Be Hospitable
13 Imperatives for the Church • Sermon • Submitted • Presented
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By now, there should be nobody in this room who is surprised to hear me admit that I’m a nerd.
You’ve heard me talk about space and rockets and fish and history and the Greek language from this pulpit. And I think that an avid interest in any two of those subjects is enough to earn you the nerd card.
As someone with an interest in all of the above — along with any number of OTHER nerdy topics — I could well be in the running for president of the nerd club.
So, I’m going to go full language nerd on you as we begin today’s message. We’re going to talk about etymology this morning.
Now, etymology is NOT the study of insects. That ENTomology. Etymology is ALSO not the study of the theory of knowledge; that’s EPISTomology.
Etymology is the study of word origins. And etymology is important, because it can help us to understand the shades of meanings that a word might have.
You’ve heard me talk about etymology before in the context of understanding the backgrounds of various Greek and Hebrew words we find in Scripture.
So, for instance, in the passage of Romans, chapter 12, that we’ve been studying for the past couple of months, we talked a few weeks ago about the Greek word, kurios, that’s translated as LORD in Romans 12:11. And we saw that the etymology of this Greek word reveals it originally was used in the context of master-slave relationships.
Understanding the etymology of this word — not just its translation or definition, but the way it changed meaning over time — helps us to understand the phrase “serving the Lord” in a deeper way.
Today, we’re going to look at the etymology of the word “hospitality.” This word appears at the end of the passage we’ve been studying, the one that includes 13 imperatives for Christians and the church.
Let’s read that passage together, Romans 12:9-13
9 Let love be without hypocrisy. Abhor what is evil; cling to what is good. 10 Be devoted to one another in brotherly love; give preference to one another in honor; 11 not lagging behind in diligence, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord; 12 rejoicing in hope, persevering in tribulation, devoted to prayer, 13 contributing to the needs of the saints, practicing hospitality.
Now, the first of the 13 imperatives or commands Paul gives us here is to “let love be without hypocrisy.” In other words, love one another genuinely.
Seek the best for one another without regard for whether you’ll be loved in return and without waiting for the other person to do something to deserve that love.
In other words, love one another the way that God loves us. In a self-sacrificing way by which, in His grace, He stooped down to bless we who deserve His condemnation.
And, as I’ve said throughout this study, this first command to love one another genuinely is a sort of umbrella command over the other 12. The rest are manifestations of genuine love.
We’ll hate what is evil, especially when we see it in ourselves. We’ll cling to what is good, knowing that the abundant life Jesus promised His followers depends upon doing so.
We’ll be devoted to one another as members of a family, the family of God. And that devotion will look a lot like giving one another greater honor than we do for ourselves.
We’ll be persistent and careful about doing the work we have been called to do as Christians, and we’ll have a fire within our spirits for this work, because we do it as service to our new master, Jesus, who purchased our salvation on a cross at Calvary.
We’ll be people of constant prayer who rejoice even in the midst of trials, because we have real hope.
We have the confident assurance that God is good, that He keeps His promises, and that He has promised followers of Jesus they’ll be raised from the dead into glorified bodies to spend eternity in the very presence of God.
And recognizing that all who have this hope are part of the family of God, we’ll look for ways to share the blessings of our abundance with other members of this family who have genuine needs.
Which brings us to the final command for Christians in this passage: to be people who are “practicing hospitality.”
And this is where etymology comes into play.
The English word “hospitality” is closely related to the word “hospital,” which is, itself, closely related to the word “hospice.” All three of these words can be traced back to the Latin word “hospes,” which can mean either guest or host.
That’s the etymology. Now, let’s double down on the nerd factor and add in some history, courtesy of author Leslie B. Flynn in the book 19 Gifts of the Spirit.
Nelson’s Complete Book of Stories, Illustrations & Quotes (Haven for Guests)
“Ancient travelers, whether pilgrims or businessmen, fared poorly when venturing beyond their own country. Thus, religious leaders established international guest houses in the fifth century. These havens were called “hospice” from hospes, Latin for “guests.”
With the coming of the Crusades, the importance of the hospice increased greatly. Pilgrims, crusaders, and other travelers found hospices, by this time run by religious orders, the only reputable guest houses of the era.
