You’ve gathered in church to wait for Jesus.  Unarguable signs have let you know this is the day.  This is the day of the second coming.  This is Judgment Day. 
It was a no-brainer to decide everyone should wait at the church.  There was more discussion over whether it should be a potluck but in the end most agreed a collection of simple dishes appropriate for Lent would be okay and a blessing to the elderly and fragile.  Many of you have gone across the street to the expensive little shop that sells home-cooked frozen gourmet meals, more expensive than cooking but so convenient.
You’ve all spent quite a bit of time deciding what to wear, trying to steer the line between being too casual, which could be interpreted as disrespectful, and being too formal, which could lead a suddenly silent Jesus to add up and look askance at your well-fitting suit and silk turtleneck. 
There are examples of both approaches present.  Most seem to have chosen the middle way, just stuff you could pick up at the Gap or J. Crew, natural fabrics--cotton, wool, linen--but nothing ostentatious, the sort of clothing you might wear for a  Parent-Teacher Association meeting.  You’ve left your gold jewelry at home.  Except for watches.  Somehow you want to keep track of time.
You’re sitting in a circle of chairs left over from the meeting on Sunday about whether or not the church’s present predilection to elect gay bishops and even women was going to hasten the end of the world.  That was before the announcement about the imminent Judgment Day, so some thought it had and others said it was just coincidence. 
On the whole, those present seem to have borrowed their attitudes and voice tones from old funerals.  There is surreptitious glancing at the watches as the morning goes on.  Occasionally someone answers a cell phone but talks in a low, well-bred voice.
Everybody is longing for a cup of coffee but nobody likes to give in and actually go start the dripping.  What if Jesus walked in when you had the steaming cup in your hand, tantalizing your nostrils, but before you’d actually brought the cup to your lips?  What if such addiction to worldliness counted against you?  What if then you were sent over with the goats and had to put the cup carefully down on the table near the door, having gone to the trouble of making coffee but never having had your last sip?
These and other small issues are on everyone’s mind.
The group has started the waiting with several nice prayers but then silence ensues.  You are all wondering if there will be a sign, something like a mass ringing of bells, a clap of thunder, or brazen and echoing angel voices to get things started.  Might Gabriel actually appear as the advance man to give you time for a last bathroom call, time to uncross your legs, straighten ties, clasp hands demurely in your laps?
This is doomed not to be.
You all start at the sound of the door opening and closing.  There is some banging and cursing and the sounds of someone or something falling.  The same thought comes to everyone’s mind—all those stacked-up contributions for the thrift shop.  Then someone limps and scrapes down the hall.  You’ve just relaxed when that someone comes in the door.  This person is bizarre enough that you know something is up.  You can’t believe it, but in your heart, you know Jesus has arrived.
Short guy, not more than five feet one or two, made worse by his bent and twisted appearance because of the hunched back.  Long straggly beard.  What hair is left is scruffy and full of dandruff you can see across the room.  Squinting at you. 
God forgive you, you hope somehow you can be judged from across the room because you can smell the stench already.  The room is full of it.  He’s probably never taken a bath in his life and he’s obviously drunk so much alcohol for so long that he’s as full of alcohol fumes as Rappacini’s daughter was of poison.
His robe may have been white once but now it’s all-over dirt and food color. You can see the long, jagged, dirty fingernails clutching his crutch and you realize in the midst of winter he’s barefoot and you’re horribly aware of his horny, yellow toenails.  Oh, yes, his nose is running and he wipes it on the back of his hand.
He smiles at you and you realize the smile full of missing and rotten teeth is meant to be sweet and reassuring.
I guess you’ve all been waiting some time.  Sorry to be so late.  The sidewalks haven’t been plowed or even salted yet.  Fell down twice.  By the way, I think you’re in violation of the fire code with all that junk in the hall. 
Everybody starts to get up and head toward the door.
No, no, don’t bother to move it now.  The time is short.
Alarming.  All of you, who have been half out of your seats to run out and show the proper spirit by moving the boxes, sink back and try to look holy, dismiss the thought of coffee from your minds.  You feel like second graders who are all going to be punished because the person who put a tack on teacher’s chair won’t confess.
He gingerly eases himself into a seat near the door, under the big crucifix, and lays his crutch down beside it.  The chair is near a radiator, which magnifies the smell.  Silence ensues.  You wonder what to do.  Is this a test? 
Are you supposed to pretend you don’t notice what he looks like?  Would this show you don’t judge people on externals?
Are you supposed to excuse yourself and run down to the restroom, rend your garments, dig some dirt out of the flowerpots and smear yourself up a little, dip your head under the faucet to get the mousse out and appear flat and stringy,  go back into the room barefoot to show solidarity with the suffering peoples of the world?
Are you supposed to say, diffidently, um, excuse me, I know how busy you’ve been and probably haven’t had much time for personal care.  We have a shower in the basement and a supply of clothes from the thrift shop for homeless guests who are in need of them.  Would you like someone to show you the way down and where the deodorant and mouthwash are kept?  We’ll just wait here until you’re ready to come back. 
Would this show hospitality to strangers, say your hearts are in the right place in spite of the natural fabrics and gold watches?
Which is the right answer?