I've struggled with hospitality over the years, especially when you add food to the equation. I never knew what to do at another person's house and was equally uncertain what to do with them when they were at my house. When we had company, the house had to be spotless; I wanted the best china to be out and the prettiest table cloths. Hospitality meant giving my best, and my best was usually something that I would have liked to have done for myself and my family but couldn't afford the time, the effort, or the money. Needless to say, whenever I offered hospitality, I didn't really feel like myself. Most of the time, I felt like a fake. Looking back I can see how this stemmed from my own insecurities, but it often left me wondering about true hospitality, authentic and real, and what it looked like.
This week in hospice I was reminded of true hospitality. The nurse had given us notification a patient was beginning to transition and I knew I wanted to be with the patient and family for a little while that day, but I felt awkward, like I was intruding on something private and holy. The awkward feeling was not new to me, it was the same awkwardness I felt when having people over to my house for dinner; on the occasions I went to their house for dinner. When I arrived, I was immediately invited in and just sat quietly, occasionally shattering the silence with the sound of my voice. I was uncertain what to say, and sometimes felt uncomfortable not saying anything at all, but I cared deeply and wanted to be there. Every now and then, the family members or friends would venture out into the quiet and share a memory of the life they had known. In those moments, as I listened, I felt authentic. I felt the space they had provided and knew I was a part of this story. Quietly, I just reached out and took the hand next to mine, sitting, and listening to the story of the hearts in the room, when they were silent and when they spoke. It was place occupied by death and dying, but also filled with life and love. It hurt to be there, but none of us could have imagined or desired to be anywhere else. As the patient's family members cared for some of the intimate needs of the patient, I went to leave with everyone else, but the family stopped me and asked me to remain. Awkward and uncomfortable, I remained and added another memory to the story that grows inside of me with each encounter.
Tonight as I sit reflecting on my week and thinking of this encounter and so many others, I feel a little closer to the understanding of hospitality. A Scripture (Luke 7:36-50) comes to mind about a dinner long ago, with a room filled with men. They had all gathered together and were seated around the table in friendship and fellowship. It was an awkward night too though, because on that night, a single woman entered the room. She was an immoral woman and came right up to the son of God, the proclaimed Messiah. He was reputed to be righteous and holy, but allowed her to approach him, kneeling at his feet, weeping tears over them, anointing them with perfume, and wiping them dry with her hair. This was scandalous behavior in a culture that kept the men and women separate, and certainly did not look affectionately on such displays from immoral women to men who were a part of the religious community. Jesus was more than part of the religious community though, he was the Messiah and everyone following Him had heard him speak of His Father. It was beyond awkward and uncomfortable; yet, in that awkwardness Christ spoke. He spoke of love, mercy, forgiveness, and the GREAT GREAT love of God!!!!!! What an odd Scripture to reflect upon as I consider the family I was present with this week, but somehow I feel that in the most awkward moment of my visit...I encountered true hospitality in a way I have never known it before. No one was trying to entertain anyone. No one was trying to impress anyone. No food was set out. No board games were present. It was just love in that room as each person considered what this loss will mean to them and what a gift the life has been. In the presence of the living and dying, I experienced and heard love, mercy, forgiveness, and the GREAT GREAT love of God that Jesus spoke of to Simon on that night long ago, and knew that I had been in the presence of the most authentic hospitality.
