No doubt most people have favorite buildings. These are structures that connect us with a memory or an experience from childhood. A house. A barn. A cabin. They can be buildings where important events happened for us. Where we met our first love. Where we went to school. Where we had some life transforming moment from which we were changed forever. Just driving by such a building can stir in us physical reactions that can catapult us to another time. Our cheeks can turn hot or our palms can sweat. We can smile or find our stomach beginning to church.
One of my favorite building is the Carondolet Center on the grounds of the College of St.Catherine. It is an old building, the former residence of the Sisters of St. Joseph. While a few of the sisters may still live there or nearby, it is now filled with several different offices of various organizations. However, unlike many office settings, these still carry the grandeur and beauty of a by-gone day. The hallways and all the rooms are furnished with an attention to beauty and hospitality. The walls are decorated with lovely art, the furniture is arranged in cozy groupings just right for quiet conversation. Climbing the polished stone stairs between the floors, I am always aware of the grooves in each step that have been worn away by years of faithful women going to and from prayer. In little nooks and crannies, there is often a glimpse of a vase with fresh flowers or a single candle burning.
One day this week I was in this lovely building for a couple of meetings. Going from one floor one floor to the next, I reached out for the door handle that led into an enclosed hallway. Just as I was reaching on one side someone was obviously pushing from the other. The door came open quite fast, startling both of us on each side of the threshold. “Welcome!” said the sister with whom I was now face-to-face. “Thank you.” I said without thinking. She smiled and stepped aside and I made my way on through the door.
What struck me in this encounter was how quickly the words were on this sister’s lips. “Welcome.” Most people in this situation would have said “Excuse me.” or “Sorry.” Or even “Oops!” But her initial reaction was “Welcome.” The invitation, even blessing, was full and genuine.
Oh, how I long to be one of those people whose first reaction in any situation is to be welcoming. To be a person who is ready to open a door without fear or anxiety or even hope and to simply say “welcome” to whatever, or whomever, is on the other side. And to do so without forethought because it is my way walking in the world. I think it is the kind of welcome we all hope for, long for, when we cross any doorstep. It is the welcome people especially hope for when they enter our places of worship. Sometimes it is what they receive but often their presence is invisible to those who have forgotten how to see. What a sad thought and a missed opportunity.
Emerson once wrote: “Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything that is beautiful; for beauty is God’s handwriting – a wayside sacrament. Welcome it in every fair face, in every fair sky, in every fair flower, and thank God for it as a cup of blessing.”
The invitation is this: As we go about this summer weekend, may ‘welcome’ be ready on our lips as a sacrament. May it be our initial impulse at the opening of each door, the greeting of each stranger, the rising of each day.
Blessed be.