Entertaining Angels: The Call to Radical Hospitality
Preached at Blue Ocean Faith Columbus on August 31, 2025
Note - Remember, the video and the text may differ a bit. I rarely stick 100% to my written material when I preach.
Scripture - Let mutual affection continue. 2 Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it. 3 Remember those who are in prison, as though you were in prison with them, those who are being tortured, as though you yourselves were being tortured.[a] 4 Let marriage be held in honor by all, and let the marriage bed be kept undefiled, for God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterers. 5 Keep your lives free from the love of money, and be content with what you have, for he himself has said, “I will never leave you or forsake you.” 6 So we can say with confidence,
“The Lord is my helper;
I will not be afraid.
What can anyone do to me?”
7 Remember your leaders, those who spoke the word of God to you; consider the outcome of their way of life, and imitate their faith. 8 Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. 9 Do not be carried away by all kinds of strange teachings, for it is good for the heart to be strengthened by grace, not by regulations about food,[b] which have not benefited those who observe them. 10 We have an altar from which those who officiate in the tent[c] have no right to eat. 11 For the bodies of those animals whose blood is brought into the sanctuary by the high priest as a sacrifice for sin are burned outside the camp. 12 Therefore Jesus also suffered outside the city gate in order to sanctify the people by his own blood. 13 Let us then go to him outside the camp and bear the abuse he endured. 14 For here we have no lasting city, but we are looking for the city that is to come. 15 Through him, then, let us continually offer a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that confess his name. 16 Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.
Let Mutual Love Continue: A Sermon on Hebrews 13:1-18
Friends, there once was a monastery, which, like many monasteries these days, had fallen on hard times. It was once the home to hundreds of monks, but due to changes in the world had not had new men join in many years. Now there were only five monks left: the Abbot and four others, all of whom were advanced in age.
In the woods surrounding the monastery lived a retired Rabbi who had become friends with the abbot when they were younger men. Now living much closer to each other, they met regularly for tea. One day, the Abbot asked for any advice the Rabbi could offer that might save the monastery. The Rabbi responded, “I have no advice to give. The only thing I can tell you is that the Messiah is among you.”
When the Abbot returned to the monastery he shared the Rabbi’s words with his brother monks. In turn they each contemplated the statement: “The Messiah is one of us? One of us, here, at the monastery? Do you suppose he meant the Abbot? Of course, it must be the Abbot, he’s been our leader for so long. On the other hand, he might have meant Brother Thomas, who is undoubtably a holy man. Certainly, he couldn’t have meant Brother Anthony, he’s so crotchety. But then Anthony is very wise. He couldn’t have meant Brother Phillip, he’s too passive. But then, magically, he's always there when you need him. Of course, he didn’t mean me. I know I'm not the messiah.”
Over the next days and weeks, the monks began to see the good in each other and they began to treat each other with extraordinary respect, on the off chance that one of them might be the Messiah. And on the very remote off chance that he himself might be the Messiah and not know it; each monk began to treat themselves with extraordinary respect.
Now the forest in which the monastery was situated was beautiful and the grounds of the monastery were broad and ancient. People often came to visit the monastery, to picnic on its lawn, to wander along the old paths, and occasionally join the monks for prayer. Even people who had visited the monastery all their lives noticed the change in the attitude of the monks. They sensed the spirit of deep, mutual love that surrounded the monks and permeated through the whole environment.
People, particularly younger people, began to visit more often and they brought their friends. Some of the younger men began to engage in conversation with the monks. After a while, one asked if he might join. Then another, and another. Within several years, the monastery's corridors and refectory buzzed again with multigenerational voices. They were far from a perfect group of men, but they remembered the Rabbi's words, now a pillar of their common life: “The messiah is among you.”
The Revolutionary Shift
I begin with that story because it captures the heart of what the writer of Hebrews is calling us to in chapter thirteen. After twelve dense chapters of theological argument about Christ’s superiority, about faith and endurance, about the great cloud of witnesses, suddenly, everything shifts.
