Strictly speaking it was not a smart business decision. While the supply of clients appeared to be endless, none of them could afford to pay for the service. The up-side profit potential was zero. The down-side risk was bankruptcy and ten years in a federal prison. You don't need a Harvard MBA to realize a business in which you can't possibly make any money and could very well lose your shirt, not to mention your freedom, is not an attractive opportunity.

William Marks did not have a Harvard MBA. He was a simple village undertaker. People were accustomed to seeing Mr. Marks driving his hearse here and there around the county at all hours of the day and even late into the night. It was a somber task, but somebody had to do it.

Mr. Marks reasoned, correctly as it turned out, that police officers were not likely to stop his hearse on some dark country road to inspect its cargo. He could haul anything in the back of his hearse with nobody the wiser. This reduced the risk but there was still no money to be made. Nevertheless, William Marks decided to get into the transportation business.

What Mr. Marks transported in the back of his hearse were fugitive slaves. It was the 1850's. In those days an escaped slave found anywhere in the country was forcibly returned to his or her owner. The law of the land required it. The only safe place was Canada. William Marks helped fugitive slaves get there. Legally it was the equivalent of engaging in today's drug trade, but there was absolutely no money to be made at it. Why did he bother?

What sets Mr. Marks apart is, well, nothing. He ran a small business in a small village in an undistinguished part of the country. So far as I can tell there was absolutely nothing special about him. Neither was there anything special about the thousands of other men and women, black and white, who aided slaves on the road to freedom. Some in the deep South would have been lucky to go to jail if they'd been caught. Chances are they'd be lynched on the spot. What led ordinary people to risk their own freedom and lives for the sake of the freedom and safety of total strangers?

For many people like William Marks the story begins with Abraham. In the desert climate of the ancient Middle East travel was difficult. Getting lost was easy. Food and water were scarce. Settlements were far apart. If a parched traveler came upon your camp and you didn't share what you had, that person could die. If you knew the way to the next well and didn't guide a passing stranger onto the right path, that traveler could die. These days "hospitality" has come to mean a multi-million dollar industry featuring plush hotels with swimming pools. In Abraham's day "hospitality" was a matter of life or death.

"Hospitality" is not the same thing as "entertaining." Entertaining is what I'll do next Sunday when you come over for a cookout. Entertaining is having a good time with people we already know or would like to get to know. Entertaining helps build relationships and a sense of community. I hope a good time is had by all, including me, and I'm not at all worried one of you will walk off with my stereo. Entertaining rewards the host, and poses little risk.

Hospitality is different. It is how we welcome, receive, and attend to the needs of strangers outside our circle of family and friends. Hospitality is how we treat a stranger who can't do us any good and might walk off with our stereo. Long before the Ten Commandments, the prophets, Jesus, or anything else in our religious tradition there was hospitality. It is the mother of all virtues.

It's helpful to think of Biblical characters as just like us only more so. If we are drawn with pencils they are drawn with wide tipped magic markers. Abraham was a man of enormous flaws and failures, but when he got it right, he really got it right. Abraham really got hospitality right.

Abraham spots three strangers before they get to his tent. He's looking out for others to look out for. He doesn't wait for them to come to him but runs to meet them. Abraham calls one "Lord", not thinking of God but of a human ruler. He calls himself a "servant." Immediately he gives these strangers a higher status than himself. That way they won't be embarrassed to ask for whatever they want. It's not demeaning to accept whatever help Abraham can offer. It's their right. What Abraham offers is modest; some water and a place in the shade to rest. It's a delightfully human touch. It's as if Abraham tells the strangers, "You can't expect too much from a guy like me." Then he knocks himself out behind the scenes to exceed their expectations. While the strangers eat Abraham hovers in the background in case there's something else he might do for them. When the travelers leave Abraham goes with them some distance to make sure they get a good start on the rest of the journey.

Abraham took the initiative. As soon as he saw the strangers he sprang into action, made himself a servant, and gave the best he had. The practice of hospitality is simple. It is also difficult. The strangers might be thieves. Many homes have a "Welcome" mat and a peep hole in the door. It's not safe to open up to just anybody. There is always some element of risk in the practice of hospitality, some reason to fear.

For many people accepting help of any kind is demeaning. Who wants to be a "charity case"? On the other hand, people with the means will spend hundreds of dollars for a day at a spa being waited on hand and foot. Hospitality is the art of switching roles so that people with means wait on those in need, and those in need feel being waited on is their due. It's the second part that's tough for us to take. We don't really know what it means to be a servant until someone treats us like one.

There's nothing quite as dramatic as fugitive slaves fleeing to Canada going on these days. Yet the tradition of hospitality practiced by Abraham, Jesus, and William Marks lives on.

A stranger came to the church while I was away on vacation. The secretary wasn't sure what to do so she made some phone calls. One of you left the door of your tent and hurried to the church to meet the stranger. She told a long, sad tale of her journey through life so far. It may or may not have been entirely true. We'll never know for sure. What she needed, she said, was a night's stay in a cheap motel and a meal.

The church member took all this in. Recognizing there might be some risk involved, she contacted another church member. The two of them drove the stranger to get something to eat and then to the motel where they paid for a night's lodging. The church reimbursed them so we were all in on the deal.

What do you think? Was the stranger on the level? Was it some sort of scam? Did the $67 the church paid for a motel room and the time and efforts two members gave to help her do that stranger any good in the long run? The practice of hospitality means living with questions like that and still welcoming the next stranger.

The truth is if we look out for people to look out for we all have opportunities to practice hospitality every day. It might be when you stop at a fast food joint on your way to work. You catch the unmistakable odor of someone who hasn't showered for weeks. You lose your appetite but buy a breakfast anyway and slip it to the wrinkled man with the dirty hands. It might be when you don't take the seat closest to the door on the Metro but leave it for another traveler with more burdens than you who might get off at the next stop. You might practice hospitality with an unnecessary smile at a passing shopper when you're in a hurry to finish your errands, go home, and put your feet up. You might practice hospitality here by going a little out of your way to welcome a stranger and risk embarrassment when it turns out the "stranger" has been a member of the church for 20 years. Entertaining friends is fun. Hospitality involves effort and risk.

Abraham didn't know who the strangers were when he offered them rest and refreshment. They could have been anybody. Only later does it become apparent that in welcoming them Abraham welcomed the Lord. We may not always be able to recognize the presence of God in the midst of ordinary life. Yet God turns up in the flesh and blood strangers we encounter every day. When you take the risk and make the effort to welcome a stranger God enters your life.