Today’s reading from Genesis is one of my favorites. Abraham didn’t know the three men who appeared, but he knew they were traveling through a harsh land, and needed the hospitality mandated by God. So Abraham brought water to bathe their tired, dusty feet, and the best food he had to offer, and—not least—the cooler shade of the terebinth tree in the heat of the day

I live in the South, where the summers can be brutal. Southerners know a lot about the culture of hospitality. If you come into someone’s house, you’re immediately offered a cool drink, something to eat, a comfortable chair. This can seem a little overwhelming to those coming from more standoffish places (I was born in New York), but it’s a way of recognizing the visitor as a person, as a fellow human being, as a child of God.

Many Protestant churches have hospitality down pat. Their ushers greet people with a smile coming and going; they seem to be really interested in you, and ready to help in any way. That can feel a little overwhelming to Catholics used to surly ushers who herd visitors into a seat, shove a worship aid/bulletin at them, and disappear. Surely many Catholic churches have warmly effective ministers of hospitality, but that’s not always the case, and we know it.

Music ministries too have to be ministers of hospitality. We need to welcome new parishioners and gently find out what their interests are. If that includes music, great—but it can just as helpful to be able to point folks in the right direction. “You’re interested in Christian formation for your kids? Let me introduce you to our MRE (Minister of Religious Education).” “You were a reader in your last parish? May I give your name to our reader coordinator and have her call you?”

Hospitality is about trying to meet the needs of others first.

M.D. Ridge