Hospitality is a tricky concept. We all understand the basic gist of the word, but its varied application from culture to culture is often a source of misunderstanding. An Asian visitor to a northern European home might find it scandalous to have his host offer a refreshment only once, misunderstanding his guest's first polite "no" as literal. Equally as disturbing to a British tourist to India would be their host's very enthusiastic bordering-on-pushy attempts to refill his plate, in spite of clearly declining multiple times, and quite emphatically. Hospitality's rules are charged with history, tradition, and nuance. But it is an art, and art is something we develop and become good at by exposure to masterpieces as well as the discipline of trying our hand at interpreting and creating something that has inspiration and soul. If we are followers of Jesus and students of His word, we can't escape the fact that hospitality for us is not an option, but indeed a command. But we would do better to understand just what is this genre of art called hospitality.
When Paul told the Romans to "practice hospitality" (Rom. 12:13) or exhorted Timothy to "show hospitality" (1 Tim 5:10), it was more than suggesting giving it a good try. The commands literally mean to pursue and press after hospitality and to actively take hold of strangers and receive them into one's home. I get this image of someone seeing a stranger in town, running after them, taking hold of their hand and imploring them to come to their house to share a meal. This is more along the lines of what hospitality really means. It's both what you do to convince the person to trust you enough to come and then what you do to honor them because they did. It's too easy to read into the concept what is a given for us culturally. As with any scripture, we need to determine what the original author and audience understood when certain terms and images were used. Hospitality in the New Testament is translated from philoxenos. When I see the word philo, the first thing I think of is the Greek dough my wife sometimes uses to make delicious savory pastries. Others more theologically minded, however, might be thinking of "loving" or "preferring", which is is technically correct, but not nearly as appetizing. The other half of that word, xeno, is not the brother of the notorious Warrior Princess, but rather the word for "foreigner" or "stranger". Where am I going with this fascinating etymological exercise? Just to say that when the New Testament believer read the words "practice hospitality", he or she did not necessarily understand that to mean using your best china or to offer your dinner guests five choices of something to drink. Those are not bad ideas, but they are only surface attempts to get at what hospitality really is. Because hospitality is a value and a motivation of the heart from which flow different kinds of action. As Paul, Peter and John intended it in their writings, practicing hospitality literally means "pursue and press after a deep fondness towards foreigners and strangers".
Ah, I can see defections from the hospitality committee and welcome-wagon already, because that definition calls for a whole deeper involvement than the size of my bowl of chips or welcome brochure. It touches on our entire orientation of how we think about and relate to strangers. And what is a xenos or stranger, really? Originally it was synonymous with "enemy", because those who were not of your tribe, language or culture were strange, and therefore their motives and background were suspect out of fear and superstition. The appearance of an outsider suddenly in the neighborhood was alarming, surprising and unsettling. Although I am attempting to describe the setting in possibly early Mesopotamia, I don't think I am far of from describing exactly the same reaction when a foreign family moves into a "nice" neighborhood in modern suburbia. But this is actually a sociological regression, because members of society on the whole as they traveled and experienced first-hand what it was like to be an outsider, subsequently established social mores where aliens and strangers were no longer considered enemies to be killed or feared, but began to be accorded special treatment and protection. Sometimes strangers , even enemies, were expected to be invited into homes and treated with greater kindness than relatives and neighbors. In Hellenistic Greek culture, one could ask the name and origin of a stranger only after having fed them a meal.
Hospitality is a frame of mind and purity of motive where one is actually fond of strangers and foreigners. Is that you? Can I say that I have this special warmth in my heart toward people who immigrate to where I live, but don't learn my language and still insist on dressing like their home culture, always shopping in their ethnic grocery stores instead of Wal-Mart? The opposite of philoxenos is xenophobia. I think we're all familiar with that word, which conjures up images of Nazi skin-heads and armed border-patrolling vigilantes. Most of us are a far cry from that extreme, but how close are we to the other side of pendulum, which is actually not another extreme, but rather the water-mark set by God-lovers and Jesus-followers of the Bible? Jesus' standard of hospitality was illustrated in his story of the Good Samaritan, who offered help, lodging and healing to a Jew whose people hated and despised his own. It could be we have come as far as some older Jewish cultures, where the passing foreigner was received warmly, knowing that their presence was a temporary curiosity and diversion. But the shortcoming was that It was the resident-alien who was actually despised. The stranger who didn't just want to come and go, but actually had shaken up the demographic status-quo and decided to stay and invite his whole extended family to join him, he was the one who got the cold shoulder, silent treatment and worse. This is why Ruth was so surprised by the kindness of Boaz. It just wasn't normal for the foreign immigrant to be treated with anything but discrimination and disdain.
If we could really take on this attitude of going after a New Testament kind of hospitality, what could the results be? Jesus, who had no place to lay his head, was dependent on the hospitality of strangers. Often, the homes and communities where he was received became the recipients of healing and grace. He sent His disciples out the same way, with little money and provisions, intending that those families who understood and practiced hospitality would be the ones to receive blessings and to become part of His nascent Kingdom on earth. Paul followed suit, and his hosts often became leaders of house churches that witnessed transformed lives, miracles, and which grew organically from having simply first lived and practiced this value called loving and receiving the stranger. History tells us that temples, synagogues and later, places that received Christian pilgrims with hospitality, became known as hospices. These hospices increasingly became destinations for those aliens fleeing persecution, and offered medical care in addition to lodging, food and a warm fire. It was here that hospices developed into what were called hospitals.
As we go deeper into these last days, the frequency and the level of the persecution of Jesus' followers will only increase. Wars and famine and racial hatred will continue to leave many asylum seekers and immigrants in their wake. Government and social programs will not be able to heal the ugly wound of xenophobia and prejudice that lies at the base of every sinful heart. Only those whose hearts are cleansed and healed by the One who forgave his tormentors and reconciled a sinful world to His Father can solve what plagues our communities. And it is an epidemic to which no nation, city or culture is immune. There will be a great need for centers of hospitality and unconditional love to the weary souls of strangers, aliens and foreigners. If we are not there yet as a family or a believing community, we can start. Start valuing, pursuing and practicing hospitality in ways big and small. We can begin by being friends to the outsider and finding our hearts increasingly fonder of guests, instead of flustered by unexpected interruptions to our tidy lives and tight schedules. Our motive is to obey the words and example of our Savior, but the end result just might be unexpected blessings and honor poured out on simple hearts and hearths of hospitality that evolve into powerfully attractive hospitals of healing and hope.
