Hospitality and Resurrection

Part 2 of the series “Hospitality & Revival.”

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This post is part of a series on Hospitality & Revival. Read part one here: “Invisible Barriers and the Hospitality of God.”

Walk with me on the dusty, sunlit, ancient, garbage-strewn streets of a little town in Jordan called Madaba.¹ For those in doubt of Madaba’s age, see Numbers 21:30; Joshua 13:9; 1 Chronicles 19:7; Isaiah 15:2. For two years, this was my home. In the hustle and bustle of everyday activity (Turn right at the jasmine tree to take the shortcut to Arabic class!), hearing a voice from above call out to you was completely normal. Not a heavenly voice, but rather a voice of a neighbor living on the third floor of your building. “Come over for some tea!” Now it doesn’t matter if you have never met the owner of the voice before, don’t speak the same language, or are on your way to the fruit store to make important purchases. At this moment, an offer of hospitality has been extended, and it would be perfectly normal for you to accept, turn out of your way, and climb the stairs to the open apartment door. Sweets and tea are set on the table, and curious, warm eyes are ready to transform you from stranger to friend.

After this scenario had played out several times, I confided in a Jordanian acquaintance that this situation was almost unthinkable to Americans. She looked at me sadly, not surprised. “Our culture is not high-trust,” I tried to explain. “People move around, and very few have deep roots in their community. To go into a strange home is too great a risk. You’re asking to be murdered!” She considered my sociological analysis and summarized without accusation, “You are afraid.”

Much of the infrastructure and societal norms that support a robust and widespread culture of hospitality have disappeared in the West. Pockets remain, but our memory of this way of drawing in the stranger has become to many a distant memory, an ideal found only in storybooks and history class. We could hear of some contemporary albeit exotic examples, though. For instance, in far-off Afghanistan, the code of honor among the Pashtun people requires that a household fight and die to the last man to protect a guest in their home. In fact, the safest place to be if you have offended is in the household of your enemy. There you are safe from all retribution since hospitality supersedes revenge. This Pashtunwali, however, seems as far removed from reality to the average Westerner as “One Thousand and One Nights.”²You can read more about Pashtunwali here.

Or perhaps you could look to the Bedouin peoples, nomadic tribes that live in the deserts of the Levant. Once while hiking in the Negev, I nervously asked my friend what her plan was for the rapidly approaching nightfall when as far as the eye could see were tall brown mountains and an empty path. “We just need to find some Bedouins,” she assured me. I didn’t understand what she meant until we saw the tent in the twilight, with its black goat hair covering stretched over many poles. One side of the tent is open to signify the welcome of guests. When we approached the tent, we were given tea steeped with sage and shown a corner where we could sleep.

That Bedouin tent which saved me from spending a freezing night in the open desert is the picture I use to imagine the tent of Abraham, pitched in the shade of the oaks of Mamre.³“Abraham and Lot’s Bedouin-Style Hospitality” is a fascinating analysis of the similarities between contemporary Bedouin culture and the culture of the Biblical patriarchs.

Shading his old eyes, Abraham sees three men appear before the entrance of his tent. If anyone could be excused from offering hospitality at that moment, then surely Abraham qualified. Still recovering from his recent circumcision, he could have conceivably entertained thoughts of letting the strangers pass by. It also was the hottest part of the day and time for a nap, not a time to be doing the hard work of hosting.

None of these extenuating circumstances deterred Abraham. Instead, he rushes over to greet the three travelers. Fully prostrating himself before them, he urges them to stop, be refreshed, and eat with him.⁴This urgency in the invitation is a vital and recurring feature of hospitality narratives in the Bible. This is not a casual request! When the travelers agree to Abraham’s suggestion, he immediately springs into action. His wife Sarah is recruited to make good bread with fine-ground flour. Abraham then runs over to his herd to select a choice calf for slaughter. Only the best veal dinner will do for the guests. Abraham set a meal of cheese, milk, beef, and bread before the travelers, and they all ate together under the oak branches.

