Hospitality: A Christian Virtue Rightly Understood
WE find this word four times in sacred writ, in a connection that proves it is an important element in the Christian character. Twice is the expression used, “given to hospitality;” again it is recorded, “a lover of hospitality;” and once more is the direct injunction enforced, “Use hospitality one to another without grudging.” If in the time of Titus and Timothy this trait was considered so essential that it was a requisite qualification in a candidate for bishop’s honors, it surely cannot have lost all its importance in our own day and generation. But do we rightly comprehend the meaning of the term? Many persons seem to imagine that to be hospitable has sole reference to the last two syllables of the word; and that to entertain our friends we must needs set before them a repast which would tempt an epicure. This is a time-honored fallacy, and our grandmothers were firm adherents to this creed. The all-important consideration in inviting guests was, what shall we give them to eat? And the long tables groaned under an array of viands, whose richness and variety excelled the achievements of our modern skill. Therefore it was no little task to prepare for the large gatherings so much in vogue in the olden times; and when the chance visitor came in, unless the larder was abundantly provided with the delicacies deemed essential, bustle and confusion were unavoidable until the deficiency was supplied. But it seems as if, in this progressive age, when mind has won so many victories over matter, that we might let this custom of our ancestors rest with their spinning-wheels and their looms, and strive to inaugurate a new order of things which shall prove us allied, not to the sensual, but to the divine. Of course, this does not refer to the literary soirees which only claim to offer “a feast of reason and a flow of soul,” but to the ordinary tea-drinkings which promote and sustain the spirit of sociability and good-will in a neighborhood or a town. Cannot these little gatherings, whether invited or unexpected, be made more a means of true Christian culture and kindly courtesy, and less an arena for the display of culinary exploits? Instead of the whole conversation being engrossed with encomiums on the hostess’ marvelous biscuit, and preserves, and cake, etc., etc., with recipes for the same, and perchance a disparaging comment upon the less skillful housewifery of some absent friend, how much better it would be to speak words of comfort and of cheer, which should aid our sisters in their various toils and cares. A little friendly counsel, some experiment or experience of our own, some hint as to the management of the household, or the discipline of the children, some labor-saving invention, or the contents of a new and interesting book, any or all of these themes would furnish the text for pleasant discourse; and those that took part therein, would feel strengthened and encouraged by such intercourse. What should we think of two travelers, meeting on a long and perilous journey, and knowing that an hour hence they must go on in their separate course to meet no more, if they spent that little hour in discussing the merits of the provisions contained in their pilgrim-scrips, with no word concerning the dangers of the way, or the joys of the homes to which by devious routes they were hastening? What would be the impression left on either mind by the interview? and would the pathway seem smoother, or the far-off goal any nearer and more to be desired? And would such intercourse be without a parallel in our own history? Surely there is something wrong in our social system. “The life is more than meat, and the body than raiment.” This fact remains true, however we may ignore it; and sooner or later this principle must assert its supremacy. Alas for us, if we never recognize this necessity of our nature until we behold it in the light of eternity! How dwarfed and undeveloped will our own lives then appear, if our only questions here have been, “What shall we eat, and what shall we drink, and wherewithal shall we be clothed?” Of course we acknowledge the reasonable claims of appetite; we would have food abundant, wholesome, and nutritious, but as much so for the home circle as for the stranger within our gates. What guest ought to be more highly honored than the silver-haired grandsire, or that household treasure, a genuine grandmother, who sits daily at our board? And should not hospitality, as well as charity, “begin at home”? How many thrifty housewives scrimp and stint their every-day meals, denying themselves and their families the luxuries they crave, in order that they may now and then make a great display, and set before “company” the sumptuous repast that they never spread for their own entertainment! Oh! for the day to come, in which all our homes shall be pervaded with sunshine and comfort, brightened with pictures, gladdened with flowers, blessed with books, and above all, full of that sympathy and love which should unite the family, and render every home a type of Heaven. Happy the guest who is received at such a fireside, and made to feel that he is not an intruder there, but is permitted to enter into the real life of those who so generously open their doors and their hearts to him! When that “coming Man” appears among us and enjoys such a welcome, both hearty and heart-felt, he will be able to tell us the true meaning of the word Hospitality.—Advocate and Guardian.