You have to remember, the guide said as he described the beautiful frescoes in the Santa Maria Novella church in Florence, that pictures like these were the only Bible poor people had for centuries. Domenico Ghirlandaio’s beautiful paintings on the walls of the apse in that lovely church are some of my daughter Cameron’s favorites in all of Florence. They depict scenes from the lives of the Virgin and John the Baptist. They helped those who could not read to understand the stories of the gospels by coloring their imagination visually. He painted familiar figures playing the roles of the Bible characters in clothing of their 15th-century Florentine setting as a way of making the story ever fresh.

How do you keep Christmas fresh? What rituals and traditions do you practice that make the story of Christmas present tense? Many of you decorate your houses and yards with trees and lights. Some of you will go caroling with friends and family. For many, the season begins officially tonight with our annual Hanging of the Green! But when it comes to drama, nothing matches the Las Posadas celebrations that originated in Mexico and have traveled with the Hispanic community wherever it has gone.

St. Ignatius of Loyola, the 16th-century Spaniard who founded the Jesuit order, first suggested a practice of nine days of prayer leading up to Christmas. St. John of the Cross built upon that by inspiring Spanish missionaries to Mexico to tie the nativity story to the days of prayer. For almost four hundred years, Las Posadas has been a beloved tradition of Christians south of the border. And now it has moved north.

One of the fun things about living in Texas is the rich Latino culture that rubs off on all of us. Our church has adopted the Advent theme Las Posadas: Seeking Shelter this year to help us all get into the spirit. Like most new things Anglos try, we are tiptoeing into it; but we are learning. Posada literally means “lodging” or “shelter.” And the Las Posadas traditions that begin on December 16 and go till Christmas Eve tell the story of Mary and Joseph on their way to Bethlehem seeking shelter, being turned away, and finally being welcomed into that humble hostel where the Lord Jesus was born among the animals and laid in a manger. (If you want to know a lot more about this, by the way, you should go to our church library, where Jeri Baker has done her usual splendid job of selecting just the right materials for young and old alike.)

So how does it work, this Las Posadas tradition? Well, it’s a little different from one place to the next, the same way your family traditions of dinner and decorating are. But basically, what happens each night is a dramatic reenactment of the journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem of Mary and Joseph. Sometimes there is a real couple, the woman riding on a donkey; sometimes there are just figurines of Mary and Joseph that go along behind a child playing the leading role of an angel. An entourage of family and friends follows along behind in the street, singing favorite posada songs, until they come to a designated house where the couple knocks on the door and asks for shelter. Sometimes they knock on many doors until they get to the chosen house for the night. There’s a lovely script whereby they ask and are turned away, then ask again and again. Sometimes someone plays a devil figure, trying to deny the couple entrance, but others hiss him down in the street. Finally the identity of the Holy Family is revealed to the innkeeper, and he lets them in. Once inside, there is a celebration that includes children swinging a bat at a piñata while blindfolded. When the piñata is broken, out pour the candy and fruits that they all gobble up. This happens until Christmas Eve, when in many places they end up at the church for midnight mass.

Today is the Second Sunday of Advent, Bethlehem Sunday, the day we emphasize peace. Upon the birth of Jesus, you’ll remember, the angels announced to the shepherds the good news of God’s favor toward the world in the Christ child: Peace on earth, good will toward men. But how do we commemorate that peace? How does the church practice peace as a way of showing that we really know what Christmas is about?

One way is to practice hospitality. The church must itself become a welcome hostel for everyone seeking shelter, literally or figuratively. Welcome one another, therefore, just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.

... As Christ has welcomed you … This puts a little different spin on things when we think deeply about it. Our practice of hospitality only follows God’s own welcome of us into the home of God. When the eternal Son of God departs on his journey to the foreign country of human life, God makes room in the divine life for you and me. God’s heart is so open that God has room for you and me. Think of that! God could have remained in perfect bliss, sharing love as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—self-contained, self-content forever. But God made room to welcome us into that eternal life of love.

