Hospitality

Several times each year, the trustees of the College of the Holy Cross gather on campus for several days of meetings. It's become a tradition during their September visit to host them for dinner at the Jesuit community– an event that transforms our modest and comfortable home into an especially attractive and inviting venue. Years ago, as a Jesuit novice, my brothers and I took turns doing all the domestic tasks of the community– cleaning (bathrooms included), shopping, yard work, keeping the cars serviced, minor household repairs, and cooking. Even for our larger annual functions– a Christmas party for the men and women who welcomed us to join in their work with the needy in Syracuse, a vocations event for men considering life as a Jesuit, a weekend for our families to visit, and the annual celebration of vows– we did all the preparation, cooking, and cleaning, though we did rent a bunch of tables and chairs when necessary. One of my brothers joked that we ran the best catering service in upstate New York, and another said that the most important item in the house was our commercial dishwasher. There was no such work for my community in Worcester to do last night– we simply opened our doors, appreciated the hard work of a wonderful staff from dining services as they prepared and served a fine meal, and welcomed a group of devoted and generous trustees and administrators into our home.

Trustee Dinner @ Ciampi Hall

College of the Holy Cross

Worcester MA

There's a spot on the community bulletin board where the guest list is posted, indicating who's coming to stay with us for one or more days. At the top of the list is the phrase "Hospes venit, Christus venit"– "A guest comes, Christ comes." While it's a custom for Jesuit houses to welcome traveling Jesuits, and occasionally relatives and friends, whether they're arriving from across the state or across the sea, I've found this hospitality to be particularly pronounced, and refreshingly expansive, in the community where I now live. Hosting a dinner for 75 is a big deal, given that there are usually 20 of us around for dinner on a given night. Yet whenever I've been called upon to share in the community's mission of making space for guests, I've always found myself filled by the energy, newness, and presence that they bring when they come under our roof.

When I traveled across the country by train in July and August of 2009, I depended heavily on the hospitality of Jesuits, friends, and family along my journey from San Francisco to Worcester. I was often touched by the kindness of the hospitality that I received, as I know that it necessitated some work: setting up an extra room or a couch, making sure I was well nourished, showing me around their neighborhoods, driving me to and from train stations at times and locations that weren't entirely convenient (the Phoenix stop is in the middle of the desert 30+ miles away from the city; the Sunset Limited pulled into Houston just before sunrise). And just a few weeks ago, while in Syracuse for vow weekend (novitiate catering was at its finest, by the way), I stopped by to visit a family from the parish where I worshipped during my first two years as a Jesuit. They gladly welcomed me in, and within ten minutes there was freshly sliced cheese, a nice spread of crackers and hummus, and some lemonade at the table where we sat, gleefully catching up on one another's lives and adventures from the past year.

Such hospitality is nothing new– it's deeply embedded in many cultures around the world, it's a key characteristic in strong bonds among families and friends, and it's a relatively straightforward way to extend and share happiness, peace, and nourishment for body and soul. Yet I occasionally need to be reminded– as I was last night amid good company– that the effort involved in being hospitable returns to me with those whom I may welcome, and allows me to better glimpse Christ, who welcomes us all.

[A slightly related postscript: NPR recently featured a story on Baghdad College, a school established in the Iraqi capital and staffed by New England Jesuits from the 1930s until the late 1960s. I know several of the Jesuits who were interviewed for this story, though they aren't mentioned by name, and several members of my community lived and taught in Baghdad when they were my age. As of this posting, the story can be found here.]