When I was in college, my family went through some changes that made going home difficult for a few years.
During holiday breaks or long weekends, I often opted to stay alone in my dorm room. In the summers, I took jobs that included living accommodations: at a summer camp or as a live-in nanny for a family near my school.
After a while, I got to know a professor who offered me the futon in the finished part of her basement.
Sometimes I’d babysit her daughters or pets while the family was away, but more often I’d stay in the basement while the family was home, leaving early in the morning for work, then returning in the evening and heading downstairs to watch TV alone.
One night after several days of my quietly coming and going, my professor sat me down and said something like, “You know, Sarah, you’re not being polite. I feel taken for granted when you come and go without saying anything.”
She was probably right. I was young and clueless. A lifelong introvert, I hadn’t yet learned that sometimes being too quiet made other people feel ignored or snubbed.
But what I also learned that night was that the hospitality my professor offered was not free. She had expectations about how I was going to behave in response to what she’d given.
Biblical hospitality
In the May issue of Gather, as has become the tradition in recent years, we take a look at biblical examples of hospitality.
We learn from the stories of Mary and Martha, Ruth and Naomi, and the woman who washes Jesus’ feet that biblical hospitality is all-inclusive. It makes equal space at the table for all ages, all genders, all backgrounds—and it does so expecting nothing in return.
It can be easy to hope that our hospitality will be rewarded. When we welcome visitors at church, we hope they will come back. When we respond to a friend in need, we hope they will also someday be there for us.
These kinds of expectations, though, are not what Jesus had in mind when he commanded us to love our neighbors. Just as grace is freely given to us, we are called to give grace to others—regardless of how they respond.
Giving grace
This kind of hospitality reminds me of a suicide prevention class I once took during my Lutheran diakonial training.
We learned that when you suspect someone may be at risk of self-harm, you should ask them open-ended questions: “Are you thinking of hurting yourself?” rather than “You’re not going to hurt yourself, are you?”
The latter creates an expectation about what you want to hear from the person in trouble. It puts pressure on them to give you the answer you want. The former grants them the hospitality to tell the truth without being judged. The question is about the person in need; it’s not about you.
True hospitality, we learn in Gather’s May issue, is not about us; it’s about our neighbor, it’s about the other. It’s about giving of ourselves and trusting God to handle the results.
Sarah Carson is associate editor of Gather magazine. Interested in learning more about biblical examples of hospitality? For a limited time, you can purchase the May issue for just $1 plus shipping. Check out excerpts from the May issue here.
Photo: Jesse Menn | CC BY-NC-ND