Listen to how verse one lands: “Let mutual love continue.”
That's it. No more abstract theology. No more complex arguments about priesthood and sacrifice. Just this: “Let mutual love continue.”
It’s almost as if the writer is saying, “Okay, we’ve talked enough ABOUT God. Now let’s talk about how we actually LIVE as God’s people.”
And what follows isn’t a list of religious duties or ritual observances. It’s a manifesto of radical social engagement: love one another; welcome strangers; remember prisoners; honor committed relationships; reject the love of money.
The sacred and the social can’t be separated! You can’t love God and ignore your neighbor! You can’t worship on Sunday and oppress on Monday! We all know the quote, made famous by DC Talk: “The greatest cause of atheism is Christians who accept God with their lips and deny God by their actions.” The same is true for justice and freedom.
The Radical Nature of Ancient Hospitality
Now let’s dig deeper into what the writer is really asking of us. Verse two says: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing so some have entertained angels without knowing it.”
To understand what this means, we need to understand what hospitality meant in the ancient world. This wasn’t the polite invitation to dinner that we might think of today. Ancient hospitality was a radical practice of vulnerability and risk.
In a world without hotels or social safety nets, hospitality literally meant the difference between life and death for travelers. But more than that, it was a practice that fundamentally challenged social hierarchies.
When you welcomed a stranger into your home, you didn’t always know their social status; their ethnicity; their sexual identity; their religious practice; their immigration status; or their criminal record. You simply responded to their humanity.
The Greek word here is philoxenia, literally the “love of strangers” and the direct opposite of xenophobia, the fear of strangers. The text is calling us to replace fear with love, suspicion with welcome, boundaries with embrace.
And remember the promise: “…by doing so some have entertained angels without knowing it.”
What if this isn’t just ancient folklore? What if it’s theological truth? What if every stranger carries the potential for divine encounter?
The Stranger as Bearer of Divine Presence
For too long, LGBTQIA+ people have been cast as the threatening stranger, the dangerous other who must be kept at the margins.
But what if we’ve had it backwards?
What if Queer people, in our very Queerness, are precisely the angels we’ve been called to entertain?
Amen?
Queer people know what it means to be strangers. We know it even in our own families, our own churches, our own communities. We know what it means to search for safe spaces, to wonder if we’ll be welcomed or rejected. We know the vulnerability of disclosure and the risk of authenticity.
And precisely because of this experience of marginalization, Queer people often develop what we might call a theology of the margins. We understand grace in ways that those who’ve never been excluded cannot. We know the difference between conditional acceptance and unconditional love. We’ve learned to create chosen families and to build communities of radical inclusion.
When we welcome Queer people, not as problems to be solved or issues to be managed, but as bearers of divine wisdom, we discover that we've been entertaining angels all along!
Remember Those in Prison
[Shifting to more intense, prophetic energy]
True hospitality is not politically neutral! When the writer calls us to remember prisoners, they’re not asking us to send Christmas cards. They’re calling us to SOLIDARITY with those whom society has rejected.
In our context, this means recognizing that LGBTQIA+ people are disproportionately represented among the homeless and economically marginalized. It means recognizing that Trans people are being criminalized for existing authentically.
When we exclude Queer people from our churches, we’re not protecting orthodoxy, we’re participating in systems of oppression. We're choosing broken cisterns over the fountain of living water!
And let's be clear about what exclusion looks like. It's not always barring the doors. Sometimes it’s welcoming their presence while excluding them from full participation. Sometimes it’s asking them to be celibate or asking them to refrain from showing affection to their partners. Sometimes it’s reminding them that being they’re being too out, too flamboyant, or too out.
The Embodied Nature of Divine Love
Verse four reminds us: “Let marriage be held in honor by all, and let the marriage bed be kept undefiled.”
The writer understands that our capacity for love, whether in friendship, in hospitality, or in committed partnership, is all part of the same divine calling.
