We Are Called to Be Women of Welcome

When our cousin Linda sent an email to the family inviting us on a trip back to the motherland, I told my husband we had to go. I have dreamed for years of taking my parents to the little town in Southern Italy where my mama’s ancestors lived, worked, and raised their families.

We planned and saved for this epic trip for more than a year. Truth be told, traveling to the region and town in Italy where my great-grandparents raised their children was a lifelong dream for both my mama and me. For years, family demands, finances, and then a global pandemic stood in our way. My mama grew up hearing tidbits of family lore about the old country from her relatives while helping in the kitchen and around dinner tables.

When she was a teenager (six decades ago now), she was inspired to start filling a little bank with dimes from babysitting and her allowance. Her dream was to one day visit Italy and the home of her ancestors.

When we arrived in Italy, my parents, husband, brother, and I took a transport to the city of Salerno to join the rest of the group. Boarding the bus with seven other cousins, we headed for San Giovanni in Fiori, one of the oldest towns in the Sila mountains. We met up with our tour guide, Antonella, and her husband, who was our bus driver. Antonella welcomed us with open arms and tight-as-you-can-squeeze hugs. The delightful couple traveled with us for the next eight days.

My mama and I both had tears sparkling in our eyes when we finally arrived in the place where our ancestors walked. Paved modern streets gave way to cobblestone paths, harder to navigate on foot. Antonella explained that this was the exact neighborhood where our people lived. Church bells chimed as the sun began to set. Amber light danced a “Tarantella” through winding alleyways.

We turned from the city center and entered a little piazza where music filled the air. A handcrafted table with chairs for our entire group was set for dinner. Intricate textile tablecloths and painted decor gave it a medieval feel. Every detail breathed one word: Welcome.

I was surprised by how I felt at home in a place I had never been before.

The staff welcomed us as paisanos – an Italian word my grandparents used to describe compatriots or people with shared heritage and close-knit bonds. We were treated like family.

The chef enticed us with a description of our first course for dinner. I sank my teeth into a tender potato cake with rich gravy made from provola, a stretched-curd cheese, and local porcini mushrooms.

We were granted luxurious breaks between courses to talk and digest. We didn’t have to hurry. Part of the richness of the experience was the invitation to savor every sip, every bite, and linger long in conversation.

I was wowed by the second course of hand-rolled pasta called fileja, topped with a tomato ragù, and punctuated by chunks of veal. The third course was a melt-in-your-mouth cut of roast served atop a bed of savory greens.

When I read about Jesus and His ministry in the New Testament, I imagine Him sitting at the table like this one with tax collectors, the poor, blind, and bleeding — women, children, and sinners like you and me. Jesus – the Living Water and Bread of Life – embodies welcome, inviting us to come to Him even when we are hurting and especially when we are hungry.

Romans 15:7 (ESV) invites us to multiply His hospitality: “Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.”

This applies to classmates and colleagues, foreigners and foes. We are challenged by Jesus’ example to extend hospitality in our neighborhoods, schools, offices, and even across political divides.

We all somehow found room for dessert, which was a delectable layered fruit semifreddo commissioned from a local bakery that tasted like a cross between tiramisu and frozen strawberry gelato. The pastry chef had written, “You are welcome – San Giovanni in Fiori” with American and Italian flags on top. This simple gesture was the icing on the cake of our meal, symbolic of the generosity and hospitality that we experienced throughout our whole trip to Italy.

One day, we will all be welcomed into Heaven like paisanos and ushered to our chairs at the marriage feast of the Lamb described in Revelation 19:7-9 (NIV):

“For the wedding of the Lamb has come,
and his bride has made herself ready.
Fine linen, bright and clean,
was given her to wear.”

(Fine linen stands for the righteous acts of God’s holy people.)

Then the angel said to me, “Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the wedding supper of the Lamb!”

This marriage supper is often talked about as the culmination of every feast described in the Bible. At that table, God’s redemptive work and the union between Jesus Christ and His bride will be celebrated. Believers can anticipate being welcomed to the table with abundant courses, eternity to enjoy them, and company from a diversity of backgrounds who are family.

While we wait for that final feast, we can welcome people into our earthly homes and hearts. We can look out for friends who need a hearty bowl of love, neighbors who could use a heaping plate of joy, and strangers who long for a glass of hope.