The Eschatology of Hospitality
Every meal is eschatological. Every table prepares the way for the future. Dietrich Bonhoeffer spoke of three tables: a) the daily fellowship at the table, b) the table of the Lord’s Supper, and c) the final table fellowship at the Last Day. For Bonhoeffer, our daily meals are preparatory for future meals. After all, hospitality is eschatological. There is nothing more fitting for a table of kings and queens than to practice the habits of the eternal kingdom of our Lord.
One begins to see this eschatology in place when the very people you hosted in your home form their own households and begin to share in that treasure of untold stories and laughter.
Remember that your children are watching, and they are likely going to imitate your patterns later in life. It happens, but I have very rarely seen inhospitable parents produce hospitable sons.
The stories your offspring will tell will be of dreadful or seasons of loneliness at home growing up, or of experiences of joy around a table. Again, it is very rare that an inhospitable family rejoices around a table as a matter of practice. Instead, the rituals of hospitality produce joy around the table and remove loneliness.
We can begin somewhere to explore the pleasures of hosting when we see it as a seed planted in the eternal garden of praise. To have someone enter your home and partake of your gifts of food is to allow someone to enter into the place of deepest secrets; we are allowing them to see the transparency of unkept yards, rogue Lego pieces, partly uncooked or overcooked meals, rambunctious children, and the regular messiness of life.
Yes, you should do some cleaning, but refrain from excessive cleaning, lest you treat it as a mechanical showcase of your home. As one sage puts it, “Your home should look like someone lives in it!” In order to do that, leave open invitations for the single and the widows to come by for a lentil soup or a Sam’s bought pizza on a typical weekday. Then, there will be only time to remove the occasional kids’ clothes lying on the couch.
If hospitality is eschatological, then every experience in hosting is a theological act. If hosting is eschatological, then every piece of pie served, every glass of wine, the spilled peas, the summer watermelon, and the awkward pauses around a table are acts of grace—habits for a postmillennial reign.
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