THE FLUMMOXED WELCOME

If the standard for being welcoming is an inner attitude that matches my outer service, then I don't consider myself a welcoming person. I'm far too preoccupied with what the person being welcomed thinks of me. But perhaps that doesn't disqualify my welcome or yours either.

The first chapter of J.R.R. Tolkien's classic The Hobbit is titled An Unexpected Party. Bilbo Baggins was flummoxed and somewhat frustrated by his unexpected company, a group of dwarves. He runs around his well-furnished hobbit hole breathlessly inconveniencing himself for the comfort of his guests. At first they seem entitled to have Bilbo serve them food and drink. Yet just when you think they are unthankful for what he has done, they all pitch in and clean up after supper singing a hilarious song. He joins their adventure to far-off lands. 

There was no welcome among the expected places for Jesus at his birth. He was not welcomed as a king by a king. He was not welcomed at an inn. There was no room for his under-resourced pregnant mother, traveling because of a government’s demands on its citizens. Instead, a flummoxed welcome came from second-shift shepherds, half scared out of their wits because of an angel visitation. 

Later in the gospel, was young Jesus welcomed in the temple? There really is no discussion of it, but his mother and father are flummoxed when after three days they had lost him in the crowd. She who welcomed God’s messenger and said, “Let it be done to me as you have said,” now found herself worried about where her son was. His explanation to her was cryptic to us. "Did you not know I must be in my Father's house?" The son she had welcomed outranked her, so to speak. She treasured these things and pondered them.

Then there was a later time when Jesus, grown and ministering, was so completely surrounded that his mother and brothers came to reclaim him, fearing that he was out of his mind. He was busy welcoming a different family. “These are my mother, sisters, and brothers,” he said. Those who do the will of God receive welcome into Jesus’ family. 

How would you have felt in that moment if you were his mother? Flummoxed? She who had welcomed the Son of God into human frailty through her own body, now seemed on the outside of that welcome. The gospel writers don't comment on what she felt. She wasn't being spurned, but in that moment a higher call and purpose took precedence. 

What if you were one of Jesus' brothers looking on at this scene? Would you have put your faith in him? In that time, they all taunted him to go up to the most important religious gathering of their community and declare himself publicly. If he’s famous enough to cause a ruckus in the family, couldn't he at least receive some of the trappings fame brings? Flummoxed, they didn’t understand. When he did appear in the temple as a grown man, he was unwelcome by the teachers, but welcomed by those who placed their faith in him.

One more story of welcome bears retelling. When Christ hung on the cross, in the agony of fulfilling his greatest purpose, he looked and saw the woman who first welcomed him - Mary, his mother. She was next to John, his beloved disciple. His final word to them was one of welcome. To her, “Woman behold your son,” and to him, “Behold, your mother.” From that hour Mary was welcomed into John’s home. She was not ultimately on the outside of welcome. She who welcomed God was welcomed by him, cared for on earth, and received by her son in heaven. 

The gospels teach us that it is okay to be a flummoxed welcomer. United to him, you will never be outside of welcome. It's more than a smile and handshake, more than struggling to match your inner attitude with your outer action. It's allowing yourself to be flummoxed again and again by the purpose of God in the world. Christians have as their mission to extend the welcome of Christ, receiving in his name the unexpected party.