Hospitality is often seen as a warm welcome, sharing meals, or providing shelter. But if it’s only reserved for people we know well, for family and friends, then what truly makes it remarkable or virtuous? After all, it’s quite natural to show love and care to people we feel close to; it doesn’t demand much of us to be generous with those who already bring joy and comfort into our lives. But hospitality becomes something more when it reaches beyond those familiar walls. Jesus’ teachings challenge us to think of hospitality as something much larger, even radical.

Consider the story of Jesus and the tax collector Zacchaeus. Tax collectors were despised in Jewish society; they were seen as greedy, dishonest, and as betrayers for their work with the Roman occupiers. But when Jesus spotted Zacchaeus in the crowd, He didn’t just ignore him or pass judgment like everyone else did. Instead, He called out to Zacchaeus, invited Himself over to his home, and shared a meal with him. This act of hospitality from Jesus—extending kindness and connection to someone everyone else shunned—had a transformative effect on Zacchaeus. He promised to give back half of his possessions to the poor and repay anyone he’d cheated four times over. Jesus’ hospitality here wasn’t just about sharing a meal; it was an invitation to reconciliation and transformation, breaking down walls between people who otherwise would never have shared a table.
Jesus speaks about this kind of radical hospitality in the Sermon on the Mount as well. He tells His followers to “love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you” (Luke 6:27-28). It’s a challenge that goes well beyond human instinct or social norms. Jesus is essentially asking us: what’s the merit of only loving the people who already love us back? Even people who don’t claim to follow God do that. Real hospitality means opening ourselves up even to those who can’t or won’t repay us. It’s the kind of love that risks discomfort, maybe even rejection, for the chance to show someone grace.
Then there’s the story of the Good Samaritan, where Jesus uses an outsider to demonstrate true hospitality. In the parable, a man is left beaten on the side of the road, ignored by those who would have been expected to help. But the Samaritan, considered a foreigner and an enemy by the Jews, is the one who stops, tends to the man’s wounds, and pays for his care. This kind of hospitality goes beyond social boundaries and prejudice, asking us to see everyone as a neighbor. When Jesus says, “Go and do likewise,” He’s inviting us into a hospitality that’s boundless and self-giving.
The heart of Jesus’ message is that real hospitality isn’t defined by who we already love and trust. It’s about making room for the stranger, welcoming the difficult, and seeing the sacred in those we’d otherwise pass by. When we extend ourselves in this way, we’re not just doing good. We’re creating small glimpses of God’s kingdom here on earth. It’s a hospitality that mirrors God’s own welcome to each of us, one that invites us in despite our flaws and invites us to see the potential in others. That’s the deeper virtue Jesus calls us to: a radical, open-hearted love that doesn’t count the cost or limit the guest list.







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