Soon after the Crusades most of these institutions began to specialize in the care of the poor, sick, aged, and crippled. During the fifteenth century, secular interests took over most entertaining of travelers, so the hospital restricted its function to care and treatment of the sick and handicapped.
But originally it meant a haven for guests.”
[Leslie B. Flynn, 19 Gifts of the Spirit (Wheaton: Victor Books, 1975), 109.]
So, based on what Flynn uncovered about the word “hospitality,” we can conclude that Paul is commanding Christians to be people who make it their practice to provide a haven for guests.
But remember that the New Testament was written in Greek, not English or even Latin.
So, what does the Greek word that’s TRANSLATED as “hospitality” add to our understanding?
Well, the Greek word here is philonexia, and it can be translated as “the love of strangers.”
So, Paul isn’t saying here that we are to be people who are known among all our friends and family as great hosts who throw wonderful dinner parties, though there’s nothing wrong with being that.
His point is that we should be known for the haven — the sanctuary and healing and comfort and peace — that we provide for STRANGERS.
And looking back at the first-century context in which Paul wrote this letter, such hospitality would have been desperately helpful for travelers in places that were unknown to them.
There were no Motel 6s in that place and time, much less any Hilton Garden Inns. But people had to travel for various reasons, and they would often rely on the kindness of strangers.
In fact, God had given the people of Israel many different commandments in the Old Testament for the treatment of strangers and aliens in their midst.
From Leviticus, chapter 19:
33 ‘When a stranger resides with you in your land, you shall not do him wrong. 34 ‘The stranger who resides with you shall be to you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt; I am the Lord your God.
From God’s description of Himself to Moses in the Book of Deuteronomy:
17 “For the Lord your God is the God of gods and the Lord of lords, the great, the mighty, and the awesome God who does not show partiality nor take a bribe. 18 “He executes justice for the orphan and the widow, and shows His love for the alien by giving him food and clothing. 19 “So show your love for the alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt.
We hear King David in the 39th Psalm, calling out to God for mercy as he considers his sins and comparing himself to a stranger before God:
12 “Hear my prayer, O Lord, and give ear to my cry; Do not be silent at my tears; For I am a stranger with You, A sojourner like all my fathers.
David remembered his sins before God, and he knew that his sins had estranged him from God. And as he prayed for God’s mercy, David was reminding himself that God loved him, that God loves even the stranger and alien, even the one who has sinned against Him.
And so, with all that rich Old Testament background regarding the treatment of strangers and aliens, Paul, here in our focus passage today from the Book of Romans, reminds followers of Jesus that we ALL were once strangers and aliens before God.
Every one of us was estranged from God because of our sins. Every one of us was lost in the darkness of sin.
We were naked in our unrighteousness. We were starving for a relationship with Him who made us in His own image so that we could be in fellowship with Him.
And, much like an alien in a strange land, we were helpless to do anything about our situation. We were completely at the mercy of God.
But God is rich in mercy and grace!
And so, at the appointed time, He sent Jesus, His unique and eternal Son, to be born of a virgin. To live a sinless life as a man. To give Himself as a sacrifice.
To take upon Himself the sins of all mankind — and their just punishment — so that we who follow Him in faith could be saved. To be raised from the dead on the third day as the firstfruits of the resurrection.
And to return to heaven, where He awaits His Father’s command to return in the clouds and take home with Him all the living and the dead who have placed their faith in Him.
God practiced hospitality toward we aliens and strangers by giving us haven — sanctuary and healing and comfort and peace — in His very Son.
And He did this because He loves us. Jesus did this because He loves us, because He IS love.
And we are to be people who practice hospitality — who make it our habit to provide a haven for the stranger — because that is how we show them love. And love for others is the proper response for the Christian who has found the love of God.
And that connects us to this week’s advent theme — love. But there’s also an interesting connection to the story of Jesus’ birth, as recorded in the Gospel of Luke.
1 Now in those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus, that a census be taken of all the inhabited earth. 2 This was the first census taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3 And everyone was on his way to register for the census, each to his own city. 4 Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and family of David, 5 in order to register along with Mary, who was engaged to him, and was with child. 6 While they were there, the days were completed for her to give birth. 7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son; and she wrapped Him in cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.
