My friend Celia has been dead for ten years, but I still miss her. The thing I miss the most about her is how I felt when I visited her -- I felt perfectly accepted despite my quirks (my need for an afternoon nap, my chattiness, my occasional giddiness).
To me, accepting the other is the key to hospitality.
Too many places I've been have professed hospitality and shown otherwise, many of them Christian in focus. I stayed at a bed and breakfast that posted the "As for me and my house, we will worship the Lord" quote in a guest room. This seemed almost hostile to me, even though I'm a Christian -- as if the host had said "Leave this part of you that's not Christian behind if you're going to stay here." I attended a church once that prided itself on its inclusiveness yet employed an uncomfortable silence when I mentioned I had just been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, just when I needed reassurance. I did not feel accepted there.
To me, the whole message of the New Testament. the key book of Christianity, is that the other is our brother or sister. Many other religions hold the same message. How can we be hospitable when we shut the door to travelers and seekers who are not like us?
To give hospitality is to say, "Please sit with me. I will assume the best of you. Spend this moment with me. Come as you are."
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