Though Abraham received his guests with honor and generosity, little did he know that he was entertaining angels and the LORD himself.⁵The author of Hebrews uses this scenario to encourage his readers to always practice hospitality. See Hebrews 13:2. The dinner conversation soon revealed the visitors’ divine nature, however. After questioning the whereabouts of Abraham’s wife Sarah, the LORD said, “About this time next year, I will return to you, and Sarah your wife will have a son.”⁶Genesis 18:10 Sarah, well past her childbearing years, overheard this declaration from the other side of the tent flap and laughed. The pain and shame of decades had settled into a resigned hopelessness that the promises of a stranger could not touch.

The LORD, who I imagined spoke a bit louder for the eavesdropping Sarah’s benefit, then said to Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh and say, ‘Shall I indeed bear a child, now that I am old?’ Is anything too hard for the LORD? At the appointed time (מועד, moed) I will return to you, about this time next year, and Sarah shall have a son.”⁷Genesis 18:13–14

Sarah, in her embarrassment, denied laughing, but the LORD knew who would have the last laugh. Between her laughter and the promised visitation in the coming year, Sarah let go of her unbelief and considered God able and faithful to do as he said.⁸See Hebrews 11:11 God visited Sarah at the appointed time, and she conceived and bore a son. Abraham named the boy “Isaac,” meaning “he laughs”—a brilliant inside joke between the two elderly and overjoyed parents and their promise-keeping God.⁹Genesis 21:1–6

There are layers upon layers of miracles in this story. What started with cutting the circumcision covenant progressed into hosting God himself, which then moved into a miraculous life being birthed from a father whose worn-out body was “as good as dead”¹⁰See Hebrews 11:12. and a mother who was completely barren even during her childbearing years. Barrenness, death, and despair have been turned on their heads in new life—a son of promise.

If we think that this catalyst of hospitality is unique to the story of Abraham’s lunch with the Lord, we merely have to continue the journey with the two angels to their next appointment in Sodom.

As the angels approached the city, Lot, sitting by the city gate, spotted the travelers. He bowed face down on the ground, greeting the two strangers as his uncle Abraham did. Lot similarly implores the men to stay the night in his house. But the script slightly deviates here, and the travelers refuse the offer, saying they will remain in the town square instead.¹¹This scenario is quite common in societies that highly value the preservation of honor. A delicate balancing act is often accomplished through indirect communication. It is polite to refuse offers of hospitality to give an out to someone who might have offered something out of mere politeness. In such situations, a host might need to urge a guest many times to take the offered food before they can politely accept. The first time I saw this was with a French acquaintance at an American-hosted party. People would offer her food once, and she would politely decline. Only later did I learn how distressed she was not to be offered the food again and how hungry she was by the end of the evening. But Lot urged them strongly, and they went with him. Lot set a feast with unleavened bread (מצה, matzah) before them, and they ate.

But before the two guests could fall asleep, every man living in Sodom gathered outside Lot’s house. They pounded on the house door, demanding Lot revoke the protection of his hospitality and send his guests outside to be brutally gang raped by the crowd. Rather than send the men out of his house, Lot went outside himself, closing the door firmly behind him. If there was the remotest chance that Lot could reason with the violent mob, he was taking it and putting his safety on the line.

Lot’s subsequent appeal to the men is massively controversial to Bible readers today. “My brothers, do not act so wickedly!” Lot begged the men of Sodom. “Behold, I have two daughters who have not known any man. Let me bring them out to you, and do to them as you please. Only do nothing to these men, for they have come under the shelter of my roof.”¹²Genesis 19:7–8

How could Lot contemplate sacrificing his virgin daughters to the lecherous throng? The horrifying story of the Levite and his concubine in Judges 19 is an obvious parallel, and the callousness of father and “husband” for the women in their care is acutely distressing. Without excusing or justifying this action, let us add some context that might help us understand Lot’s reasoning, even if we disagree with his strategy from the comfortable distance of four millennia. First, we see that Lot has already taken a great deal of personal risk by standing between the crowd and his household, which is much more than can be said for the Levite in Judges 19. Second, one of the most precious family resources in this Ancient Near Eastern agricultural community was the virginity of its daughters. Un-muddied lineages, bride prices, honor, and stability of clans were all factors closely tied to the purity of their women.¹³Dr. Sandra Richter has a constructive section on this in her recent episode, “Deuteronomy 11, 22, 24, 26: Land, Economy, and Sexual Violence” in “The Two Testaments” podcast. Just as the strength of a tribe’s sons was a collective resource, so too was the fertility of its daughters. Lot’s sacrifice of his daughters was not so much about the young women being expendable but that he valued the protection of guests so highly that he could even sacrifice his family’s precious possessions before the relative strangers under the shelter of his roof. Perhaps the Pashtunwali, the code of honor that dictates death before inhospitality, might be a better framework to view Lot’s offer.

