My home is my haven from the rest of the world. It is a space of quiet solitude that I seek to escape the day to day responsibilities outside of the home. Work, family duties, church activities, errands that never end etc. leave me beyond tired and often emotionally “spent.” I grew up in a home that was an example of the hospitality you speak of. My parents were amazing hosts and invited everyone they knew to “come visit us. We’d love to have you over”. But I witnessed firsthand the amount of physical work and energy those visits took out of them. I just don’t know that I have that in me.
Hospitality can be hard because it feels like lack of stability and predictability in how you spend your social and emotional energy and your time. If your house is open, or if different people are living in it at different times especially, that means constant paradigm shifts as you try to relate to each person in ways that are personal to them. Similarly, it means constant reconfigurations of priorities about space/stuff/household duties/boundaries. Most people want to help keep a house tidy, for instance, but what that means for everyone varies widely! Each addition to your house, even if it's only for a few hours or days, means you have to recognize and then participate in someone else's paradigm while still holding the "frame" in which that negotiation can happen.
We had a season where we had certain neighbor children in and at our house at all hours. That was until I realized that I was enabling their mom to neglect her children because she knew I would take care of them. She (and they) needed help I was not qualified to offer, and it wasn't until I started setting limits on when the kids were welcome that she started seeking the help she needed.
I've been staring at the title of your post in my email inbox for a month and a half, and just thinking about it. In addition to all you've said above, I want to suggest that your old students may have been on to something. Not that people weren't wicked or exploitative long ago, and Heaven knows the pictures we get of hospitality in Homer are hyper-idealized. (Even depictions of hospitality in the Bible may be instances of remarkable hospitality rather than regular, everyday hospitality.) But your students were essentially right that things have changed, and changed radically, even if they had no idea what those changes actually entailed. I'm not a cultural materialist, but when my students ask about the causes of cultural changes, I frequently find myself pointing to two things: technology and labor. Do you remember the remarkable line that begins Virginia Woolf's novel Mrs. Dalloway? "Clarissa said she would buy the flowers herself." We don't find the line remarkable now, but 100 years ago it was. Why?
Today I have been preparing the house for a little get-together with some friends this weekend. It's nothing fancy, just an evening with some friends and their kids. My wife being away for the weekend, I'm doing all the prep myself. It's got me thinking about who exactly in my household would have been doing the bulk of this work even a couple centuries ago?
Today, in 2023, I cleaned the bathrooms and swept and mopped the floor myself. In 1823, that work would all be done by a hired charwoman.
Today, in 2023, I drove to several grocery stores and bought the food that I will serve, and tomorrow I will cook that food myself. In 1823, much of the food would be delivered, and the rest would be purchased locally by a cook or a housekeeper. The food would be prepared by a cook and set on the table for me and for my guests. Unlike the cook in 1823, I will have recourse to running water, a gas stove, and a microwave. But I will still handle all the food myself.
Today, in 2023, when my guests come to the door, I will open the door myself to welcome them. In 1823, that would be done by a butler (in an upscale house) or by a housekeeper.
Today, in 2023, my children will play with the children of our guests in the living room while we grown-ups chat in the dining room. All of us will spend significant time making sure all our children have eaten something. In 1823, my children would have been fed and kept quiet and out of the way in a nursery, attended by a nanny. My guests' children would leave their children at home in the same situation. After the party, I will still need to make sure my children are in their PJs and are put to bed. Again, in 1823, all that would be done by a nanny.
And today, in 2023, after my guests leave, I will put away the remnants of the food and gather the dishes and do all the cleaning up--wiping the table, washing the dishes, etc. In 1823, that would all be done by the cook and housekeeper. Fortunately for me in 2023, I have the advantage of indoor plumbing and a dishwasher. But I still have to load and unload it, and I scrub the pots and pans myself.
