Stranger Danger - Part 2

In a society that seems increasingly fearful, how does the concept of showing hospitality to strangers sit with the Christian church? asks Coralie Bridle.

Part one in this three-part series looked at the first of three voices from which the church can hear ideas about how to better extend hospitality to strangers in its midst. Philosopher Richard Kearney critiques the way the West has traditionally dealt with strangers, foreigners and notions of ‘otherness’ and suggests that fostering ‘a radical attentiveness to the stranger [can function] as a portal to the sacred’. In part two, Coralie considers the voice of Christian ethicist Christine Pohl.

Christine Pohl, in company with writers such as Henri Nouwen, says many contemporary Christians have lost touch with what it means to welcome the stranger. Hospitality has come to mean polite civilities, mostly among like-minded people, rather than a moral, ecclesial or biblical imperative. ‘Hospitality is at the heart of Christian life, drawing from God’s grace and reflecting God’s graciousness,’ she writes.  

And so we turn to investigate the biblical examples for extending welcome to the stranger. As Pohl explains—from the stories of ancient Israel, to the Good News of the Kingdom inaugurated in Jesus, through to the life and practice of the early church under the inspiration and direction of the Holy Spirit—welcome and hospitality toward the stranger is central to the meaning of the Christian gospel.

The story of creation and the character of God give us some indication of the cosmic dimensions of this notion of welcoming the stranger. In the beginning, God created and welcomed into that creation all animal, plant and human life to share his universal hospitality (Genesis 1 and 2). As the ultimate host, God clearly patterned the notion of making space for all. The Psalmist writes, ‘The earth is the Lord’s and everything in it, the world and all who live in it; for he founded it upon the seas and established it upon the waters.’ (Psalm 24:1–2).

While these verses articulate a premise of God’s ownership of creation, they also carry an expression of responsibility. God is a responsible and trustworthy host—the buck stops somewhere. Fashioned as we are in the image of God, all human beings reflect the same image and, in so doing, are worthy of care, compassion and inclusion (Genesis 1:27–28). When we welcome the stranger, we are acknowledging the image of God that resides in both guest and host. Even after the fracture in our relationship, with estrangement and enmity beckoning, God takes the vulnerable and exposed, drawing them back into a life-giving relationship (Genesis 3:21).

As Pohl comments, ‘God’s guest list includes a disconcerting number of poor and broken people, those who appear to bring little to any gathering except their need.’  If we can see our one-time enmity toward God, then we are more able to acknowledge our responsibility to be hospitable to the stranger in front of us. Our host is merciful, gracious, loving and forgiving (Psalm 145:8–9). As human beings, when we respond in hospitality toward the stranger, we participate in the welcome of God (Romans 5:8). When we welcome the stranger, we stand on holy ground.

Welcoming the stranger

Christology (the study of who Jesus was and is) speaks powerfully to the notion of welcoming the stranger. His incarnation presents us with a change of dynamic. Now the ‘host’ seeks welcome from the creation. Revelation 3:20 records, ‘Behold I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.’

This interchange of roles, between host and guest, continues throughout the ministry of Jesus. When Zacchaeus plays host to Christ, he is, in turn, welcomed as a guest of the eternal Kingdom (Luke 19:5–10). It is in the moment that the travellers to Emmaus show hospitality to a ‘stranger’ that they encounter the risen Lord (Luke 24:13–35). As Pohl notes, ‘Jesus welcomes and needs welcome; Jesus requires that followers depend on and provide hospitality.’  

There is a call to vulnerability underlying this statement. It can be more ‘gratifying’ to hold to the host role. There is a latent power in such a position. But rather than clinging to such power dynamics, Christ patterns the exact opposite in his response to our broken reality (Philippians 2:5–8). He became a defenceless baby, he knew the experience of refugee status, he felt the sting of rejection and he lived the reality of being a scorned and convicted criminal.

