Hospitality

page detail from Hebrews, 1611 KJV Bible (Replica Edition) photo by jch

Sermon Series “Through the Bible,” № 81, Hebrews 13:1-6, 15-16

Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it. –Hebrews 13:2

Dan Barber is chef and co-owner of the New York restaurant “Blue Hill.” Years ago, he told an unforgettable story about the time that his staff thought a famous food critic was visiting the restaurant.  Food critics often dine undercover two or three times in order to get a true picture of service for the average customer.  Under these circumstances, a good review by a major critic can give a tremendous boost to a restaurant’s reputation. The staff was excited about that possibility.

On the second visit, the staff began to perform at a very high level.  The kitchen created a special tasting menu. The wine steward offered samples of recommendations to match each course. The servers anticipated every need, and were well prepared to offer it at just the right moment. 

Near the end of the evening, a curious waiter decided it was time to venture a question to this diner upon whom everyone was lavishing attention.  “You seem so passionate about food, sir.  Are you in the business?”  He replied, “What business?”  And the server said, “The food business.”  And the diner said, “The food business?  I’m in the insurance business.  I just like to eat.”

Barber goes on to say that the tragic part of the story is that the next time the man came back, the staff didn’t do anything special for him.  It wasn’t malicious; it’s just that they were disillusioned with him, through no fault of his own.  At the end of the night, the man walked out, and to the best of Dan Brown’s knowledge, never returned. Barber’s story provides a useful case study of good hospitality gone bad. [1]

How do you define hospitality? It’s natural to think of hospitality as something we offer to people whom we know, or would like to know better.   Perhaps they are family or friends who have a special place in our network of relationships.  Perhaps they are business contacts who hold a special position in the larger community.  They are people who may return the hospitality, or offer us a favor in the future.

From the perspective of the authors of our New Testament, however, hospitality is something offered to people who we do not know, and who have nothing to offer us in return. Through the centuries, where the Church has been most truly the Church, hospitality has been viewed as a natural part of what it means to conduct mission and ministry in Jesus’ name.

The ninth chapter of Luke’s gospel records the story we know as “the feeding of the 5,000.” If you look closely, then you’ll see that was the count of just the men. Including women and children, it was even more.  Often this text is examined for what it tells us about Jesus’ identity as messiah revealed through miraculous powers, or for what it teaches us about the meaning of the sacrament of communion.  Along with all those meanings, there is a lesson in hospitality.  The day is drawing to a close, the crowd is far from home, and the disciples are tired. They think, as Christians today often do, there is not enough time, not enough money, not enough energy.  If you know the story, then you know that the disciples learn when Jesus is present and active, something happens that turns scarcity into surplus. Jesus says “You feed them.” Remember I am with you. Remember what I can do. Listen to me, trust me. Then, “You feed them.”

A similar lesson is offered in the Letter to the Hebrews, written to Jewish Christians not too long after Jesus’ earthly life. They are sojourners in a strange land, subjected to ridicule and persecution. In spite of the injustice and pain they feel, they are advised to offer the type of hospitality that they themselves are not receiving. They are encouraged by the example of Abraham and Sarah, who “entertained angels without knowing it.”

I thought about this advice in relation to a recent study by the Public Religion Research Institute, regarding the growing number of Americans who are not affiliated with religion, measured recently at 26%.  Among those who have left religion behind, “the biggest change came among those who said they quit their religious upbringing because of its treatment or teachings of LGBTQ people. In 2016, 29% cited negative teachings about LGBTQ Christians as a reason they quit their religious affiliation. In 2023, 47% said that was a reason they quit. The younger the unaffiliated were, the more they cited LGBTQ teachings as a reason for leaving.”[2] Some people feel that Fundamentalist churches are strong and courageous for drawing a hard line that excludes those who do not fit into traditional categories of gender identity and role. But such hard lines are being viewed less as signs of moral courage, and more as signs of misunderstanding and fear.  And living in a state of fear does little to support the practice of Christian hospitality.

The film “Chocolat” holds a lesson about hospitality, and a rare positive film portrayal of a pastor’s sermon on the topic. The story is set circa 1960 in a village in the countryside of France, and tells what happened upon the arrival of a single mother named Vianne and her daughter Anouk. The townspeople are religiously devout, but also made rather miserable by the repressive rules under which they are expected to live. Their young, progressive priest is kept on a short leash by the town’s mayor, who prefers the social order supported by the old ways. The villagers are shocked when Vianne opens her new business – a chocolate shop – during the season of Lent. To them, it seems like the devil’s temptation during what is supposed to be a holy season of reflection and penitence.

At the beginning of the story, the little village church doesn’t look so good. They’ve become so focused on following rules that they’ve forgotten the gracious spirit in which such rules should be practiced. As the story progresses, we see Vianne’s hospitality begin to heal the community, and show them the way back to a life of love and joy. On Easter Sunday, the young priest stands in the pulpit. With fresh insight, he preaches to his humbled and changed parishioners. 

“I'm not sure what the theme of my homily today ought to be,” he says. “Do I want to speak of the miracle of our Lord's divine transformation? Not really, no. I don't want to talk about His divinity. I'd rather talk about His humanity … how he lived his life here on Earth. His kindness. His tolerance. Listen, here's what I think. I think we can't go around measuring our goodness by what we don't do. By what we deny ourselves what we resist and who we exclude. I think we've got to measure goodness by what we embrace, what we create, and who we include.”

I can’t improve upon that simple sermon.  It’s a reasonably good summary of today’s text.  Among our measures of goodness, may we remember one of them is how we relate to strangers, and who we are willing to include in our social circle. By doing that, we may be entertaining angels, unaware.

NOTES

[1] Dan Barber, as related to Adam Gopnik, “The Cooking Game,” The New Yorker, 19 Aug. 2002, pp. 91-92.

[2] Yonat Shimron, “Study: Unaffiliated Americans are the only growing religious group,” Religion News Service, 27 Mar. 2024, https://religionnews.com/2024/03/27/study-unaffiliated-americans-are-the-only-growing-religious-group/ accessed 10 Apr. 2024.

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