In a world marked by division, where tribalism is always lurking as sin by the door, Jesus’ practice of hospitality offers a powerful antidote. Not the superficial hospitality of social etiquette, but the radical hospitality exemplified by Jesus that crosses boundaries welcomes outcasts.

In the ancient world, hospitality wasn’t merely a social nicety—it was a moral obligation. Welcoming strangers could mean the difference between life and death in a harsh world. Yet even then, people often used hospitality strategically, to reciprocate and reinforce existing social hierarchies.

Jesus turn this transactional approach upside down. He ate with those society deemed “sinners” (Luke 5:29-32). He invited himself to the home of Zacchaeus, a reviled “tax collector” (Luke 19:1-10). In his parable of the great banquet (Luke 14), Jesus taught that true hospitality means making room for those who cannot repay us—the poor, the disabled, the marginalized.

Fast forward to our present moment, and we face what health experts call an “epidemic of loneliness.” Despite our technological connectedness, meaningful relationships across differences have become increasingly rare. In an age of political polarization, it is even harder and more fraught. Even churches can unconsciously reinforce the insider/outsider dynamic rather than becoming places of radical welcome. Practicing hospitality across differences, as Jesus did, means…

• Actively seeking out those who differ from us
• Creating space for uncomfortable conversations
• Listening deeply to experiences unlike our own
• Extending welcome without expectation of return

In one word, it means grace. This isn’t about political correctness or “being nice.” It’s about seeing Christ in the stranger, and approaching the “other” with grace. It’s about asking ourselves honestly: Who is missing from the table? Whose voices do we shut out or stereotype? Who makes us uncomfortable? Who might feel unwelcome in our presence?

Practicing radical hospitality might look like inviting someone with different political views for coffee, or reaching out to that relative you’ve grown distant from. It could mean supporting organizations that serve refugees or immigrants, or simply practicing more intentional listening with colleagues whose background differs from yours. As David Brooks has noted, it often begins by asking “How did you come to believe that?” rather than “Why do you believe that?” “How” asks for story and journey. “Why” asks for defense.

The beauty of this practice is that it transforms both the welcomed and the welcomer. When we make room for the stranger, we often discover unexpected gifts and insights that enrich our own lives.

Here are some questions for reflection…

• Who are the “Samaritans” in your world today—those you struggle to see as neighbors?
• How has fear and division impacted your ability to love well, even within your own family?
• What would it look like for your church or community to embody hospitality in civic and community life?

As you reflect on these questions, consider writing down one person or group you feel called to extend hospitality toward this week. The journey toward healing our divided world begins with these small acts of radical welcome.