Whatever the reasoning behind Lot’s suggestion, it quickly became a moot point. Hearing Lot judge their actions as wicked, the men work themselves into a frenzy. Shouting threats, they push Lot into the door of his house, using him as a makeshift battering ram to break down the entryway.

At this point, the angels kick into gear. They reach out and pull Lot inside, and strike the attacking mob with blindness so that they can’t find the door. The two warn Lot, “If you have anyone in your family that you want to be saved from the wrath to come, bring them out of Sodom, for we are about to destroy it.” Lot tried to convince his future sons-in-law to flee, but they laughed at him, thinking he was playing some elaborate joke and stayed where they were. When the day dawned, the angels told Lot that time had run out and that he, his wife, and his daughters must leave immediately. Lot hesitated until the frustrated angels had to drag him and his family members by the hand to lead them outside the city. The household of Lot was given this last instruction, “Escape for your life. Do not look back or stop anywhere in the valley. Escape to the hills, lest you be swept away.”¹⁴Genesis 19:17 The family quickly made their way to a nearby town of Zoar, and their arrival coincided with the destruction of Sodom. Sulfur and fire from the LORD rained down on the inhabitants of the doomed valley. Lot’s wife, disregarding the instruction of the angels, looked back and turned into a pillar of salt.

Because of Sodom and subsequent troubling events in Lot’s story, modern eyes often view him as an ambiguous character, a man who escaped wrath purely by God’s grace and Abraham’s intercession, not as a concession to his righteousness or hospitality. No doubt, God’s mercy is central to the story. But we have interesting commentary from the epistles and gospels that can challenge our initial reading.

For instance, in 2 Peter 2:7–10, Lot is called righteous three times and contrasted with the abject wickedness of the people surrounding him. What is the principle Peter extracts from the Sodom story? “The Lord knows how to rescue the godly from trials, and to keep the unrighteous under punishment until the day of judgment.”¹⁵2 Peter 2:9 Abraham’s hospitality led to the announcement of miraculous life from “death.” Lot’s hospitality led to his preservation on the day of judgment.

Luke also records a compelling commentary on Sodom. Jesus, when sending out the seventy-two disciples to preach the gospel of the kingdom, gave them instructions that used hospitality as a litmus test to find those receptive to the gospel message. Eating and drinking are central to their evangelism.

“Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace be to this house!’ And if a son of peace is there, your peace will rest upon him. But if not, it will return to you. And remain in the same house, eating and drinking what they provide, for the laborer deserves his wages. Do not go from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and they receive you, eat what is set before you. Heal the sick in it and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’ But whenever you enter a town and they do not receive you, go into its streets and say, ‘Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet we wipe off against you. Nevertheless know this, that the kingdom of God has come near.’ I tell you, it will be more bearable on that day for Sodom than for that town.”

Luke 10:5–12

Receiving Jesus’ messengers with hospitality led to healing the town’s sick. This sign pointed to the coming kingdom of God where the righteous dead will be resurrected, and death and sickness will be no more. Not receiving Jesus’ messengers with hospitality incurred an equally apocalyptic judgment. Dusty feet that gracious hosts should have washed will bear witness against the town on the Last Day, and they will suffer a punishment worse than Sodom.

If we have failed at this point to see the immense importance of hospitality in the life of Abraham and Lot, not only as a righteous act but as an apocalyptic sign, we cannot fail to miss this theme later in history in the lives of two women who hosted Elijah and Elisha.

