Lodging Houses and Caravanserais in the Ancient East

In the days of old, when the kings of the earth ruled and the caravans traversed the vast wilderness, there arose along the ancient roads a network of resting places for the weary traveler. These were the lodging houses and caravanserais of the Ancient East—havens where those journeying afar might find respite, sustenance, and safety beneath the watchful eye of the Almighty.

As it is written, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares” (Hebrews 13:2). And so the nations of Mesopotamia, Persia, and beyond built great inns and waystations along their highways, knowing well the dangers that awaited those who journeyed under the scorching sun or the chill of night.

These caravanserais were mighty enclosures—strong walls rising against bandits and wild beasts. Within their courts, camels knelt in patient rows, laden with goods from distant lands: spices, silks, and precious metals. The air was filled with the murmurs of many tongues, as merchants and pilgrims alike shared tales and prayers.

The lodging houses were places not merely of shelter but of fellowship. Within their chambers, a traveler might lay down his head upon simple straw or woven mats, sharing bread and water with companions met by the providence of the road. For the journey was long and perilous, and the way was made lighter by kindness and rest.

The ancient paths that led to Jerusalem, Damascus, and Babylon were dotted with these houses of refuge, for pilgrims journeying to the holy places sought safe harbor. The wise rulers and merchants who cared for these inns understood the sacredness of the traveler’s toil and the blessing of sheltering the stranger.

And so it was in the days of Abraham, who welcomed three visitors by the oaks of Mamre (Genesis 18), and in the days of the prophets, who taught mercy and compassion to all who wander. These lodging houses were earthly reflections of the heavenly promise of rest.

Let us then remember the ancient caravanserai, where the stranger found a home, and the pilgrim found peace. For as the Psalmist declares, “He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside still waters” (Psalm 23:2).

Blessed be the hands that build such places, and the hearts that open wide their doors, that the wayfarer may know the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.