Queer theology has long insisted on the holiness of embodied love. Not just spiritual love, not just agape, but the full spectrum of human love, including eros, including the love expressed through our bodies, our sexualities, and our commitments to one another.
When we read “let marriage be held in honor,” we can expand our understanding to include ALL committed relationships that reflect God’s covenant love!
We celebrate the ways that LGBTQIA+ people have created new forms of family, new expressions of fidelity, and new models of what it means to love with our whole selves.
This is part of what it means to entertain angels. Sometimes the divine messenger comes not through conventional nuclear families, but through chosen families and through relationships that challenge our assumptions about how love works!
Beyond Charity to Mutual Flourishing
But here’s where we need to be careful. The call to hospitality is not a call to charity, it’s a call to MUTUALITY! The text begins with “let mutual love CONTINUE.”
This is not about doing good for “those poor Queer people.” This is not about giving us the scraps of love and community only after they’ve been well-used by others.
NO! This is about recognizing that we NEED each other for the fullness of community!
When we create spaces where LGBTQIA+ people can flourish, we don’t just help Queer people, we discover dimensions of God’s love that we never knew existed. We learn about resilience, creativity, and joy that comes from those who continue to fight for their right to love and be loved.
Verse 15 and 16 tell us to “continually offer a sacrifice of praise to God” and not to “neglect to do good and to share what you have.” These aren’t separate activities, they're one integrated practice of community building that honors God by honoring the full humanity of every person!
Living the Alternative
Here’s the challenge before us, friends. In a world that operates by exclusion, we’re called to practice inclusion. In a culture that fears the stranger, we’re called to love the stranger. In religious communities that have too often been places of judgment, we’re called to be places of radical welcome.
When LGBTQIA+ young people contemplate suicide at rates far higher than their peers, our hospitality becomes a matter of LIFE AND DEATH!
When transgender people face violence and discrimination simply for existing authentically, our welcome becomes a form of RESURRECTION!
When same-gender couples are denied rights and recognition, our affirmation becomes a declaration that LOVE WINS!
Say it with me, church, LOVE WINS!
The Unchanging Christ and Ongoing Change
Verse eight reminds us that “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” This might seem to suggest that nothing changes. But I would argue that the unchanging nature of Jesus’ love is precisely what demands ongoing change in how we live out that love!
The Jesus who ate with sinners, who touched lepers and welcomed children, who crossed boundaries of race and gender and class—that same Jesus continues to call us beyond our comfort zones into deeper expressions of love!
That’s why communities like our’s so much! We’re not being progressive for the sake of progress. We’re participating in the ongoing work of God’s inclusive love!
The Risk and Reward of Welcome
[Building to climactic energy]
Yet this kind of hospitality involves risk. When we truly welcome the stranger, we don’t know what will happen. Our communities might change in ways we didn’t expect. Our theology might expand in directions we hadn’t considered. Our comfort zones will be challenged.
But this is exactly what the text promises: “by doing so some have entertained angels without knowing it.”
The divine encounter comes not in spite of the risk, but BECAUSE of it! The transformation happens not when we play it safe, but when we DARE TO LOVE!
Say it with me church: We dare to love!
The Call Forward
The writer of Hebrews ends this passage reminding us that these practices—hospitality, remembrance of the imprisoned, economic justice, faithful love—these are the sacrifices that please God!
Not burnt offerings, but embodied love! Not ritual purity, but radical welcome! Not perfect doctrine, but perfect love!
This is our calling as followers of Jesus in the 21st century. To be communities where mutual love continues. Where strangers become family. Where ALL people—including and especially LGBTQIA+ people—can flourish in their full humanity!
As you leave this place today, you carry with you the call to philoxenia, love of strangers. You carry the promise that in welcoming others, you may entertain angels. You carry the responsibility to create spaces where all God’s children can flourish
The angels are waiting at our doors. The strangers are seeking sanctuary. The kin-dom of God is as close as our next act of radical hospitality.
Let mutual love continue! Let welcome be our practice! Let flourishing be our goal!
And remember, friends, that the Messiah is among us.
Amen!