In 1 Kings 17, we find Israel in a drought that can only be broken by the word of the prophet Elijah. After announcing this judgment to King Ahab, Elijah first takes shelter by a brook east of the Jordan river, but soon that brook dries up. The LORD then tells Elijah to go to the town of Zarephath because he commanded a woman there to feed Elijah. When Elijah reaches the village, he sees a widow gathering sticks. Elijah, rain-withholder himself, rather audaciously asks her for water. As the widow turns to fetch the water for him, Elijah adds to his request: would she bring him a little bit of bread as well? At this point, the widow admits that all she has are a handful of flour and a little oil. Before the prophet’s interruption, her plan was to make one last bit of bread for her and her son. After this final meal, she knew nothing was left for her and her son but starvation and death. Elijah assures her that the LORD has declared that her flour will not run out, nor will her oil run dry until the terrible drought is over. With this declaration, he sends her to make him bread. This widow of Zarephath does as Elijah asks, and just as the LORD promised, her food miraculously multiplies.

This divine provision to the woman who trusted the word of the LORD as she baked what could have been her last supper sustained her family and the prophet. But that was not the end of her reward. Not long after this, the widow’s son became severely ill and stopped breathing. The widow asked the prophet if her son’s death was because of her sin, as the suddenness and intensity of his sickness seemed to be a divine judgment. Rather than answer the distraught mother’s question, Elijah asked her for her son. He brought the limp little body to his upstairs room in the house, laid him down on the bed, and interceded over the boy. “O LORD my God, have you brought calamity even upon the widow with whom I sojourn, by killing her son?” He stretched himself over the boy three times, praying, “O LORD my God, let this child’s life come into him again.” The LORD heard Elijah’s prayer, and the child began to breathe again, and he lived.¹⁶See 1 Kings 17:17–21.

As an act of faith, the widow’s hospitality saved herself and others from starvation, leading to her son’s resurrection. She saw the mighty acts of God, and it established an unshakable confidence that the word of the LORD is truth.¹⁷See 1 Kings 17:24

A very similar story plays out in the life of the prophet Elisha. This time, however, the woman is wealthy and has a living husband. She notices that Elisha, the prophet, has come to her town of Shunem, and she urges him to eat food. Whenever he passed by, she made sure that he was fed. When she realized that Shunem would be a regular stop on Elisha’s travels, she collaborated with her husband to set up a permanent room for Elisha in their house and furnished it with a bed, table, chair, and lamp. A very comfortable setup for the prophet, indeed!

This act of kindness greatly ministered to Elisha. As he was resting in the guest room of the Shunammite woman, he called her to ask if there was any service he could do for her. Did she want a word spoken on her behalf to the king or the commander of the army? These favors she humbly declined and left the prophet to ponder what other possible rewards he could give. At this point, Elisha’s servant points out that the woman is childless and her husband is old. Perfect! Elisha calls the woman back and says, “At this season (מועד, moed, appointed time) about this time next year, you shall embrace a son.”¹⁸2 Kings 4:16.

Sarah had laughed at such a prospect, but the Shunammite denied it, saying, “No, my lord, O man of God; do not lie to your servant.” Despite her unbelief, the woman held her son in her arms the following spring.

Years later, this boy was out in the fields with his father when he had a sudden and painful headache. The father told his workers to bring the boy back to his mother. She held him on her lap as he slowly slipped away and died. She laid the boy’s body on the bed in the prophet’s guest room and closed the door. She saddled a donkey and quickly made her way to Mount Carmel, where Elisha was based—a journey of more than 20 miles (~32 km).

Elisha saw the woman approaching from far off and sent his servant to ask her if all was well with her and her family. She answered that all was well, presumably not wishing to speak about her sorrow with anyone other than the prophet himself. When she reached Elisha, the Shunammite caught hold of his feet and wept. The servant was about to push her back, but Elisha said, “Leave her alone, for she is in bitter distress, and the LORD has hidden it from me and has not told me.”¹⁹2 Kings 4:27 The woman then said, “Did I ask my lord for a son? Did I not say, ‘Do not deceive me?'” Elisha, perceiving that something had happened to the boy, immediately sent his servant with his staff to check on the child. Interestingly, Elisha’s instructions to his servant are closely echoed by Jesus in his instructions to his disciples in Luke 10:4, “If you meet anyone, do not greet him, and if anyone greets you, do not reply.” Elisha then adds, “Lay my staff on the face of the child.”

