For the love of strangers

Is it possible to love a stranger?

That was a question I asked myself last week. I missed the opportunity to welcome our newest Kinbrace residents while I was sitting on the fourth floor—the surgical unit—of Mount Saint Joseph Hospital. The one I love was sleeping off the loss of his appendix while I sat in a blue vinyl chair and watched the steady drip of the IV. 

My gaze found his left hand, which rested at his side. In a few short months I would put a ring on that finger. 

I’ve been considering covenant love a lot these days. A book I was reading recently described marriage as “the decision to spend the rest of your life in an uncertain world sharing your unknown self with someone who is a virtual stranger”.

So it is possible to love a stranger. So it is happening all around us. So it is the story of every friendship, every marriage, every human family, every discovery of another person.    

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But could we love strangers while they’re still…strange?

One of our newest neighbours is an older man who arrived in Canada with his wife, leaving a country with a level of volatility that bombards news headlines. In the week that he’s lived at Kinbrace, we have had one conversation—just long enough to exchange names. (And, truth be told, I’ve already forgotten his!) My other two interactions with him involved only our eyes. 

It rained hard last week, and as I headed out the back gate one morning, I looked back and saw him standing under the eaves. He was just outside his door, but looked as though he had no intention of going anywhere. It was his first full day in his new home, and he was taking it all in: the morning, the rain, the garden succumbing to fall. He saw me, smiled, and waved. The next day, I arrived home as it was growing dark. I noticed him again through his basement window, standing in the living room. Once again, he saw me, smiled, and waved. 

I was filled with such a fondness for this person—no, much more than fondness. A thought crossed my mind...Yes, it must be possible to love a stranger.

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And what if it’s not only possible to love a stranger...what if love of strangers is what we were made for?

I come from a faith tradition where love of strangers originates from a loving God. In the book of Deuteronomy the Hebrew people have just been freed from slavery at the hands of the Egyptian empire. God gives his newly-emancipated people new words to live by...laws which will be the foundation for justice and peace. In this context there is a covenant made between humans and the Divine—a marriage between God and his people. And in this covenant there is the most remarkable inclusion: the stranger. “So you must love the foreigner, since you yourselves were foreigners in Egypt.” Love of the stranger, expressed in radical welcome, is at the heart of this new people God is forming.  

Then comes Jesus of Nazareth, who, according to the apostle Matthew said “I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” This is not just a sign of solidarity, but an intimate identification with the marginalized.  Jesus is not only with the stranger; he is the stranger. Here love of God and love of neighbour are inextricably linked.

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In the hand of a lover, in the face of a neighbour, in the dying words of a saviour...I can’t help but conclude that stranger-love is not only possible; it’s what makes us human. 

*The Means and the End is Love by Kurt Armstrong