The Stranger at the Door

Guess what? Jessica and I went to see a movie at an actual movie theater recently.

That probably wouldn’t have been worth writing twenty-five years ago. Back then, going to the theater was just something we did – all the time. I fondly remember entire Sunday afternoons spent in the dark, paying for one show and sneaking into another… then leaving the theater like two bears emerging from hibernation. Both of us blinking our eyes in the bright sunlight (with buttery fingers and soda stains on their shirts of course).

But now? We hardly ever leave the comfort of the couch to watch a film.

Life got busy. Streaming happened. And somewhere along the way, going to the movies became an actual event to celebrate again. It’s a good ol’ fashioned date night. Which, honestly, makes it way more fun.

On this particular night, we went to see The Odyssey.

And, because I’m absolutely incapable of just going to a movie anymore, I decided I needed to do homework first. Partly because I wanted to reacquaint myself with Homer’s story and partly to simply enjoy the movie a little more.

But mostly because I knew Jessica was going to have abouty 473 questions.

• Who is Athena again?
• Why does Poseidon hate him?
• Wait, how long has he been gone?
• Who is this guy?

I needed to be ready.

So before we went, I listened to a fantastic series on The Odyssey from one of my favorite podcasts, The Rest Is History. I did some internet research and refreshed myself on the gods, monsters, shipwrecks, and Odysseus’s very, very long journey home.

I didn’t reread the actual book. I was gonna lean heavily on Matt Damon to show me the way.

I’d like to say I didn’t read it because I wanted to preserve some mystery. The truth is…I ran out of time. It’s back on my reading list.

However, somewhere between the podcast episodes, my internet rabbit holes, and the movie itself, one idea got lodged in my brain.

It wasn’t the Cyclops. It wasn’t the Sirens. It was something much smaller.

A Stranger Standing at the Door.

Zeus’ Law

The phrase I kept hearing repeated was something like “Zeus’ Law.” The basic idea, as I understood it, was this:

When a stranger arrives, treat them with extraordinary hospitality because you never know when the person standing in front of you might actually be a god in disguise.

That got my attention.

The more I looked into it, the more I realized that “Zeus’ Law” is really just modern shorthand for a deeper ancient Greek idea called “Xenia“.

Xenia was the sacred duty of hospitality.

A stranger arriving at your home wasn’t supposed to be treated as an inconvenience.

• You welcomed them.
• You fed them.
• You offered shelter.

And importantly, you were expected to do those things before demanding to know exactly who they were or what they could do for you.

Zeus himself was considered the protector of strangers and guests. And throughout The Odyssey, the possibility hangs over everything that the stranger standing in front of you might not be what they appear to be.

A god might be traveling in disguise. So maybe you should be careful how you treat them. I love that. The more I sat with that idea, the more I realized it isn’t really a story about gods.

It’s a story about us.

Who Are You When You Don’t Know Who “They” Are?

That may be the real test hidden inside the epic poem and the movie.

How do you treat someone before you know whether they’re important?

Humans are pretty darn good at adjusting our behavior once status is revealed.

• The CEO walks into the room.
• The celebrity takes the seat next to us at a restaurant
• The important client calls.

Suddenly everyone remembers their manners. But what about the person who appears to have nothing to offer? That’s where Homer gets interesting…

When Odysseus finally returns home, he does so disguised as a poor beggar. Nobody knows who he really is. Suddenly, the people around him are being tested without realizing they’re taking a test.

Some treat him with kindness. Others mock or abuse him. They think they’re dealing with a nobody.

We know they’re dealing with the King.

That’s brilliant storytelling but, its also a pretty good way to think about life.

Who are we when we believe the person in front of us can do absolutely nothing for us?

The Test of Hospitality

One of the people who gets it right is Eumaeus, Odysseus’s loyal, old slave, swineherd and friend.

Odysseus hits the beaches of Ithica looking like Tom Hanks in Castaway (sans weird volleyball buddy). He’s been through some major shit at this point in the story and returns home purposefully disguised as an old beggar. Eumaeus has no reason to suspect he’s entertaining his long-lost king.

As far as he knows, this is simply a poor stranger who needs his help and, he welcomes him anyway.

• Feeds him.
• Shelters him.
• Treats him with dignity.

Eumaeus doesn’t pass the test because he recognizes Odysseus. He passes the test because he doesn’t. His kindness isn’t transactional. He doesn’t know there’s a payoff coming. He just believes the stranger deserves hospitality because he’s a stranger.

On the other end of the spectrum is Polyphemus, the Cyclops, who responds to the sacred obligation of hospitality by basically saying he doesn’t care about Zeus and then eating several guests.

