Pastoral, Liturgical, Teaching, and Social Justice Moments brought to you by DignityUSA.

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Nearly everyone recalls the strict social structures of in-groups and out-groups in a high school cafeteria. There are no signs, but everyone knows where they are welcome to sit. Today’s reflection reminds us that adults can also get stuck in such excluding patterns, and invites us to be rooted in a love that knows no such boundaries.

July 2, 2023: Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

2 Kings 2:8-11, 14-16a

Psalm 89:2-3, 16-17, 18-19

Roman 6: 3-4. 8-11

Matthew 10: 37-48

Rooted in Welcoming

A reflection by Ann Marie Szpakowska

Christ In the Stranger’s Guise

- Alfred Burt, (Listen here)

I met a stranger yest’re’een.

I put food in the eating place,

Drink in the drinking place,

Music in the listening place.

And in the Name of the Triune,

He bless my home, and my house,

My cattle and my love ones.

And the lark sings in his song.

Often, often, often goes the Christ in the stranger’s guise.

Often, often, often goes the Christ in the stranger’s guise.

Much has been written about the need for radical hospitality. At DignityUSA’s 50th anniversary convention in Chicago, I recall it looming large in our deliberations. One individual who expounded on that concept was someone with whom I had had a conversation earlier that day. I spoke of our needed to diversify the religious music: it needed to be more than a couple verses in Spanish in a song written by and for American Catholics. I also shared my belief that we overused contemporary forms of Christian music.

The person walked away abruptly, not allowing me to finish my thought, and I felt my concerns were once again being dismissed. In that moment, I felt unseen and unheard—radically unwelcomed—and in a community of which I am very much a part! My conversation partner, and perhaps many others in our community, clearly have different liturgical tastes than I, but did they mean to make me feel so marginalized? Just as concerning, when I talk to members of my communities with whom I disagree (DignityUSA or others), do I treat them as if they were somehow less?

What does this have to do with radical hospitality, and what does this commitment to welcoming have to do with our readings for this Sunday? Let’s start with an understanding of radical, it comes from the Latin radix, which means “root.” To be radically hospitable, then, suggests that one is deeply rooted in welcoming others. In the selection from the Hebrew Scriptures, we have the story of Elisha and the Shunammite woman. She suggests to her husband that they build a 2nd floor addition for Elijah for rest and respite when he stops by their home on his prophetic preaching journeys. (Can you imagine suggesting to your significant other that you build an addition to your home to house a street preachers?) It is also worth noting that the narrative makes it clear the woman is from a different tribe and people than Elisha—she “should” have ignored him completely, even feared or hated him. But she was “rooted” in her desire to welcome the stranger. Wanting to repay the couple for their hospitality, Elisha inquires about the desires of her heart and is told that they were childless. He assures his host that next year when he returned, she would have already given birth to a son.

In the midst of the difficult teachings from Jesus in today’s gospel, we find a gem to meditate on: “Whoever welcomes you, welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me, welcome the one who sent me…and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly, I will tell you, none of these will lose their reward.” Fr. John McNeil tells of an encounter he had with a farmer while in a German POW Camp. He had come close to the barbed wire that separated him from a potato field where a man was gathering his harvest.  The man saw John and realized how skinny and hungry he appeared. He swiftly tossed a potato to John and looked into John’s eyes which seemed to ask, “Why?”. The man simply made the sign of the cross. The farmer’s faith was rooted in welcoming. Both men knew that if that it had seen, the farmer would be executed on the spot. The man’s faith reaffirmed John’s resolve to survive, return home, and join the Jesuits—which he did. We also know that Fr. John McNeil ministered to gay Catholics and helped found Dignity New York. Through his writing, John tossed many a gay Catholic—starving for spiritual sustenance—a potato across the fence of Church exclusion. If not executed for such hospitality, he was eventually excommunicated for it.

Some spiritual writers have made a distinction between entertaining and hospitality. They pointed out that one entertains to impress but offers hospitality to bless. Hospitality requires a listening ear and an open heart. We should, as small faith communities, ask ourselves, “What is our intention?” when we open our doors to LGBTQIA+ people—and any other wanderers who find their way to our communions—Do they feel welcomed, or do they find us divided? Do we look at them with suspicion until they prove themselves “our kind” of gay Catholic? Can we recall our own first tenuous steps into our communities of faith? Who welcomed us? Who made us feel like we belonged—even with all our faults and foibles?

It is each of our tasks to embody that necessary welcome and extend a radical hospitality to every person we encounter—to be rooted in welcoming—no matter where we find ourselves on mutual sojourns. Then, as Hebrews 13:2 reminds us, we will find ourselves welcoming angels unaware.