Holy Week Hospitality

My mama remembers her family gathering regularly for meals and holidays at the home of her grandparents, 2204, in Richmond. There were aunts, uncles and grandpa Max but no cousins. Mama, her sister and brother were the only grandchildren. On birthdays, Dada would bake a cake and it would be served on a special cake stand. That same cake stand now serves cake in my home. The Virginia state fair... a picnic supper and riding the rides, looking at the exhibits... was a grand occasion. Christmas was celebrated with the lighting of the tree and another wonderful meal prepared by my great aunt Dada. That grand old home, a welcoming gathering place for mama’s family, lives on in her memory and mine.
I remember my grandparent’s home in Virginia, Cloverly, as a family gathering place. Cousins, aunts, uncles, parents and grandparents... all were gathered in under the shade of the tall old trees that shaded the yard. Games of horseshoes, croquet, Chinese checkers, hide and seek in the cornfield, fireworks at Christmas, rocking chair porch conversations, creaky white iron beds and a curved bannister for sliding down to breakfast fireman style, a green moss covered lumpy brick walk that led straight to the heart of our family... home. Whenever I need to, I can return to that safe place, that place of hospitality, in my heart’s eye and once again feel loved and safe.
These memories of family gathering places came to mind when I read the story of the disciples being sent to find a place for the last Passover meal. Two of the gospels agree on the story of how it came to be. "Go into the city, and a man carrying a jar of water will meet you; follow him, and wherever he enters, say to the householder ‘The Teacher says, Where is my guest room where I am to eat the Passover with my disciples?’ and he will show you a large upper room furnished and ready; there prepare for us."
The householder is never named but he must have been a part of Jesus’ extended family, perhaps his family of choice. Jesus knew the room, described it and gave specific instructions on how to find it. It was a large room that was ready for the last family gathering before everything changed forever. Hospitality... a spiritual gift... an opportunity to entertain the Son of God.
Our children say there is always someone coming or going at our house and that is true. Michael and I value the gift of hospitality. We have been given much... children, work to do, a farm, a house built with love, grandchildren, Junie B, friends who are family, parents who loved us, homes and church homes that made us welcome. How can we not offer our upper rooms? Perhaps we too have entertained angels and children of God unaware. So I will continue to mop floors, clean rugs, wash dishes, make beds, cook soup and wait for the next guest to arrive. They are all welcome in the name of the One who welcomed me into the Kingdom of God.