic pursuits, our daily labors, our family, friendships, community involvement, our humility, our poverty and our passions.

When we are moving with the current, we seem to swim more easily, cover more ground and do what we are meant to be doing. When we fight against it, it's sometimes dangerous and sometimes not dangerous—but it's a lot of effort with perhaps little gain. We're out of sync.

We don't control the river, but we can make ourselves more receptive to it.

And sometimes the river will simply move us no matter what we do. Call it grace.

The current can also be dangerous—a long tradition of martyrs witnesses to this.

Maybe this is not an original thought—saying that the Spirit is like a river is borderline cliché, after all. How many of you reading this have Garth Brooks' The River going through your mind right now?  But it feels new to me if we apply this metaphor of the river specifically to spiritual practices. It's a way to understand prayer. It's a way to understand religion. It's the physics of prayer and other spiritual practices.

Intercessory Prayer

A lot of people reject the notion of the power of intercessory prayer, saying—if there is a God, how can we pretend to control God through our petitions?

A common response to this is: Prayer changes the one who prays more than it commands the activity of God.

Pope Francis seems to be echoing these thoughts with his quote: "You pray for the hungry. Then you feed them. That's how prayer works."

This is one of my all-time favorite Francis quotes. He has an ultra-earthy spirituality that I just love. It's a spirituality so concrete it sounds like atheism. It is deeply incarnational. He is challenging anyone who has lulled themselves into a false reassurance that the passive action of praying for the hungry is actually going to somehow bring food to their mouths. That is not nearly enough. I don't think he is saying that prayer itself isn't enormously beneficial, I just think he's suggesting that if all you are doing for the hungry is praying for them, that's not exactly bringing your 'A' game by any stretch. Prayer changes the person praying. It may do other things, as well, but changing the person praying may be its primary outcome.

The Physics of Prayer

Prayer changes us, but not just our attitudes—it's more about energy. When we pray, we turn toward the current and allow it to carry us—like a sunflower that turns toward the sun. We vibrate at the same frequency of the Spirit. Or at least, we tune ourselves to harmonize with the Cosmos better. Prayer—and other spiritual practices—help align ourselves to go with the current rather than against.

Instead of resisting the current, attempting to muddle along inch-by-inch through our own power, we instead submit ourselves to the current first. Then our efforts are supported and encouraged by the momentum we have put ourselves in line with. It's the same spiritual energy that gave birth to us and which is our ultimate end. After all, we're born into this river and we're going with it whether we like it or not. It's all that there is.

There are many mini currents and eddies in the river, but with prayer we are attempting to tune into the deepest, most fundamental rhythm. Prayer brings us into a resonance with the deepest, life-giving wavelengths of the universe. It does not just change our attitude or direct our awareness, both of which are good, impactful things—it causes us to vibrate at a different frequency. Once we are vibrating at a different frequency, the world around us changes, too, because we will then be drawing other people, activities and things that resonate with our new vibrations.

Imagine yourself a street musician. If you play sad songs, you might invite the tears of those who pass by. If you play happy songs, you may find yourself surrounded by happy people dancing. If you align yourself with the deepest currents of the universe—the deepest of which is love, according to all the mystics from nearly all the world's religions—then your life and activities will correspond with love, and you will probably witness daily miracles. You don't control it but you can submit yourself to it.

What meditation looks like.

A early version of this article first appeared here (July 4, 2016).