But that’s not enough, is it? Having a mat at my door that says “welcome” is
like having a sign in my kitchen that says “clean.” It’s a nice thought, but will words actually get it done?
Are words enough?
Every Sunday I stand in
the pulpit and say the word “Welcome” to everyone in the room and everyone watching our livestream. Every Sunday we
have someone posted at the parking lot door to welcome each person that comes in. Friendly individuals
in our congregation will always make the effort to find
the folks who may be here for the first time, or who
haven’t been here for a while and offer them a warm welcome. All these things
are essential. But are they enough? If we have told people they are welcome
here, is our job done?
Paul’s letter to the
Romans speaks of the importance of welcome. He is
encouraging the Jewish Christians, the first Christian’s, to welcome others –
those who are not Jewish. As we have spoken of before many times, this was a
major conflict in the early church. The believers needed to argue and pray and
discuss the matter extensively to come to a new
understanding about what Jesus was doing in the world;
about who could claim his promise.
Paul makes a strenuous
argument that Christ’s promise is for all the nations of the world, that all
may sing praises to his name, that the whole world
might glorify God. Paul urges the members of the church to welcome others, just
as Christ has welcomed them. To offer this welcome – not for the sake of
manners, but for the glory of God.
If we are to embrace the
welcome of Christ, and to further extend that welcome
to others – all the nations, as Paul says – then we must understand something
about this kind of welcome,
a Christian welcome.
The best image of such a
welcome is found in the classic story of Victor Hugo – Les Miserables. Jean
Valjean, a poor and miserable man who lives with his sister and her seven
children in abject poverty. Until one day when they are no longer able to eke out a living, he shatters the window of the bakery, grabs a
loaf of bread and runs. He is caught and sentenced to prison for four years. After a few unsuccessful attempts
at escape, his sentence is extended to 19 years. 19 years in prison for a broken window and a loaf of bread.
When he is released he
finds his way to the home of a priest – Monseigneur Bienvenu. The priest
welcomes him. He breaks bread with him, listens to him, and gives him a bed for the night. Jean Valjean doesn’t know what to
do with such kindness. Nineteen years in prison have
drained his humanity from him. During the night, Jean Valjean slips out of the house with the priest’s
silverware. He is caught by
the police.
In the morning, Monseigneur Bienvenu is summoned
to the door to find the man
whom he welcomed into his home the night before, in the hands of the police,
looking ever so much the
criminal. But the priest sees a sacred human being. He says, “I am glad to see you. But I gave you the
candlesticks too. Why did you not take them along with the forks and the
spoons? My friend, here are the candlesticks. Take them.”
The priest, with his
extravagant welcome, gave Jean Valjean a chance at new life. “Use this now to become an honest man,” says the priest, Monseigneur Bienvenu – which, of course, means welcome.
The welcome of Christ sees
the sacred that is within everyone. This welcome accepts each one as they are
and is ready to give what is needed.
It’s not a low bar. Not a wide path.
Perhaps we can wonder: In
what ways have we failed to recognize the sacred that
dwells in every human being? Who are the ones we have neglected to invite into
our midst? When has our welcome been less than
Christian?
In a world crying out for
peace, for compassion, we are all in a wilderness, as John the Baptist
proclaims. Our paths are in need of straightening. Our fruits are not always evident. But as John makes
clear, it is not too late for repentance, because God is able to change everything.
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