“I can’t possibly invite anyone over until my house is cleaned/I learn to cook/my new furniture is delivered.” Yes, you can! On February 23, Dr. Ann Brodeur, Assistant Professor of History and Catholic Studies at the University of Mary in Bismarck, ND, demonstrated for us that hospitality is a human need that extends far deeper than the externals. As a faculty member at a Benedictine university, Ann is familiar with Benedictine tradition that extends back to the 6th century, when St. Benedict counseled that a wayfarer should be received as if he were Christ. But as Ann pointed out, this custom was not new, in fact it reflected a deep human impulse that was valued in much older Chinese, Indian, and Mesopotamian cultures. Hospitality was viewed as a moral imperative and necessary duty and was looked on as evidence of our humanity. Ann’s talk covered two aspects of hospitality 1. Hospitality is healing and 2. Hospitality is about vulnerability. She recounted two tales from ancient literature to demonstrate these points.
The first was from the Epic of Gilgamesh, from ancient Mesopotamia. Within this epic is the story of Inkadu, who is a wild man, strong physically but uncivilized and lacking in all the skills needed to get on in society. He is unfamiliar with social customs and is even unable to speak in an intelligible way. Inkadu approaches a village and is taken in by a family who not only feeds him and offers him shelter, but also educates him about how to get along with others, even teaching him to speak in their language. In a very real sense, they healed him and helped him to become more human in his behavior. How does this relate to the needs of those around us? Ann pointed out that many of the people around us—friends, colleagues and neighbors—suffer from deep loneliness. They may give the appearance of a fulfilling life on social media, but this is a carefully curated version of what their life is really like. In other words, they are lonely because they are not really seen. This situation has become more evident as we come out of the pandemic. Nearly everyone has suffered loss and is in a vulnerable emotional or physical state, as well as being out of practice with attending social gatherings. If we take a leap and invite someone into our homes—even if it is just for tea and cookies—we will be engaged in a genuine act of healing—not only for them, but also for ourselves. We help them grow in hope and optimism, because they are being listened to and will feel cared for. But at the same time, we also are healed because in the process of reaching out to them, we also grow.
Often we think of the external aspects of hospitality (How does our home look? Do we have the skills to put together a gourmet meal? Do I have the right dinnerware?) and these become a barrier to reaching out to others. Focusing on the externals could result in missing these healing opportunities for fear of embarrassment or failure. This brings us to the second point that Ann discussed: Hospitality is about vulnerability. To illustrate this, she drew from Homer’s epic poem The Odyssey. Odysseus is trying to get home after the Trojan war, a journey that takes 25 years and involves relying on the kindness of strangers as he wanders through foreign lands. When he finally gets back to his homeland, he has no money and is unsure of whether he will be recognized at all or what he will find. After all these years, he is entering as a stranger. He encounters Eumaeus, one of his former servants who has fallen on hard times and now is working as a swineherd. Eumaeus gives him what little he has, sacrificing his own food, bed, and cloak for the needs of his guest. Eventually Eumaeus recognizes the stranger as his king and the two men reveal their mutual vulnerability to each other. Eumaeus has welcomed him into a less than perfect house with little to offer. Odysseus is also vulnerable as he has arrived at his homeland as an unrecognized traveler with no money. In talking and sharing their hopes and dreams, they remember and reclaim their old friendship.
The lesson for us in this story is that opening our homes means opening up our hearts. It is not a matter of impressing our guests, but of knowing and being known in true friendship. The host offers what she has, however lacking, and the guest is there to be received, understood, welcomed, and loved. Both have exposed their vulnerabilities. In welcoming Odysseus, Eumaeus gave importance to the person over the paltry conditions of his home. This is not to say that externals are not important; we want our guests to feel comfortable and honored. But it is better to offer what is there in the moment than to turn someone away. We meet a friend on the street and notice that she is a bit down. But we don’t invite her in for coffee because there is laundry on the couch, or there is nothing in the fridge except a bottle of pickles. So we let the moment pass. Ann urged us to embrace that moment of vulnerability—“you see my house, I see your heart.”
For her last example, Ann recounted the passage in the book of Genesis when Abraham, sitting in the shade of his tent, sees three strangers approaching. He offers them water to drink and calls to his wife for bread, and to his servant to slaughter a goat for a meal. From this meal comes a blessing. Sarah, his wife, is blessed with a child, because they have entertained angels unaware. There is always some sort of blessing when we put ourselves out there and welcome a guest into our home. The risk we take in extending ourselves is always rewarded.
If you missed Ann's talk or would like to hear it again, it is available here.