This post is a TTC classic. It proposes a broader understanding of hospitality, and it proposes that when we provide a safe space for others, that is the highest, truest form of hospitality. And this hospitality is for everyone.
Thoughts on Hospitality
When we hear or use the word hospitality, it conjures a pretty specific picture: (mostly) married women hosting dinner parties, (mostly) married women bringing covered dishes (which is Southern-speak for food that makes for delicious leftovers) to the homes of those who are suffering.
We might get a broader picture when we invoke the phrase Southern hospitality.* This consists of everything from someone offering you a ride in their chicken truck to nearest PepBoys when your car breaks down (true story), to bumming a cigaret to a stranger; from holding the elevator without being asked, to insisting on water breaks for the movers you’re paying by the half-second. These are all good examples of hospitality. The first examples happen mostly among friends and family, the latter between strangers. Both are vital to our development as human beings.
But these expressions of hospitality are not usually part of our everyday comings and goings. They’re generally either extremely planned or extremely unplanned. And, sometimes what we primarily think of as hospitable acts lend themselves toward being extraverted acts.
Proposal: Hospitality is neither for certain sects of people — extraverts and women** — nor is hospitality a once in a while, or “merely polite,” venture. Hospitality, in it’s most essential form of expression, is ontological. (Just keep reading; this word will soon make more sense if it’s new to you now.)
We are most hospitable when we make others feel at home in their own skin. You don’t have to own a home or a spacious apartment to do this. Nor do you have to smile at or speak to strangers. You simply have to let people be themselves. Make being with you a safe place for people to be their true selves. How do we do this?
1. Stop being so judgy. We all do this. Kicking this nasty habit requires being openminded and refusing to stereotype and categorize people: Fat people are lazy. Nice people are fake. Muslims hate women. Stop. Stop. Stop. People are complex. Get to know someone as the individual he or she is — which will invariably include hopes and passions and insecurities that are deeply human that allow us to connect on a deeply human level.
2. Keep calm and… you know the rest. Don’t freak out. This is especially important when someone shares an insecurity or a mistake or a life choice you don’t approve of (see Step 1), or a life choice that really is unhealthy and harmful to his or her true self. Yes, hospitality is really just being the grownup friend to the teenager inside us all. When someone confides in you, try to be rational while also being emotionally available. In other words, don’t freak out and make emotional contact: eye contact, a hand on the shoulder, a gentle word. Find a way to communicate love and respect, even if also disappointment.
3. Encourage the true self. This is the biggest part of being hospitable. All the other things we’ve talked about so far fit into the framework of encouraging others’ true selves. What I’m calling the true self can be understood as one’s better self, or in fancy Christian-speak, the imago dei. Encouraging someone’s better self takes form in two ways.
First, we encourage someone’s better self by believing it exists even when we can’t see it. We do this by seeing her potential beyond her failings. We do it by recognizing his hurtful words and actions as the masks of the false selves, the lesser selves.
Secondly, we show hospitality by drawing out and nurturing the parts of that person she or he has buried because some social structure — family, church, the workplace, society at large — has told her it’s abnormal or unacceptable, told him it’s weird or wrong. Don’t cry, men are supposed to be strong. Don’t speak your mind, women are supposed to be nice.
As Christians we believe (or we’re supposed to believe) that all people are made in the image of God (cue the above Latin), and as such, uniquely reflect God to others. This means we need one another to see God and to gain perspective about ourselves and the world in which we live. But the world is not a safe place for these unique selves because unique is unpredictable, unmanageable, and unknown. And so we create false selves to protect ourselves. Frederick Buechner describes this hiding of our true selves best:
[T]he world sets in to making us what the world would like us to be, and because we have to survive after all, we try to make ourselves into something that we hope the world will like better than it apparently did the selves we originally were. That is the story of all our lives, needless to say, and in the process of living out that story, the original, shimmering self gets buried so deep that most of us hardly end up living out of it at all. Instead, we live out all the other selves which we are constantly putting on and taking off like coats and hats against the world’s weather. (Telling Secrets45)
Whether you believe in God or not, we all know the world is not a safe place to be yourself. True hospitality is being a shelter for the self that’s been battered by the world’s storm. For those who believe God is a shelter and has a plan to restore everything to its true self, being a refuge for someone’s “original shimmering self” is our part in that plan.
*I’m sure them d*mned yankees (bless their hearts) are hospitable too… in their own cold way. —No northerners were harmed during the making of this blog post. I <3 NY—
**Cuz let’s be honest, you probably hadn’t considered anything in the Southern hospitality list as hospitality, except offering your movers water. We associate hospitality with the home; we associate the home with women. When men are hospitable toward women it’s chivalry, and when dudes are hospitable toward other dudes, it’s… we don’t even have a word for it. But we don’t need a special word for it. It’s hospitality! It isn’t just for women.
(Editor in Chief) is a poet whose work often centers around the relationships between nature and the city, loss and love, faith and protest. She holds an MLA in English Literature and an MA in African American Studies. In between her two Masters degrees, Renea took a "gap year" to study theology at the famous L'Abri Fellowship in Switzerland. L'Abri is also where she read the Harry Potter saga for the first time and fell in love with the characters and the story's triumph of sacrificial love. Renea leads an incredibly talented creative writing group at her church and spends a fair amount of time binging books and Netflix and swing dancing at the historic Sons of Hermann Hall.