They gathered together in my friend Amy's large family room and started heaping paper plates with a taste of home: koshary, an inexpensive and delectable combination of rice, brown lentils, macaroni, garlicky tomato sauce, fried onions, and chickpeas. This dish is beloved by everyone in Egypt, rich or poor.

But this wasn't Egypt -- it was Northern Virginia, where many Egyptians have emigrated in the last two decades, many claiming religious asylum. Every month, Amy and her husband would invite newly arrived individuals and families that they met at their nearby Coptic Orthodox Church for this "koshary night."

After all had assembled their dishes, she would ask them to share the stories of their journeys to the United States. With great joy, Amy shared with me how some of those stories would bring tears -- stories of families left behind and challenges to overcome -- but also hope at the beginning of something new.

Often, these gatherings resulted in new connections and a feeling of solidarity. Her guests left feeling more like they belonged and less like they were "traveling alone."

The parable of the good Samaritan illustrates the risks of traveling alone in the early centuries. "A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho," Jesus describes, "and fell among thieves, who stripped him of his clothing, wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead" (Luke 10:30 NKJV).

One of the reasons hospitality was important in the early church, according to a scholar of early Christian hospitality Amy Oden, was how dangerous it was to travel. In addition to all manner of risks from thieves and bandits, travelers faced great exposure to the elements by road and sea, and sometimes the hunger of wild animals.