Wednesday of Holy Week
You never know when the Lord Jesus himself will show up at your door or present himself to you unexpectedly, asking you to offer him radical hospitality. I was surprised by what leapt out at me from today’s Gospel. Jesus has me pondering anew what it means to welcome him in the form of a brother or sister with unconditionally loving hospitality.
I’m focusing today on the unnamed man who opened his home for the Passover celebration to Jesus and the Twelve, offering them radical hospitality. Josephus, an historian contemporary with the Gospel writers, tells us that the population of Jerusalem grew to around 2 million at the time of Passover in Jesus’ day. From that crowd of 2 million people, Jesus identified this “random” man and instructed the disciples to tell him that Jesus had chosen his home for his last Passover celebration. Notice that Jesus instructed that this plan be carried out. The disciples didn’t ask the man if it would be ok, if it was convenient, if he had space for them, if it suited him, if he had other plans. The Lord told this man that he would be opening his home to one of the most significant events in salvation history.
What about you? What about me? Are we ready, at a moment’s notice, to open our home, our hearts, our lives to Jesus? Sometimes those opportunities feel easy, and we do it willingly, perhaps even with a tinge of self-righteous, pious pride. But what about when it’s not easy, what about when it actually feels downright impossible? What about when Jesus shows up disguised in the form of someone difficult to love, someone who is unkind to us, rude, or even overtly spiteful? What about the stranger who interrupts our day with an acute need for assistance? What about the “leper” – whoever that might be in our lives or society? What is our response when Jesus shows up and we feel inconvenienced, put out, overwhelmed? What happens when Jesus interrupts our plans? How many opportunities do we miss because we simply don’t recognize Jesus in the face of the unloving family member, the difficult co-worker, the annoying friend, the hungry stranger, the suffering neighbor, the infirm parishioner, the lonely, the grieving . . . Can we allow the Jesus in us to rise up and welcome the Jesus in them?
The unnamed man from among the 2 million people in Jerusalem at the time of Jesus’ Passion inspires me to a new, more radical hospitality. It boils down to this: am I able to fulfill the new commandment of Christ to love others as Christ has loved me (John 15:12)? This radical new command is not simply to love. It is to love as Christ loves. St. Therese of Lisieux knew that fulfilling this command is humanly impossible. She wrote, “Ah! Lord, I know you don’t command the impossible. You know better than I do my weakness and imperfection; You know very well that never would I be able to love my Sisters as You love them, unless You, 0 my Jesus, loved them in me. It is because You wanted to give me this grace that You made Your new commandment. Oh! how I love this new commandment since it gives me the assurance that Your Will is to love in me all those You command me to love!” Jesus often surprises us, just as he did our unnamed brother in Jerusalem. Today, may we welcome Jesus into our hearts with radical hospitality so that we might be quicker, through his divine inspiration, to offer radical hospitality to him in others, and allow him to love them in us.
On this Wednesday of Holy Week, may each of us become more surrendered, more receptive, more grateful for God’s graces of radical hospitality. May we open our hearts, our minds, our souls, our very lives to become disciples who are quick to welcome our Lord Jesus Christ in whomever and however he presents himself. May he not find a closed door when he knocks at our lives, but rather a door flung open wide in grateful and gracious hospitality. Amen!
Elizabeth Wells