p. 14 | TRUE HOSPITALITY by Mrs. E. M. Patton

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Mountain View, California · Jan 11, 1905

TRUE HOSPITALITY.

By Mrs. E. M. Patton

BY MRS. E. M. PATTON.

“Be not forgetful to entertain strangers; for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”

THIS text is often used as conclusive evidence that among the various duties and privileges of hospitality, one should also feed the tramps that call at our doors. Some feel also that they are not rendering truest Christian service unless such tramps are invited in, and a meal prepared for them as one would wait upon a dear friend. There is a great difference of opinion in regard to this, and with good reason.

Let us study for a few moments the above text, and see if we can determine who are some of the strangers referred to by the scripture, and whether the class we commonly understand as tramps should be included in the list. It is well understood that the text refers to Abraham and his cordial entertainment of the three who he at first supposed were but tired wayfarers. In Romans 12, Paul mentions among other exhortations the virtue of “distributing to the necessity of saints; given to hospitality.” In 1 Peter 4:9 we are exhorted to use hospitality “one to another without grudging.” Now read 2 Thess. 3:10, 12, where Paul again says: “For even when we were with you, this we commanded you, that if any would not work, neither should he eat.” “Now them that are such we command and exhort by our Lord Jesus Christ, that with quietness they work, and eat their own bread.”

While we are not to count those who will not work as enemies, and are further told to admonish them as brothers, the fact still remains that we are to “note that man, and have no company with him.” This certainly strikes hard at much of the sentimentality existing at the present day over these so-called “poor unfortunates.” They should not be so classed, for the tramp, as such, does not belong among the army of “truly unfortunate.” Instead, Paul calls them disorderly.

I know what it means to feel tenderly toward this class, and think, “What if one of my brothers should be in such a condition somewhere,” with the result that I sometimes had several such callers in a week. Often the request would come for a cup of hot coffee or tea, and as I could not furnish either one, the shirtless fellow would shuffle away, not hungry enough to eat the best I had been able to offer him, without specially cooking a meal.

Some Striking Examples.

At one time in a large city a gang of these idle fellows located themselves on the outskirts, and systematically “worked” the city for several days, before they were discovered and driven out by the police. The members of the gang scattered themselves regularly, changing districts each time they went out, and deliberately begged for food, one for bread, another for potatoes or eggs, while others accepted whatever might be handed out to them. Each brought in his contribution, and it requires little stretch of the imagination to understand that they did not have to go hungry, at least. This is not a fancy sketch. My share of the contribution at this time was given through fear, as the evil-looking fellow coolly looked past me into the room where I was alone with my baby, and asked, “Will ye give me a raw egg, mum?” The pockets of his long, ragged overcoat were already sagging with the weight of what must have been raw eggs, judging by the care with which he went down the back steps and out into the street.

In the country not very long ago, two rough-looking fellows pushed themselves past a young girl who opened the door in response to their knocking, and, seating themselves at a table, demanded something to eat. They evidently supposed that only the women folks were around at that time of day, for, as an older sister, in obedience to a sign from the invalid mother, set upon the table such food as they had, the two began to grumble, and one pushed his plate away from him, declaring with an exclamation that he would not eat such stuff. At that instant the farmer himself appeared in the doorway, when the astonished tramps jumped from the table and fled precipitately.

In the city these callers usually knock at the kitchen door a little after seven in the morning and between one and two in the afternoon, at which time it is generally supposed that in the majority of homes the men folks will have gone away to work. However, this was in my favor, for my husband was usually home at this time. We had a wood pile, and if the tramp was willing to split wood for a reasonable length of time, while I prepared something for him to eat, he was given a generous meal. Strange to say, our house soon became slighted entirely.

These are not isolated cases. Many such might be given. But truly this does not seem necessary in the light of all that is continually published upon this subject by reputable journals and magazines, not for sensational reading, but that the public may be enlightened. I wish it were possible for every one who is perplexed upon this subject to read some of the articles to which I have referred. For example, in the December Everybody’s is an article entitled “Six Weeks in Beggardom—An Attempt to Solve the Question, Shall We Give to Beggars?” A little note by the editor says:

Many respond to the appeal of every beggar, lest some worthy applicant be overlooked. Many respond to no appeal, lest an unworthy custom be encouraged. Some try to discriminate. Some act on impulse. What is the right thing to do?

This article takes up the three classes, those who belong to the great army of “truly unfortunate;” those who are reduced to the lowest depths because of drink; and those who deliberately choose such a life as a profession, and who scorn anything more decent. The author says:

By putting the hints I received to the test, I have found that it is indeed possible for any man to live a long time in the city of New York without work, and without asking aid of a passer-by. I have found that with a floating and permanent population of many thousands of homeless men, women, and children, there is organized provision for the whole number, and to spare. That, on the other hand, the wayside charity of the general public is dispensed in such tremendous volume as not only to hamper the work of the bureaus, but to encourage the pursuit of begging as a deliberate business; that this in its turn has led to the creation of veritable communities of beggars. These have reduced the business of begging to a science. They never trouble the charity bureaus or the churches. They pursue their calling as much for the fascination that invests it, as for the large monetary returns involved. Consequently they are separate and distinct from the large army of unfortunates who, in genuine hard luck, infest the cheap lodging-houses.

