Celtic Hospitality in the Workplace

The Celts described a porous membrane where the lines between this world and the next blur. They called it "thin space," where in the sacrament of seemingly ordinary and mundane moments, we encounter God.

This idea often eludes me when I go off searching for the God of grandeur. I've made the mistake of thinking God showed up during exalted celebrations held inside hallowed Cathedrals or other elegant and regal acts of worship. But as I learned when I visited Saints Peter and Paul Church in East Portland, Oregon, that it is through ordinary acts of kindness one can find the face of Christ.

Following his pilgrimages to Ireland and Iona, the Rev. Kurt Neilson, author of Urban Iona: Celtic Hospitality in the City, prayed about how to ring the spirit of this Celtic soil back to the grit and grime he encountered while ministering in East Portland, Oregon. As rector of Saints Peter and Paul, he established the Columba Center, which forms the centerpiece of the church's work in the world. By following a common rule of life, these largely lay Monastics put into practice the notion of "thin space."

When I had the opportunity to serve in the church's outreach ministries, I saw firsthand how delineation between outreach volunteer and those they serve became obliterated. At Brigid's Tale, they moved beyond providing food service to having a weekly sit-down family-style meal. I've covered many faith-based feeding programs, but I can't remember the last time I saw one filled with this much love. While social service programs feed people, how many provide the bread of life?

Through Rahab's Sisters, this church works in concert with other parishes and volunteers to host a ministry to prostitutes. They give women a safe place to come and be accepted just as they are. Certainly, the women were grateful for a warm meal, a new pair of underwear, and some toiletries. But more importantly, at least for one evening, they are loved as children of God.

In both these ministries, people are not just serving the homeless a meal or giving clothing to prostitutes. Rather, everyone sits down as fellow companions on the same journey together. Remember the scribe's question in the Story of the Good Samaritan? He asked, "Who is my neighbor?" (Luke 10:29). These ministries are a living answer. They have taken to heart the message of the radical message of welcome found in Hebrews, "Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it" (Heb. 13:2).

In his quiet way, Kurt reminded me that Christ was with the outcasts of his day. So, we should consider it a privilege to follow Christ's steps by standing side-by-side with those who are living on the margins.

This past year, I had a financial crisis that almost did me in. Had it not been for those around me who offered similar small but significant acts of kindness, I could have ended up in need of similar outreach services. These experiences humbled me and gave me a newfound sympathy for those I see facing significant losses during these times of economic uncertainty. In the faces of these people I met at Brigid's Table and Rahab's Sisters, I not only caught glimpses of God but my own reflection as well.

Since meeting Kurt, I've been working to incorporate the principle of "thin space" into my everyday life. I've stopped walking around all day with my head buried in my Blackberry. Now, I try to look into the eyes of people I meet and give them a smile. It's a small shift, but disconnecting from my virtual world for a bit allows me to connect more fully with those I meet in real time.

And I confess this practice of smiling at those I encounter went by the wayside when I had a rather negative encounter with my computer's tech support department. So, my discipline remains very much a work-in-progress.

But interacting with this "thin space" has made even very stressful workdays seem more manageable because I am interacting more with others and in the process, connecting to God.