As the sun moves toward the horizon, I drive to a small apartment about a half hour from my home. I am greeted with joyful chatter and hugs from the children, and delicious scents from the kitchen, where my friends prepare the evening meal.
On this night in the middle of Ramadan, they have invited me to break the fast with them, enjoying an evening meal (known as Iftar) of roasted chicken, rice, soup, salad, and of course, dates. (Tradition holds that the Prophet Muhammad broke his fast with this sweet, nutritious treat.)
Photo by Zak Chapman: https://www.pexels.com/
I’ve been friends with this sweet family for more than seven years and shared many meals and cups of coffee or chai with them, but this is the first time they’ve invited me to share a Ramadan meal with them. They know I am not Muslim but love me anyway. The honor and trust of it lies like a mantle on my shoulders.
I help their eldest daughter, who is 8, spread a plastic sheet on the floor, where we’ll place dishes and eat. Her brother, 6, and sister, 4, sit on the floor expectantly. I help my friends carry dishes from the kitchen to the living room. While the children are still too young to fast from sunrise to sunset as their parents do, they are eager to enjoy the meal. Their mama pours cups of juice for everyone. We dip into communal bowls with spoons or pieces of pita bread.
This Syrian refugee family sees me as their American mom and grandmother. The parents are the same age as my own grown children. When they first arrived in January 2017, I visited weekly for a few months. I still visit several times a month. I welcomed them to the US, and they welcomed me to their home, and into their lives. They’ve also visited my home. We’ve also explored the city together: the zoo, the lakefront, the playground down the street.
This cross-cultural relationship has transformed me. In a time of division and mistrust in our culture, it’s been the perfect antidote to fear and misunderstanding. It’s also provided a new perspective on welcoming and wandering.
One barrier to “hospitality,” especially when we mistakenly conflate it with entertaining, is the pressure we feel when having others come to our home. We feel obligated to clean, we worry our house is not fancy enough, we’re not sure what to cook, it just feels difficult. Sometimes it triggers fear or anxiety.
When we see hospitality as simply welcoming, as being with people and caring for them, the definition broadens. It frees us to engage not just in our homes.
If you’ve ever wished you could welcome people from another culture, but feel uncertain about having people in your home, refugee ministry offers the perfect opportunity. It is a great way to practice hospitality without even having to clean your house.
Hospitality as a spiritual practice
Hospitality is not entertaining. And it is not a spiritual gift, reserved only for some. It is a spiritual practice, and we can approach it in a wide variety of ways, as I’ve written about in various editions of this newsletter in the past.
Why do I spend time with a refugee family as part of my hospitality practice?
I welcome because God welcomed me. That does not make me obligated, but rather, evokes a response. I’ve freely received; when I freely give, I feel connected, purposeful, joyful. As a part of God’s family, I try to order my life around God’s principles. Now, different people see the Bible differently. Well-intentioned people might interpret the Bible differently or focus on different aspects of it. And some might not believe it to be God’s truth. But here’s a few things that are found in its pages. I believe they are principles God wants us to live by, not to earn favor, but because they are the most meaningful and satisfying way to live:
Whoever is kind to the poor lends to the Lord, and he will reward them for what they have done. (Prov. 19:17)
When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt. I am the Lord your God. (Leviticus 19: 33-34)
For the Lord your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes. He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigner residing among you, giving them food and clothing. And you are to love those who are foreigners, for you yourselves were foreigners in Egypt. (Deuteronomy 10:17-19)
Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality. (Romans 12:13)
And finally:
One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question: “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”
Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” (Matthew 22:35-40)
One of the saddest things about our culture today is the number of people who claim to be Christians, but don’t live out what the Bible says: love foreigners, show kindness to the poor, love your neighbor. In fact, they do the opposite.
When I first began visiting this family, a well-meaning Christian friend asked, “Aren’t you scared?”
“Of what?”
He told me he had read on the internet, so you know, it must be true, that all Muslims are “required to kill Christians.” I took a deep breath and explained that just as all Christians are not extremists, neither are all Muslims. In fact, they are refugees because they are fleeing terror and war at home. They are fully documented, rigorously vetted legal immigrants who cannot go home because of a credible threat of extreme persecution or death.
“So far, the two-year-old hasn’t threatened me,” I told my friend. “But even if he did—Jesus said love your neighbor. He didn’t mention any exceptions.”
Nothing against my friend, but his fear was based on misinformation and ignorance. After seven years of friendship, I trust this family and they trust me. Spending time with people dispels fear. The truth sets you free. My Muslim friends are kind, generous, patient, loving. I learn a lot from them about how to persevere through trials, how to be resilient, how to try new things.
Welcoming those who are different requires a willingness to step out of our comfort zone. But in that space, I’ve found that I experience divine presence, and joy.
This family tells me often that they love me. They have become my friends. They provide hospitality to me, and I return the favor by welcoming them (which has meant a lot of different things: answering questions about our strange culture, helping them register the kids for school, practicing English with them, reading to them, helping the kids with their homework, and simply listening).
Wandering without leaving home
This newsletter often talks about the growth opportunities we experience when we travel. Getting to know people from another culture also provides you with an opportunity to “wander” without having to travel. You learn the things you might learn if you got on a plane to visit a foreign land: how and what they eat, for example. How they practice their faith. What their family interactions are like. What kind of jokes make them laugh. What you have in common because you’re all humans.
For some folks, travel is scary. Cross-cultural relationships can make us braver about traveling to unfamiliar places. Thankfully, people other cultures probably live not far from you.
Where do you sense an invitation? What next step can you take to build a spiritual practice of hospitality?
P.S. Ramadan ended yesterday, so “Eid Mubarak!” to any who observe.
P.P.S. Interested in welcoming refugees? In the Chicago area, contact Exodus World Service. Or contact World Relief, which has offices in 20 cities around the country. Or simply Google refugee resettlement to find opportunities near you. You may want to read this blog post about the first time I shared a meal with my refugee friends.
I was blessed with a similar experience when I studied in England. A small group of students from a variety of countries in the Middle East invited me to join them one evening during Ramadan. Wonderful company and delicious food!
We have something in our city called "intentional neighbors", placed in the poorest neighborhoods. Over time, they earn the trust and friendship of people from very different backgrounds through practicing hospitality.