The morning after Father Jacques Hamel was murdered by Islamist terrorists in Rouen, I received a phone call from my local BBC radio station. Would I be interviewed over the phone to comment? Thankfully I wasn’t asked specifically about Father Hamel’s murder. (What could I say?) Instead they wanted me to comment on the news that the British government had offered £2.4 million to make places of worship more secure. (The Guardian newspaper pointed out that there are an estimated 47,000 churches in the UK.) And that Britain’s anti-terrorism police were advising churches to be vigilant – not that there was any specific threat.
In the brief interview I made the point that by their very nature churches, and church communities, were meant to be places of welcome and refuge. (Though sadly we all know examples of those that aren’t.) Therefore, what could we do? I for one would not want us to lock doors and exclude people.
During the interview I was asked whether the murder of Father Jacques had left me worried for my own safety. I mentioned that last Saturday evening I had been out on patrol with Chippenham Street Pastors. (I was mainly there to accompany a couple of Methodist VIPs – the President and Vice President of the Methodist Conference.) I had gone wearing my dog collar. Consequently, I was approached by several people and had some interesting conversations.
One was purely fun. A young man, who had clearly been enjoying himself, stopped us and said “Any idea where I can buy some fags?” He then spotted me and said “Now don’t you go and start telling me I’m killing myself!” I promised him I wasn’t going to do that. I’d identified his accent as Welsh and asked him where he was from and told him I was Welsh too. He then gave me the classic look only drunk people manage (the one where they sort of shut one eye in order to focus) and then broke into a big grin. What followed was a stream of nonsense really but eventually I was able to get through to him that just around the corner was a late night grocery store and he should be able to get cigarettes there.
“Cheers bud. I’ll come and find you later and give you one of my ciggies.” (He never did!)
The other conversation was a bit more serious. A man (in his late 30s early 40s) accompanied by another man (in his 50s) stopped me. “You are a priest” he said. “Sort of” I explained. “I am Catholic.” he said. “This is first time I have seen a priest on street in this country”. From his accent I guessed that he was Eastern European. His friend then chipped in (with a broad Wiltshire accent) “Peter’s from Poland. He’s a Catholic.” “Yes I am from Poland and am Catholic”. (In the helpful way drunks explain everything to the sober!)
We then had a long conversation during which Peter held my hand tightly. The upshot of it was that Peter had been living in this country for 13 years “But since Brexit I don’t feel welcome. Many people want me to go to Poland.” I told him that as far as I was concerned if he’d been here 13 years he was British and was welcome here.
“That’s what I keep telling him Father. This is his home now.” Peter’s friend said. “Maybe he’ll listen to you.”
I prayed for Peter and assured him he was welcome in this country. Though clearly Peter doesn’t feel that way.
If I had not been wearing my dog collar (and unusually for me a plain, black clerical shirt) would Peter have spoken to me? Probably not.
Jesus once told a story to illustrate who he regarded as true followers and those who he didn’t. He explained how people might ask how they would know if they had done the right thing in Jesus’ eyes. In reply he said:
35 For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was ill and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.”
37 ‘Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38 When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39 When did we see you ill or in prison and go to visit you?”
40 ‘The King will reply, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”
Matthew 25: 35 – 40
The sign of a truly caring Christian community (and indeed a truly caring country) is one that reacts in that way. That welcomes the stranger.
That then is what we should be doing as Christians. That is how we should be caring for others. That is the welcome we should be affording the stranger. How can we do this if we are shutting our doors? Or we are not prepared to speak to people on the streets?
Archbishop Oscar Romero was another Catholic priest who was murdered in his church. He once said:
If welcoming the stranger leaves us vulnerable to an attack by terrorists, or indeed anyone, then that is a risk we must take. For Jesus' sake.
