The Spiritual Practice of Hospitality

In a modern world defined by polarization and isolation, an ancient monastic rule —the Rule of St. Benedict — offers a surprising and profound blueprint for how we welcome the stranger today.

The Benedictine monk Daniel Homan and journalist Lonni Collins Pratt tell a story in their book Radical Hospitality about a man named Les who moved into a ramshackle log cabin across the street from Collins Pratt’s house. Her husband, an extrovert, talked to the man and learned he was going to live there alone and renovate the eyesore to sell it. Collins Pratt, an introvert, felt little need to connect with her neighbor, who was merely going to move once the log house was flipped — that is, until she awoke several nights in a row to the sound of bloodcurdling screams emanating from the house across the street. Her conscience, informed by the hospitality she witnessed and received over the years at St. Benedict Monastery in Oxford, Michigan — the focus of the book — stirred her heart to do something, to open herself to the mystery of encounter. One day, she took a bowl of chili, thermos of coffee, and apple cake to Les and introduced herself.

Homan and Collins Pratt share that Les “talked about a marriage that failed and said he would never marry again. He said he had fixed up quite a few old houses. He lived in them, repaired them, sold them to ‘nice young families for a good price,’ and then he moved on. And finally, as he drained the last of the coffee he talked of Vietnam. He said, ‘I’ll never get out of those fields.’ Les never said the words, but he asked Lonni to understand his screaming.” [1]

On the surface, it may seem surprising that Benedictine spirituality is a trove of wisdom for welcoming the stranger. Monks are thought to be cloistered, isolated from the world. Monasteries in the United States are often located in rural, remote areas, adding to the perception of seclusion. But the father of Western monasticism, St. Benedict of Nursia (ca. 480–ca. 550), made hospitality central in his monastic guidebook Rule of St. Benedict, requiring monks to graciously receive pilgrims and the poor into the monastery. It remains a central monastic value today and has much to teach all people — religious or lay, Christian or non-Christian — in an age of disconnection, polarization, and isolation.

Benedict’s emphasis on hospitality arises from the seriousness with which he received Jesus of Nazareth’s words in Matthew 25:35: “For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in.” As Benedict wrote in Chapter 53 of his book, “All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ, for he himself will say: ‘I was a stranger and you welcomed me.’” [2]

Hospitality in monasteries had practical benefits in the centuries after Constantine made Christianity the religion of the land, reinforcing relationships with church and political authorities. But for Benedict, it was much deeper than that. As Homan and Collins Pratt write, “Real hospitality isn’t about what we do — it’s about who we are… Benedict understood that guests are crucial to the making of a monk. At the same time, we dare not view the guest as a tool in our spiritual development. Never, ever is the monk to understand hospitality as utilitarian; he should always see it as a welcoming of the Christ among us.” [3]

In the cloisters of our homes, in the life of our communities, hospitality is our spiritual task, not because of what the stranger can do for us but because our reception of the stranger welcomes Christ among us. Through the mystery and mutuality of relationship, we remind one another of who we are.

So how do we anchor our lives in this kind of hospitality? For Benedict, it all comes back to listening. As his Rule of St. Benedict begins, “Listen carefully, my child, to the instructions of the spiritual master, and attend to them with the ear of your heart. This is advice from a father who loves you; welcome it, and faithfully put it into practice.” [4] The rhythm of monastic life — or, as Homan and Collins Pratt invite, the adoption of our own rule: “a set of ideas to help you determine the kind of person you will be and the course of your life” [5] — ought to attune the ear of our heart to listen. This cultivates a sense of peace, which creates a hospitable home.

Listening is also a spiritual posture that opens our hearts to the mystery of relationship with the stranger — on the street corner, at our door, within ourselves, or with the family member, friend, or an acquaintance with whom we might clash: “Benedict teaches us that if we close ourselves to the stranger, we close ourselves to the Sacred. If we lock our doors and bolt our gates, we are forbidding God to come to us. And never before have we needed so badly to know that God comes to us.” [6]

Sometimes we struggle to welcome the stranger because of our own agitations with the “other” — our own internal cacophony of compulsive and repetitive patterns. But as Benedictine author Joan Chittister writes, “Benedictine spirituality is intent on the distribution of self for the sake of the other.” [7]

Benedict’s theological reasoning for welcoming the stranger was quite simple: We’re all heading home toward union with God. Our loneliness, paradoxically, can actually drive us homeward: toward relationship, toward the stranger. Benedict invites us to “incline the ear of the heart” and “hear the more.” [8] Write Homan and Collins Pratt, “Listen, the ancient monk tells us, listen. It will break your heart, but it will also give you a heart. And it will give you more — it will give you life. Only love is strong enough to hold all the pain in the world. Love will listen. If you aren’t listening, you aren’t loving.” [9]

References:
[1] Lonni Collins Pratt and Daniel Homan O.S.B., Radical Hospitality: Benedict’s Way of Love, 2nd ed. (Paraclete Press, 201), 184, Kindle.

[2] RB 1980: The Rule of St. Benedict in Latin and English with Notes, ed. Timothy Fry (Liturgical Press, 1981), chap. 53.

[3] Collins Pratt and Homan, Radical Hospitality, 16, Kindle.

[4] Rule of Saint Benedict, Prologue.

[5] Collins Pratt, Radical Hospitality, 18, Kindle.

[6] Collins Pratt, Radical Hospitality, 28, Kindle. 

[7] Collins Pratt, Radical Hospitality, 34, Kindle.

[8] Rule of Saint Benedict, Prologue.

[9] Collins Pratt, Radical Hospitality, 186, Kindle.

Reflect with Us  
St. Benedict teaches that hospitality is more than an act of kindness; it is a way of becoming. Each encounter with another person invites us to loosen our need for control, open our hearts, and receive the presence of Christ in unexpected places. Where might your life be inviting you to practice this kind of hospitality? What would it look like to welcome the interruption, vulnerability, or mystery another person brings? Share your reflection with us. 

We Conspire is a series from the Center for Action and Contemplation featuring wisdom and stories from the growing Christian contemplative movement. Sign up for the monthly email series and receive a free invitation to practice each month.