Granted that all of the above was true of households in the middle and upper classes. I can't say what working-class hospitality looked like a couple hundred years ago, but I would be keen to find out. My point, I suppose, is that now that everyone in America considers themselves middle-class, hospitality is hard largely because the conditions under which middle-class people used to practice hospitality have disappeared.
I am so glad I found this, as I am struggling profoundly with this concept. We are missionaries on the field in Panama, living and working alongside the a poverty-stricken, marginalized, oppressed indigenous group. We are alone, with no other missionaries or even believers. I'm not sure how to describe my feelings on hospitality except to say that the culture here is to take advantage of the hospitality of gringos and especially missionaries, on principal. This has resulted in a non-stop demand for hospitality...knocking on our door...flagging my husband down while he's driving his boat...staring through our windows while I do school with my children...interrupting our family meals to ask if we will make them sandwiches...it is endless. This is only a smattering of examples. Our family gets no break, can accomplish nothing (not even the important things like filing taxes or do physical therapy exercises) without getting interrupted. We are exhausted and, frankly, beginning to grow bitter. There are days when I feel the need to hide in my own house so I won't be seen and approached. How does a person practice radical hospitality while still maintaining healthy boundaries? Things like the need for a family meals alone so we can process all that has happened in the day...a need to do homeschool lessons without constant interruption...the need to not be stopped multiples times while trying to get to walk from the house to the boat so that we can make it to a Bible Study on time...And all in a language that we are still learning!
I've been saving your messages in my email and finally have a little time to catch up and I figured you'd still welcome responses even a little late. :) A difficulty I'm finding is when different members of the family have different desires or capacities for hospitality. One might want to throw the doors open regularly while another needs home to feel like a refuge from the rest of the world most of the time. I can also share that one answer to this that I've found is that when the "throw the doors open" person is home while the other is not, that person can bring people in during that time without worrying the other. It may not be in large ways or extended ways, but even those smaller times of hospitality can be so needed. And then there can be "joint efforts" when both parties are up for it. I'd love more thoughts addressing this difficulty though!
My home is my haven from the rest of the world. It is a space of quiet solitude that I seek to escape the day to day responsibilities outside of the home. Work, family duties, church activities, errands that never end etc. leave me beyond tired and often emotionally “spent.” I grew up in a home that was an example of the hospitality you speak of. My parents were amazing hosts and invited everyone they knew to “come visit us. We’d love to have you over”. But I witnessed firsthand the amount of physical work and energy those visits took out of them. I just don’t know that I have that in me.
Hospitality can be hard because it feels like lack of stability and predictability in how you spend your social and emotional energy and your time. If your house is open, or if different people are living in it at different times especially, that means constant paradigm shifts as you try to relate to each person in ways that are personal to them. Similarly, it means constant reconfigurations of priorities about space/stuff/household duties/boundaries. Most people want to help keep a house tidy, for instance, but what that means for everyone varies widely! Each addition to your house, even if it's only for a few hours or days, means you have to recognize and then participate in someone else's paradigm while still holding the "frame" in which that negotiation can happen.
We had a season where we had certain neighbor children in and at our house at all hours. That was until I realized that I was enabling their mom to neglect her children because she knew I would take care of them. She (and they) needed help I was not qualified to offer, and it wasn't until I started setting limits on when the kids were welcome that she started seeking the help she needed.
I've been staring at the title of your post in my email inbox for a month and a half, and just thinking about it. In addition to all you've said above, I want to suggest that your old students may have been on to something. Not that people weren't wicked or exploitative long ago, and Heaven knows the pictures we get of hospitality in Homer are hyper-idealized. (Even depictions of hospitality in the Bible may be instances of remarkable hospitality rather than regular, everyday hospitality.) But your students were essentially right that things have changed, and changed radically, even if they had no idea what those changes actually entailed. I'm not a cultural materialist, but when my students ask about the causes of cultural changes, I frequently find myself pointing to two things: technology and labor. Do you remember the remarkable line that begins Virginia Woolf's novel Mrs. Dalloway? "Clarissa said she would buy the flowers herself." We don't find the line remarkable now, but 100 years ago it was. Why?
