Shortly before leaving Boston for the holidays I had an opportunity to attend a lecture by philosopher Richard Kearney at Boston College on his more recent publication, Anatheism: Returning to God After God. For the sake of brevity I will not attempt to summarize his work that tries to push us past the theism/atheism divide, but rather I mention him to credit him for sharing what I believe holds immense implications for the interfaith movement.

After spending much time working with the social construction of the other, and religion’s role of demonizing that other, I was reminded that the sacred is something you find rather than something you seek. With so much energy put into deconstructing what makes us see each other as a stanger for the sake of harmony and social cohesion, we often forget to embrace the differences that our proximity with the other creates and to look for the sacred in this part of our narratives.

It is the advent season for Christians. In this season we abide in anxious waiting as we commemorate the time leading up to the birth of Jesus. As part of the lectionary reading during this season Gabriel’s annunciation of Jesus’ birth is read. The beginning of the passage is as follows:

In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. (Luke 1:26-29, NRSV)

Much attention tends to be focused on the part of the passage that follows. However, I think in this season it is good to dwell in the uneasiness that Mary does, to abide in the tension of the uncertainty that she finds herself in.  It is this uncertainty that Mary has in interacting with the stranger at her door that reminds us of the uneasiness that we may feel in our own social encounters. A vexed and perplexed Mary is depicted as pondering what this unfamiliar messenger brings to her. What are his intentions? Does he seek to harm me? I do not recognize this man, in all probability he is a thief. She fears for herself and for her child. However later in the passage we find that Mary does not close the door, but let’s the message of the stranger permeate her. It is her willingness to give into the idea that the impossible might be made possible, that the imaginable might be made into a concrete reality that allows the door to remain open and the message to come. She relinquished her fears in hopes that her hospitality, her own outstretched hand would bring whatever goodness to fruition.

This pondering and perplexement is not unfamiliar to the Jewish and Christian tradition. Not only is it present in the vacillations of Mary before Gabriel, but also our forefathers and foremothers knew this feeling all too well. It is expressed in the laughter that preceeded Isaac; the stammers of Moses; the cries of a barren Hannah that pierced the night; and in the proclomations of Qoheleth that all was ephemeral. Nor did it culminate in Mary, for a doubting Thomas was constantly grasping for the impossible made possible. This place of uncertainty amid strangeness holds a prominent place in our narratives.

Today we need to recognize this space where strangeness meets familiarity. There is a certain aesthetic quality to this sort of event. These occassions should not be reduced to their lowest common denominator were all focus is on commonalities. In difference lies dignity. Emmanuel Levinas states,”My ethical relation of love for the other stems from the fact that the self cannot survive by itself alone, cannot find meaning within its own being-in-the-world, within the ontology of sameness.” Therefore, the stranger cannot be simply viewed as a mere social construction, but rather as a gift; indeed a sacred gift. In essence without the other, there would be no meaning.  We need each other to survive, to make meaning and ultimately community- just the way we are. The stranger is thus not a category to deconstruct, but a reality to be embraced, upheld; that which is constantly behind doors waiting to be opened, waiting to be called neighbor. For Christians messianisim is a concept that keeps opening the door to the stranger that comes after the baby in the manger (Mt. 25:40).  It is the concept that lights the flame of hope during this advent season. Dorothy Day, a journalist, social activist, and Catholic commends us to never stop opening the door to the someone who’s inevitably going to arrive.

So in our pondering and discerning may we relinquish our fears and extend hospitality to bring about things that are only imaginable this holiday season. It is this vulnerability that might just lead to the forging of new relationships or the mending of old ones; the creating of sacred spaces of gratitude where difference is no longer demonized.

-mlw