Explainer
Creed
Migration
9 min read

Why we welcome strangers

As World Refugee Day approaches, Barnabas Aspray explores a powerful command to embrace and welcome ‘the other’.

Barnabas Aspray is Assistant Professor of Systematic Theology at St Mary’s Seminary and University.

Between and around two escalators in a library, stand paintings of different people.
Inner Place is an art work in Kassel Library showing people who have arrived and become part of a society.
Jan-Hendrik Pelz12, CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Over 100 million people in the world have fled their homes to escape persecution, conflict, violence, human rights violations, or some other threat to their life and safety. Known as forced migrants or displaced people, these people are unable to return for the same reason they left. Every year their number grows, so every year it is at a record high.  

Does Christianity have anything to say about this global crisis?  The answer to this question is a resounding ‘yes’. Although forced migration is a larger issue today than ever before, it has been a problem throughout human history, and the Christian tradition has a lot to say about it. 

Be Clear about facts and definitions 

A Christian response starts with the wisdom not to let sensationalist media dictate our understanding of the situation. We are frequently given an image of a deluge of immigrants arriving at our borders, an overwhelming quantity of people for which we do not have space or resources. But this image is not accurate. 

Some countries in the world are indeed overwhelmed with refugees, but the UK is not even close to being one of them. The UK is not even in the top 25 host countries, and refugees make up only 0.2 per cent of our population. In fact, 83 per cent of the world’s refugees are in developing areas far less equipped to respond than any wealthy Western nation.  

Learning the difference between an ‘asylum seeker’, a ‘refugee’, a ‘migrant’ etc. can also clear up a lot of confusion.  Here’s some definitions that may help. 

Citizen: someone who stays at home in their country.  

Migrant: someone who has freely chosen to live in a country not their own. 

Internally displaced person: someone who has been forced to leave their home to preserve their life or safety but has not crossed an international border. 

Forced migrant: a displaced person who has crossed an international border. 

Asylum seeker: a forced migrant who claims asylum in the nation they have entered. 

Refugee: a forced migrant who has been granted asylum by the nation they have entered. 

Refused asylum seeker: a forced migrant whose asylum claim has been rejected. 

Yes, it is complicated. There’s even a flowchart to guide you through the various definitions. 

Determining a migrant's status flowchart.

A flow chart for determining a migrant's status

The situation in the UK is rapidly evolving and that chart may become out of date in the near future. There are moves by the government to make claiming asylum illegal or to remove people to Rwanda under certain circumstances. This chart also leaves aside the question of the legality/illegality of migration, a complication that would distract from the purpose of this article.  

A command to welcome strangers 

Throughout the Bible, displaced people are seen as one of the three most disadvantaged groups in society and most deserving of special care and compassion. Again and again, it enjoins special support for ‘orphans, widows, and strangers’ as those who are least able to support themselves.  The reasons for this are obvious. If you are displaced, you have fled your home, earthly possessions, employment, and most likely your family, bringing with you only what you could carry. You have arrived in a foreign culture full of people who do not know you, have no familial or citizenship obligations to you, who may speak a different language, and who will almost certainly treat you with suspicion and distrust.  

Because of this natural disadvantage, our obligation towards strangers is embedded deep in the law of the people of God. Here’s my translation of what’s said in an early book of the Bible, Leviticus: 

‘When a displaced person [ger] moves to live among you, you shall not do them wrong. You shall treat them as the native among you, and you shall love them as yourself, because you were displaced people [gerim] in Egypt’.  

Or in a later book, Numbers: 

‘There shall be one statute for you and for the displaced person [ger] who lives among you, a statute forever throughout your generations. You and the displaced person [ger] shall be alike before the Lord. One law and one rule shall be for you and for the displaced person [ger] who lives among you.’  

More than thirty times the Old Testament repeats the command to treat displaced people just as you would treat a native. This makes it one of the most frequently repeated commands in the whole Bible.  

We are told to embrace and welcome ‘the other’, not because they are other, but on the basis of a prior sameness: we are all human beings created in God’s image. 

Why such a huge emphasis? Undoubtedly because of the natural human tendency to do the opposite, to discriminate, to ostracize foreigners. Xenophobia, racism, and ethno-centrism are constant temptations. We are told to embrace and welcome ‘the other’, not because they are other, but on the basis of a prior sameness: we are all human beings created in God’s image. We all belong to the same category, participating in the same human form. Christianity knows that we need to be trained and constantly reminded to see otherness, not as a threat, but as part of the beautiful diversity of God’s good creation in which each of us uniquely reflects part of God’s image, and where the full image is only seen in all of us at once. Humanity is in the image of God more than any individual human. 