I remember a time in college when I was feeling pulled from every side. I was a quarterback at the University of Miami, president of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes chapter, active in my church, going to school, and being asked to speak to youth groups and men’s breakfasts and Boy Scout troops ad infinitum. It seemed like everyone wanted a piece of me, and I didn’t know how to say no. Looking back, I can see how it was good training for the pastorate, don’t you know?! Anyway, an older couple in our church had taken an interest in me. He was a former high school football coach in Coral Gables. He was also my assigned deacon at church. I called him, seeking shelter, so to speak. I needed to get away. I needed someone to help me sort through things. He and his wife welcomed me. I stayed overnight and got out of the dorm. They settled me down and helped me find my bearings. It was a posada gift. It was just what the church is supposed to do in welcoming those who need us, physically or spiritually or both.

The amazing thing about the Christmas story is that God comes to us a stranger in the form of a poor child from Nazareth. God makes the divine life vulnerable to us in the most profound way. I mean, if you were God, would you have chosen this way to reveal yourself? If you were God, would you have thought to show your power to save the world through the weakness of a baby to be born in a stable? God had to depend upon the hospitality of an innkeeper who had already hung a no vacancy sign out front. He would open the door to this gentle couple, and when he did, he would welcome God into his home in a way he could never have imagined.

Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, says the Epistle to the Hebrews (13:2), for in so doing many have entertained angels unaware. Angels, sure. But in this case, the very Son of God! And when Jesus talks in Matthew 25 about the last judgment, he says that some of us will hear the words Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world … for I was a stranger and you welcomed me. And those so blessed will ask, when were you a stranger and we welcomed you? And Jesus will reply, Just as you did it to one of the least of these, my brothers and sisters, you did it to me. In other words, our welcome of each other is nothing less than the welcome of Jesus, over and over. And particularly when we welcome those who are seeking shelter in one way or another.

Turning Wilshire into a welcome hostel begins in our hearts, just as it did in the heart of God. We love, because he first loved us, says 1 John. We have to want to make room in our hearts for new people. If you think your church is large enough without any new people spoiling things, if you think your Sunday school class is just the right size for everyone to know each other, then you are already in danger of missing the Las Posadas party.

Some years ago we started a new- member fellowship at my house. How many of you have attended? We always ask about what we are doing right that made new members join, so that we can keep doing that. I have learned not to expect them to say it’s the great preaching. Oh, they get around to mentioning that after I bait them for a while, but invariably it is the welcome they feel. They mention the people at the doors with badges on—our hospitality ministry team members. They mention Joe Summerfield, the 98-year-old wonder who mans the door on Ravendale and remembers everyone’s name by the second time they visit. They mention the people in the pews that make a point to speak to them. They talk about the Ambassador ministry of the deacons, which sees to it that a thank-you-for-coming visit is made on the very Sunday afternoon they have visited us. Now, we have our failures in this, too, and I will not detail them. But make no mistake—the people who come into this place for the first time are not bored and doing their duty for God by attending a church. They are all of them seeking shelter of some kind. They are looking for a sign that God knows them and cares for them, and they have the sense that if God’s people reach out to them with warm welcome, then God is actually doing that same thing through them.

All are to be welcomed as Christ, St. Benedict said. So when you meet someone new, when you encounter a stranger, imagine how you would treat Christ if you knew it were him. That’s the posada spirit.

Pearl Hughes and her two children, Ryesha and Tony, have moved into their new how is East Oak Cliff. Yesterday, some of our Wilshire members who have worked alongside her and her mother and friends, as well as others from nearby churches, helped to dedicate their Habitat house. Several Sunday school departments participated in this effort this year, along with many of our regular builders. Karen Gilbert, our missions minister, has done her usual great job of organizing the team. Hospitality, you see, is not just what happens when someone comes knocking on your door. It is a way of life that is open to those in need and quick to meet it. Pearl and her kids will now have safe and decent shelter because the people of God spent their time and talents and money to see to it.

The insightful Asian missionary theologian, Kosuke Koyama, puts it this way: The real meaning of hospitality is found in inviting someone who cannot repay you, someone who is unfamiliar to you. Then the concept of invitation—hospitality—receives a Christ-related meaning. Christ is the Hospitality of God toward us. He invites all of us, from all languages and cultures, to the great feast, the Lord’s Supper, the feast which none of us can repay. [Christian Century (August 16-23, 1998): p. 747.]

When you find shelter, the generous host will usually have a meal hot and ready. The Lord’s Table is prepared for you this morning. All of you who come to it seeking shelter in heart of God and in the name of Christ are welcome now. Let us practice peace in this posada spirit.