In the cool of early evening, as I sit down to weed the
lawn, I have two visitors.
One, by cell phone, is my father. We talk most evenings.
When I hear the familiar ring, I stop whatever I am
doing, and we chat for a few minutes. I treasure these
calls.
The other is my neighbor -- and landscaping guru -- who
comes over to chat about rainfall, shrubs, trees, and
national politics. I welcome his lawn-maintenance advice
and the chance to mouth off about current events.
For both visitors, I need to make room in what I am
doing. I can continue pulling clover, but my primary
focus is my visitor. Hospitality comes first.
In a nomadic culture like that of Abraham, hospitality
might have been the highest ethical value. Not only did
it make sense, but they believed the next stranger could
be God. We see a remnant of that belief in the tradition
of setting one extra place at a Seder, in case Elijah
were to knock and announce Messiah.
Abraham responded extravagantly to his three visitors.
He didn't know their divine nature or purpose. He was
just making room for them in his life, as was necessary
in his culture. His nephew Lot did the same in the next
chapter of Genesis. Jesus' most consistent offense
against prevailing mores was his hospitality toward all
who crossed his path.
Imagine how different our world would be if we had a
livelier ethic of hospitality.
When I do evangelism training, for example, I urge
church members not to form closed circles on Sunday
morning, but to make room for strangers. You'd think I
was stealing from them their main reason for coming to
church, namely, those closed circles.
Similarly, efforts to nurture community go nowhere as
long as people are inclined to look up and see
threatening otherness, not strangers to be greeted
warmly. Whether the differences are noticeable or
subtle, community requires that we become hospitable,
not self-protective.
Hospitality isn't just for church. It applies wherever
people cross your path. If you want to show your faith,
you don't need to wear a cross or keep a Bible on the
corner of your desk. Faith isn't that easy. You need to
welcome strangers, even when -- especially when --
people around you are being aloof or hostile.
Hospitality, you see, isn't the gift of being nice. It's
the gift of making room in your life -- self-denial --
and of being bravely welcoming in a world that is
increasingly unwelcoming to those who are different.
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