Hospitality

I’m proud to show people hospitality. It’s part of my culture. Unlike generous Ethiopians who offer signature coffee ceremonies for guests with frankincense and popcorn, I make room in my head and my heart for visitors who are, first of all, welcome on my library shelves. Librarians are some of the most hospitable people you will find. (I am a card-carrying librarian :) and pensive reader.) Readers are in general extending hospitality to characters from books. To dwell inside the heart and mind of a human soul is one of the greatest honors ever bestowed upon someone.

My home is my heart and mind. Don’t get me wrong; I love my apartment, but I carry the concept of home with me and will continue to spiritually long after I shuffle off this mortal coil. Let’s be real: Shakespeare said it best - to be, or not to be; that is the question. To be an author is similar to being a leader - you need readers or followers, respectively. To be a singer and not have anyone listen is devastating. To be a dancer and not have anyone watching is discouraging. The audience inspires the performer to connect with something greater than the self.

This brings me to my point: authors seek a dwelling place in the most intimate of spaces, the context of humanity. Many authors even claim to bridge humanity with divinity.

The heart and mind are gifts from God to keep us truly alive. The heart and mind are where I entertain characters from books, movies, and music. I regularly entertain strangers or characters from sacred texts, novels, short stories, poetry, theater, and film.

I’ll never forget the inner turmoil sparked in me after hearing in a mental hospital from a source however ill-informed that Jews are white. As a black woman, I aspired to be Jewish most my life. I wrestled with God. I sought authenticity. I grew up Orthodox Christian. The thought of leaving Jesus terrified me, but I wanted to explore truth. The Jews seemed like truth-tellers to me, so I sank deep into misery when I learned that the color of my skin barred me from entry into the Jewish world and even more sadly would not allow me to have a Jewish home. I desperately wanted shalom bayit (peace in the home), a mezuzah on my door, and to keep Shabbos, faithfully.

I meandered toward Islam, which I was told was a purified form of Judaism. I navigate my way each day through these religions: Islam, Christianity, and Judaism. As a vegetarian, I align with Buddhists who try to be compassionate and kind. I don’t slaughter meat, so I invoke God’s name at other times throughout the day and night.

All of this makes me feel lonely. I don’t represent any one religion or faith tradition well. I’m nervous about the next life. Will I be granted Paradise? Jorge Borges wrote that “Paradise is a kind of library.” The library is where I learned to make space for competing and often conflicting narratives. The library is where I invited various worldviews - ancient and new - to live in harmony. The library is where I learned to mark progress. I enjoy reading and encourage others to read.

Growing up, I didn’t enjoy reading. The practice felt invasive. Whose images were piercing into my interior? I lived in darkness - a stark black mind. Like a night sky ready for the stars to shine or become visible…

In my youth, the people I imagined from the books I read were all white or Asian. I couldn’t picture brown and black people living in peace with each other. I couldn’t picture diversity. My mind had been colonized. I lived with an internalized eurocentric, white male gaze. White authors marginalized and caricatured the experience of people of color. They were far from neutral and objective.

So, today, I say…

Welcome people into your home, but set ground rules. No freakin’ invasion. Do not be intimidated by big words or huge wealth disparities. It’s okay to be modest. We all have an opportunity to host others. Fight for your liberation. See it! Taste it. Try being a narrator or listening to narrators like you, people who resemble you outwardly or inwardly, in thought or in deed. To give an example, a book I’m delighted to read is “Becoming” by Michelle Obama. It’s very descriptive with race, gender, and privilege at the center. I welcome her story and her as a person. I extend the same courtesy to others as well. To those who invite peace. You can, too! Entertain guests.

Hospitality extends into the work place and educational institutions. In Amharic, cinema bet (literally, house of cinema or ሲኒማ ቤት) means movie theater, and mets’ahifiti bet (literally, house of books or ቤተ መጻሕፍት) means library, and hakim bet (literally, doctor house or ሐኪም ቤት) means hospital, and timihirit bēt (literally, learning house or ትምህርት ቤት) means school, and migib bet (literally, house of food or ምግብ ቤት) means restaurant. The idea of home and hospitality is deeply engrained in Ethiopian culture. We graciously welcome and entertain guests. It is wonderful to feel at home.

Even the term for Ethiopian Jews, Beta Israel (the House of Israel), reflects a familiarity with Jewish tradition and a long history of practicing Judaism. Many Jewish homes include people of color. In the words of Toni Dorfman, a Yale professor, “Jews are every color of the human race.” The Beta Israel are an important part of the Jewish mosaic. Though they often face discrimination for their religion or their ethnicity, they are righteous, resilient, and remarkable. May God bless their comings and goings and move them from strength to strength. My house is open to holy books in Hebrew, Amharic, and Arabic. My house is open to a wide spectrum of diverse groups. It is an honor to serve as a host and to listen to unique voices. In the words of Joel Osteen, “My mind is alert. My heart is receptive. [After each visit] I will never be the same.”

Welcome to my happy home, my humble abode! These thoughts are sincere. I hope you enjoyed them.