New Voices: By and about young adults

As we sat in their living room, the feeling of warm hospitality overwhelmed us, but this feeling first arose before we arrived on their doorstep. They were there to welcome us at the door. We stepped inside, and they took our coats. They invited us to sit, and we sank comfortably onto the sofa. Finally, they offered us hot tea.

Their hospitality began with an email sent to us when they became aware of a difficult experience that we were going through. We needed it so much, and it came so unexpectedly, that the invitation alone brought tears of gratitude to our eyes. The timing of this simple act of welcome touched us deeply.

The couple that invited us into their home is the age of our parents. We knew them only casually, but well enough to have great respect for them as Christian leaders. That night, along with tea and a seat on their sofa, this couple offered us three hours of their time—three hours full of wisdom, peace, counsel, encouragement and their own stories of experiencing life’s difficulties. It was a sacred space, and it was an encounter of grace and hospitality.

Later I thought of that evening in relation to a story of Jesus. As he enters the most trying hours of his life, he extends hospitality to his disciples. The Gospel of John says that Jesus “got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him.

He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, ‘Lord, are you going to wash my feet?’ Jesus answered, ‘You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.’ Peter said to him, ‘You will never wash my feet.’ Jesus answered, ‘Unless I wash you, you have no share with me’ ” (13:4-8).

It is almost as if Jesus is responding to Peter’s pride by saying, “You know what Peter? You need this from me. This act goes deeper than the grime left around your sandals.”

To have our feet washed, literally or figuratively, is a humbling thing. We find ourselves vulnerable and exposed, but it is in that very vulnerability that we can experience the healing ministry of hospitality. When I participate in footwashing, I am much more comfortable washing another person’s feet than having my own feet washed.

Likewise, it is easier to serve another person than to receive another’s service. I don’t really mind the dirt on another person’s feet or the brokenness in his or her life, but God forbid anyone need to touch my dirty feet or see into the broken areas of my life.

That’s far too embarrassing. It’s no wonder Peter responded the way he did. Not only was his master about to touch his filthy feet, but he also knew that Jesus could see into the very depths of his being, a place more embarrassing than the dirtiest pair of feet.

Even now, Jesus continues to wash the feet of his disciples, but he does it mostly through other people. In a figurative but profound way, Jesus washed our feet as we sat in that living room. Like Peter, the vulnerability of our experience was devastating to our pride and healing to our souls.

Hospitality is an intrinsic element of Christian faith, which is demonstrated throughout Scripture. For example, years before Jesus washed the disciples’ feet, as a bookend to this last act of earthly ministry, his first public miracle aided in lengthening a wedding celebration in Cana. As the early church began embodying the teachings of Jesus, they gathered regularly in homes and around the table. Acts of hospitality are listed as key parts of Christian life from the very inception of the church.

As I reflect back on my experience at that couple’s home and examples of the ministry of hospitality in Scripture, especially the story of Jesus washing the disciples’ feet, I am challenged to actively extend hospitality to people around me.

Creating a welcome space may seem like a simple thing, whether on a living room sofa or an open seat on a park bench, but it sets up the opportunity for the powerful ministry of hospitality to bring peace and healing.

Perhaps more importantly, I’m challenged to receive the hospitality of those around me. In that vulnerability, I may be surprised to realize that Jesus is kneeling there, washing away the grime of my self-sufficiency and bringing healing to my brokenness.

Jon Heinly is youth minister for Lancaster (Pa.) Mennonite Conference and Lancaster Mennonite School.