Frank R. Fisher, Obl OSB
 
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"So, brothers and sisters, we have asked the Lord who is to dwell in His tent, and we have heard His commands to anyone who would dwell there; it remains for us to fulfill those duties.

Therefore we must prepare our hearts and our bodies to do battle under the holy obedience of His commands; and let us ask God that He be pleased to give us the help of His grace for anything which our nature finds hardly possible. And if we want to escape the pains of hell and attain life everlasting, then, while there is still time, while we are still in the body and are able to fulfill all these things by the light of this life, we must hasten to do now what will profit us for eternity" -Prologue to the Rule of St. Benedict

The Irish call some places, "thin places." Thin places are those where the presence of God is so strong you almost feel you can reach out to touch the Creator. Or perhaps, thin places are places where the Creator reaches out to touch us.  Throughout my life I have found thin places in churches, in nature, in my home, and of course in the abbey. 

Benedict wanted abbeys to be thin places, places where the Kingdom of God touched earth; places where monks and guests dwelt in the nearest thing to the presence of God to be found on earth. Like any human institution abbeys are imperfect. In their imperfection the Kingdom can seen present to a lessor or greater degree. But it always feels present. It always feels like a place where Christ dwells. This adaptation of a story told by M Scott Peck speaks about an  abbey where Christ came to fully dwell.
 
 
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"Let a wise old man be placed at the door of the monastery, one who knoweth how to take and give an answer, and whose mature age doth not permit him to stray about.

The porter should have a cell near the door, that they who come may always find one present from whom they may obtain an answer. As soon as anyone knocketh or a poor person calleth, let him answer, "Thanks be to God," or invoke a blessing, and with the meekness of the fear of God let him return an answer speedily in the fervor of charity." - Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 66.

This week I presided at a funeral for a forty-seven year old man. During the service we spoke of his way with hospitality. I was told that whenever you were with him, you felt like you were the most important person in the world. The same was true for phone calls. You felt like he'd been waiting for your call all day. Every time you encountered this man, you went a way feeling good. That was the type of hospitality Benedict taught. And the man whose life and resurrection we were celebrating would have made a perfect Porter, the one who welcomed guests at the door of the abbey.

I once hear a preacher describe hospitality as "treating your guests as if they were at home, even if you wish they were at home."  Unfortunately that's the type of grudging hospitality we too often offer to the guests at our places of worship.  We too often ignore our guests, and leave them to fend for themselves. And heaven help them if they sit in the wrong pew.

We as Christians also tend to be pretty bad at welcoming those whose point of view differs from our own. Emo Phillips tells a story about our dealing with others with even slightly different points of view.  The story takes place on the Golden Gate Bridge.  In the story a man’s walking across the bridge. When he’s half way across he finds, to his horror, another man who’s about to jump off. Immediately the first man begins a conversation; in a desperate try to halt the man’s suicide.  In the midst of the conversation the second man says he believes in God.  Here  we pick up the story.

"I said,  'Are you a Christian or a Jew?'   He says,  'A Christian.'   I said, 'Me too.  Protestant or Catholic?'  He says,  'Protestant.'  I said, 'Me too. What franchise?'  He says, 'Baptist.'  I said,  'Me too. Northern Baptist or Southern Baptist?'  He says, 'Northern Baptist.'  I said, 'Me too.  Northern Conservative Baptist or Northern Liberal Baptist?'  He says, Northern Conservative Baptist.'  I said, 'Me too.  Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist  or Northern Conservative Reformed Baptist?'  He says,'Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist.'  I said,  'Me too.  Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist Great Lakes Region or Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist Eastern Region?'  He says, 'Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist Great Lakes Region.'  I said, 'Me too. Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1879 or Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist  Great Lakes Region Council of 1912?'  He says 'Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1912.'

  'Oh,'  I said, 'Die, heretic!'  And I pushed him off the bridge."

In which way would you want to be welcomed by a brother or sister in Christ, "die heretic," or "thanks be to God you are here?" I think I'll choose the later and try to offer such a welcome, with the fervor of charity, the next time I run into someone with whom I disgree.
 
 
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"All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ, for he himself will say: I was a stranger and you welcomed me. Proper honor must be shown to all . . ." - Rule of St. Benedict Chapter 53

This chapter on the reception of guests seems to me to one of key points of Benedictine life. At the time of Benedict such hospitality could have been the difference between life and death. I think it often could be the same for us today. We are in a time of great interest in spirituality. Our own communities can be the home of literally more religions than we can count. The sad part is that Christianity is too often not counted among the spiritual choices in pre-Christians' search. Face it, we have a bad reputation. All too often we have brought it on ourselves. So when a stranger arrives in our midst there is an excellent possibility that they are desperately seeking for something to hold on to in time of crises. And our bad reputation means that we may be their very last place where they will go for help. If they are desperate, and do not receive a welcome we may not only lose the chance to share our faith. We may also send someone off on the path to suicide.

Our lack of welcome can take many forms. I have seen congregations where no one will talk to a visitor. I have seen others who great each person who comes through the door with a stack of offering envelopes and a request to serve on a committee. Sigh.

What happens when a stranger comes to our church? Do we grumble if they sit in our pew? What if they take our parking spot? Or perhaps we try to provide for their comfort in advance by posting signs to areas of the church, hint, the number one complaint is the lack of signs pointing out the restrooms. When someone seems unfamiliar with the service perhaps we could quietly pass them a service book turned to the right page. Maybe we could send someone to their home after worship to drop off a loaf of fresh baked bread, and not do it as an opportunity to get in the door, but simply to say "hello, you are welcome among us."

Several years ago I heard a stunning example of the type of hospitality Benedict described. A couple came to a strange city so one of them could undergo surgery. The day before the operation the dropped in to worship at a church they picked at random. At the church they were warmly welcomed. In the course of a conversation with one member, they mentioned the upcoming surgery. That evening, a member of the church called, told them they were praying for them, and offered to pray with them on the phone. They welcomed the offer. The next morning they arrived at the hospital to find a group from the church waiting for them both to pray again and to offer them any other assistance they might provide. The couple asked how they had known what hospital they would be at. There were many hospitals in the city and they had not mentioned in which hospital the surbery The answer, members of the congregation were waiting at each hospital in the city.

"I was a stranger and you welcomed me." If we can welcome like the congregation in this true story welcomed, we will be greeting our guests as if they were Jesus.