Jesus himself fled his homeland to escape being killed. Moreover, the writer of the story underscores that this was not an accidental happenstance in Jesus’ life but a necessary fulfilment of prophecy. It was necessary that Jesus be displaced, just like it was necessary that he die and rise again in order to fulfil his mission. Jesus’ experience as a refugee identified him with all displaced people throughout history. To further emphasise the point and make sure we can’t possibly miss it, Jesus told a parable about the final judgment in which our salvation turns on whether or not we identify him with the displaced. 

“Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.”  

There’s no question here about the overall attitude towards strangers that Christian faith enjoins upon its members. But commands are not the main way God communicates. This is because commands rarely get to the heart of why we behave a certain way, and they do not have the power to change the motivations of our hearts. Christian faith wants us to love and welcome strangers, not because we ought to, but because we want to, because we can see how it enriches our lives and communities. So why don’t we want to welcome the displaced? That is the more important question. 

The reality is that welcoming strangers does make us vulnerable. It may interfere with our comfortable lifestyles, and it may refashion normal British life in unexpected ways. 

I said earlier that ‘treat the displaced person like the native’ was one of the most frequent commands in the Bible. But ‘don’t be afraid’ is the most frequent command by far. It’s one we need to hear when considering the welcome of strangers. The media has made a scapegoat out of migrants in recent years, just like it used to scapegoat Jewish people and other ‘others’ at various points in history. As a result, much of the UK population is primed to treat non-natives with suspicion. We are terrified of being overwhelmed by foreigners invading our communities, terrorising our neighbourhoods, and changing culture beyond recognition. 

These fears are vastly overblown, but they do not come from nowhere. The reality is that welcoming strangers does make us vulnerable. It may interfere with our comfortable lifestyles, and it may refashion normal British life in unexpected ways. It will certainly involve some sacrifice of things we are used to and enjoy. But Jesus never promised that the path of virtue would be easy, comfortable or risk-free. What he promised is that it would be worth it, and that he would take care of all the areas that really matter (to which wealth, comfort, and nostalgia about changing culture do not belong). 

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? … But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”  

If our words or actions are based out of fear, then we are not alone. But fear cannot be the basis for our decisions.  Letting go of fear and radically following Jesus no matter what the cost will take us on a great adventure – the adventure we were created to be on.  

What does that adventure look like? In our own age, God has given us the task of enriching our lives and diversifying our culture by welcoming Jesus in the form of the stranger.  

Take practical steps forward 

What can be done by an ordinary Christian in an ordinary church in the UK? 

There is so much that can be done both at the political level with immigration law and at the local level with the refugees already among us. The best place to start is to get in touch with one of the amazing charities who already work in this area, let them educate you about the issues, and offer financial and/or volunteer support. 

  • Jesuit Refugee Service is one of the largest and longest-standing refugee charities. Backed by decades of experience and expert scholarly research, they do all kinds of work not only with refugees but with detained asylum seekers and those who have been refused asylum.  

  • In Manchester you could get in touch with the Boaz Trust who do fantastic work with all kinds of displaced people. Their founder also wrote a powerful book that is well worth a read. 

  • Refugee Education UK is always looking for volunteers to work with young people towards a hopeful future through providing greater access to education.  

  • Welcome Churches seeks to build a network of equipped and educated Christians around the nation who can rapidly welcome new refugees and asylum seekers as soon as they arrive in a new town or city.  

  • Christian Concern for One World offers a rich spread of resources to educate, inform, and network anyone who cares about working with the displaced.  

All these charities will put your time and money to good use, as well as introducing you to refugees you can serve and benefit from building a relationship with. Go!  

FAQs 

Your definition of ‘refugee’ doesn’t explain how the government decides who to grant asylum to. What is the government’s basis for giving someone refugee status?  

The UN holds its members to a definition of a refugee that was laid down by the 1951 Refugee Convention. This convention determined that a refugee is someone who, ‘owing to a well‐founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group or political opinion, is outside the country of his nationality and is unable or, owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail himself of the protection of that country.’ For someone to claim asylum triggers a process whereby a nation determines whether or not that person can justifiably be said to fit that definition. There are many problems with this definition and most experts on refugee studies are unhappy with it for various reasons, but it is extremely difficult to establish a consensus on a new one.  

Why did you translate the Hebrew word ger as ‘displaced person’? 

Ger is one of four Hebrew words for foreigner. Nokri means any foreigner; zar means (roughly) someone not part of your group; toshav means a passing traveller or hired worker and sometimes a slave. There is some discussion over what the term ger means, but the growing consensus is that this refers to a displaced person. It’s certainly clear from the context in which the word is used that the person under discussion is unable to provide for themselves and lacks access to basic resources, and for a foreigner displacement is the most likely reason for this. For more information, check out Mark Glanville’s book, Adopting the Stranger As Kindred in Deuteronomy (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2018). 

