Whenever I talk about hospitality, I inevitably start with a story from our wedding. In is sermon, our minister, Richard, talked about the difference between hospitality and entertaining. He suggested that entertaining is white table cloths and fancy place settings; it’s about impressing people. By contrast, hospitality is sitting on the floor eating off paper plates; it doesn’t matter what you’re eating or what you’re eating off, it’s about welcoming people.
Mark and I don’t remember much else about what was said at our wedding, but we remember that. It was great advice for two young twenty-somethings without anything fancy to impress guests with. The message that we headed into our marriage with was that we could still welcome people into our homes even if our plates didn’t match and we occassionally had to borrow chairs!
Because it had such a powerful impact on us, it is still where I kick off any chat about hospitality. It meant that we started doing hospitality even when we didnt have much to do it with, and when we got to the chaotic years with young children, we kept doing it. After two decades of practising regular hospitality, I can’t count the ways my life, our marriage, and our family has been enriched by the regular “breaking of bread” with people.
After the isoalation and restrictions we all lived with through covid, it feels like the time couldn’t be riper for more of us to rediscover the gift of hospitality.
Because every week, I see conversations about friendship, loneliness and “hospitality” all around me. And the recurring theme is that hospitality is a great way to build relationships but expectations linked to traditional ideas of entertaining are holding people back. The unspoken pressure to have perfect homes, fancy meals and elegant table settings, make people feel like they can’t do it. And I strongly want to “argue” against this. Hospitality is not about impressing people; it’s about welcoming them – into your home, and your life. And that does not require fancy tablecloths and linen napkins, or a roast in the oven.
But it’s been almost two decades, and I have found that when you regularly practice hospitality, doing it “nicely” becomes a lot easier.
We are no longer students living in student-like digs. Having spent two decades living out hospitality, we now have quite a nice collection of lovely tablecloths and matching napkins (side note if someone could please remove me from the Kip&Co mailing list that would be great – zero self-control over here!) We have also worked out what kind of “equipment” makes it easier for us to host often and host spontaneously.
And so now, when people come to lunch, I do have some nice things to pull out. Don’t get me wrong. When people come to our house, they have, and always have, said but one thing “I love your house; it is so lived in.” But, at the same time, because hospitality has been part of our lives for almost twenty years, we’ve learnt a thing or two about doing it.
So, is that a problem? Does it mean I am veering into entertaining terriority?
While I passionately believe that the meal doesn’t matter, and the house can be a mess, at the same time I want (need?) to recognise tha making guests feel welcome requires some effort. What that looks like will be different for each of us, depending on where we live, our season of life and the social and culture factors at play. What is important is considering how you communicate to your guests that they are valued and appreciated. In my experience, this has changed based both on where we live and our capacity through the different seasons of life. When my kids were little it meant ‘inviting people into our mess’ – We won’t keep you at arms length or pretend that we are something we are not. It is chaos here, and you are welcome.” Now that my kids are older, it means something different.
Whatever it is that worries you about having people over will easily become an excuse to keep people away. Your house is too small, too messy, you don’t know what to cook…I can hear the reasons rattling around inside. But I cannot overstate the richness you will experience by pushing those concerns to the side.
A friend used the phrase “the gift, not the guilt” which feels like a beautiful summary. If you have nice things, use them. If you don’t, it doesn’t matter. Whatever you have, share it. It the warmth of your welcome that will count, and if you happen to have people over who don’t see this, well, they aren’t your people then are they?
