Can you remember a time when you were greeted with an abundance of hospitality? Last weekend, I visited friends in Wales who treated me to a basket of house slippers, a choice of milks (cow, soy, oat), and a stew on the stove. I felt truly taken care of. I’ve been fortunate to have many of these experiences, as a visiting friend and as a stranger. I remember staying with a Jewish family in Peru who took me in for Shabbat and drove me around Lima’s tourist sites. These instances are a blessing, and a contrast to a world that often feels harsh and unwelcoming.
Parshat Vayera opens with Abraham sitting in his tent in the heat of the day (Genesis 18:2-8). This is a feeling I know well – I’ve worked as an archaeologist in Greece, Israel, Sudan, and many other places where our work is complete before noon, and we take a rest in the shade. He was by the terebinths of Mamre, near Hebron, a rather hot place in the Judean desert. He notices three agents approaching and runs to greet them, begging them to stay and refresh themselves, ordering Sarah to bake bread, his servant to prepare a calf, and he brought out milk curds: not the most kosher meal, which has been noted and explained by many scholars.
Abraham’s welcoming the guests (who, surprise! turned out to be messengers from God informing him of Sarah’s upcoming pregnancy) sets the precedent for the mitzvah of hachnasat orchim. We see this in other places as well. Both Exodus 22: 21 and Leviticus 19:34 command us how to treat strangers. The former specifies that we treat the stranger as we’d treat our own citizens, and the latter instructs not to wrong strangers, both reminding us of our past as slaves in Egypt (where we decidedly were not treated well). Rambam states that since Abraham jumped up to greet his unexpected guests, this act is more important than greeting God, which he was about to do in verse 1 of this parsha. Rav Yehuda expresses on Mishnah Shabbat 127a that one can move objects on Shabbat in order to accommodate guests. Since God very kindly waited for Abraham to serve a meal, I suppose God can also wait for me to inflate the blow-up mattress.
What does it mean to treat a stranger as you would a citizen, and specifically to love each one as yourself (Lev 19:34)? It seems challenging, when we have so many other things to be concerned about. Rambam clarifies that hachnasat orchim is specifically about strangers and travellers, not our expected friends (whom we likely would treat excellently). I think of refugees, and particularly remember how we have been refugees many times in our history.
Hachnasat orchim exists in many world cultures. The most local parallel tradition which likely shares roots with ours is ḍiyāfah, the Islamic principle of hospitality. When people live transhumantly in desert regions, in small villages near water, social solidarity is built on sharing access. It’s not reducible to tit-for-tat, but on remembering that we were once strangers, and that we can also be desert wanderers – thus we are loving the stranger as ourselves by supplying them with what we’d need in their position. Anthropological studies of desert greetings among Touareg and Bedouin nomads discuss the importance of greeting others forthrightly and honestly and offering drinks, and if one traveller sees another, they must meet. There are series of formulaic greetings I learned in Sudan, where greetings took many minutes, but direct questions are forbidden – note Abraham doesn’t ask his guests any questions about their travels before offering sustenance!
Having lived in rural places, I experienced the rarity of visitors and the communal joy when they arrived; the desert surroundings mean they might have had an arduous journey. Particularly in Sudan, the hospitality I received was exceptional. Everywhere we went, we felt like esteemed guests, and I was able to experience the hospitality that Abraham’s visitors might have. My team would often drop in to someone’s home unexpectedly and they’d serve us tea and food. We were invited to more homes than we had mealtimes. People we’d met only once before would recognize us and ask us to visit their homes, and once there treat us and regale us with stories that we could half-understand. I worry about my friends and colleagues and the strangers who so kindly hosted me in Sudan, and wish I could repay the favour. As the war in Sudan worsens, I hope they are safe wherever they are.
I have unfortunately experienced less hospitality in the London Jewish community. When I first moved here, it took such a long time to receive a Shabbat invitation that I feared nobody ate Shabbat dinner or kiddush lunch. It was quite a culture shock from what I’d experienced previously as a Jewish traveller in the Americas, and worldwide. After I returned from Sudan, I wondered why there was such a difference in hachnasat orchim between there and here; perhaps the necessity of social cohesion and a safety net in the desert is the answer. We are all now in need of that social safety net, in a time of social stress and strain. I propose we rebuild the social cohesion that Abraham initiated. Now is the time to invite your local student rabbi over for kiddush lunch! You may not be entertaining angels unaware, but you’ll definitely learn a lot.
Dr Stacy Hackner, LBC rabbinical student
The views expressed in this D’var Torah do not necessarily reflect the position of Leo Baeck College.