What does it mean to be hospitable?
By Caro Field
Candidate for Ministry at Centre for Theology and Ministry
During a recent church Bible study, discussion led to the consideration of hospitality, and we asked the question, “what does it mean to be hospitable?”
I would guess that for most people, the thing that immediately springs to mind when you mention ‘hospitality’ is the idea of having people into your home, for meals, or perhaps to stay. A couple of members of the study group commented that their circumstances prevent them from being able to invite people into their homes for meals, so we started to explore other ways that we could be hospitable to people which don’t necessarily involve providing meals, or accommodation.
Think about it: how would YOU define ‘hospitality’ if you couldn’t use any concepts relating to meals or inviting someone to your home?
Someone I know once said that hospitality is “allowing the chaos of another person’s life into your own life”. Our group talked about what it might look like to do this, in a practical way, and came to the conclusion that ‘hospitality’ in its broadest sense is very much like ‘generosity’; a willingness to be generous with our time, and all aspects of ourselves for the benefit of others.
This is quite profound, and can often be costly in practice. I shared the story of a colleague many years ago when I was a youth worker in Sydney. He and his family (he and his wife had two pre-school aged daughters at the time) would often have various waifs and strays staying at their home for differing periods of time. On one occasion, he told us how he had rigged up a complex ‘alarm’ system (comprising various tin cans and other noisy items balanced over the doorway of his daughters’ room) so he would be able to hear if a particular houseguest tried to gain access to the girls’ room during the night. I remember marvelling at this, and even now, more than 20 years down the track, I’m still not sure whether to be in awe of my colleague’s faith, or gobsmacked at his stupidity for inviting someone into his home who he thought might harm his children. Either way, he was certainly inviting the chaos of that mans’ life into his own in a big way.
On a lighter note, I am currently struggling with my own hospitality issue, as I note with some dismay that in the last week a local family of possums has decided that my bathroom makes a nice cubby house in which to frolic during the night. Whilst waiting for the promised tradesman to check out my roof and seal off the access point, I have resigned myself to just shutting the bathroom door and allowing them to frolic away, as the larger ones are able to get out the same way they get in, but it seems that last night the baby of the family came for a visit, and when he was finished playing, discovered to his great consternation, that he was not able to climb up and get out. We both had a little ‘moment’ when I went to use the bathroom and discovered him cowering in my bathtub, looking very frightened and forlorn. Fortunately, my ministerial training equipped me to ‘pastorally counsel’ him down the stairs and out the door to the safety of a welcoming tree.
So, I am starting to feel like “The Possum Whisperer” of Brunswick, and can’t help but wonder whether this current situation is some kind of preparation for my future in rural ministry.
June 18th, 2008 at 7:16 pm
Caro Field (Trapeza May 11th) raises the question, “What does it mean to be hospitable?”. Let me give you a practical example.
In 2001 and in our mid fifties my wife and I were hardly typical backpackers in Norway, but we were certainly enjoying the unspoiled fishing villages and the rich historic sites. Upon our arrival in the little village of Alesund on the west coast we saw the Rainbow Warrior in the harbour, and always interested in environmental issues, we were soon engaged in conversation with Thomas, a young Dane doing volunteer work with Greenpeace. It wasn’t long before we were enjoying coffee in the crew’s quarters. Our conversation turned to our next port of call - Copenhagen - and our accommodation – the youth hostel! “That hostel is —-”, he said bluntly, and reaching into his pocket he thrust something into the top pocket of my anorak. It was a key - the key to his flat in Copenhagen. “Stay there”, he said, “you are most welcome.” Protesting that we were complete strangers I firmly returned his key but just as quickly it was replaced in my pocket. “My bed will be empty. Use it.” he said. The key went back and forth a few times but he was insistent. His logic was simple. The room was there. The bed was not being used. We were most welcome. The end result was that we spent a week in his flat in the very centre of Copenhagen. His flat mate, Heinrich, returned a few days later, and could not have been more welcoming, advising us what to see, making telephone calls on our behalf, arranging meals, and generally being the perfect host. He would accept no money and when we left he provided us with a wonderful, celebratory, farewell Danish dinner - and packaged lunches for the journey. We were literally overwhelmed with their hospitality.
Seven years on we still wonder if we could do something similar - give the key of our home to a complete stranger and say, “We’re not using it at the moment, and you’re most welcome.” I don’t know the answer, but Thomas and Heinrich remain in our thoughts as beacons of hospitality.
Hospitality has undergirded the ministry of the church down through the ages and as we seek to heal the divisions in our world we need to draw on its rich traditions of generosity. People like Thomas and Heinrich, contribute actively and probably unknowingly, to reminding us that the ministry of welcome can be one of the ultimate joys on life’s journey.