I was a stranger, and you took me in

 Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, you blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world:

For I was hungry, and you gave me food: I was thirsty, and you gave me drink: I was a stranger, and you took me in:

Naked, and you clothed me: I was sick, and you visited me: I was in prison, and you came unto me.

-          Matthew 25:34-36

  

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Putting my metaphorical money where my virtual mouth is, I went to my first Holy Communion at a local Anglican Church the other week, and also had good chat with the vicar. It was both more and less than what I expected, and my prejudices were confirmed and challenged in equal measure. I’ve been mulling over the range of impressions I have of the experience, each of which will no doubt be fodder for future posts. There was humour, definitely. The eagerness to impress and hook new and – heavens! – young blood was obvious. The experience of having to pray and sing things I didn’t know the words to in the midst of a very grey congregation where I my voice seemed to cut through everyone else’s mademe smile too. On the other hand, the welcome was clearly heartfelt and genuine, as was the comfort derived from the service and the community at the church, in addition to the obvious commitment and pride that goes into the churches impressive ‘secular’ charitable endeavours. The food bank operating out of the church is very impressive, as was the commitment of the congregation to be a hub for this kind of service. 

                The theme of the service was surprisingly apt. The reading was Matthew 25: 31-46, ‘The sheep and goats judgement’, from which the excerpt above was taken. The verse is concerned with the coming judgment, and – as the vicar told it – the point was that superficial religious observance is insufficient to ensure a place on the winning team when the end of days arrives. Rather, an active charity and love was required of Christians, and that we were to love one another as we should love Him. The vicar concentrated, oddly enough, on the welcoming strangers part. Not chosen for my benefit - unless they really do have special line to the Big Guy. There was another bible reference that I really liked: 

Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

-          Hebrews 13:2

 

Definitely felt the feelings I associate with religious experiences – which, despite my atheism, I have had – but which I’d only previously known in Buddhist meditative contexts or while mulling over some whopper implication of a scientific observation. There’s a sense of calm, effortless joyfulness and unpredicated appreciativeness. It gives you a kind of mental spaciousness, and I don’t (just) mean airheadness. No, it’s not faithful feelings I can’t do. Instead, its committing to a cosmology, a sense of reality – be that a particular relation to the world, or to a personal god - that doesn’t ring true for me. I find easy, and I share, the comfort in religion as a choice one can make about ones relation to the world. I find it difficult to accept as a description of the universe in its own terms, given that – to me – it is so clearly anthropomorphic and anthropocentric. 

Maybe I should understand faith in similar terms to the way I have come to  – relative to my younger self – understand romantic love, after having had the (er...) benefit of a serious relationship for some years now. I find a lot of adolescents, and adolescent adults, understand love as something that happens to you, something that the universe arranges and that you have no part in creating. For me at least, love is something you choose to be able to commit to, to be ready for and worthy of. Perhaps faith is something you’ve got to engage with in the same way. William James, talking about the active acquiescence of religious life, makes a distinction between agreeing to, and agreeing with. 

            Perhaps. But, for me at least, I’ve yet to make the acquaintance of a metaphysic I could meet halfway.


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