A FEW YEARS AGO, I WAS GOING TO VISIT my friend Jacob’s ancestral home in western Kenya. This is the place where he grew up, where he went to school, where his family still lives. The journey was long: I took an overnight bus, arrived around 6 a.m. and waited for Jacob to meet me. Once he did, we boarded a smaller bus for an additional 45-minute ride. When we alighted, we started walking up, up a nearby mountain. Jacob kept calling it a hill, but I am convinced it was a mountain. When we were three-quarters of the way up the mountain, we turned and finally found his home. Now, Mama Jacob didn’t know me; we had never met one another. I was a total stranger to her, but she greeted me with a huge hug, a smile and a beautiful mixture of languages. I was quickly taken inside to a table that had already been spread for me, a table of roasted maize, bread, honey, sweet bananas and warm chai. The graciousness of her welcome and the hospitality of her table made me feel at home in a place I had never seen.
In our culture, the word hospitality often refers to the hospitality industry with its luxury hotels and exclusive amenities. However, biblical hospitality offers us a tradition much richer and deeper than our current definition. In our most sacred Scriptures, God chose to show up at people’s houses unannounced. Strangers were honored as guests, because they could be messengers of the Lord in disguise. It was the responsibility of a host to welcome and protect their guests. Ultimately, our tradition insists, hospitality to the stranger does not just help the other; it is responsible for our own survival as well, for our lives are bound up with the well-being of others.
As I read about the growing migrant crises around the world and hear the various perspectives that are offered, I am struck by a very basic Christian belief: God has a habit of showing up in the form of the stranger, especially the stranger in need.
Reformed theologian Letty Russell describes biblical hospitality as “the practice of God’s welcome by reaching across difference to participate in God’s actions of bringing justice and healing to our world in crisis.” According to this understanding, hospitality is about reaching across difference; it is about welcoming folks who may not look or sound or believe anything like we do because our lives depend on one another. In learning to encounter strangers as human beings, our own hearts widen, and we become more human ourselves.
I went back to see Mama Jacob later that year. Same crowded, overnight bus ride. Same early morning arrival. Same hike up the mountain. I took a friend who was visiting from the U.S. with me. You won’t be surprised to hear that we received the same abundant welcome: honey, chai, sweet bananas. We also visited a nearby school for girls where Jacob’s niece and cousin were in high school. We learned on the way back down how much of a struggle it was for Mama Jacob to send them to school, to buy their uniforms, to provide for their needs. When I talked with my friend months later, she mentioned that the girls were starting a new semester in school, except she pays their school fees now. Because she had eaten at Mama Jacob’s table, because she had experienced abundant welcome without expectation of payment or reciprocation, she was compelled to care for others.
Biblical hospitality means reaching across differences to participate in God’s welcome. It is a fundamental aspect of who we are as followers of Jesus Christ, for we have been welcomed by Almighty God who has already prepared a table for us.
LAUREN WHEELER SCHARSTEIN is the associate pastor for youth and families at The Presbyterian Church of Upper Montclair, New Jersey. A Columbia Seminary grad, she previously taught in Kenya with the PC(USA)’s Young Adult Volunteer program.
