In the Manual of The Mother Church, under the heading "Church Services," Mary Baker Eddy devotes an Article to "Welcoming strangers." see Manual. Art. XVI. I have long been inspired by the gracious sentiment of unconditional Christian love expressed in this By-Law. It has helped me to be more alert in actively welcoming the stranger to our church. But the practical provision in this Article—requiring a local member of The Mother Church to give up his or her seat, if necessary, to a stranger—never seemed very applicable to me in relation to our branch church activity. After all, our church always seemed to have at least a few empty seats at every service.
Then one Sunday morning I was ushering, and was delighted to see so many visitors attending. Without my realizing it, however, after the service started my welcoming thought was put into neutral. Returning to "my" seat after helping to take the collection, I was startled to see a newcomer sitting there—and it showed! The visitor had just come in, thinking that the service began an hour later than it actually did. Now she was slowly realizing that the "prelude" she was listening to was the offertory! Happily, the head usher was alert and saw my predicament. He quickly moved over, freeing a seat for me. I quietly sat down, vowing that I would try never to be caught off guard again from my duty and privilege of welcoming the stranger to our church.
After the service I apologized to the visitor for the less than friendly initial encounter. And I realized that I needed to understand both the spirit and the letter of Article XVI much more clearly. In pondering this Manual provision since then, the following questions have come to the fore:
•Who is the stranger we are welcoming to our services?
•Why specially welcome him or her?
•When and where does the welcoming begin and end?
•How should we welcome the stranger? What would keep us from doing so?
In a world where medical materialism, scholasticism, and secularity would seem to be the norm, anyone searching for Truth and spirituality could be considered a stranger. Indeed, moral relativism—so often touted by segments of modern society—questions the very existence of truth of any kind. Moreover, the concept that there is a divine Principle ordering man and the universe seems almost bizarre to worldly thought.
Christ Jesus, who unhesitatingly and consistently rebuked error of all types, was a stranger both to the Roman political world and to the ritualistic theology of his day. But in his description of the last judgment, he explained that those who receive the kingdom of heaven are those who have expressed unselfed love to the stranger. See Matt. 25:31–40 . "Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: for I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in." When the righteous inquire when it was that they took care of him as a stranger, the reply is given, "Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."
Later the Apostle Paul explained to the Ephesians that Christ Jesus had "broken down the middle wall of partition between us," revealing everyone's access to God, the Father of all. Perceiving that no one is actually a stranger to God, Paul stated, "Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow-citizens with the saints, and of the household of God. See Eph. 2:13–19.
The truth of man's spiritual origin—the fact that we all have one Father–Mother God—makes us all brethren. Christ, the divine idea, comes to human thought to destroy error, to destroy what would obscure the truth of man's being. The individual striving to follow Christ could be considered the stranger we are welcoming to our service.
The Scriptures repeatedly exhort us to welcome the stranger. In several places the Old Testament points out that the Jews were once strangers themselves in Egypt, and are therefore obligated to be hospitable to the stranger. For example, see Deut. 10:19 . Yet Jesus' teachings clearly show us that we should welcome the stranger not because of some potential calculated benefit—that is, not because he or she might prove to be a good future member who could help out with all that church work, or because we like to see our church full—but rather because we are all the guests of God. Interestingly, the word welcome is derived from the Old English word wilcuma, meaning a desirable guest.
Who, then, are desirable guests? All of us who are seeking proof of the Christ, Truth, in our lives—who are earnestly desiring to understand the spiritual nature of being. And should we not have a special welcome for the sick and sinning—those who are hurting and want to be healed? After all, Christ Jesus didn't say, "Come unto me, all ye that have all your problems solved." He said, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Matt. 11:28.
The welcoming begins by our entertaining the Christ in our thought—and it never ends. It's like mothering. At the very moment when we may feel the least like welcoming someone, that is usually when it is most needed! Consistent unselfishness opens the door to humanity. It is not something that we can put on only as we enter the church building.
There are probably as many different ways to welcome the stranger to our services as there are members. Being able to recognize and nurture in others—as well as in ourselves—the desire to seek Truth, often means that we must grow in spirituality. As we learn to be more Christlike in our daily activities, we are freed from limited, material stereotypes about life, and our thought is humbled and purified. No longer so clouded by worldly views, we perceive more clearly our own needs and those of others. Spiritual perception leads to discerning one's true individuality and to feeding mankind's natural longing for a sacred, immaterial explanation of being. We also learn to see through the veneer of personality, which may even disclaim religious tendencies.
The power of the Christ, the spiritual idea of sonship, rouses mankind's dormant love of spirituality. It enables us to be unselfish enough to recognize our fellowman's true nature. And there is nothing more welcoming than viewing man as he really is—the perfect child of God, wholly alive to God's goodness.
On the other hand, it's difficult to welcome someone if we are focused on the lie that says sin or anything unappealing is a natural part of man's being. No matter how real inharmony seems, we have to be willing to start giving up that false impression in order to grow in grace and patience, since this is how we nurture mankind's proclivities to learning of spiritual law. Gradually we discover that man is not actually outside of and trying to look into God's kingdom. but rather that heaven, harmony, is already within each one of us.
At the practical level, because it seems all too easy to focus narrowly on just family, friends, and administrative details at church, congregations have had to find numerous inspired ways of letting visitors know how cherished they are. And although there may occasionally be someone who prefers to leave privately, I haven't come across one yet! In my own branch, what a joy it has been to introduce visitors to other church members, and then for these members to do likewise until a family feeling is being felt by all. It seems only logical that if we invite the public to our church home, we are obligated to introduce ourselves—and not vice versa.
One may not, however, consider himself very skilled in speaking to strangers, and therefore be fearful about knowing just what to say. I have found it useful simply to begin by introducing myself and noting that I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting them. But whatever sentiments are needed, when our hearts are prepared to welcome the visitor, God will provide the right words. Whether it is apathy, self-preoccupation, or fear that would try to prevent us from joyously greeting fellow seekers of Truth, we can protest strongly against whatever would limit our natural expression of God's tender care for all His sons and daughters. God's mercy and love are infinite, and man, as the representative of divine Love, has an unlimited capacity for expressing kindness and wisdom. Mrs. Eddy once wrote to a branch Church of Christ, Scientist, "Forget self in laboring for mankind; then will you woo the weary wanderer to your door, win the pilgrim and stranger to your church, and find access to the heart of humanity." Miscellaneous Writings, p. 155.
Perhaps one of the biggest challenges is helping the former church member or the "closet" Christian Scientist who hasn't attended for a long time, to feel welcomed and unselfconscious. At such times we can guard against any judgmental feelings as we rejoice in the beauty of man's immutable holiness. Feelings of being separate from God's goodness would make any one of us feel like a stranger. But one's real story is never in a so-called material past. Here is an opportunity to refute the false testimony that says man has a mind apart from God that can revolve in its own orbit.
And what about the church that just doesn't seem to have any strangers to be welcomed? Welcoming the stranger can begin in thought right now, at this very moment. Worldliness cannot forever hide the truth from those who are spiritually hungering.
Sharing our pastor—the Bible, and Science and Health by Mrs. Eddy—and our blessed missionaries, the Christian Science periodicals, with those searching for spirituality can help open the thoughts of others to discovering an institution based on Christian healing. And being truly grateful for what we have in divine Science, God's promised Comforter to mankind, reveals opportunities to express this joy. We can also affirm that Spirit's attraction is universal and eternal.
I can hardly wait for another opportunity to give up my seat at church to a stranger!
