At the core of our Christian belief system is hospitality. We are called to extend genuine hospitality to all who may enter our path, as well as seek out those who may be in need in our communities. We are called to be good people, loving the stranger, clothing the naked, visiting the imprisoned, and feeding the hungry. In Matthew 25: 35-37, 40 we read the words that Jesus spoke to his disciples; he urges them to show hospitality to each other and to the world.

The word Hospitality in Greek is closely linked to what is translated as loving the stranger. “The ancient custom of hospitality revolved around the welcoming and assisting of strangers and travelers. By extending hospitality to a traveler, the host generally committed himself or herself to provide the guest with provisions and protection while the guest remained in the region.”1 In Biblical times, hospitality was about protection and survival. Often travelers would stay for long periods of time, helping out where they could and forming significant bonds with their hosts. Travel then was more difficult and often more dangerous than it is now. The wilderness was a real and scary place filled with bandits, thieves, the unknown, and strangers. It is important to remember that the stranger is never a stranger for very long; even the disciples asked Jesus, “but Lord, when were you a stranger and we welcomed you?” They asked him this as if he had been with them their whole lives.

As a child, I was told not to talk to strangers although I did not understand why. One morning, when I was three years old my mother and I were at the Post Office. Independent even at three, I was looking around the office while my mom stood in line. When she returned to me, she found me talking to a man, a stranger. I must have given her quite a fright because she came rushing over and grabbed my arm, loudly whispering, “I told you not to talk to strangers.” Confused, I pleaded, “but mom, this isn’t a stranger, it’s Uncle Wally.” Just as my mom was about to pull me out of the post office she looked up and indeed it was Uncle Wally, a regular on my favorite program Sesame Street. He was no stranger to me—Uncle Wally was my friend.

My perception of a stranger, like many things, came straight out of Hollywood. A stranger is a sinister person, who dresses in dark clothing and may or may not have a hood over his or her face, but in reality, a stranger can be anyone. We ourselves are strangers to others and can even be a stranger to ourselves at times. Strangers are simply people we do not know. Jesus recognizes himself as a stranger in the Matthew 25 passage, and he was a stranger when he called the brothers Simon and Andrew from their fishing nets (Matt 4:19-20). There are countless biblical stories of Jesus interacting with strangers and although we never discuss it in the same passages, Jesus was a stranger too.

I am unsure as to why we rarely talk about strangers or even see ourselves as such. Maybe it is because the act of being a stranger can be a short-lived identity. All people are strangers to one another until they meet. I had not given “being a stranger” much thought until I started traveling. At the completion of my seminary studies, without a plan, I bought a one-way ticket to Sicily intent on seeing things that I had only read about in books. Unaware, I became a stranger overnight. Though I struggled with logistical understandings such as temperature and the twenty-four hour clock, I was so engrossed in what I found around me, that I often forgot that I was on my own. I stood in awe and reverence when I attended Mass at the Vatican. I felt a friendly companionship visiting churches that were once blessed by John Calvin, Jan Hus, Huldrych Zwingli, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Friedrich Nietzsche, John Knox, and others. I was comforted by the grandeur and artwork of Muslim and early Christendom in the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, and I was left speechless on numerous occasions as I trekked through the Holy Land with nothing but my backpack. Hiking the Mount of Beatitudes or standing looking over Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives, I was not alone but in the company of grace and friends, even if they were no longer living.

During my travels, I was cared for by the locals, distant friends, and strangers. I have extensive stories of what I have received from others, and was shown that through hospitality a stranger quickly becomes a friend. It was very hard for me to be taken care of when not too long before my trip, I was the one taking care of people. I was the “giver” who had to become the “receiver.” As a minister and local back at home, I was always happy to be part of helping out at soup kitchens, organizing clothes drives, or going on mission trips. I enjoyed the work that I was doing, and I loved meeting and learning from other people. I learned about myself, however, when I became the stranger in a new and different place. In his book, I Was A Stranger: A Christian Theology of Hospitality, Arthur Sutherland argues that, “ultimately the stranger shows us who we actually are.”2 It is in how we are treated, how we want to be treated, and how we treat others that is the truth of genuine hospitality.

I did not feel as though I was a stranger until I moved to another country or even a different state, now that I look back on it. When you are simply a traveler or visitor, everyone including yourself knows that you will be leaving at some point. This is not the case when you put roots down. Hospitality becomes less exciting, for the stranger is constantly learning about the culture, the language, and what are the “correct” protocols. Statements from locals such as, “we don’t do it that way,” or “we don’t say it that way,” can be hurtful and being a stranger may be uncomfortable, but as I have learned in the past that through feelings of discomfort, I am stronger for it. That said, it is important for us to remember that asking for help is hard and being the new person is never easy.

Hospitality must extend to those around us who may be afraid to ask or simply do not know how. We can see this when we have visitors in our home churches. I have been in churches where I have been very welcomed, and in others where no one has made eye contact, let alone spoken to me. While organized hospitality such as helping at soup kitchens or clothing drives is important, we need to ask ourselves what we are doing and who we are doing it for? Hospitality extends further than our circle of friends or family members. Christians are called to go out of their way for others—all others. Our post-modern approach to hospitality has become one of entertainment and etiquette. It is easy for us to extend our hospitality for a small amount of time, taking in visitors, or dishing out soup at a local community center. We are doing our part, aren’t we? Hospitality can become a daunting task, but it is not supposed to be easy, it takes us out of our box to introduce us to the world around us and to make us feel uncomfortable. Hospitality makes us into the stranger, and while it might be short lived, it is an important role for us to affirm. I think back to the reformers that I visited in Europe and know now that they would have had times in their lives when they felt like strangers. I think of those who wrote from prison such as Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the Apostle Paul, and Martin Luther King Jr. who were strangers themselves ministering to those around them. We are all strangers, but we must remember Jesus’ words, “just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me” (Matt. 25:40).

Notes

About the author

Amy K. Bell Finiki wrote 2 articles for this publication.

Amy Bell Finiki was awarded her Masters of Divinity from New York Theological Seminary in 2009. She enjoys traveling and meeting new people along with reading, learning and geocaching. Recently married, Amy lives with her husband in Christchurch, New Zealand. She is a Supervisor in Training for the New Zealand Association of Clinical Pastoral Educators.

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