Benjamin Franklin once quipped, “Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days.” I used to find that quote particularly hysterical, until I started to entertain visitors. In a number of assignments, my parish and I have had the great fortune (or maybe affliction) of hosting guests. I am admittedly a man of routine who generally enjoys structure and patterns. As a result, adapting to new models of operating and people is not always my forte. I have also had my share of houseguests who have left the place a wreck. The woman who cleaned one rectory called to ask me if I had been robbed after the departure of one visitor. However, this is not always the case. In fact, some visitors can actually be gifts in disguise.

St. Benedict of Nursia, whom I have always admired, writes especially about the importance of receiving guests. The Rule of Benedict, chapter 53, states, “Let all guests who arrive be received as Christ, because he will say: ‘I was a stranger and you took me in’ (Mt 25:35).” This gives me pause when considering my annoyance with visitors and reminds me of the need to see God’s presence in those around me. I can remember that a visiting priest came right at the end of the Advent season to stay at the rectory. This was especially stressful given the chaotic nature of preparing for the Christmas season. We had just finished a penance service, and I was especially tired.

However, I noticed our guest sitting in the kitchen by himself drinking coffee and staring out the window. I really just wanted to go to bed and thought about crawling past the doorway. Nevertheless, I reluctantly engaged in conversation and was pleasantly surprised. We laughed, talked about sports and family, and even said evening prayer together. “It’s nice to have a brother,” he remarked before going to bed. I surprisingly had to agree, and I was not even aware that I needed one.

As if that was not enough, God provided a reinforcement the next day about the need to be welcoming. In doing some reading, I came across this passage from Scripture: “Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect hospitality, for through it some have unknowingly entertained angels” (Heb 13:1-2). I was thoroughly convinced that I needed to change my perspective and start seeing those around me as God’s gift to me. “If the Lord could welcome shepherds, animals, and even those pesky Magi,” a veteran cleric told me, “then I guess I can deal with a few home invaders for a couple of days.” Perhaps that is not the ideal for being hospitable, but at least it’s a decent start.

When I was a student in Washington, D.C., the archdiocese had a campaign around Christmastime called Find the Perfect Gift. It was an effort at evangelization, to honor Christ by encouraging people to go to Mass and confession. I initially did not pay much attention to it, since we were always in chapel or engaged in spiritual direction anyway. However, this campaign made me realize God gave me other gifts, in the people in my life, especially the men I would one day call brothers. As St. John instructs, “If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ but hates his brother, he is a liar; for whoever does not love a brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen” (1 Jn 4:20).

Thornton Wilder’s play “Our Town” has a poignant scene in which the main character, Emily Gibbs, questions if any folks appreciate people and the value of life. Spoiler alert, she is dead when she asks this and is reviewing her life. (Just forget this detail and the first two acts will hold you in suspense.) The reply she receives is that only the “saints and poets, maybe,” are the ones who do. We are called to be saints, and so we must begin now to appreciate family, friends, brothers, visitors and strangers alike. Amazingly, I am beginning to actually enjoy guests. They help me see Christ and to exercise charity. Even if they stay for more than three days.

FATHER MICHAEL ACKERMAN is the pastor at Resurrection Parish, Bethel Park, Pennsylvania, and chaplain at Seton LaSalle Catholic High School in Pittsburgh.