Hospitality and worship
"In the church, showing hospitality to a stranger is less a matter of making the stranger feel at home and more a matter of opening one’s private world to the stranger. In fact, it is a matter of opening one’s private world to a public one, of gaining the competence to participate in the customs of public life, of learning to enjoy life among strangers."
— Welcoming the Stranger: A Public Theology of Worship and Evangelism by Patrick R. Keifert, page 8.
With this quote, Patrick Keifert, associate professor at Luther Northwestern Seminary, reminds us that real hospitality is not the sentimental, "you’re my new best friend," focusing on the experience of the guest in our midst. Rather real hospitality is about us opening ourselves and our private lives to the stranger. The stranger may not become our best friend, but she will find a sincere welcome that leaves space for her own comfort.
The church I visited last Sunday while away for a seminar practiced what Keifert is talking about wonderfully well. First, posted on the outside of the church for all the public to see were the times of worship, and what you could expect at each service. Since this was an Episcopal church, the sign read like this: 7:30 AM — Eucharist only. 9 AM — Eucharist with full choir. 11:15 AM — Eucharist with choir. Of course, they presume you know what the Eucharist is, but the sign described what I needed to know.
Secondly, the church doors were wide open. Of course, this was in southern California, but the imposing gothic building didn’t look so imposing with its doors flung open in friendly invitation. Third, an usher or greeter — I’m not sure what they called them — gave me a worship folder and indicated with a gesture which door I should enter. No hugs, no real introduction, but a warm, friendly greeting and helpful direction.
The worship folder was thick — probably 12 or more 8.5×11 pages stapled together. The cover page featured announcements, an invitation to "Coffee with the Rector" after the service, and other helpful items. As I flipped through the pages, I realized that this was the entire service — the Anglican liturgy with all the hymns, prayers, descriptions of what would happen (the children can follow the banner to the children’s time, an usher will help you), and instructions on what I should do at each part — stand, all sing, choir sings, kneel, and so on. No guess work, no fumbling with hymnal or prayer book, no embarassment.
No one at this church of 500 worshippers introduced themselves to me personally. But, many offered their hand and a "good morning, peace be with you" as we passed the peace. No one asked me to lunch, but I felt welcome to coffee. No gushing, but good information that kept me from embarassing myself, and let me in on what the congregation was doing. They opened their private worship to me, the stranger, while leaving me enough space to worship without pressure or intimidation. I felt welcomed without feeling smothered. They modeled well what Keifert describes — "public worship, though only one of the many bridges between public and private, is for Christians the ideal bridge."
