Language as Hospitality

Spending time in a place in which your native language is not generally spoken gives you a new appreciation for the power of language. Likewise, attempting to speak a foreign language, taking those first wavering and often embarrassing steps into a new words and thought-forms, gives you an appreciation for the hard work and time that goes into crossing cultural boundaries.

We have had the blessing of friends here in Europe who are willing to use English—their second language—in order to make it easier for us to visit and experience their home lands. For instance, in Norway our friends Maria and Martin spent six days with us, taking us around Oslo and points south, all the while operating entirely in English for our sake. I was given cause to reflect on my own attempts to learn the most basic Czech and similar attempts to revitalize my French for our later travels. Speaking and conversing in a second language makes communicating a greater struggle than usual. Conversation is, at its best, an attempt to convey what we are thinking to someone else; when both partners are speaking their native language then the full array of linguistic and cultural expressions and connotations are available by which to make meaning. When you’re speaking a second or third language, however, the range of expressions is smaller. Thus communication of your true thoughts—especially those that emerge from the core of your being, where only metaphor will serve to communicate them—becomes more difficult. It takes more energy, and you have to live with ambiguity about whether what you really meant to say is what the other person actually heard.

We had friends also here in the Czech Republic who were so eager to visit with us that they spoke English during our time together. The only times they stepped back into their native tongue were when they needed to ask each other how to say something in English. I felt embarrassment sometimes at my place in this interface of cultures: here I am, visiting their country, and they are obliged (though very willing) to use my language in order that I may understand them. At the same time I felt honoured and blessed to receive such a gift of others’ time and effort. They have nothing to gain from spending that extra energy save our friendship; yet they are willing to put forth that energy for us.

These friends made room for us, not only in a physical way—in their homes—and not only in a manner of service—sharing their meals with us—and not only in a temporal way—in giving up time to be with us. They also made room for us with their language, coming to us by speaking English when we could not come to them by learning Norwegian or Czech. This kind of hospitality is a special kind. A home is a home in any culture; food is food to any stomach; and time passes the same for all humanity. But language is a special kind of hospitality requiring more effort, more concentration, and more expertise because a foreign language is not something you use in everyday life.

There is something valuable here for those of us who want to welcome people from other cultures or countries. I think especially of the current quandary in the United States regarding the increasing number of immigrants who speak Spanish as their mother tongue. If we want to help these folks, to really engage with them and discover what their greatest needs are and how to help fulfill those needs, then language is a good first step. (Perhaps I should call it an essential first step.) I mean specifically learning Spanish in order to begin to cross the linguistic and cultural divide between the English-speaking inhabitants of the U.S. and those who speak Spanish. Learning the language of a foreigner is the greatest gift that a “native” can offer that foreigner. It requires giving up a certain amount of our power, certainly: we will be unable to speak some of our deepest thoughts and, worse, we will embarrass ourselves as we stumble through new pronunciations, words, and images! But the work of learning someone else’s language in order to make them feel welcomed is one that will bear fruit. All hospitality reveals our willingness to make space for the stranger in our lives and by doing so offer the opportunity for the stranger to become more than a stranger. It is the first step in friendship.

Is this not what Jesus Christ did for humanity? Christ came to humanity, taking on its language, its thought-forms, its bodily condition in order to reveal Yahweh’s hospitality to us. Likewise this is what we are called to do for those who need our hospitality—not only Spanish-speakers but also those who speak Mandarin, French, or Swahili: whatever our neighbour speaks.

~ emrys