When our cousin Linda sent an email to the family inviting us on a trip back to the motherland, I told my husband we had to go. I have dreamed for years of taking my parents to the little town in Southern Italy where my mama’s ancestors lived, worked, and raised their families.
We planned and saved for this epic trip for more than a year. Truth be told, traveling to the region and town in Italy where my great-grandparents raised their children was a lifelong dream for both my mama and me. For years, family demands, finances, and then a global pandemic stood in our way. My mama grew up hearing tidbits of family lore about the old country from her relatives while helping in the kitchen and around dinner tables.
When she was a teenager (six decades ago now), she was inspired to start filling a little bank with dimes from babysitting and her allowance. Her dream was to one day visit Italy and the home of her ancestors.
When we arrived in Italy, my parents, husband, brother, and I took a transport to the city of Salerno to join the rest of the group. Boarding the bus with seven other cousins, we headed for San Giovanni in Fiori, one of the oldest towns in the Sila mountains. We met up with our tour guide, Antonella, and her husband, along with our bus driver. Antonella welcomed us with open arms and tight-as-you-can-squeeze hugs. The delightful crew traveled with us for the next eight days.
My mama and I both had tears sparkling in our eyes when we finally arrived in the place where our ancestors walked. Paved modern streets gave way to cobblestone paths, harder to navigate on foot. Antonella explained that this was the exact neighborhood where our people lived. Church bells chimed as the sun began to set. Amber light danced a “Tarantella” through winding alleyways.
We turned from the city center and entered a little piazza where music filled the air. A handcrafted table with chairs for our entire group was set for dinner. Intricate textile tablecloths and painted decor gave it a medieval feel. Every detail breathed one word: Welcome.
I was surprised by how I felt at home in a place I had never been before.
The staff welcomed us as paisanos – an Italian word my grandparents used to describe compatriots or people with shared heritage and close-knit bonds. We were treated like family.
The chef enticed us with a description of our first course for dinner. I sank my teeth into a tender potato cake with rich gravy made from provola, a stretched-curd cheese, and local porcini mushrooms.
We were granted luxurious breaks between courses to talk and digest. We didn’t have to hurry. Part of the richness of the experience was the invitation to savor every sip, every bite, and linger long in conversation.
I was wowed by the second course of hand-rolled pasta called fileja, topped with a tomato ragù, and punctuated by chunks of veal. The third course was a melt-in-your-mouth cut of roast served atop a bed of savory greens.
When I read about Jesus and His ministry in the New Testament, I imagine Him sitting at the table like this one with tax collectors, the poor, blind, and bleeding — women, children, and sinners like you and me. Jesus – the Living Water and Bread of Life – embodies welcome, inviting us to come to Him even when we are hurting and especially when we are hungry.
Romans 15:7 (ESV) invites us to multiply His hospitality: “Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.”
This applies to classmates and colleagues, foreigners and foes. We are challenged by Jesus’ example to extend hospitality in our neighborhoods, schools, offices, and even across political divides.
We all somehow found room for dessert, which was a delectable layered fruit semifreddo commissioned from a local bakery that tasted like a cross between tiramisu and frozen strawberry gelato. The pastry chef had written, “You are welcome – San Giovanni in Fiori” with American and Italian flags on top. This simple gesture was the icing on the cake of our meal, symbolic of the generosity and hospitality that we experienced throughout our whole trip to Italy.
One day, we will all be welcomed into Heaven like paisanos and ushered to our chairs at the marriage feast of the Lamb described in Revelation 19:7-9 (NIV):
“For the wedding of the Lamb has come,
and his bride has made herself ready.
Fine linen, bright and clean,
was given her to wear.”
(Fine linen stands for the righteous acts of God’s holy people.)
Then the angel said to me, “Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the wedding supper of the Lamb!”
This marriage supper is often talked about as the culmination of every feast described in the Bible. At that table, God’s redemptive work and the union between Jesus Christ and His bride will be celebrated. Believers can anticipate being welcomed to the table with abundant courses, eternity to enjoy them, and company from a diversity of backgrounds who are family.
