Let’s be honest—anytime we get that golden ticket invitation for a Shabbat or Yom Tov meal, we get a little spark of joy. The thought process is simple: no cooking, no cleaning, and a free pass to enjoy someone else’s food and conversation. It’s like winning the communal lottery. But what about those who didn’t get that coveted invite? Not everyone’s feeling the love. In fact, some people spent the entire Yom Tov season that just passed home alone for every single meal. And no, they didn’t choose to. The invites? They just never came.
And before you start thinking, “But someone else will handle it!”—welcome to the biggest misconception around Hachnasat Orchim. We’ve all got our reasons for passing the responsibility. “They probably have other friends.” “They might not fit in with my other guests.” “Maybe someone else already invited them.” It’s the classic case of communal diffusion of responsibility: If we all do nothing, we can convince ourselves it’s taken care of. Let’s be honest—when did Hachnasat Orchim become a quid pro quo exercise? A tit-for-tat, “I’ll invite them if they invite me next time” arrangement? When did we lose sight of what it actually means to be welcoming?
Hachnasat Orchim isn’t about filling a social calendar. It’s about emulating Hashem’s kindness, going out of our way to feed the hungry, share our space, and uplift others. Remember Avraham Avinu? When he saw three strangers, he didn’t hesitate to offer them a full-course spread, plus VIP treatment washing their feet, while excusing himself from Hashem. He knew he was not going to get invited elsewhere, he was the only Jew in existence. So why don’t we?
The reality is, a lot of folks feel awkward or even guilty about accepting invites, especially if they’re in no position to reciprocate. Maybe they don’t have the space. Maybe their budget doesn’t allow for hosting elaborate meals. Does that mean they’re unworthy of the mitzvah? Last time I checked, the requirement for Hachnasat Orchim didn’t include a reciprocity clause. If anything, we’re supposed to make people feel comfortable, not subtly remind them of their lack of a return invite.
So here’s a radical thought and some suggestions: Why don’t we stop relying on individual guesswork and start organizing? Every shul should have a dedicated Hachnasat Orchim committee. And not the kind that quietly fills slots for Shabbat dinners only if you’re a paying member. I’m talking about a committee that views Hachnasat Orchim as a core mitzvah, actively seeking out newcomers, singles, families, or anyone who might just need a warm place to land. This isn’t just about bringing members together; it’s about making everyone—member or not—feel like they belong in the community. Second, when an invitation is made and the guest asks, “What can I bring?”, don’t simply just reply by saying yourselves with some emojis. Consider directly asking for them to contribute from a list of a few small items, so that they too feel they are participating in the mitzvah. Lastly, establish more potluck meals. Potlucks are a celebration of togetherness where each dish tells a story, and every contribution—big or small—brings something or someone special to the table.
Let’s be honest, hosting is an honor, not an inconvenience. And if we truly want to be like Avraham Avinu, we’ll stop keeping score and start opening doors. If you are interested in hosting people, please contact your local shul to create a committee and be proactive.