I am still working on a short book about hospitality and
immigration in the life and teaching of the Fathers of the Church. But I have
done enough that I can see where I will end up. I draw three key lessons about
hospitality from the Fathers and Doctors of the Church.
First, all the major Fathers of the Church did indeed take the
lessons from Abraham at Mamre and Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount very seriously.
They were crystal clear that there is a serious obligation to care for those in
need, including strangers. They were eloquent about the blessings attached to
serving the poor – both the obviously intrinsic blessings and the less
obviously attached rewards for obedience. They were forceful about the
punishments attached to a failure to serve those in need, including strangers.
On the other hand, the Fathers did not agree about the
identity of a “stranger.” St. Jerome’s opinion was emphatic: there is no limitation
to this category: person whom you meet whom you don’t know is a stranger, and
strangers have a list of needs, some easily identified such as food and water
and rest. Other needs are less easily specified: protection, an intent ear,
welcome. At the other extreme is St. John Chrysostom, who was equally emphatic:
the list of people in need – including the hungry, thirsty, naked, and
strangers – is carefully and deliberately limited by Jesus to the least of the “brethren,”
which means followers of Jesus.
Second, the sharp and deep disagreement amongst the Fathers was
eventually left in the hands of the monks, who provided hospitality in the name
of the Church; and their view was clear. St. Benedict and the monastic
tradition were unequivocally universal, following the teaching of St. Jerome. At
least in theory, monks offered hospitality to all who knocked on their doors.
Quite certainly, in practice, there were some limitations on this hospitality,
but these limitations were seen as grave failures to fulfill a solemn
obligation.
Third, the Fathers carved out a new pattern of hospitality,
built explicitly on the model of Abraham, intent explicitly on obedience to the
demands in the Sermon on the Mount – and yet significantly different from
Mosaic and Apostolic hospitality. The law of Moses addresses a social responsibility: the people of
Israel must offer hospitality to other peoples, recalling how the nation of
Egypt treated the nation of Israel. The teaching of Jesus emphasizes individual responsibility: when I
(singular) was hungry/thirsty/naked/stranger, you (singular) provided
food/water/clothing/welcome. But in the life of the Church for over a thousand
years, the emphasis is on the duty of the Church,
generally monks. Seeing and understanding this third pattern is fundamental to
understanding the crisis in our time, for at least two reasons.
For one thing, if religious communities carry out the tasks
of hospitality, and then convents and monasteries are suppressed, who assumes
the duty? When monasteries are suppressed, the remnants are more likely to
focus on the needs of fugitive priests than the neglected duties of the porter.
Good people will step forward to act with charity – but what’s the pattern, the
model, the prompt and automatic response to the needs of strangers?
But there’s another point to draw from this third pattern of
service that the early Church developed. If there’s a third pattern, following
the spirit of Moses and Jesus but different in approach, then there can be a
fourth pattern, or fifth, or tenth. To insist that everyone must always and
everywhere offer hospitality precisely the way Jesus did it – to demand a
single pattern of service – is to overlook and set aside the experience of the Church
for centuries. So systematic attacks on the new patterns of service set forth
by the Second Vatican Council are not just criticisms of modern innovations;
they are also attacks on Patristic and medieval teaching, dismissing the universal
practice of the Church up to the time of the Reformation.
Even as the Vatican makes peace with Luther, a new force
comes forth, insisting that we return to the purity of the Gospel without any
taint of monkish aberrations. Perhaps the fight against the Social Gospel –
from Leo XIII up to and through Vatican II – somehow misses the point of
Tradition. Tradition carves out abundant space for innovation.
