Brothers and sisters, when we hear the word hospitality, most of us think immediately of food, of preparation, of effort, of making people comfortable. We imagine a busy kitchen, a clean table, and the anxiety of wanting everything to be just right. Hospitality, in our minds, is something we do with our hands. But in the world of Jesus, hospitality had a deeper order, a kind of hidden hierarchy—and if we miss it, we miss what Jesus is really praising and correcting in some of the most famous Gospel scenes.
In the Gospels, people moved between roles. Sometimes they were guests, sometimes hosts. Jesus and his disciples were often guests—not because they were weak, but because they were sent. They left their homes on purpose. They traveled lightly on purpose. They were not looking for comfort, because if comfort had been the goal, they would have stayed at home. They were looking for something else: a hearing. They came bringing peace, bringing a message—repent, the Kingdom of God is near—and bringing healing and restoration. Their need was not luxury; their need was reception.
That is why Jesus tells his disciples that when they enter a house, they are to see whether peace is received there. If it is, they stay. If it is not, they leave. This tells us something important: the guest is not begging for a favor. The host is being evaluated. Hospitality, in God’s Kingdom, is not charity toward the guest; it is an honor given to the host.
This brings us to the house of Mary and Martha in Gospel of Luke 10. We often hear this story as if it were about personality types—busy people versus quiet people, anxious people versus spiritual people. But Mary and Martha are not disciples here. They are hosts. And hosts, in that world, had responsibilities with an order to them.
Martha does what any good host would do. She prepares. She serves. She works hard. And none of this is wrong. But Mary does something that matters even more: she listens. She gives Jesus her full attention. She receives the message he has brought. When Jesus says that Mary has chosen the better part, he is not criticizing service; he is ranking hospitality. He is saying that listening to the word of peace comes before serving the meal. Food without attention misses the point. Activity without reception is incomplete hospitality.
Now consider the dinner in Luke 7, where Jesus eats in the house of a Pharisee. Everything looks proper on the surface. But then a woman enters—known as a sinner—and she does what the host should have done. She washes Jesus’ feet. She anoints them. She attends to him fully. And Jesus turns to the Pharisee and names what has happened: “I entered your house, and you gave me no water, no kiss, no oil.” These are not accusations about feelings; they are statements about hospitality. The Pharisee failed as a host. The woman succeeded.
This is where the story becomes uncomfortable, because it reveals that hosting God is not about status, respectability, or correctness. It is about reception. The woman does not merely feel sorry; she receives the message. Her repentance is not abstract—it takes shape as hospitality. And Jesus responds by giving her peace. Forgiveness, here, is not a prize for emotion; it is the gift given to the host who truly receives the guest.
All of this shows us something crucial: the Kingdom of God is not built around impressive hosts or impressive guests. It is built around right reception. Guests come bearing peace. Hosts are honored when they receive it. Serving matters, but listening matters more. Providing matters, but receiving the word matters most.
So the question these stories leave us with is not, “Am I busy like Martha or quiet like Mary?” Nor is it, “Do I feel forgiven enough?” The question is simpler and more demanding: When God comes near—through his word, through his messengers, through the needs placed before us—do we truly receive him? Or do we stay busy, respectable, and distracted, while missing the moment of visitation?
May we be hosts who recognize the honor before us, who listen before we serve, and who receive peace so fully that it can return to us and remain in our house. Amen.