by Corey Parish
The table was set for three, and I thought I was just there to serve pizza. Instead, I was invited to sit down for an upside-down view of hospitality…
Hospitality is an often misunderstood concept in our customer service-oriented society. We tend to think of hospitality in terms of hotels, restaurants, and private dinner parties where well-trained, well-prepared, and well-resourced hosts plan and provide for their guests. In this way, hospitality becomes a one-way street, where goods and services are exchanged between individuals.
Even in churches, hospitality is typically framed this way, as those who “have” play host to those who “need.” However, the hospitality Jesus demonstrates in the Scriptures is far more profound, far more mutual, and surprisingly subversive!
When we consider Jesus’ life—his daily rhythms, companions, and whereabouts—we find a different kind of hospitality, one that goes beyond a one-way invitation for others to come into his space and receive his provisions. Instead, Jesus demonstrates a radical openness to receive from others by becoming a guest in their space, eating at their tables, and allowing his life to be shaped and reshaped through the people we might least expect. Theologian Christine Pohl suggests, “This intermingling of guest and host roles in the person of Jesus is part of what makes the story of hospitality so compelling for Christians. Jesus welcomes and needs welcome…”
This is beautifully portrayed in the Emmaus Road narrative in Luke 24. In the story, two disciples walk together on a road when a stranger suddenly joins them. Weary and disillusioned after Jesus’ death, they are unaware that the stranger who joins them is, in fact, the risen Christ himself. After walking and talking for some time, the disciples invite the stranger (Jesus) to come as a guest to their home.
Up until then, the scene paints a familiar picture of hospitality where hosts and guests are clearly defined and welcome is extended by one to another. But while sitting at their table, Jesus takes the bread set before him, lifts it in prayer, breaks it, and then offers it to his hosts. Suddenly, the disciples see the stranger with new eyes and realize their guest is Jesus himself, and he has, as the saying goes, ‘turned the table’ on them. The hosts are now guests at the table of the Lord!
Consider the weight of that scene as Jesus subverts his host’s (and our!) expectations. With a simple act, he shifts any sense that hospitality is a one-way exchange and shows how divine presence can (and often does) arrive as a guest before revealing itself as the true host.
This ‘subversive hospitality’ has appeared to me many times as I’ve experienced the surprising blessings of becoming a guest where I’ve least expected it. Notably, a few months ago, I was blessed to experience subversive hospitality while working in a small kitchen belonging to three adults with intellectual disabilities.
Days before my shift, I planned a pizza lunch for the three housemates. I arranged the ingredients and blocked out my morning to create their feast. With the helping (and sometimes not-so-helpful!) hands of the housemates, I prepared the dough, cut toppings, poured juice, and set the table with three carefully placed plates, cups, and napkins. When the feast was prepared, I stood back, satisfied that my job was done.
But as my ‘guests’ approached the table, something unexpected happened…
One of the three sat looking up at me, smiling, and with what few words he could muster, he began gesturing for me to sit down with them. Another of them noticed the invitation, and, with a look of determination, got up from her chair and stood on her tiptoes to reach into a high cupboard where the plates are kept. She plopped a fourth plate onto the table, right beside hers, and laughed with delight. Their message was clear: You’re not just serving this meal. You’re joining us! You belong at this table, too!
At first, I graciously protested. “This food is for them,” I thought, “It’s not for me. I’m here to help, not to take.” But they didn’t relent, sitting still without taking a bite until I sat down.
“Ok…” I said, giving in, “I’ll take a piece. But this is your food, not mine!” As I sat and sheepishly broke off a slice, I noticed one of them making a familiar hand gesture—palms together, fingers interlocked.
“Pray…” One of them urged with a smile. My heart warmed, and I realized what was happening. I was their guest, breaking bread at their table, and all of us were in the presence of the Lord.
Being Hosted by Grace
As we shared the pizza, I was overwhelmed with a sense of divine presence—not in an abstract sense, but in the very real way that Christ appeared to the disciples at Emmaus. I had entered the home as a host and caregiver, thinking I was the one offering hospitality. But it was I who had been invited, I who was being fed, I who was learning to receive hospitality.
This is the subversive hospitality that turns our assumptions about hosts and guests on their heads. It breaks open the myth that we are always the givers, the helpers, the hosts. It reveals a more profound truth: that God’s presence often comes to us through those we least expect—even those whom the world labels “disabled,” “dependent,” or “marginal.” And if we’re willing to be welcomed, received, and hosted by others, we just might find ourselves at the table of Christ.
Subversive hospitality is not about power or performance—it is about mutuality and presence. It’s not about us creating perfect spaces for others to enter. It’s about making room for others to lead, to serve, and to host us. It’s about allowing the Spirit to move in ways that decenter us and re-center those who have been overlooked. It’s about receiving a place at the table.
Practicing subversive hospitality means living into the truth of the Emmaus story. It means walking beside others without needing to be in charge. It means inviting, but also being invited. It means allowing grace to take us by surprise, to come in forms we didn’t expect—like a shared slice of pizza, a humble prayer, a fourth plate pulled from a high shelf by hands that know the deep joy of making room.
Corey Parish holds a Doctor of Ministry in Spiritual Formation from Tyndale University and is currently pursuing a PhD in Christian Theology at McMaster Divinity College, where his research explores the intersections of disability theology and critical spatial theory. He serves as a Direct Support Professional with Community Living Ontario and is the Associate Pastor at Grace Christian Fellowship in Fergus, Ontario. As an autistic scholar, Corey brings a lived experience that informs and enriches his practical theological reflections, particularly in the areas of belonging, place, and care.