July 1 is an important time in the lives of United Methodists: it is the start of a new appointment year. As I pray during this time of new beginnings as well as what is going on in our nation and world, these words of Jesus keep rising up in my prayer:
"I was a stranger, and you welcomed me..."
What a radical statement by Jesus. Can we order our common life together from this perspective of incarnation and generous hospitality?
I’m reminded of the story of a monastery which was no longer drawing visitors or new members. Those who remained had hearts that had turned inward and cold. Everyone got on everyone else’s nerves. With such a cantankerous community, it was little wonder why no one wanted to visit or join.
The abbot realized the community would eventually die off unless something changed. But what? He had a colleague he often turned to for insight and wisdom, so he went to his friend and explained the situation at the monastery. For a long while, the two sat in silence as the friend pondered the abbot’s words. Finally he said, “I don’t have an answer to help you change things. But there is one thing I know, the Christ is one of you.”
This astounded the abbot, and when he returned to the monastery, the monks were anxious to hear what the friend recommended. “Tell us, tell us!” they clamored.
“He really didn’t have anything much to suggest. But he did say this peculiar thing: the Christ is one of us!”
The monks sat in amazement. What?! Well, they said, Brother Peter is so caring…maybe he is the Christ! But then they thought some more: Could cranky Brother William be the Christ? Or was it Brother Thomas, who barely said a word? Or was it hyper Brother Charles, who always got on everyone’s nerves?
Wondering but not knowing who could be the Christ, they began to treat one another differently. The monastery took on a different tone: there was more love, more joy, more focused work. People in the village could tell something had changed, and made their way often to the monastery to drink in the rich spiritual life of the brothers. Young people began to make inquiries about how they could belong to such a vital and vibrant community.
All this, from someone recognizing, “The Christ is one of you.”
Tomorrow, look around at the congregation. Christ is there, waiting to be found. It could be any one of the people in your pew, or the choir loft, or behind the organ, or stepping into the pulpit. It could be one of the crying children, the elderly one who needs help getting to a pew, or the harried single parent with a string of children in tow.
"I was a stranger, and you welcomed me..."
What would happen in our churches and country if we really believed this?