To obtain this information I have slept out weary nights in parks; walked the streets with the unfortunates; lodged in back rooms where the idea of cleanliness was a dream of heaven to come; slept the sleep of uneasiness in cheap bunk-houses; stood in the long, shivering line without the city lodging-house, waiting for the bread and coffee, the bath and bed, that may be had for the asking if you do not ask too often; and stayed in missions where life is easy if only you will submit to fumigation, a dip in a tub, and a prescribed quantity of moral precept.

I wish it were possible to quote even more extensively. But it is doubtful if there is a city of any size or any well-organized community that does not make some provision for the truly unfortunate. In our own city the past summer and fall we were so overrun with tramps that while food and lodging for the night was given those who asked, it was decided that it should no longer be given free, but that work should be furnished, and in fact obliged of those who accepted the hospitality of the city. Almost immediately there was a decrease in the application for free lodgings and food, and a great number of the tramps moved onward. A notice was put in all the papers, asking the people not to feed the tramps, but to refer them to the proper authorities, where food and shelter would be given all who wished to work. “Right here,” wrote a prominent editor, “is where so many tender-hearted women frustrate the efforts of the proper authorities to do anything effectual toward stamping out this evil.”

Nice Discrimination Needed.

Where no such provision is made, as might

be the case in the country, it certainly will require a nice discrimination to sift the truly needy from those who are unworthy, unless one always keeps in mind the apostle’s advice, and if work has not been asked for, suggest it. There are always many odd chores about a farm, and if any will not work, neither let him eat.

I would not give the impression that I consider tramps so unworthy that they are beyond Christian help. They are souls for whom Christ died—prodigal sons. But when did the prodigal come to his right mind? Would he have decided to arise and go to his father if the people of that country had supplied him with food and money? When Paul tells us to “note that man, and have no company with him,” it is “that he may be ashamed.” Instead of helping him to come into the possession of a right mind, we are but encouraging him in an idle, profligate life,—the service of him who will inevitably bring him to ruin at last.

And now just a few thoughts more as to who may be the strangers referred to in our text. How many would be as willing to receive into their homes for a meal, or a night, or a month, one of the poor, unfortunate sisters, who because of sin has become a stranger? How many sisters would be as willing, and count it a noble thing, to allow her little ones to crowd around and fondle such an one? Is there any difference in the value of this soul and the other?

I have known those who regularly kept an account of the meals prepared and given to tramps, who would never think of preparing some dainty dish, or even a whole appetizing meal, to be carried to some poor stranger in their vicinity, or even in the church, simply because they were strangers, and it was not known whether they were worthy or not. Job says, “The cause which I knew; not I searched out,” while Paul recommends that we “do good unto all men,” but “especially unto them who are of the household of faith.”

One time, not many years ago, I crossed from Oakland to San Francisco one Sabbath morning to attend a special meeting. My little boy of three was with me, but I prepared no special lunch to take with us, for I expected to get home in time for our dinner. And, shall I tell it? deep in my heart was the thought that perhaps some sister might invite me home with her for a little rest. The service lasted much longer than usual, and as we were going out I realized that I was very weary, and that the brave little fellow trudging along by my side must also be tired and hungry. I stood at one side of the entrance and eagerly scanned the faces of those who passed. Not a few I knew by sight, and each recognized me with a pleasant little nod, while one shook hands with me. But I received no invitation.

I returned home thoroughly weary, and just a little heartsick, too. While I could lay no possible claim to being an angel, I was sure that I knew how it felt to be a stranger. It was a lesson for me as I realized that this was some of the fruit of my own sowing. I could then recall many times I had seen the same eager, wistful look on the faces of those who were truly strangers in my own home church, brothers and sisters who were only stopping over the Sabbath, and in a hotel, but whom I also had passed by because I was not acquainted with them; or, worse yet, dreaded the possible bother it might mean should I speak to them, and invite them into my home for a few hours.

Again, have you ever visited a large church on communion day, and been entirely ignored in that humble entertainment of feet-washing because you were a stranger? I have, more times than one; and because of such lack of cordiality I suffered much, until I ceased to regard myself as a stranger in my Father’s house, and sought out another who appeared to be as lonely as I had sometimes felt, and waited upon her with the same tenderness that I would manifest toward a dearly-loved friend. Then has God’s peace come into my heart, and into the heart of the sister, and the rich blessing of Him who was once a stranger upon earth has filled us both with rejoicing.