Hospitality

            Among all the things that could be commented on in Genesis 18-19—the promise of God, the scornful doubt of Sarah, the wickedness of Sodom and its destruction—I’d like to direct your attention in these few lines to something altogether different:  hospitality.

            In the ancient Near East, hospitality—welcoming strangers and friends alike into one’s home—was a key virtue.  Whether Abraham knew who the three men were is a question not answered in Genesis.  (Hebrews 13:2 may suggest that he did not.)  What is clear is that he welcomed them to share his home and his table.  Anything less would have been a scandal.  Likewise, the idea that the men would spend the night in the town square, that no one would offer them hospitality—that was too much for Lot, who insisted that they stay at his house.  Hospitality was just basic decency.

            Why do I highlight this one point of a rich story?  It’s simple, really.  I think we live in an incredibly inhospitable age.  My grandmother’s house—and many of the houses on her block—had a wide front porch.   I remember many a summer evening during which the adults sat on the porch, listened to a radio, and greeted passing neighbors, many of whom stopped for conversation.  In marked contrast, my last two houses have not had front porches, but they have had back decks, on which I have been able to relax in private.  What a shift from an inviting presence in the front to an isolating place in the back.  I used to comment about my subdivision in Michigan that I did not know my neighbor’s names but I did know their cars.

            In terms of the faith, hospitality remains a significant virtue.  Our God, of course, is the very picture of welcoming hospitality.  Jesus’ ministry is chocked full of situations in which He welcomed those whom the world excluded—sinners, tax collectors, outcasts.  And, by means of the cross, Jesus opens the door for us sinful outcasts to be welcomed into the presence of our God and Father.

            And we Christians are called to be just as welcoming.  Our churches are called to be welcoming.  I have wanted the congregations I served to be safe havens in a crazy world.  I’m no idealist; I recognize the challenges with that desire.  I recognize that it’s hard for a newcomer to break into an established group; I recognize that churches cause pain and alienate people because churches still live in a broken world and are filled with broken people.  But it pays to remind ourselves all the time:  we are called to show hospitality.

            And it seems to me that Christians as individuals ought to be hospitable in our personal lives.  Again, I know the challenges.  We have some friends that we have been trying to get together with for 2-3 months now, and between our schedules and theirs, it hasn’t worked out.  Perhaps the fullness of our schedules reveals something about why it’s so hard to be hospitable!  Further, I’m a private person myself.  I like my quiet time, my private time, my family time.  But welcoming others to our meals and into our lives, that’s an expansive approach to life that fits God’s own approach to us.

            Perhaps these two stories of Abraham and Lot can incite us to think a little more deeply about our social connections and our desire to welcome others into our lives.