While the welcome of Christ included conversation with the wealthy (Mark 10:17–22) and spiritual leaders (John 3:1–10), it was a welcome that embraced those on the extreme margins of society (Luke 4:18–19; 23:42–43). Christ’s actions, example and teaching were uncompromisingly clear: when we welcome the stranger, we welcome him (Matthew 25:45; Luke 14:12). As Letty Russell comments, in Just Hospitality: God’s Welcome in a World of Difference, ‘When we extend a welcome to others on the basis of hearing and learning and trusting in the possibility that Christ is present in the other persons, we will hear a gospel that is situation variable … Christ will call some to repent, some to stand up and walk, some to share a gift, or pray without ceasing.’

The Old Testament also develops a deeper understanding of the dynamics of welcoming the stranger. In the ancient world, the nomadic life of characters such as Abraham and Sarah depended on the offer of hospitality. This offer acknowledged that at any moment it might be ‘I’ who stood in need of assistance. Large households—comprising family and servants—extended care and attention to the passing stranger.

Abraham’s introduction to the pages of scripture comes out of a context of displacement. He left the familiar and comfortable as he welcomed God’s call to: ‘Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you’ (Genesis 12:1).

In Genesis 18:1–16, the unfolding story of Abraham and Sarah, as they entertain three strangers, becomes formative for God’s people (Hebrews 13:2). As Pohl articulates, the manner in which Abraham welcomed and entertained his guests was not uncommon in the ancient world. What is instructive in this incident is that in the welcome and hospitality extended to the strangers, God, in the guise of guest, drew near to the host with both promise and blessing (Genesis 18:10).

The compelling stories of two women at the polar extremes of financial security are also instructive. The widow of Zarephath (1 Kings 17:8–24), and the Shunamite woman (2 Kings 4:8–37) both offered hospitality to prophets of God. In turn, the guest became a conduit for a ‘special connection with God’. In both cases, a miraculous restoration of their dead sons followed. Pohl notes, ‘In the stories of women who provided hospitality to men of God, there is an especially strong sense of reward.’ To welcome the stranger is to invite God’s blessing.

The Israelite nation, as the covenant people of God, also speaks to the notion of welcome and stranger. As a people enslaved in Egypt—subsequently incorporated in the Exodus event and invited into covenant relationship with Yahweh—they are a people familiar with the welcome and provision of God (Exodus 14:19–30, 16:13–15; Deuteronomy 7:12). They were also well aware of the responsibilities of covenant relationship (Leviticus 19:9–10, 33).

Hospitality to the alien, or stranger, was a core component in the community life of God’s covenanted people. Their ongoing status reinforced this understanding: ‘The land must not be sold permanently, because the land is mine and you reside in my land as foreigners and strangers (Leviticus 25:23).’ There is an acute denial of the human propensity for staking out ‘what is mine’ in this account. Even as the so-called ‘chosen people’, the Israelites were to be representative in their continuing status as guests— permitted to dwell in the land by God’s grace and provision.

Their experience as the vulnerable and abused, at the hand of the Egyptians, was supposed to live on in their collective memory, so that in the face of the stranger, or the oppressed, they would note their own history and respond in welcome and embrace. To welcome the stranger is to be as one with the other, because it is a shared, or collective, identity.

The early Christians

The early church comprised a ‘reconstituted household’ in which social status, gender, and ethnicity, were transcended. At the table of God, all are equal and none are excluded. Paul clearly says to the church at Rome that they are to welcome as they themselves have been welcomed: ‘Therefore, welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God (Romans 15:7 ESV).’

In the church, hospitality is also a manifestation of how God meets human need in the world. It is a concrete expression of love. The community of the early church lived this commitment to meeting need (Acts 4:32–35). Their hospitality bore witness to the authenticity of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

The church also lived the call to move beyond settled boundaries. The story of Peter and Cornelius is illustrative in this regard (Acts 10:9–48). The roles of guest and host are reconfigured, and the boundary lines between who is in and who is out are erased.

As John Vanier, of L’Arche communities, notes: ‘Welcome is one of the signs that a community is alive. To invite others to live with us is a sign that we aren’t afraid, that we have a treasure of truth and of peace to share.’

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by Coralie Bridle (c) 'War Cry' magazine, 25 July 2015, pp12-13.
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