The Colonial Oppressiveness of the Biblical Concept of Hospitality

This article first appeared in the February 2019 issue of INSiGHT.

The Colonial Oppressiveness of the Biblical Concept of Hospitality

by Dr. Miguel A. De La Torre

On 21 June 1960, although still a toddler, I received an affidavit from the U.S. government demanding my immediate departure. Hospitality was not to be offered to me nor my family. The legal form received in the mail declared I was in violation of Section 242 of the Immigration and Nationality Act; in other words, I overstayed by tourist visa. At the time, I was living with my parents in the infamous Hell’s Kitchen. Although a trendy neighborhood today, back then, these were the slums which housed broken lives, on which the blockbuster musical Westside Story was based. We were living on the fourth floor of a rat and roach infested one-room apartment with no toilet. The bathroom was communal, shared with the other four tenants on the floor. We did not self-deport, becoming, what derogatively is called “illegals.”

The irony of the situation is that I found refuge in the very country responsible for my expatriation in the first place. Our presence within the belly of the empire was not due to our desire to seek liberty, equality, or freedom. We did not leave our homeland in Cuba in hopes of chasing the so-called American Dream of achieving economic opportunities. Personally, I would rather have spent my days on my own land, among my own people, immerse in my own culture, speaking my own language. But for almost sixty years, I have been separated from the land which witnessed my birth, and have no doubt my bones will eventually be placed to rest in a foreign and alien land.

Constructing the “Illegal”

Those, as I once were, who find themselves within U.S. borders without proper documentation are labelled “illegal.” But the term used to describe their existence is neither neutral nor innocent because it connotes criminality, marking the one called illegal as inherently dangerous. Lacking proper documentation should not characterise one as a threatening or unlawful; nevertheless, the term “illegal” is insisted upon by the media and politicians because it constructs a moral framework which masks Euroamerican racism and fear of brown bodies.

The Oppressiveness of Hospitality

The biblical concept of hospitality has meant more than simply inviting a stranger to share a meal. Refusing to provide hospitality to the stranger could prove deadly for the sojourner passing through, for protection and benefits were tied to land and landownership.

A stranger, having no claim to land, was exposed – think of the two angels visiting Sodom. For this reason, Jews are reminded of their patriarchs Abram, Isaac, Jacob and Joseph, all of whom were aliens and thus vulnerable. Jews are constantly reminded of the hardship experienced in Egypt were once offered hospitality turned to slavery. Our responsibility to the alien among us is reinforced in the New Testament where followers of Jesús are called to show hospitality toward strangers, for some unwittingly entertained angels (Heb. 13:2).

The biblical term used for “sojourner” or “stranger” connotes the hardship which today’s undocumented face. The word captures that in-between space of neither being native-born nor a foreigner. The stranger, the sojourner, the alien – then and now – remains vulnerable, only now that vulnerability is at the hands of those who profit off of their labour. For this reason, several faith institutions, i.e. the Catholic Church, choses to tie the plight of the immigrant with the salvation of nations which hosts them.

Hospitality is thus based on three biblical assumptions: 1) Once the Jews suffered oppressed at the hands of the inhabitants of Egypt (Ex. 22:21), therefore immigrants require protection; 2) God always sides with and intervenes to liberate the oppressed (Ex. 23:9), therefore God sides against their oppressors, even when those oppressors are chosen; and 3) God’s covenant with Israel is contingent on everyone benefitting, regardless if they are Jews or not (Dt. 26:11).

I argue that the employment of hospitality is damning to the cause of immigration justice. Hospitality assumes the “house” belongs to the one who gets to offer the virtue of hospitality. Because they are good and generous Christians, they willingly and unselfishly share their resources with the less fortunate. Hospitality assumes the one receiving hospitality, the one who does not belong, has no claim to what is being offered for what is offered is a gift freely given. The only appropriate response is “thank you.” Missing is the colonial consequences of house ownership. This “house” which the dominant culture is willing to provide a room for the undocumented was built using the stolen natural resources and cheap labour of those now forced to leave the countries of origins. They leave due to a century of conquest known as Manifest Destiny and a century of imperialism known as Gunboat Diplomacy. They leave chasing after their appropriated goods.

Hospitality masks complicity with empire building. Manifest Destiny, Gunboat Diplomacy, Banana Republics, and trade agreements like NAFTA is what made building the house possible in the first place. My sugar, my tobacco, and my rum built this house - and I want my d**** house back. Keep your hospitality, I am demanding what is due to me. You are doing me no favors by giving back what is mine. Rather than calling for the virtue of hospitality, our commitment to liberative justice would be more accurate by demanding the dominant culture wrestle with their responsibility concerning restitution (De La Torre, 2009:9-14). Maybe rather than calling the faithful to a virtue of hospitality, we should be asking what do we owe those who today we call “illegal” for over a century of invading, regime change, pillage, and rape.

Miguel A. De La Torre is Professor of social ethics at Iliff School of Theology, a religious scholar, author, and an ordained minister.