 

Review
Creed
Education
Theatre
Weirdness
8 min read

Why I was wowed by this five-hour outdoor drama

Wintershall’s re-telling of an ancient story enthrals a sceptic

Rachel is a reader and writer, a coach, and an educator. 

An outdoor theatrical setting shows Jesus with a basket.
Wintershall.org.uk

Were I to write a recipe for disaster, it would look something like this: 

  • Gather a large cast of mostly amateur volunteers and a few professionals 
  • Include everyone from a baby to a 90-year-old man, 1 donkey, 2 horses and a flock of sheep 
  • Create an outdoor venue with no seating and no shelter from the elements 
  • Welcome a mixed audience of around 1200 school children and the public every day for five days 
  • Present a five-hour dramatisation of the entire life of Jesus from 10am to 3.30pm 

I am delighted to record that contrary to our assumptions, the above proved to be a remarkable recipe for triumph. Accompanied by my 18-year-old son who, as an actor and teenager, was sceptical, I’ll admit that expectations were not high as we embarked on a 2-hour drive to review The Life of Jesus 2025 at Wintershall Estate. The same drive home was rich in deeply moved and unexpected conversation about the incredible phenomenon just experienced.  

Hearing superlatives from me is as unlikely an event as watching a rare desert flower bloom in a decade of drought. And yet, I have nothing else to offer in this case. I have viewed much professional and amateur theatre - Wintershall is like nothing I have witnessed before.  

Perhaps what makes it so different is the intent of those who continue to create it. In 1989, Ann and Peter Hutley decided to open their beautiful estate to visitors interested in hearing about the life of Jesus. They began with a nativity in their new barn before Peter wrote a longer script for the millennium celebrations about Jesus’ ministry. It is tangible in the air that this is a monumental work of love and passion not profit-making. 

On arriving, we met Ann and her daughter, Charlotte, who has taken over the enormous responsibilities as Wintershall’s producer. With consistent warmth, welcome and energy, Charlotte took us to join the cast as they received exacting professional notes from the director, Ashley Herman. She invited us to join hands with the cast in prayer. ‘No questions asked, it doesn’t matter what you believe, join hands and pray with us. Everyone is welcome here!’ she said. This is the truth about Wintershall in a sentence.  

As a teacher of 23 years, I am sorry to admit that I had never heard of Wintershall. I would likely have baulked had someone suggested that I take my class on a daytrip of this format. My assumption would have been that they would hate it, they would be hot, bothered and bored, and I would be very stressed as a result. How foolish am I!  

We visited on a day when the audience consisted of roughly 700 captivated school pupils, ranging from 7 – 18 years, and 300 members of the public. The previous few days had been exclusively for schools and had welcomed in the region of 1,200 pupils on each day. Looking for honest opinions, I asked an adult sat near me why she had brought her class. ‘Oh, I’m not a teacher,’ she said, ‘I volunteer to come on this trip every year because it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen. It just gets better and better!’ Clearly my prejudice was misplaced, and this is the very important issue.  

My years in education mean that I have watched far too many five-year-olds in wonky tea towels, shouting at an inn keeper while the audience laughs. The life of Jesus has taken on a twee familiarity akin to Jack and The Beanstalk or Cinderella. It has become the stuff of folklore and fairytale when it is anything but. We have distorted it from the contemporaneous, historical recount that it is and Wintershall magnificently sets this straight.  

Regardless of faith or belief, there is great damage done in forgetting to view history as reality. Those who work in schools and churches must remember that today’s children perceive the millennium celebrations as ancient history. They cannot fathom time outside of their own existence. All stories from the Egyptians to Princess Diana seem to them to be works of fiction because they must be imagined. Test this, as I have done, by asking them about a recently retired Roger Federer and observe their blank faces! 

Even for me and my son, there came a meaningful realisation that this is not merely an all-too-familiar children’s story retold every year at Easter and Christmas. This is the biography of a man whose contemporaries were prepared to die in order to record the naturally inexplicable things that they saw him do. This first lands around 15 minutes into Act One when Wintershall presents Herod’s slaughtering of the children as the horrific and barbaric act that it was, with none of the usual soft-soap. Not gory or gratuitous in any way, it hits hard, just as it should, since, as Charlotte passionately reminded me, this is still happening in the world today! The same hit came from the disturbing noises made by the man suffering from demons, the size of the rocks about to be hurled at the woman accused of adultery and the often-omitted audible gasping of three men dying by crucifixion. These should not be benign imaginings, they are barbaric and torturous reality, and we do humanity no favours in desensitising ourselves.  

