by Joy Steem & Matthew Steem
Amidst the poorly veiled disgruntled mumblings and vigorously squirming behinds, the evening’s speaker announced that the lecture was now concluded and it was time for questions: “This is a Q and R, not a Q and A. I will do my best to respond to all questions directed at me, but answers I will not promise,” she said. While this statement may have sounded quaint, perhaps even smug coming from a less candid presenter, her unpretentious approach disarmed my cynicism. Starkly shadowed by bright stage lights, the speaker traversed the stage’s width back and forth, back and forth. Her purpose for the evening was to invite our denominational tribes into a relational encounter concerning a hotly debated topic. The topic itself has intentionally been left unidentified so that we can imagine whatever pertinent hot topic comes to our minds at this moment, and, as Kenneth Kramer suggests in his book on theologian and philosopher Martin Buber, we can learn to become “seized by opportunities to become inter-relational, [which is] to become dialogical with others.”[1] Keep in mind that, for Buber, to be in genuine dialogue—or to enter into dialogical relationships—is to indeed “taste God.”[2]
She had no harsh rebukes for people with alliances on either side, only an invitation to put our scholarly and scriptural ammunition aside and engage in genuine hospitality towards the other, that is, genuine dialogue. Instead of more conventional approaches to differences which often include themes like how to defend alliances with scripture, maintain doctrinally correct borders and pursue “moral rightness,” she spoke to us on the value of generosity and listening. The problem, she openly admitted, is that humans are not prone to honoring questions very well. We’ve always preferred the safety and comfort of believing our side of the battle line is the “correct” one and then devising strategies to defend it. Our default position is to lob counterarguments. Genuinely listening to voices on both sides of the issue can seem to threaten our desire to uphold Truth. Yet, it is precisely in our willingness, struggle even, to relationally encounter the full “thou” of the other person, and all their differences of perspectives – and how they came to them – that we come closer to both others and to the divine. Perhaps, then, dialogue can be seen as a foundation of hospitality.
I’ve been reading Henri Nouwen’s Reaching Out: The Three Movements of the Spiritual Life recently. His section on hospitality reminds me a great deal of the speaker’s invitation to wade into the turbulent waters of humble and authentic dialogue. Unfortunately, in Western culture the term hospitable has often been diluted to associations with Martha Stewart or the kindly, matronly woman at church who hosts ladies’ luncheons. And while these may indeed be valuable aspects of hospitality, this is not the whole picture.
In hospitality, Nouwen says, we treat people as guests rather than potential converts. By imagining ourselves as hosts, we create spaces where we can be witnesses to the unveiling of a stranger’s inward treasure. And what’s more, our own gifts might be revealed to us when we open our hearts: for surely we all have treasures to share when we’ve found someone who will create a safe space for us to reveal them. Perhaps more risky still, Nouwen suggests that true hospitality “is not a subtle invitation to adopt the lifestyle of the host, but the gift of a chance for the guest to find his own way.” Evelyn Underhill, influential writer on spiritual formation (and much more), also talks about the intentional work of practicing porosity to our fellow human beings. She states, “Wisdom is the fruit of communion; ignorance the inevitable portion of those who ‘keep themselves to themselves,’ and stand apart, judging, analysing the things which they have never truly known.”[3]
Neither the speaker nor any of the authors I’ve referred to suggest that the closely connected disciplines of dialogue or hospitality are by any means an easy undertaking. To be sure, tending to demands, talking, doing, acting, moving, and producing are all much easier alternatives to the patience-draining, vulnerability-requiring, generosity-demanding task of molding ourselves into hosts and hostesses of the other: individuals who willingly open ourselves up to the criticism of others for not toeing the theological party line we’ve been groomed to vociferously espouse. For some, the depth of our conviction will be called into question. But when we are grounded in the Person who is Love, we can offer hospitality and engage in genuine dialogue without fear. We can, as the speaker admonished, foster unity, not through the abandonment of our personal convictions, but through the enlivening cultivation of compassionate spaces where dialogue is no longer threatening, but rather enriching. We can, as Nouwen says, “offer an open and hospitable space where strangers can cast off their strangeness and become our fellow human beings.” We can, as Underhill suggests, nourish the spiritual formation of ourselves and others, with conviction that true “spirituality is not about escaping from the world,” nor the people with different views in it, but rather seeking ways of “engaging with it [and the people therein] fully and courageously.”
[1] Kenneth Paul Kramer, Martin Buber’s Dialogue: Discovering Who We Really Are (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2019), xiv.
[2] Martin Buber, Between Man and Man, trans. Ronald Gregor Smith (New York: Macmillan, 1965), 17.
[3] Evelyn Underhill, Practical Mysticism: A Little Book for Normal People, chap. 1, “What is Mysticism?,” 4 (Logos digital edition).
Joy Steem & Matthew Steem are most alive in moments of genuine encounter, where the hope and grace that imbue people’s lives—even amid suffering—can be most deeply felt. They share a passion for exploring the intellectual, imaginative, and emotional vibrancy at the heart of the Christian tradition, and look forward to cultivating receptivity to beauty wherever it shines through.