Hospitality of Thoughts as a Spiritual Practice
“Hospitality means primarily creating a free space where the stranger can enter and become a friend instead of an enemy. Hospitality is not to change people but to offer them space where change can take place. It is not to bring men and women over to our side. The paradox of hospitality is that it wants to create a friendly emptiness where strangers can enter and be free to sing their own songs, speak their own languages, dance their own dances; free also to leave and follow their own vocations. Hospitality is not a subtle invitation to adore the lifestyle of the host, but the gift of a chance for the guest to find his own.”—Henri Nouwen in You Are the Beloved (Convergent Books 2017).
Last year, I was part of a Zoom call with other pediatric radiologists all over the country. We honored a staff member who led our group of physicians for over twenty-nine years, striving to deliver the best care to children undergoing diagnostic imaging. Jennifer was highly competent, but also exceptionally unique to work with. Some of the comments I remember were that she was always a glass three-quarter full person. I knew about a person who considered a glass half empty, meaning they saw the world in its scarcity. A person thought to be a glass half full saw the world and its abundance. But Jennifer saw the world with an overabundance, more possibilities than one could imagine. Someone else mentioned she never saw a bad idea. That meant she listened to every thought given to her and looked at all the possibilities it had to offer.
I wish I had spent more time with her and learned more from her, even by osmosis.
We recently studied the Rule of Benedict with a group of people learning about pastoral care. We talked about the Benedictine concept of radical hospitality, where the stranger is always welcomed, no matter who he is or where he is from. At the celebration of Jennifer Boylan's work, I realized she was practicing radical hospitality of people’s thoughts and ideas. She welcomed them no matter who proposed them, and looked for the truth in each possibility to move forward. More and more, I realize our thoughts are precious to us. They come from the creative and vulnerable part of us that we must treat gently, as she so well did.
I also asked Jennifer to tell me more about how she learned these skills. She told me she thought she learned this from her father, who died in 2015, whom I had met once when he was in the hospital. His colleagues described him as “a seeker of knowledge, foe of unnecessary complication, purveyor of simplicity. A calm place in a storm. Always willing to talk. Quick with a smile. Respected by his peers.” This so well described Jennifer, as she had hoped in her life to emulate her father. She had learned from him an impatience for bureaucracy and a need to minimize the steps between A and B.
I heard Jennifer and her father teach all of us “experts” that night about staying in relationship and serving others, leading by example. In a religious rather than medical setting, we would call this person a servant leader.
Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/
