Welcome
Matthew 10:40-42
When I am at work, I wear a black button up shirt with a clergy collar at my neck. Sometimes it is a small tab, and other times it is a full collar around my neck. And because of this, I have lost count of how many times strangers have called me father or mistakenly assumed I was a Roman Catholic priest.
I certainly understand why this happens. We see priests in collars all the time on television and we very rarely associate the “costume” of a clergy collar with any other faith traditions. So the quickest throught process is to see a clergy collar, think “Roman Catholic” and act accordingly.
I think we do this kind of rapid fire discernment in a lot of ways. We make quick assumptions about people’s character and whether or not they are even dangerous to us based on their political beliefs. Our nation has a long story of unfortunately assuming black men and boys in particular are more dangerous than they actually are, as multiple tragedies with police encounters will attest. We do the same thing when people appear poor.
We are increasingly, especially as we become even more steeped in the “attention economy” of the last decade, giving our self less time to ascertain who someone is before we make assumptions about who they are, what their politics might be, what they believe, or what they care about.
It’s becoming easier and easier to become less welcoming, less curious, and less thoughtful as a people. And the consequences of that are obvious: we are angrier, lonelier, and less capable of changing our minds once we have made them. We are becoming more resistant to accepting realities that are challenging for us to believe, and less capable of coping with loss. And as a society, we are regressing. Fear is on the rise. And cyncism has more power in our politics than anything else.
And all of that has come to mind for me when I ponder Jesus’ advice to the disciples he is sending out to share the good news in Matthew chapter 10. He is encouraing them to have hope in the welcome they will receive—a welcome that is a deeper part of their community’s culture around the sea of Galilee than the over arching fear and struggle put upon those communites by imperial occupation.
“Whoever welcomes you, welcomes me.” We can chart a different course than regression, and engage in a different way which allows us to get to know one another without rushing to the quick assumptions and easy stereotypes. But to do that, we must start with welcome. Before we characterize someone, let’s welcome them. Before we assume the worst, let’s welcome someone.
When we encounter someone asking for help on the street, we can welcome their presence—whether or not we extend any aid—instead of dismissing it. I wonder how differently the world would be if more of us could do that. How healthier our communities might become, how many surprising friendships we might have, how much progress we could make that benefits everyone.
We won’t know unless the act of welcoming begins with us.
