In the desert, hospitality or refusing hospitality is cause for either life or death. To offer water and shade to members of your family and tribe, as well as to any passing stranger, is a matter of survival. In a nomadic culture, tomorrow it could be you in need of this life-sustaining refreshment and rest.
Thomas Merton once wrote that today everywhere is desert. And, in a sense, we are all wandering nomads. The inner life that defines us as human is in danger of drying up and blowing away with the next windstorm. We require oases and depend on one another for gracious welcome. Hospitality is a simple, if sometimes risky, gesture necessary for us to continue on our pilgrim way.
Are there people – not like us, of course – with whom we would not share what we have if they came to our camp, to our oasis? Our future, and our growth toward fullness, as the human race, rests on our willingness to share what we have with whomever is needy. When we look out from the cool shelter of our airy tents, can we see those who are struggling just to get by as our brother, our sister, part of our self? What will it cost us – a drink of water, a few minutes, a smile, a gentle word? It cannot be said often enough. We are all in this together – like it or not. We need to learn to make room in our lives, in our tents, for those whom God will send into our lives.