XENOPHOBIA. . .XENOPHILIA. . .

I spent the first 18 years of my life in a small, Midwestern city.  For the first 12 years of my life we lived in a house on a corner.  There was some traffic but not a great deal, as I recall.  When I was about eight years old I was standing near the corner one fine day when a car slowly pulled up and stopped.  I am sitting here with my eyes closed re-imaging the scene and feeling the same fear and fascination; I wanted to run and I wanted to approach.  I have words for these feelings today: Xenophobia is fear of the stranger and Xenophilia is a fascination with what is different or foreign.

The stranger evokes these responses.  When we label the stranger as ‘outsider’ these responses are magnified.  Perhaps it is in our ‘first-nature’ – that nature which has been with us for thousands of years and is housed in the ‘old’ part of our brain (or so it seems).  Perhaps it is in our ‘hard wiring.’  It certainly served us well as a species for here we are today.  It also hindered us in many ways; it still does.

Uncritical trust (not mis-trust as such) of the new and stranger (or stranger) can be foolish trust.  Even if the stranger brings gifts we might well be wary of the gifts as we are of the stranger.  The gifts and the stranger might well invite us to change – I might change, you might change, we, the community, might change.  Even the great Chinese sage, Lao Tsu suggested that human communities be small and self-contained.  He also suggested that they be located with enough distance between them so that a ‘stranger’ (or was it an ‘outsider’) might not be able to just drop in for a visit.

At the extreme – which, unfortunately is not all that uncommon – xenophobia results in fears that leads us to vilify, demean and even harm the stranger.  At minimum we isolate or ignore or shun the stranger in our midst.  When I was in Australia I met a man who was then in his late 40s; he had moved to Australia when he was 18 and even after thirty years there he was still treated by many as an outsider.

There is another side to this paradox.  Xenophilia involves the love of the stranger; more than tolerance or even acceptance.  Xenophilia enables us to welcome the stranger; it enables us to invite the stranger in; it enables us to be hospitable to the stranger.  It allows us to be open to the stranger’s voice and story and to then honor both.  Xenophilia allows us to inquire about the stranger in ways which promote the development of a caring relationship.  The Old Testament admonishes us: ‘You shall love the stranger’ and to ‘show hospitality to strangers.’  Xenophilia helps us nurture into life engagement rather than estrangement.

More than ever today, we are faced with ‘strangers’ no matter which way we turn.  Almost daily we have the opportunity to encounter different cultures, faith-traditions, ethnicities, sexual orientations, races, cultures and values that might well seem ‘strange,’ if not ‘alien,’ to us.  With each encounter we have choice.  We can respond with the heart of Xenophobia or with the heart of Xenophilia.  During this holiday season, how will I choose to respond to the many strangers that appear at on my life-path?

Like the eight year-old, will I take the risk and approach the stranger; will I reach out to the stranger with the expectation that I will be able to connect with the stranger and that I will be able to be of service to him or her?  I can see the car window opening slowly.  I can see the man’s face, now smiling at me.  I can hear his words: ‘We are lost.  How do we get to Highway 23?’  I know the way.  I provide the directions.  The man smiles, thanks me and slowly drives away.  I smile.  I am feeling sad now as I consider how that scene might be played out today.