Wintershall is clear that their production is for those aged seven and above because this is no fairytale. I would argue that this is precisely why they are able to keep children captivated through five hours of intense viewing. They have achieved the perfect balance of hard-hitting realism and enjoyment.  

After stretching your legs, Act Two is simply glorious. We forget that Jesus’ ministry took the form of a pilgrimage delivered while walking with people in nature. He spoke on paths, hillsides and lakes which Wintershall authentically recreates. There is nothing to match the experience of sitting on a hillside next to a lake as the character of Jesus delivers the Sermon on The Mount whilst looking you straight in the eye. For the first time, I inwardly understood how a small number of loaves could literally feed a very large crowd because I experienced it first-hand. Quite simply, without needing to be told, you share. You break bread to ensure that those beside you have some and, in so doing, realise that there was always enough for everyone. This precious memory will endure as reality, not magic. 

Act Four depicts the crucifixion. Seeing is believing. Again, this stuff of children’s stories is anything but. The logistics of this scene are extraordinarily well executed, and, for the first time, I was struck by the gasping of these men as they spoke. This was no polite conversation about meeting in paradise, these were their final words during their slow and painful death. The act is completed by the inexplicable and somewhat mystical reappearance of the risen Jesus in a different location beside us. I still have no idea how they did it, but it impacted powerfully.  

So, what then were the negatives? Any trustworthy review must be balanced.

"There is nothing I have ever seen that I have more wanted to be a part of. Compared with this, I have never seen anything more meaningful."

Remember here my aversion to praise and my teenage son’s initial scepticism. Remember this seeming recipe for disaster and my remit to look critically.  

After digging deep, we came up with two very minor concerns that are, in truth, little more than a matter of opinion or preference.  

The first relates to the Angel Gabriel. In a production that so brilliantly undoes the fictionalisation of this biography, one could argue for a more nuanced representation of this angel. Perhaps not a female wearing the sparkly halo and white wings that fits with the wonky tea towels in school halls. Perhaps the name of Gabriel is sufficiently recognisable to permit something a little more daring? 

The second relates to Act Three. Undoubtedly, the vibrant warmth, variety and personally immersive nature of Act Two makes it a very hard act to follow. Act Three is disadvantaged from the outset by occupying what we teachers know to be toughest gig of the day - that slot immediately following lunch. There is usually some social altercation to sort, attention needing to be refocused, and blood sugar levels fluctuating left, right and centre. At this time of natural siesta, you either accept a lull or bring your largest dose of entertainment. In this case, Jesus enters Jerusalem, overturns the tables in the temple, heals a leper, is betrayed by Judas, prays in Gethsemane, is arrested and tried before Pilate. Essential but not exceptionally entertaining, as the story goes. At around the 60-minute mark in, Jesus is stripped and whipped causing the children around me to literally sit up again and re-engage before Act Four. Perhaps, on reflection as I write, this is just as it should be.  

And that is it, the sum of my critique. Believe me, my expectations are unforgivingly high; I struggle booking a holiday because the likelihood is that I will be disappointed. If there were critique to deliver, then deliver it I would.  

To the contrary, it is unusually delightful to leave somewhere with the desire to do everything in my power to support a truly exemplary endeavour. It is to my detriment that I have been so ignorant of Wintershall for the last 25 years; I regret the thousands of children that I did not ever take to see this exceptional phenomenon.  

I urge you to do better than me, to make up for my short fall.  

Go!  

Take everyone you can!  

Make the journey!  

Enjoy the day in glorious natural surroundings!  

Show your pupils that even a flock of sheep can be perfectly well-behaved.  

Rewrite the soppy fairytale as the gritty, historical biography that it is.  

Replace the over-familiarity and wonky tea towels with a real-life experience in how to share what we have so that all might be fed.  

Reimagine the mad magician as a man who loved the low, lost, and lonely, and will look you in the eye to remind you that you are blessed.  

Reset the polite chat about paradise as the last conversation of a man gasping to share his love as he was killed for upsetting the authorities.  

Remember that the infants are still being slaughtered and the women are still being stoned.  

Reawaken to the fact that this is no fairytale. This is the message that the world needs.  

As my son put it, ‘There is nothing I have ever seen that I have more wanted to be a part of. Compared with this, I have never seen anything more meaningful.’ 

Wintershall, one and all, you do not need to take a bow.  

Stand tall and keep going.  

What you are doing is superlatively necessary and remarkable! 

Bravo! 

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