Lenten Devotional by Nena Radtke
March 12, 2017
“I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” (Matthew 25:35)
When I was very young, part of my family lived in a religious commune. It was a form of Christian collectivism. This conservative Anabaptist sect was situated in pastoral upper New York state. When I would visit, the community would look out for the children. In this place, I would detach from my own nuclear family, even as I was embraced by a larger family. The names and faces blurred in my child’s eye. Women and girls wore long plain skirts and covered their hair in simple cloth bandannas. Men’s trousers were held up in Amish style by suspenders. Spaces for individual families were small, as waking hours were spent in collective activities. While it was disarming at one level, there was no doubt that one would not fall through the cracks at another level. Any efforts at turf building were nipped in the bud.
Like the Book of Acts, bustling life centered on the good of the whole. Everything was held in common. What I remember well on one summer evening was sharing food. The day’s activities—carpentry, sewing, farming, and child tending—had ended. We first gathered outdoors on uneven grass for group prayers. Soon a kind young woman brought me a wedge of uncooked cabbage with peanut butter spread on it. She didn’t know me; I didn’t know her. And yet, this simple meal was the first time a total stranger had fed me. She let me know I was included as I sat on a rock outcropping in my shorts with other children. There was no thought of not feeding the stranger.
Later that night another woman made sure I had a small, homemade trundle bed to sleep in. I had never seen one before, but it was just the right size for me! In this strange room, there was no art on the walls and no knickknacks to give it individual character. And yet, I felt oddly safe as the stars came out. With nothing to distract me, I could see each star in the rural sky; I could witness my place in the universe. I could appreciate the hands that had made the bed. I could appreciate how the community was of the earth, seeking to be in balance with the earth.
While I came to understand the struggles and benefits of communal living in more nuanced ways as an adult, I will forever remember the evening when these insiders greeted the outsider. I will also remember the stilling that happened when there was no distance between God and me.
Precious and abiding God, may we welcome one another as your beloved. May we still ourselves into the harmony of your creation, knowing that you have given us all that we need. Amen