Now, let’s be careful about how we picture the circumstances of Jesus’ birth.
Dating back to the 5th century B.C., there were places in Greece where travelers could lodge for the night to find food and accommodations.
They were dangerous places, and they wouldn’t have gotten high marks for comfort on TripAdvisor, but they existed.
And there’s some evidence that such establishments could be found around other parts of the Mediterranean — perhaps even in Israel — in later centuries.
But the word that’s translated in verse 7 as “inn” can also mean “guest chamber.” And the people of Jerusalem, at least, prided themselves at this time on having homes with extra rooms that could accommodate guests when the Jews would come to Jerusalem for feast days like Passover.
Indeed, it was in just such a room that Jesus shared His last Passover meal with His disciples on the night before His crucifixion.
And it was in such a room that the disciples gathered on the night before Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit came down on them in tongues of fire.
So, it’s impossible for us to know whether Mary and Joseph had been expecting to stay in something that we might think of as a shady hotel in Bethlehem or as guests in someone’s home there.
But what’s clear is that they found neither accommodation. They spent the night of Jesus’ birth — and maybe more — among the animals. And they laid the newborn Jesus not in a bed, but in a manger.
The King of kings and Lord of lords — the Son of God and He who was with God in the beginning and through whom all things came into being — spent His first night as a human in a feeding trough.
The first sounds He heard, other than the voices of Mary and Joseph, were the sounds of restless animals and, perhaps, drunkards in the streets.
The first things He smelled were grain and musk and animal dung.
The first things He felt were the the swaddling cloths in which He was wrapped, the scratchy hay in which he was nestled, and the cold stone of the manger in which He lay.
The Light of the world came into the darkness of Bethlehem as a stranger and an alien. And instead of a haven — instead of the sanctuary and comfort and peace of hospitality — He was received with indifference.
Which, quite frankly, isn’t far from how He is received today by much of the world, even as we celebrate the anniversary of His birth.
For most of the world, there’s plenty of space in our homes for Santa and the elves and even the reindeer. But let’s keep Jesus out there in the stable with the animals — out of sight and out of mind.
Maybe we’ll open the door for the shepherd—carolers when they come by singing about the miracle they’ve witnessed.
Their songs are so pretty, and they remind us of stories we heard when we were kids. But it’s cold outside, so let’s close the door and get back to the egg nog.
And all the while, Jesus, the Savior of the world, is outside, waiting for us to let Him in. Waiting for us to recognize that Christmas is only meaningful if we accept the greatest gift ever given.
Waiting for us to see that the real strangers and aliens here are US, not Him. Waiting for us to accept the hospitality — the sanctuary and comfort and peace — that He offered at the cross.
For a moment right now, I want you to close your eyes and imagine you are back at that inn or in that house in Bethlehem.
Everything is quiet inside. Perhaps everyone has gone to bed by this time of night. You can hear the lowing of cattle outside, maybe even the bleating of sheep on a distant hillside.
You can hear the anguish of a mother in labor, that woman who was turned away from the door sometime earlier.
And now, the cries of a newborn child, as He is cleaned and wrapped in strips of cloth.
Perhaps those cries are merely the normal response of a newborn who has no other way to articulate the shock from the flood of sensory input after nine months in the womb.
I’m sure that was part of it. Jesus came to us as a human, after all. But He also came to us as God in the flesh.
If we could speak the language of an infant, I wonder if we might have heard Jesus crying out, “I AM!” I wonder if we strangers and aliens might have heard Him crying out, “Come unto Me, you who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.”
Across nearly 2,000 years, He is still saying those things to us today. Do you hear Him?
If you do, then I beg you not to close the door. Invite Him in today. Accept the gift of forgiveness that He offered at that cross at Calvary. Turn to Him in faith that He has done all that was necessary to purchase your salvation.
If you have never given your life to Jesus in faith, then you are a stranger in a dark and dangerous land, and you are in eternal peril. Won’t you accept His hospitality today?
There is nowhere else you will find sanctuary. There is nowhere else you will find healing. There is nowhere else you will find comfort. There is nowhere else you will find peace.