Every culture has its traditions of hospitality - the art of visiting and of entertaining visitors. In a traditional Japanese household, if a guest compliments some article belonging to her hosts, it is unthinkable not to give the object to the guest on the spot. In Germany, if you are invited to dinner, it's understood that you'll bring candy, a bottle of wine, or flowers. And in rural regions of the United States, to decline a glass of your host's homebrew, whatever it may be, for any grounds save a health risk or pregnancy, is an unconscionable insult.
Nowadays, when so few of us feel that we have time to pay social calls at all, these traditions can seem silly and outmoded. Why should a simple thing like visiting someone you already know and like be surrounded by such elaborate protocols? The behaviors surrounding hospitality are a last holdout of ritual in modern cultures - which is precisely why they survive.
Joseph Campbell is the most recently popular author to describe humans' love of ritual. It's in our nature to appreciate ceremonies that separate us from the workaday world. Like casting a circle, putting on a scarf or yarmulke, or making the sign of the cross, the traditions surrounding hospitality help us to slow the pace of our perceptions and enter into a truth that's all but forgotten. Hospitality reminds us that each of us embodies the Goddess and God; that every home is a temple; that every guest is a Divine visitation.
Perhaps the most awkward aspect of hospitality in our day and age is that it's a twofold art, consisting of hostcraft and guestcraft. In an industrialized society, we learn that expending effort is something that one only does for a reward, be it a paycheck or social recognition; rather than for the enjoyment of the experience itself. As a result, hosts "fuss" - clean the house, prepare elaborate meals, make sure there's decaf on hand for those who prefer it - but guests just show up, and assume that's all that's expected of them. After all, they "went to the trouble" of getting to someone else's house to socialize. Why should they contribute any more to the experience?
If we look back to our foremothers' perspective, that of pre-industrial society, we see a totally different picture. Time was not a scarce resource hoarded against when one might get paid for spending it; rather, material considerations such as food, shelter, and firewood were considered far more precious. This meant a much stronger emphasis on guestcraft; as hosts offered far scarcer and more valuable things than did guests. Guests were expected to bring, first and foremost, whatever news they could get wind of; as well as any songs, games, or tales they had learned since their last visit. Beyond these, guests were pressed for advice (such as how to prevent chimney fires or get dye colors to stay bright), influence (often a good word with one's intended spouse), and gifts (especially toys and treats for children).
How might we as individuals rekindle the hearth of hospitality today? If we keep an eye to reviving guestcraft, perhaps the old rituals of hospitality might regain some of their meaning. So, if you're invited to someone's house, keep her particular interests in mind, and see if you can scare up any interesting tidbits that will open her eyes. Is her favorite band planning a tour? Have any of her old school crowd done anything surprising? Has the sequel to the book she loaned you come out yet? If you can't get news, think of questions to ask her about her interests - a chance to run on about one's pet subject is a rare and seldom-offered gift!
You can bring actual gifts - a cheesecake, candles, a copy of a favorite novel - as well if you choose; but the most important thing to remember is not to take what you haven't been offered. When you're a guest, you're a face of the Goddess invoked into someone's heart-space. So, unless specifically invited, don't use it as an opportunity to whine or to drag your hosts into your personal quarrels. Offer to help wash the dishes, and sincerely, not just in the hope that your hosts will insist that you don't have to (but honor their courtesy if they do). Listen, and try to keep butting in to a minimum. If they yawn or start talking about how early they have to get up in the morning, gracefully take your leave. Don't grump about their choice of movies or decor - remember, it's their house; and they've offered to share it with you. If they use the occasion as an excuse to whine or to recruit you into their personal problems, then you can simply decline later invitations. But while you're a guest, you're like an aspect of the Lady invoked into Circle. Remember who You are, and act the part. You'll provide vital support to the Hearth-Goddess as we invite Her back into our lives.
Reprinted with permission from:
Faces of the Goddess
c/o Siannan NiAoidh
12001 Ehrlich Rd.
Crows Landing, CA 95313
Click here to return to the Laboratory.