Today I have been preparing the house for a little get-together with some friends this weekend. It's nothing fancy, just an evening with some friends and their kids. My wife being away for the weekend, I'm doing all the prep myself. It's got me thinking about who exactly in my household would have been doing the bulk of this work even a couple centuries ago?
Today, in 2023, I cleaned the bathrooms and swept and mopped the floor myself. In 1823, that work would all be done by a hired charwoman.
Today, in 2023, I drove to several grocery stores and bought the food that I will serve, and tomorrow I will cook that food myself. In 1823, much of the food would be delivered, and the rest would be purchased locally by a cook or a housekeeper. The food would be prepared by a cook and set on the table for me and for my guests. Unlike the cook in 1823, I will have recourse to running water, a gas stove, and a microwave. But I will still handle all the food myself.
Today, in 2023, when my guests come to the door, I will open the door myself to welcome them. In 1823, that would be done by a butler (in an upscale house) or by a housekeeper.
Today, in 2023, my children will play with the children of our guests in the living room while we grown-ups chat in the dining room. All of us will spend significant time making sure all our children have eaten something. In 1823, my children would have been fed and kept quiet and out of the way in a nursery, attended by a nanny. My guests' children would leave their children at home in the same situation. After the party, I will still need to make sure my children are in their PJs and are put to bed. Again, in 1823, all that would be done by a nanny.
And today, in 2023, after my guests leave, I will put away the remnants of the food and gather the dishes and do all the cleaning up--wiping the table, washing the dishes, etc. In 1823, that would all be done by the cook and housekeeper. Fortunately for me in 2023, I have the advantage of indoor plumbing and a dishwasher. But I still have to load and unload it, and I scrub the pots and pans myself.
Granted that all of the above was true of households in the middle and upper classes. I can't say what working-class hospitality looked like a couple hundred years ago, but I would be keen to find out. My point, I suppose, is that now that everyone in America considers themselves middle-class, hospitality is hard largely because the conditions under which middle-class people used to practice hospitality have disappeared.
Today, in 2023, why WOULDN'T hospitality be hard?
I am so glad I found this, as I am struggling profoundly with this concept. We are missionaries on the field in Panama, living and working alongside the a poverty-stricken, marginalized, oppressed indigenous group. We are alone, with no other missionaries or even believers. I'm not sure how to describe my feelings on hospitality except to say that the culture here is to take advantage of the hospitality of gringos and especially missionaries, on principal. This has resulted in a non-stop demand for hospitality...knocking on our door...flagging my husband down while he's driving his boat...staring through our windows while I do school with my children...interrupting our family meals to ask if we will make them sandwiches...it is endless. This is only a smattering of examples. Our family gets no break, can accomplish nothing (not even the important things like filing taxes or do physical therapy exercises) without getting interrupted. We are exhausted and, frankly, beginning to grow bitter. There are days when I feel the need to hide in my own house so I won't be seen and approached. How does a person practice radical hospitality while still maintaining healthy boundaries? Things like the need for a family meals alone so we can process all that has happened in the day...a need to do homeschool lessons without constant interruption...the need to not be stopped multiples times while trying to get to walk from the house to the boat so that we can make it to a Bible Study on time...And all in a language that we are still learning!
I've been saving your messages in my email and finally have a little time to catch up and I figured you'd still welcome responses even a little late. :) A difficulty I'm finding is when different members of the family have different desires or capacities for hospitality. One might want to throw the doors open regularly while another needs home to feel like a refuge from the rest of the world most of the time. I can also share that one answer to this that I've found is that when the "throw the doors open" person is home while the other is not, that person can bring people in during that time without worrying the other. It may not be in large ways or extended ways, but even those smaller times of hospitality can be so needed. And then there can be "joint efforts" when both parties are up for it. I'd love more thoughts addressing this difficulty though!