Pentecost 12, 2025
Sirach 10:12-18
Psalm 112
Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16
Luke 14:1, 7-14
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
In the early days of our republic, no one ever ran for President. Showing that you were interested in the office made you unqualified for the presidency. I know that’s nearly impossible to believe, given how things have turned out, but that was the way it was done. At least until Ohio’s own William Henry Harrison openly campaigned for the office in 1840. He was the first one to publicly let people know he wanted to be the president. Before 1840, in order to be president, the main thing you had to do was pretend that you did not want to be president. That’s how you got elected. Can you even imagine?
And—I have to be honest with you—this is why I find today’s Gospel reading to be so terribly unsatisfying. Jesus seems to be saying you should pretend you don’t want something, so that someone will give it to you. It’s the kind of advice you expect to hear from Will Rogers, or Emily Post.
You know, like here’s a tip for how to save face at a fancy dinner party. Sit in the lowest seat, and you will surely be recognized as more important than that, and then you will be elevated to a higher seat. This is conniving and self-serving, because the actual goal is the higher seat. And, if you take the highest seat, there’s a chance someone higher might show up, and how embarrassing would that be? So, you should aim lower than you know you deserve, so that way the host can come over and move you up where you belong, and everyone at the party can see you being elected president against your will. Since you know yourself to be better than others, you can pretend to be humble so you can be lifted up. Check out how humble I am!
I’m sorry, but that’s not the kind of advice I expect from Jesus. It just feels . . . dishonest. And—even worse—it is selfish, using fake humility to advance yourself. And not only that, why is this piece of Poor Richard’s Almanack advice called a “parable,” anyway? Normally, when Jesus tells a parable, it begins with “A certain man was invited to a banquet,” which is like saying “Once upon a time there was a banquet.” But in today’s reading, Jesus begins his “parable” by speaking directly to his listeners: “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet . . .” I wouldn’t call that a parable.
But maybe calling this a parable is the key to understanding it. Rather than looking at these words as a chapter from “How to Win Friends and Influence People,” maybe we really should approach it as a parable. Because the first rule in trying to understand the parables of Jesus is to remember, they are not about you. Parables are about Jesus, and the Kingdom of God. They are not meant to be tips for how to get ahead in society. And as soon as the words of Jesus start to sound like Benjamin Franklin, it’s a red flag that we need to slow down and look more carefully at what Jesus is trying to tell us.
We can divide this gospel text into two sections. The first part (about taking the lower seat) seems to be addressed to the Pharisees, although it might be addressed to the guests; we can’t tell. But the suggestion is, that by humbling yourself, you might end up exalted. If we take that as a parable (rather than social-climbing advice), we see it as a metaphor or analogy. The humble will be lifted up. We might say, raised up. True humility is laying down your life . . . dying to yourself. The dead will be raised to new life, right? The humbled will be exalted. And you cannot be more humbled than being dead. You cannot raise yourself up after being brought down to the grave; but God can. God can come to you and say, “Friend move up higher. Rise up from the grave to new life.”
But, at the end of that parable, Jesus adds a little conclusion, as he loves to do with parables. He says, Those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and the humble will be exalted. This is classic Luke, by the way. Remember the song Mary sings when her cousin Elizabeth visits? We call it the Magnificat, and it only shows up in Luke. “He has shown strength with his arm and has scattered the proud in their conceit, casting down the mighty from their thrones and lifting up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.”
Only in Luke do we get both the lifting up of the poor AND the casting down of the mighty. In Matthew’s version of the Sermon on the Mount, we get blessed are the poor and so forth. But when Luke tells that same story, he adds what are called The Woes. Blessed are the poor, yes, but woe to the rich. Woe to those who are well-fed and laughing. Luke always adds that little flip after the positive. The low will be brought up, and the high up will be brought low.
And then we have the second part of this reading, where we are told Jesus is addressing those who have invited him to the banquet. He tells them to invite the poor, crippled, lame, and blind. It sounds at first like Jesus is just telling them how to be good people, and decent citizens. Don’t invite your friends who can repay you by inviting you in return. Instead, invite the people who can’t afford to invite you back. That strikes us as really nice . . . really unrealistic, but really nice.
But here’s the thing: in the place and time where Jesus is speaking, no faithful person of God would ever invite the poor, crippled, lame, and blind, because those people are ritually unclean. This is not about bucking the social customs of the time; inviting those people would make the host ritually unclean, making them unfit to go to the Temple, among other things. It’s one thing to say, “Invite people who cannot repay you.” It is quite another to say, “Invite the people that you have spent your entire life completely avoiding for religious reasons.”
And just like last week, Jesus seems to be telling us that people are more important than rules. The sabbath was made for people, not the other way around. The poor, crippled, lame, and blind are meant to be invited in and fed, not ignored and shunned. Look at your neighbors the way God looks at us. God invites those who do not deserve to be invited.
And that is good news for you and me. Because what Jesus is telling his hosts is that they should organize their guest list the way God’s guest list is organized. God is holding a banquet, and at the top of the guest list you will find the poor, crippled, lame, and blind . . . me, and you. God invites us to dinner not expecting to get invited to dinner in return. This gospel reading is not a lesson in manners and dinner parties, but is a lesson about the hospitality of God. A glimpse of how God views the world, where everyone is invited. Jesus is not giving practical advice for how to plan or act at dinners. He is telling us how God does things.
God invites the unworthy and lifts them up. God invites those who do not belong and spreads a table before them. God invites the outcasts and makes them insiders. God invites the unclean and declares us clean. This gospel text is not advice for living; rather it is advice for dying. Dying to yourself, so that you can be raised to new life.
Whoever we think of when we think of “the unclean,” in an ideal world, you and I would invite them to dinner. And sometimes we do! And, it is also true that sometimes we get invited to dinner by those who consider us unclean. But, more importantly, and in the same way, God has invited you and me to a banquet where no one is considered unclean: the heavenly meal that stretches on through eternity. And at this banquet, no one is rejected, because all have been healed and redeemed. We are all invited, and made clean and pure in every sense of the word.
How I wish this were not a fifth Sunday, since that means we have Morning Prayer instead of Holy Eucharist. Because this reading is just perfect for that. But we will still have the opportunity to share in Holy Communion at the Chapel Altar after the service. And so, this morning, you are invited to a banquet, which is a foretaste of the feast to come. God is inviting you to this banquet, knowing full well that you cannot offer an invitation in response. God invites us (knowing we cannot repay the debt), because by inviting us, God is the one who will be repaid “at the resurrection of the righteous,” because no one will be lost, nothing will be lost, all will be redeemed. So come to the banquet, friend; come and be lifted up.
Amen
No comments:
Post a Comment