The
holy gospel according to Luke (14:1, 7-14)
On
one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees
to
eat a meal on the sabbath,
they
were watching him closely.
7When
he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor,
he
told them a parable.
8“When
you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet,
do
not sit down at the place of honor,
in
case someone more distinguished than you
has
been invited by your host;
9and
the host who invited both of you may come and say to you,
‘Give
this person your place,’
and
then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place.
10But
when you are invited,
go
and sit down at the lowest place,
so
that when your host comes,
your
host may say to you,
‘Friend,
move up higher’;
then
you will be honored
in
the presence of all who sit at the table with you.
11For
all who exalt themselves will be humbled,
and
those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
12Jesus
said also to the one who had invited him,
“When
you give a luncheon or a dinner,
do
not invite your friends
or
your brothers
or
your relatives
or
rich neighbors,
in
case they may invite you in return,
and
you would be repaid.
13But
when you give a banquet,
invite
those who are poor, crippled, lame, and blind.
14And
you will be blessed,
because
they cannot repay you,
for
you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”
The
gospel of the lord.
-----
Once
again, Jesus is eating. Jesus
loves food—or at least our Lukan gospel writer does. Luke’s gospel, which we’ve been exploring throughout this
year, almost always has Jesus eating or talking about eating, being criticized
for how and with whom he eats, or inviting himself over to eat with someone.
Today
it’s a Sabbath meal at “the house of a leader of the Pharisees.” At first Jesus sits back to watch and
then after some observations, Jesus proposes a new way of being that will
ultimately inform the last supper, communion, and what it means to be followers
of Christ.
In
the culture of the time, honor and shame were as vital as supply and demand are
for our own culture. Every
interaction is driven by the need to receive honor and even more so by
the need to avoid shame.
So
it is no small thing when Jesus challenges the need to sit in places of honor,
encouraging guests to sit in the lower places and then encourages hosts to
invite those who cannot repay or those who will not increase the honor of the
host. This doesn’t just slightly
challenge folks to think a bit more generously. It isn’t a simple lesson in hospitality and pride. This completely flips the script
on folks—turning their entire cultural worldview on its head.
It’s
like someone suggesting that instead of having a minimum wage, below
which no one should be paid, we institute a maximum wage, above which no
one should be paid—or just one wage for everyone altogether. Or it’s like suggesting that the price
for much needed medicine be lower the more people need it to stay alive,
instead of hiking the price to earn more money. Jesus completely
upsets the status quo and challenges the entire system under which people are
living
and
that is exactly what Jesus does in communion as well.
Communion
is the part of worship that most dramatically challenges the way our culture
operates. It flips the script on
the narrative that your worth and your access to basic needs like food and
shelter are dependent on the economic value of what you do—on the amount of
money that you earn—either for yourself or for the company you work for.
That
is most certainly not how God works. In God’s economy, your worth
is intrinsic. You are valuable and
loved because you are you—because God creates you as valuable and God creates
you as beloved. Communion is given
to everyone because God loves you, because God loves every single person, because
God nourishes us and cares for our well-being, and because God is giving us a
glimpse of what is to come—of what God’s reign looks like. Communion is for each of us and every
other person, whether you are full of faith, full of doubt, or full of
something else.
Just
as Jesus puts those without the means to give honor or to repay at the center
of the banquet host’s invites, Jesus, as the host of the meal we share in
communion, puts those who don’t find a place in our culture at the center. In communion, Jesus shows up. Jesus joins us in the bread of life and
cup of salvation, and Jesus gives us practice for life in the world—practice at
a new and different way of being in the world.
Whether
like in pew communion, Jesus comes right up to us where we’re at, or whether we
come up to the table to find that there is a place for us and the food is
ready. When we receive communion,
Jesus the Christ is born again in us.
As the crucified one chooses to dwell in us, to make a home with us,
those who are crucified in our world also find a place at the Table and in our
hearts.
Those
whose documentation status keeps them from receiving or even seeking medical
attention
have
a place at the Table marked: Beloved.
Those
who flee places of violence like Syria and this week Kabul, Afghanistan
have
a place at the Table marked: Beloved.
Those
who are killed and locked up because it’s easier to perpetuate a system of injustice than it is to care for the justice and well-being of our neighbor
have
a place at the Table marked: Beloved.
Those
who have been told that who they are is sinful
have
a place for them at the Table marked: Beloved.
Jesus
opens not only the Table at which we celebrate communion, but every table at
which we share food. Jesus opens all
of the food we share, all of our interactions with others. Jesus flips the script—putting even the
ones we feel justified in leaving out or not inviting at
the center.
Jesus rejects the
system that says our value is dependent on the money we have or the money we earn. Jesus puts our value back in our heart—in
who we are as God’s beloved. Jesus
is the Radical One who calls the outcast, the stranger, the addict, the one
without papers, the refugee, the killed, the survivors, the queer, the ashamed,
the faithless
first to the Table as the honored guests.
Thanks
be to God.