The bereft mother remained with the prophet, and the servant made the trek back to Shunem. He finds the boy in the guest room and lays Elisha’s staff on the boy’s face as instructed, but there is no sign of life. The servant returns to Mount Carmel with the sad news, “The child has not awakened.”²⁰2 Kings 4:31

At this point, Elisha, the woman, and his servant all travel to Shunem. Elisha found the child lying on his bed. He closed the door to his room and began to pray. Just like his predecessor Elijah, he stretched himself over the boy. Warmth returned to the body, but not life. Elisha paced the house, returned to his room, and stretched himself over the boy in intercession again. This time, the boy sneezed seven times and opened his eyes. So the prophet returned the resurrected promised son to his mother, and the word of the LORD was proved doubly true, first in the giving of the son and second in the son’s restoration.

In the lives of Abraham, Sarah, the widow of Zarephath, and the Shunammite woman, hospitality is a crucial element of their resurrection stories. Abraham and Sarah received the LORD and angels in disguise, and the women received Elijah, Elisha, and the word of the LORD. Lot’s hospitality saved him and his daughters from the wrath poured out on Sodom. His testimony not only bore witness against the wickedness of that city but served as an apocalyptic warning to future cities that proved inhospitable to the Lord’s messengers.

If we have been tempted to relegate hospitality to a minor gift, mere personality trait, or something “other cultures” practice, we have missed something epic and fundamental about this virtue in the life of every believer. The gospel preached in hospitality was affirmed by signs and wonders where God opens barren wombs, gives sons, and raises the dead. To align ourselves with a hospitable God means that we also will practice hospitality, and in so doing, we powerfully proclaim God’s coming kingdom.

But perhaps here you might object. Many aspects of the patriarchs’ and prophets’ histories are descriptive rather than prescriptive. Maybe I have overstated the universal applicability and call to hospitality for Christians. But as we look at the life and ministry of Jesus, this position becomes harder to sustain.

Stay tuned for the next installment in the “Hospitality & Revival” series “The Son of Man Came Eating and Drinking,” where we will explore Jesus’ use of hospitality in his ministry.

Recommended Resources:

Articles

Abraham and Lot’s Bedouin-Style Hospitality by Dr. Clinton Bailey

Books

Saved by Faith and Hospitality by Joshua W. Jipp

Who Ate Lunch with Abraham? by Asher Intrater

Footnotes

• 1
  For those in doubt of Madaba’s age, see Numbers 21:30; Joshua 13:9; 1 Chronicles 19:7; Isaiah 15:2.
• 2
  You can read more about Pashtunwali here.
• 3
  “Abraham and Lot’s Bedouin-Style Hospitality” is a fascinating analysis of the similarities between contemporary Bedouin culture and the culture of the Biblical patriarchs.
• 4
  This urgency in the invitation is a vital and recurring feature of hospitality narratives in the Bible. This is not a casual request!
• 5
  The author of Hebrews uses this scenario to encourage his readers to always practice hospitality. See Hebrews 13:2.
• 6
  Genesis 18:10
• 7
  Genesis 18:13–14
• 8
  See Hebrews 11:11
• 9
  Genesis 21:1–6
• 10
  See Hebrews 11:12.
• 11
  This scenario is quite common in societies that highly value the preservation of honor. A delicate balancing act is often accomplished through indirect communication. It is polite to refuse offers of hospitality to give an out to someone who might have offered something out of mere politeness. In such situations, a host might need to urge a guest many times to take the offered food before they can politely accept. The first time I saw this was with a French acquaintance at an American-hosted party. People would offer her food once, and she would politely decline. Only later did I learn how distressed she was not to be offered the food again and how hungry she was by the end of the evening.
• 12
  Genesis 19:7–8
• 13
  Dr. Sandra Richter has a constructive section on this in her recent episode, “Deuteronomy 11, 22, 24, 26: Land, Economy, and Sexual Violence” in “The Two Testaments” podcast.
• 14
  Genesis 19:17
• 15
  2 Peter 2:9
• 16
  See 1 Kings 17:17–21.
• 17
  See 1 Kings 17:24
• 18
  2 Kings 4:16.
• 19
  2 Kings 4:27
• 20
  2 Kings 4:31