While we wait for that final feast, we can welcome people into our earthly homes and hearts. We can look out for friends who need a hearty bowl of love, neighbors who could use a heaping plate of joy, and strangers who long for a glass of hope.
Dorina helps people feast on the glory of God through her weekly Glorygram on Substack and her new Bible study, Redeemer: God’s Lovingkindness in the Book of Ruth.
This is a blog to savor! Thank you for these beautiful words and sharing your experience from “home”.
Oh Dorina. Two years ago, my children and I made a a long awaited trip to Castellemare del Golfo, a small town in Sicily where 3 of my 4 grandparents came from (the other was from a neighboring town). Amazing how it felt like home. The familiarity was so special. As soon as someone knew about my familial background, I was family. And to be able to meet up with people who knew my grandparents, or shared last names was so touching. I was able to see where they were born, where they worshiped, where my one grandfather had his little fishing boat. The welcome of strangers into their home was hard to believe. Sitting and eating with other people from that tiny town was an experience I will not forget. Not until I read what you wrote did I think about how it was what Jesus was teaching us. Thank you for sharing your story and reminding me that we are all part of God’s family.
What a lovely story of family! Thank you for sharing! Sending you fall joy, Lisa Wilt
Dear Dorina…………..What a pleasure to read your devotional today. It brought back so many memories.I had been to Italy 4 times and my husband went 11 times to visit his ancestors small towns and see where not only his mother’s relatives, but his father’s as well. He was welcomed as you described in your story the same way. Everyone hugged him and sat him down at a table laden with so much food that he was even shocked. All of the food was made with vegetables, meat and fruit from their own houses. He always told me that he was not sure how he would be received, but the people from the towns took him on a very long tour of their most favorite places and of course, their beautiful churches where they worshiped. Unfortunately, even though I begged to visit where my relatives came from, he always said no and booked his trip to Italy. Now I am 77 years old, soon to be 78 in 2 weeks and am not able to travel, but when I was younger, I had many people over to our house for dinners that I made everything myself. I had to take a weeks vacation from work as I wanted everything just right. People enjoyed coming. I loved, myself to offer this to anyone. One special thing that my husband did most of the cooking was Christmas Eve dinner, “The feast of the 7 fishes”. It was complicated but my mother-in-law helped my husband as she lived with us for 17 years. I smiled at all the Italian words you used to describe the food and Paisanos. While I am not Italian, I understand all of those words and meals. They always made their meals slow and time to socialize in between courses of plentiful food. Your words helped me to understand much about Jesus and what those meals with hospitality meant. I am so glad you shared them with us and I will re-read this after lunch as it makes me smile which right now does not happen often due to the dark season that I have been in for 5 years now. My prayers overflow to Jesus for help and ask, Is there anything else I can do to help, but I always go back to one of my favorite prayers, “The Serenity Prayer” and I need to somehow have the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. This is difficult when it is your family that did NOT accept my hospitality or me anymore, but that is a story for a different day. Love I send to you Dorina for the smiles and happy memories you gave to me. All of you (in)courage women always teach me something I needed to be reminded of or things that I did not know about Jesus and I have many of your books and try to find time every day to read from one of them. Have a blessed week and thank you again for your words that made me happy. I look forward to these daily devotionals and read them as soon as I get up……..Betsy
Hi! I am italian too, and have ancestors from Sicily and Bari. My dad played the Tarantella on his accordian at family gatherings. I work at a library, and tonight I am hosting a program on seed saving. I will be welcoming attendees to the program and introducing the speaker. I appreciated your thoughts on being women of welcome. I pray that I can be welcoming to the people that come to the library today and the program tonight. I am planting seeds of hospitality even in the little library where I work, and am praying that I will enjoy the harvest of that planting when I sit at the feast of the lamb one day in heaven.