Hospitality: True Fast by Scott Lyons

Hospitality: True Fast
Scott Lyons
2/21/2013
During the season of Lent, many Christians try to be more conscious of Christ’s Passion by giving up some small thing—often something rather inconsequential. In doing so we make this season a time of solidarity with Christ. Maybe it’s chocolate or maybe it’s soda, but we give up something—not something immoral, necessarily, but something that is normally part of our lives. Perhaps this sacrifice involves something that we feel has become too large in our lives, like the Internet or social networks. There is also an older call to “give up” some sin in our lives, corresponding to the idea of fasting with Lent. And this is given up not in order to take it up again afterward, but to more consciously combat this sin in our lives—hoping, obviously, to leave it behind.

But this season is a season of fasting, so how are the disciplines of fasting and hospitality related? First of all, when we are speaking of the discipline of hospitality, we do not mean it in the sense of inviting friends over for dinner. The relationship between fasting and hospitality goes back to Isaiah’s “true fast,” where he says, “Share your food with the hungry, and give shelter to the homeless. Give clothes to those who need them, and do not hide from relatives who need your help” (Isaiah 58:7, NLT). This should remind us of Christ’s discourse on the final judgment in Matthew 25:45 when he speaks of the sheep being separated from the goats: “When you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me” (NLT).

Consider this story that Sergei Fudel, an Orthodox Christian, shares about one of his periods of exile in Russia:

“One year I was living in a small village, lost in the wilds. It was Holy Saturday, even of the Resurrection of our Lord, but there was no church and no services that I could attend. I decided I would spend the night reading the Easter compline. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, a lonely traveler was asking me to give him shelter for the night. I was quite upset, really indignant. ‘Can’t I have even this one night for prayer,’ I thought. Possessed by my irritations, I bundled him off to my neighbors and naturally, with him, off went my night of prayer and meditation. There are some sins we can never forgive ourselves. . . . That Easter night, when I read the prescribed prayers, I was obviously outside of the communion of the Church.” (Sergei Fudel, Light in the Darkness)

Hospitality, then, is a true fast. It is helping the stranger, the homeless, and the hungry. Hospitality is seeing Christ at your door.

Many of us have never had this experience. Strangers don’t often show up at our doors asking for assistance. Some of this is because of how insular our lives have become. We live indoors and don’t often spend our evenings on the front porch, where we might be more accessible to someone in need. So how can you and I implement such a fast as hospitality?

Perhaps a proper start would be to let go of judgment. We do not see Christ when we see the poor around us or hear of those who are poor. We see someone too lazy to work, someone exploiting the system, or someone who wishes to take advantage of us. And this is unfortunate because these are exceptions to the rule—most of these people are simply poor or homeless. Most are Christ waiting to be given a place to sleep, clothes to wear, and food to eat.

Furthermore, look for ways to seek out the poor and needy in your community. Serve at a food bank or a soup kitchen. Talk to your pastor, who is sure to know of poor people in your community, most likely even within your church community, who may need you to come alongside them to help. Christ waits for you and me to be the generosity of God in our world, to love rather than judge, and to allow interruptions to be seen as making space for God in our lives.