Practicing Hospitality in a Xenophobic World

Garden gnomes.  They can be useful little critters, and I confess to having a bit of a weakness for them.  So when we were wandering through the shops of Leavenworth a couple of weeks ago, I was drawn to an interesting collection of them.  The one that first caught my eye was this frowning gnome holding an axe with a sign behind him that said "GO AWAY!"  I thought it might make a nice addition somewhere near the front door on Halloween, but my wife vetoed the idea, reminding me that in our complex we actually haven't had any candy-seeking visitors on Halloween the last few years.  And the message didn't exactly seem to reflect a Christian attitude to our neighbors.  In fairness, the sign did have a reverse side that said "WELCOME" which would have been nice except for the word NOT written across the corner of it.

But the gnome got me thinking about biblical hospitality.  It's a topic that has scratched at my mind a number of times over the years.  One of the blessings of moving to the Northwest over thirty years ago was getting to know Vic Walter, who was my District Superintendent and mentor.  Vic regularly encouraged us pastors (and wives) to practice hospitality, to creatively find ways to invite people into our home whether we thought we could afford it or not.  And it was a value that he practiced.  I remember, for example, an invitation to enjoy the pool at his Olympia apartment one hot day.  Never mind that I didn't have a swim suit with me; I could borrow one of his.  (For those who knew Vic, please do not ask me if those swim trunks actually fit me; let's just say we made it work.)  I was welcomed.

It's an interesting word that scripture uses when it tells us (Romans 12, Hebrews 13) to practice hospitality, a word that continues to scratch at my mind.  The word translated hospitality literally means to love the stranger.  Unfortunately in the current political climate, loving the stranger is a difficult topic for conversation, even among Christians.  We live in a world that has become xenophobic, where fear of people who are different from us has become the norm, and love has become the exception.  Before you disagree too sharply with that observation, try tossing the word "immigration" into a conversation, and then listen to the results.  Frequently it is not a pretty picture, and politics poisons the discussion.  It's a difficult thing to love the stranger while you fear the stranger.

Not that there aren't plenty of seemingly good reasons for becoming a xenophobe.  The world has become a dangerous place, and there is no lack of haters who would prefer eliminating those they regard as the enemy to tolerating them.  Am I really supposed to love that kind of stranger?  (Which somehow reminds me of an overheard comment about cross-cultural church outreach:  Look what they're doing to our church.)  The trouble with scripture is that it doesn't include a convenient list of exceptions.  It doesn't encourage practicing hospitality only when it is convenient.  Or safe.  Or inexpensive.  It doesn't tell me to love the stranger unless the world gets too dangerous.  And it doesn't let me display with a clear conscience that garden gnome either at the front door or at the border.

So we chose to leave the unwelcoming axe-wielding gnome behind in favor of a gnome with a different message.  It sits just outside our door with a message that we mean: "WELCOME FRIENDS."  It reminds us of our desire and commitment to have a home and hearts that are open to others, even others who are - dare I say it - different.  It's not that I'm totally over my fear of strangers; I'm not.  There is, I suppose, a bit of the xenophobe in all of us.  But I'm pretty sure that loving the stranger is a more certain road to joy than avoiding him, so we're going to choose to practice hospitality as best we can, even in a xenophobic world. Tea and scones anyone?