Ancient Hospitality

Dusty and tired, the stranger approaches the flickering light of a torch in the window of a Greek villa. The master of the house, Telemachus, does not hesitate to welcome the traveler, saying

“Welcome, stranger.
You shall be entertained as a guest among us. Afterward,
when you have tasted diner, you shall tell us what your need is.”

The story of the Odyssey is filled with references to the ancient Greek rules of hospitality. The traveler is to be welcomed, and given food and shelter. The strict duties between host and guest are governed by the Greek term ‘xenia’.

Of course, the traveler that Telemachus welcomes in the Odyssey turns out to be the goddess Athena in disguise, and he earns her approval and assistance.

Throughout the ancient world, the dictates of hospitality governed behavior between host and guest.

In the all three monotheistic traditions, there is the story of Abraham, who welcomes three strangers by rushing from his house and prostrating himself before them. The travelers are given water to wash their dusty feet and bread to eat. Afterwards, Abraham prepares a great feast for his guests.

Not long after, Abraham’s nephew Lot shelters two travelers against a mob of Sodomites who want to have their way with them. To protect his guests, Lot offers the mob his own virgin daughters instead. While this strikes us as a terrible act in modern terms, it highlights the strict bonds of hospitality in the ancient world.

Fortunately for both Lot and Abraham, the visitors are really angels in disguise. This theme appears both in the Greek and Hebrew traditions, and elsewhere: One should be kind to strangers, because they might be traveling deities who will aid you in the future (or destroy you if you disrespect them).

As John Koenig writes in New Testament Hospitality, “According to this tradition, which has virtually disappeared from contemporary Western culture, hospitality is seen as one of the pillars of morality upon which the universe stands. When guests or hosts violate the obligations to each other, the whole world shakes and retribution follows.”

Turkish Hospitality

The closest thing to the ancient ideals of hospitality that I have experienced was my time in Istanbul. When you a shop and converse with the shop owner, he will usually offer you chay, the ubiquitous brown Turkish tea. The offering of a drink is not a sales trick to pressure you into buying; rather, it is part of his duty as a host (there are separate sales tricks to pressure you into buying).

In Istanbul, I stayed with a fellow teacher. She gave up her bed so my girlfriend and I could stay together. Every meal was a feast of homemade Turkish food. Breakfast covered the table, and I ate until I was stuffed and had to refuse more. Even when we had to catch a taxi at four o’clock in the morning for an early flight, she got up and helped us carry our luggage down four flights of stairs, and even spoke to the taxi driver to be sure we were safely on our way.

In Kusadasi, on the Aegean coast, we met another fellow teacher, who took us to a relative’s apartment, with a balcony overlooking the sea. Her mother, who had never met us, made us dinner, and fed us fresh figs as we sat watching the sun set over the coastlines of the Greek heroes.

In Fetiye, on the Mediterranean, we were welcomed by a woman we had met six months prior for a period of only a few weeks. She picked us up in the morning from our hotel and drove us throughout the area over the course of several days, guiding us to the restaurants the locals preferred, and showing us the beaches where we could escape the tourist hordes. With her help, I was able to go para-sailing and scuba diving with guides that she knew and introduced me to personally.

In Turkey and the Middle East, the dictates of hospitality are as strong as any in the world.

One of the more famous tales of Middle Eastern hospitality involves a man called Hatim Tayy who, on receiving an unexpected guest, killed his only she-camel (a Bedouin’s most prized possession) to feed him. His sacrifice became a legend that is repeated even today to describe the ultimate in generosity: akram win Hatim Tayy (”more generous than Hatim Tayy”).

There is another tale, which I have heard recounted in several versions with settings from Arab sheiks to Scottish Lairds, of the man who welcomes a traveler into his home, only to discover that the traveler has just killed his son. In both cases, the host followed the bounds of hospitality, and allowed the killer to stay for the traditional three days, even as others cried for vengeance. Even upon leaving, the killer was offered safe passage away from the host’s lands.

Korean Hospitality

As a newcomer in Korea, I know very little of the language and customs. As a result, I need help in doing almost anything, even simple tasks like buying and refilling a bus card or opening a bank account. While it would be easy to begrudge the ignorant foreigner, my fellow teachers have cheerfully helped me with an endless variety of tasks.

In the Etiquette Guide of Korea, author Lafayette de Mente (believe it or not, this is not a common Korean name), compares Korean hospitality to a competitive sport.

“Koreans are famous for their ‘hwandae’, or hospitality, which can be so aggressive and sumptuous that people who are not used to it may feel overwhelmed. Conspicuous hospitality is a distinguishing characteristic of Koreans in both private and business settings, but corporate hospitality is generally even more extravagant than private hospitality.”

I have yet to experience the Korean custom of ‘chodae,’ or home invitation, but I have heard that it is every bit as warm and welcoming as in the Middle East.

American Hospitality

Certainly, Americans welcome each other warmly into their homes. Southerners are famous for hosting large meals and feeding anyone who happens to stop by. Many Americans find the overbearing customs of hospitality to be uncomfortable and confusing.

(In the US, you offer someone a drink. If he’s thirsty, he says yes. If not, he says no, and that’s the end of it.)

The details of hospitality customs are not the important thing. Different cultural rituals have evolved in different environments under different circumstances.

The important thing is what the rituals of hospitality say about our attitude towards the weary traveler, the stranger, and the foreigner.

Whereas the customs in many other lands are designed to make any visitor feel welcomed and valued, the American system burdens even those who wish only to visit with a bewildering array of visa and security requirements. Even British visitors can be denied entry if they fail to register in advance. I have friends and former students in Turkey who would love to visit the US, but cannot get a visa. Travelers entering the Land of the Free are searched and fingerprinted like common criminals.

The attitude we present with these laws is not one of welcoming, but one of fear, suspicion, and hostility.

For those who wish to immigrate to America (as nearly all of our forefathers did at one time), the situation is even harsher. Far from welcoming those ‘yearning to breathe free’, we build ludicrous border fences (and soon a dome) to keep people out. Talented immigrants who seek to come to our shores from all over the world are denied (due to a quota of H1-B visas- assigned by lottery).

It is time to reconsider our attitude to those who seek to come to our lands. If poor farmers and herders thousands of years ago could open the doors of their homes and share their meager possessions with anyone who might pass by, then surely the richest and most powerful country on the face of the earth can open its doors to the weary traveler as well.