There’s an ancient story about a monastery where all the monks were old, tired, and waiting to die. They’d lost their fire for the Lord and had long since ceased to really care about their fellow brothers. Although they shared the same living space, prayed together, ate together, and worked together, each monk lived in his own world with heart and mind turned inward.
No one came to the monastery. There were no visitors, and no new brothers. The buildings were in need of repair, but the monks didn’t care. They felt it wasn’t long until there’d be no monastery at all. Everything would return to dust.
Then one day, a holy man visited them. He was a monk himself. For a time he lived with the old brothers, prayed with them, talked with them, worked, ate, and slept with them. He was wise and loving. The brothers turned their hearts and minds outward and listened to him. When the time came for him to leave, this holy man stood before the brothers who were bidding him farewell and wished them God’s peace. Some of the monks shook their heads sadly; ‘There’s nothing here for us now that you’re going,’ they thought. But the visitor’s last words to them were: “Among you stands one whom you do not know, the Christ.” Then he walked away.
Well, the brothers were quite astonished. They looked at one another with surprise. Which one of them could be the Christ? Surely not Brother William, who never arrived at the chapel on time and never did his work either, for that matter; surely not Brother Mark, who annoyingly slurped his soup; surely not the Abbot, who was always gruff with everyone. Christ wouldn’t be late for chapel, or neglect his work, or slurp his soup, or be gruff!
Yet their visitor was a holy and reliable man who had spoken the truth to them the whole time he was in their company. This too must be true. One among them must be Christ! So each of the monks began to treat the other as if he were Christ, for they didn’t know who it was. They looked for ways to serve one another and were kind to one another and shared with one another. Each did his work as a gift to the Christ who was among them. Each honored his fellow monk by listening with full attention and respect. They began to overlook little things that had annoyed them about one another and began instead to see the good that was in every person. Life began to flow back into the dying community. A vitality and joy was reborn that had been lost for many years. The people of the town nearby learned that something had changed at the monastery. In curiosity they came, and in love they were received.
Each was graciously welcomed and made to feel at home. Every effort was taken to care for their needs, and each monk accepted visitors as they were. Men, women, and children came to be refreshed and renewed. The brotherhood grew as men came, even from far away, to join the community.
All the visitors and the new brothers were treated as if they were Christ, for the wise monk had said, “Among you stands one whom you do not know, the Christ.”
I tell this story not because we’re old, although we certainly aren’t young. Or because we’re tired, although some of us are that. Nor because our buildings are falling apart, although they do need upkeep. Nor because we have become internally focused and are simply waiting to die.
I tell this story because of our proximity to Christ.
Let me ask a question: With whom do you fight the most? I’m willing to bet it’s our family, or a group we are heavily invested in. There’s a hypothesis that says Jesus was trained as a Pharisee. I don’t know if that’s correct, but he sure had a lot of arguments with other Pharisees, so it makes sense. This might also be accurate because in today’s gospel John is approached by a group sent by the Pharisees. John points out that “among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me.” The Pharisees were in close proximity to Christ and yet they missed seeing him.
Maybe they missed him because he was late to worship services. Maybe they missed him because he slurped his soup or chewed with his mouth open. Maybe they missed him because he was gruff with people. Maybe they missed him because he was one of them and they were so busy looking for something extraordinary that they couldn't see past the ordinary.
The story of the monks can be seen as a retelling of Matthew 25 – the gospel we heard on Advent 1. In that passage Christ welcomes all who served “the least of these,” and he dismissed those who didn’t. Both stories remind us that Christ isn’t necessarily an extraordinary figure whom we will easily identify as the Messiah; most of the time Christ comes incognito. How we treat that person in our midst is how we treat Christ.
Here's another story. Last Sunday just after 7 am I answered the church phone. It was a guy named Leon coming into Buffalo on the bus from South Dakota. He needed a ride to an acquaintance’s home, but he didn’t know the exact address. Nor did he have his phone number because his phone was stolen at a shelter. He told me he was planning on going to Glendive to live with a friend, whom he was contacting that day to let him know he was coming. Over the course of Monday, he told me his father left the family when he was three, he was attacked by a group of boys which caused brain damage, his mother was hit by a car and killed as she crossed the street. He’s had his phone and coat stolen, and he lost the $14 he had to his name. I picked him up at the bus stop, put him in a hotel, bought him a couple of meals, and put him on a bus to Glendive. I hope he's okay. I also hope I treated that version of Christ with dignity and respect.
We are in the time of preparing for the Already and the Not Yet. In our preparation for the arrival of Christ, let us not be so focused on looking for his power and glory that we miss the Christ standing in our midst. We can’t afford to miss the extraordinary found in the ordinary. We can’t afford to miss seeing Leon for who he is. We can’t afford to not see Christ in the other.
Among you stands one whom you do not know, the Christ. Let us always act as if that were so. And in doing that, we will accept visitors for who they are, people will come to be refreshed, and people will join this community of love because Christ stands among us.
Amen.
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