In the year 2000 Robert Putnam wrote a bestselling book entitled, Bowling Alone. At over 500 pages with footnotes, Putnam makes the argument that American community life is in steep decline. Now over 25 years later Putnam’s contention seems to be unmistakably true. We’ve lost our communal bearings. On every side we seem to be divided. Red vs. blue. Conservative v. progressive. Left v. right. Gay v. straight. Dry rub v. sauce. Pan pizza v. thin crust. Every opportunity to divide exists and we’ll even argue about the best way to prove it. And after last week’s elections, the divisions are starker than ever.
One of my favorite stories is a classic children’s work entitled, The Wind in the Willows. The storybook outlines the exploits of a cadre of unlikely and dissimilar friends. Author Kenneth Grahame introduces us to Mole, Badger, Ratty, Otter, and the inimitable Toad (who happens to be my favorite). The friendships and exasperations between them wax and wane but at the end of the day the comraderies stay intact. Grahame’s portraiture of each is both hilarious and familiar. They are different, peculiar, and comically eccentric. I dare say our own circles of friends likely embody several of each of the Willow’s characters. Their exploits are both mundane and amazing. Their adventures are endearing. At the end of the book, you realize that Grahame has introduced you to new friends, and that for all of their foibles these odd woodland creatures are more like us than not. As it turns out the more time they spend together, the more meals they share, the more they care for one another.
Putnam and Grahame have something to say. There’s always a need for community and there’s only one way to get it. While the present-day winds of division are blowing, community can be had, but never without a price. The Moles, Badgers, Rats, Otters, and Toads of the world can build community and yet it won’t materialize without geniality and fresh apple pie. In fact, warm hospitality and homemade lasagna do wonders to breaking down walls. After all, it’s hard to hold someone at a distance when gathered round a table for a meal together.
Of late, hospitality seems to be a lost art form. Busyness, cost, time constraints, suspicion, and a host of other reasons give us scant interest in taking on one more thing. Perhaps for many of us hospitality carries too great of price. We want community, and we want it on our terms and within our limited budget.
A number of years ago, Judy and I were determined to meet our rural SW Washington neighbors. She baked loaves of pumpkin bread, and wrapped them in foil and ribbon. We started from our place and ventured outward bearing gifts to unfamiliar neighbors and new, never-met, friends. We had quite young children and a slender pocketbook but we were determined to extend our community by making an effort of meeting our neighbors. I’d love to say it was a smashing success. Truth be known…it was hard and a lot of work, and difficult to see results. We still practice hospitality, and though still hard and a lot of work, now it looks a bit different. In almost 50 years of marriage, we’ve determined that our home be a place of welcome.
There is a reason that hospitality carries weight in the Biblical record. There’s something about hospitality that reveals the heart of God Himself. Author Alexander Strauch, in a provocative little book entitled, The Hospitality Commands, says this, “…hospitality is always costly. Through the ministry of hospitality, we share our most prized possessions. We share our family, home, finances, food, privacy, and time. Indeed, we share our very lives. So, hospitality is always costly.” Consider that God’s disposition toward His people is never miserly nor stingy. God is generous and hospitable, and God is glad to pay the cost. In Christ God has thrown open a door of hospitality and welcome to those least likely as guests. It is amazing, really. The gospel is a story of hospitality.
May I suggest that as Christian folk we endeavor to break down walls by being hospitable? It may come at a price, but we won’t regret it. Divisions and discord may plague this generation, however, the path to true community begins by kind invitations to our neighbors, to share a meal and a pan of fresh-baked brownies.
Dan and Judy Morse live near Prineville, Oregon. Over the years Dan has done bi-vocational work, church planting, and served as a senior pastor in several churches. He now serves as pastor at Madras Reformed Church, and also with InFaith as a Missionary Pastor in Central Oregon, assisting small and rural churches. He can be reached at danjmorse@icloud.com
