Welcoming the ‘wished for comer’

A sermon for Trinity 4:A
Christ Church Cathedral
2^nd July 2023
Revd Clare Hayns, College Chaplain

Matthew 10: 40-42

‘Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me’

Matthew 10:40

I hope that each and every one of you arrived today to a warm welcome from our lovely stewards team.

Over the past few days Christ Church has welcomed a LOT of people. On Wednesday and Thursday we had our College Open Days where we welcomed around 6,000 people – young prospective students and their parents. Each was welcomed by one of our undergraduates, and given a pen and a branded goodie bag (anything to show a warmer welcome than our rival colleges!). One young welcomer told me her face ached after two days of smiling so much.

Welcome/ Willcomen. The root of both the English and the German word is the Proto-Germanic word ‘wiljacumo’, which literally means ‘wished-for comer’ – someone whose coming you desire. To welcome is to invite another to cross the boundaries of your space, be it your college, home, church, meal table. It goes beyond obligation or toleration. It is to invite in the ‘wished for comer’.

We heard the word ‘welcome’ several times in today’s gospel; 6 times in just 2 small verses, to be exact. 

This little passage comes at the end of a section of teaching where Jesus sends his twelve disciples out as missionaries into the community around them. They are sent out with a job to do – to heal the sick, proclaim the good news, cast out demons –  but they are sent without everything they need as they are to rely on the kindness of strangers and to have faith in God’s provision.

And they’re warned that this wouldn’t always be easy – “I am sending you out like sheep amongst wolves” (Matthew 10:16) – they wouldn’t always be  welcomed.

If anyone will not welcome you or listen to you shake off the dust from your feet as you leave the house or town.

Matthew 10:14

I’m sure we all know what it is to be not welcomed. It’s painful, particularly when that involves a church or religious community.

Siobhan Garrigan, Professor of Theology at Trinity College, Dublin, wrote a book called ‘the Real Peace Process’[1] which documents Ireland around the time of the Good Friday Agreement. She writes about how the Irish peace process worked out in the reality of peoples’ homes and churches.

She tells a story that once she arrived for worship at a Presbyterian Church in Northern Ireland. She was greeted by two (seemingly) nice women at the door who began a conversation with her. They were welcomers of some sort. They asked her name and the first names of any other approaching strangers who came to morning worship. She then figured out what was happening. Their job was to question new-comers as they arrived. Those with protestant sounding names, such as Billy and Elizabeth, were shown to their seats; those with apparently Catholic names, the Mary’s, Patricks and Siobhan’s, were told they were surely in the wrong place and shown to the Roman Catholic church round the corner! This was not the dim and distant past – this was 1990s Northern Ireland.

But before we get too judgmental and think this could never happen here, we should remind ourselves of all the subtle and not so subtle ways in which we include and exclude people.

I remember turning up to a village Church not far from here with young child to be told by the welcomer that, ‘the family service is next week’. She was a well-meaning and kindly woman, but she gave me the impression that I didn’t belong.

And we (all of us – I include myself here) exclude in all sort of unconscious ways, be it due to not prioritising disability accessibility, assuming a level of academic ability or tutting if a child cries.

I’d like to pause to say that if any of you here have ever felt unwelcome here, then on behalf of the clergy team – sorry.

Jesus’ teaching reminds us that each person is made in the image of God, and when we welcome another, we welcome the person in whose image they are made. Jesus’ followers probably were quite uncomfortable hearing him talk about this kind of welcome.

In order to understand that, we have to take a step back into the Judea of the 1st century. In this context everyone was defined and identified by the groups they belonged to: family, tribe, religion, region, social status, profession. So people were usually identified by their family ties – think of James and John, the sons of Zebedee – or by their place of origin, like Mary of Bethany.

And in Jewish society of the time, who you welcomed in your home/synagogue mattered. Clear religious and cultural boundaries delineated who belonged, who was ritually clean, and who was part of the community.  

One of the main criticisms levelled at Jesus was that he kept breaking these rules. He kept welcoming, and allowing himself to be welcomed by, all sorts of unsuitable, unclean, unsavoury people.

He received a cup of water from the hands of a five times-married Samaritan woman by the side of a well in Samaria; – John 4: 7-15
He stayed at the home of the hated chief tax collector Zacchaeus – Luke 19: 1-10
He allowed his feet to be anointed by a ‘sinful’ woman – Luke 7:36-50

It’s no wonder the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying:

This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.

Luke 15:2

Jesus was constantly extending and expanding his welcome to bring in more and more people. What would it be like if our church community was a place which also extended welcome in this way?

There is a church notice board in Scotland which inspired me (which I’ve adapted slightly).

“WELCOME:
We extend a special welcome to those who are single, married, in a partnership, divorced, widowed, gay, confused, filthy rich, comfortable, or dirt poor. We extend a special welcome to wailing weans and excited toddlers.
We welcome you whether you can sing like Pavarotti or just growl quietly to yourself. You’re welcome here if ‘you’re just browsing,’ just woken up or just got out of prison. We don’t care if you’re more Christian than the Archbishop of Canterbury or haven’t been to church since Christmas twenty years ago.
We extend a special welcome to those who are over 60 but not grown up yet and teenagers who are growing up too fast.
We welcome those who are in recovery or still addicted. We welcome you if you’re having problems, are down in the dumps or don’t like ‘organised religion.’
We offer a welcome to those who think the earth is flat, work too hard, don’t work, can’t spell or are here because you are at a loose end. We welcome those who are inked, pierced, both or neither. We offer a special welcome to those who could use a prayer right now, had religion shoved down their throat as children or got lost and wound up here by mistake. We welcome pilgrims, tourists, seekers, doubters . . . and you! You are very welcome.”

Could we welcome others in this way? What might that look like? How might we begin to offer others this kind of radical welcome?

Because when we welcome others, we don’t just welcome them, we welcome those communities they belong to, and we welcome Christ in whose image they are made.

It’s not enough to just say ‘welcome’ if we then don’t act in a way that makes a person know that it is real. We can offer more than just a smile and a cup of cold water. And the reward will be great, in fact the reward will be eternal life. We could make a start.

But our human welcome will always be far inferior to the welcome that we receive from Jesus. Remember the story of the Prodigal Son, when the father runs out with open arms to invite his son back home? That’s the welcome we receive from the father.

The Return of the Prodigal Son, Rembrandt Harmensz van Rijn

Shortly we are about to be invited to the Eucharistic table. It’s a meal where everyone is invited and welcomed.  

I will end with some words by John Chrysostom preached on Easter Day in the 4^th Century, which speak of the feast wherein we can all participate and experience this welcome,  where Jesus offers himself to us.  

Wherefore, enter you all into the joy of your Lord; and receive your reward, both the first, and likewise the second. You rich and poor together, hold high festival. You sober and you heedless, honour the day. Rejoice today, both you who have fasted and you who have disregarded the fast. The table is full-laden; feast ye all sumptuously. The calf is fatted; let no one go hungry away.[2]

From the Paschal Homily of St John Chrysostom

We are Jesus’ ‘wished for comer’ at his table.

Amen

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[1] Garrigan, S. (2016). The Real Peace Process (1st ed.). Taylor and Francis. Retrieved from https://www.perlego.com/book/1567517/the-real-peace-process-worship-politics-and-the-end-of-sectarianism-pdf (Original work published 2016)

[2] https://orthodoxwiki.org/Paschal_Homily