In Brest (known in Yiddish as Brisk), the city in Belarus where he served as Chief Rabbi for twenty-six years, Rabbi Chaim Soloveitchik (1853 – 1918) was renowned for his willingness to help people in need however he could, and his genial, liberal home hospitality was nothing short of over-the-top. On one occasion, his failure to vet a sleep-over guest put him at odds with his family when they woke to find that, while they slept, the wayfarer had cleared the house of anything of value and was long gone. Reb Chaim explained that he followed Avraham Avinu’s extreme approach to hospitality. To clarify why the Torah specifies that Avraham Avinu offers his newfound guests water to wash their feet, Rashi (1040 – 1105) comments that Avraham assumed they were pagans who worship the dust of their feet. Per Reb Chaim, this teaches that Avraham took an indiscriminate approach toward his guests, since he nevertheless accepted them enthusiastically.[1]
Many would argue that in the century since Reb Chaim welcomed his shady guests, the decline in decency and morality has made it even more unsafe and unwise to accept unvetted guests into our homes without hesitation. However, it would be a mistake to conclude that Avraham’s open-door approach to visitors is no longer relevant. Even if we adopted the strictest, most restrictive safety standards for who we allow into our homes, a large pool of prospective guests would remain, and most of them would likely not receive an invitation. We all know that most prospective people we could invite into our homes will not be perfectly charming, well-mannered, and entertaining. We’re looking for the Goldilocks guest, with the best qualities in perfect proportions. Someone who shows interest but is not too nosy. Someone who appreciates the food the host prepared but does not eat too much. Someone who isn’t too shy to carry on a pleasant conversation but doesn’t dominate it either. Someone who feels at home but is not so comfortable that he puts his feet up on your table. We need not imitate Reb Chaim by abandoning reasonable precautions. But we can imitate his refusal to reserve hospitality for flawless guests. Our visitors may not steal the silver, but they may test our patience, disrupt our routines, or fall short of our Goldilocks ideal. Every time we invite someone quieter, needier, less polished, or simply less comfortable company than our ideal guest, we carry a small measure of Reb Chaim’s hospitality into our own homes—and keep Avraham’s tent open for another generation.
[1] Baker, Menachem. Parperaot Latora, Vol. I. Jerusalem, Omen, 1983. Pg. 84