If you’re looking for a practical takeaway from Homer, perhaps start with:

Don’t eat your guests.

Baby steps… But the deeper point is obvious.

How we respond to the vulnerable stranger says something about the kind of people we are.

Then I Started Seeing the Same Idea Everywhere

This is the part that always hooks me. One culture gives us an interesting idea. Then another culture, separated by geography or centuries, says something oddly similar.

That’s when I start really paying attention.

In the Christian New Testament, the Letter to the Hebrews tells people not to neglect hospitality to strangers because some have entertained angels without knowing it. Sound familiar?

Then there is an ancient Sanskrit teaching from Hindu tradition: Atithi Devo Bhava.

Often translated as: The guest is God.

There it is again. Ancient Greece. Biblical tradition. Classical India.

Different cultures. Different theology. Different centuries. Same suggestion:

Be careful how you treat the stranger. There may be more standing in front of you than you can see.

Once again, I find myself wondering whether humanity has been whispering the same wisdom to itself in different languages for a very, very long time.

Maybe We Don’t Need the Disguise

There’s something fun about imagining Zeus wandering around Louisville testing people.

• Maybe Athena is sitting beside you on the airplane.
• Maybe the guy taking forever in front of you at Kroger is actually Apollo.
• Maybe the DoorDash driver just delivered your Pad Thai with a side of divine judgment.

OK. Probably not. But, I think focusing too much on whether the stranger is secretly divine may actually miss the whole point.

What if they’re not? What if the stranger is just… a stranger?

Isn’t that enough?

These different ancient traditions used gods and angels to remind us of something we keep forgetting:

Other people possess a depth we can’t see.

• The waiter has a story.
• The Uber driver has a story.
• The receptionist has a story.
• The person moving slowly through the grocery store has a story.
• The person who pissed you off in traffic has a story.

Even the person whose politics, religion, worldview, or life choices make absolutely no sense to you… they have a vast interior universe you know almost nothing about.

Maybe they aren’t Zeus. Maybe they’re simply a human being.

That should be sacred enough.

What If We Actually Lived This Way?

What would happen if we moved through the world assuming every person we encountered contained something worthy of dignity?

Not agreement. Not admiration. Not blind trust… just dignity.

I’m not suggesting we become naïve. There are lots of dangerous people in the world. There are boundaries that need to be maintained and behavior that should be confronted.

Showing hospitality isn’t quite the same thing as surrendering judgment. But most of our daily encounters aren’t encounters with one-eyed, man-eating Cyclops freaks either.

They’re encounters with regular people trying to get through a normal Tuesday.

What if we paid a little more attention?

• What if the person serving our lunch received the same eye contact we would give someone “important”?
• What if we listened to someone we disagreed with long enough to understand how they got there?
• What if kindness didn’t require proof that someone deserved it?

That last one… it bothers me a little because I know how quickly I make calculations. We all do.

• Is this person “important”?
• Can they help me?
• Do I agree with them?
• Do they belong to my tribe?

What if the better question is simply: How do I want to show up in this moment?

That’s Zeus’ Law for the modern world.

What Followed Me Home

I went to see The Odyssey craving a giant tub of greasy popcorn and fully expecting the big stuff:

• Gods.
• Monsters.
• Shipwrecks.
• Warriors.
• A man desperately trying to find his way back home.

Somehow though, the thing that followed me home was a much quieter image.

A stranger knocking on a door.

I keep thinking about that door because every single day, metaphorically at least, someone knocks on mine:

• A coworker.
• A neighbor.
• A cashier.
• A patient.
• Someone asking for help.
• Someone interrupting my plans.
• Someone whose story I don’t yet know.

There’s a little test hidden inside the encounter.

Not: Who are they?

But: Who am I going to be?

Zeus was never really asking the Greeks to become very good at spotting gods in disguise. The point was that they shouldn’t have to in the first place..

If you treat every stranger with dignity, it doesn’t really matter whether the person standing at the door turns out to be a king, a beggar, an angel, a god…

or just another human being trying to find their way home.

So here’s something I’m going to try this week. I hope you’ll join me.

When I catch myself rushing past someone, categorizing them, dismissing them, or treating them like scenery in the movie of my own life, I’m going to hit the pause button…

Just long enough to wonder: What if there’s more here than I can see?

Maybe you could try it too.

We probably won’t meet Zeus, Jesus, Buddha, Krishna or even Matt Damon.

But we will meet a lot of human beings.

I’m starting to think that may possibly be the more sacred encounter anyhow.

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Hit reply and tell me about a stranger you’ve never forgotten. I read every one.

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