Making Room at the Table

There is so much that I learnt and need to continue to digest from this time with our local partners and the communities that they walk alongside. One of those ‘lessons’ that really sticks out was the practice of genuine hospitality and generosity that we experienced in so many ways during our time. Seeing how communities defined as ‘poor’ and ‘vulnerable’ go about graciously making time and space for others.

I was in Mozambique working alongside a photographer and during our week in the community we interviewed and met with dozens of people across multiple communities, sitting with them in their homes and yards, listening to stories of transformation, courage and change. And throughout that time I was constantly overwhelmed with the hospitality of people. Of how generous people are with their resources, their time and their homes. In fact the hospitality was palpable before we even arrived in each place. As news of our party drawing near would become public, the sounds of corporate singing and dancing rose up to greet us. When we finally arrived, the celebrations continued for some time, finally slowing enough to allow space for storytelling and sharing to begin. 

Throughout the gospel stories, we read about Jesus ‘breaking bread’ with others, his disciples, the poor, the rich and the lost. Sharing in meals, making space to listen to one another, in everyday, common acts. As we read the gospel accounts, these don’t read as religious practices removed from daily life, but in the midst of it. This Easter, I had the opportunity to preach on the resurrection story of the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35). 

What is amazing about Luke’s Emmaus story is that these two friends didn't recognize Christ within their midst, even though he walked and shared with them for miles that day. What is also surprising is that we are told that what finally helped them to see through resurrection eyes was the ‘material’, ‘physical’ act of ‘sharing bread’ (Luke 24:31). William Temple, former Archbishop of Canterbury once suggested that, ‘Christianity is the most materialistic of all the great religions’. What he is suggesting, and what I believe this passage demonstrates is that the spiritual and the physical are inherently connected. That God is revealed to us in the earthy, common, everyday acts of humanity. Sitting with people, eating together, listening to one another.

The Christian practice of hospitality stems from this belief. That in offering and sharing what we have with friends and strangers, ‘God himself is made known’. And further, that we, as guest or host, begin to see each other and the world through different eyes!

In her book 'Making Room’, Christine Pohl remarks that what has distinguished Christian hospitality throughout the ages and across geographies, has been its radical commitment to ‘welcoming the stranger’, to inviting in and providing space for those who are different, those who are lost and in need of a home. Pohl goes on to highlight that in fact it is within this intentional practice that God is made known, materially and spiritually… it is where the ‘Word becomes flesh’.

Unfortunately, Pohl reflects, and most of us would no doubt agree, we live in times where much of this ‘practice’, this way of living, has been lost. Abandoned, forgotten, farmed out to professional institutions, which the rest of us pay to look after the old, the homeless or those who don’t fit. As such, we have lost the skills and knowledge as households and communities of how to ‘welcome in the stranger’ and to make room for others. 

In fact, we now find ourselves in a place and time where the term ‘hospitality’ is associated more with ‘professional catering services’ and ‘formal dinner parties’, than with the daily, common, intentional practices of opening up our lives, our homes and our communities to others, and certainly not strangers. Instead, we spend much of our time defining who the ‘others’ are and designing our homes, our lifestyles and even sometimes our churches to keep them separate from us.

As I reflect on our own culture and context here in Australia, my time visiting our partners in Mozambique speaks to me in a gentle, but challenging tone. As I do, a series of questions settle in my soul;

• What would it look like for our family, our community, our church to re-learn this central practice of Christian faith? 

• How might we begin again to experiment and practice Christian hospitality together? Not in a cavalier or reckless way, but in a way that is both safe, yet generous and abundant?

• And how are the voices and messages that I ‘give’ myself to, helping to shape me into a person of generosity and inclusion rather than those that create fear, build walls and seek to exclude?

These are not small questions, and certainly not ones that can be fully answered or wrestled with alone. Yet, the parable Jesus told regarding the Sheep and the Goats (Matthew 25:31-46) reminds us that ‘we will be judged on how we show God’s hospitality to others. How we ‘cloth the naked, feed the hungry and care for the sick’. For as that story so powerfully reminds us, when we do this ‘for the least’, we are in some way doing this for Jesus himself. There is then, an ongoing invitation as followers of Jesus to make space to reflect on these and other questions of inclusion and hospitality together. And as we do, to look to take small, tangible steps in faith, as those who are blessed with God’s ultimate gift of hospitality and welcome.

At Tearfund, we have much to offer our partners around the world, finances, prayer, technical support etc. However, my recent experience in Mozambique, as well as those of Tearfund staff, is a constant reminder to me that we have so much to learn and no more so than in how we offer hospitality to others.