Luke 16:1-13
When I first read today’s gospel lesson from Luke, I thought, “I’m going to have to wrestle this one to the floor.” Well, after spending time with it, I’m ready to say “uncle” and admit that it’s wrestled me to the floor. For this confusing parable from Jesus is one that I’d really rather not deal with. It begs too many questions. And I can’t hope to answer all those questions. But, as I think about it, it does seem particularly apt on a day when we begin to think about our stewardship and how each of us will support the church in the coming months.
Over one-third of Jesus’ parables and sayings deal with money and faithfulness. Think of the rich young ruler told to sell everything he had; think of the widow who put her last coins in the Temple treasury; think of the eye of a needle and a camel; think of any number of parables and you’ll probably bump up against money.
It’s not surprising. The bible shows that God does have a preference for the poor. Throughout the Hebrew Bible, there are laws upon laws about how your treat the widow, the orphan, the sojourner. And Jesus knew that the poor were all around him during his day and age. It sounds familiar doesn’t it? Jesus would feel quite at home in our day and age, wouldn’t he? He would probably have lots to say about our society and culture and world given the growing divide between rich and poor; between the haves and the have-nots, not only in our world, but right here in our country and state.
So what can this confusing parable say to us in our day and age? Let’s look at it again. Jesus tells this parable following last week’s reading about the lost sheep and the lost coin with the parable of the prodigal son in between. All this lostness. And then comes this parable; a parable in which the hero of the story seems to be dishonest. And he is. Perhaps it’s his way of being lost.
He’s a manager or steward (there’s that word again) of an estate, and a bad one at that. He sees the writing on the wall, as it were, and knows he’s going to get the sack at any point. He recognizes, wisely, that he’s too old to dig ditches (I can agree with him on that) and too proud to beg (which is fair enough). So he has a plan. He goes to the people who are in debt to his master and reduces what they owe from 20 to 50 percent. What a plan. Then, he’s thinking, I’ll be welcome into these homes at least.
Pretty shrewd, isn’t it? But, here’s the catch in this story: his master hears of it and what does he do? He commends him on his shrewdness. He’s just been cheated out of a good portion of his dealings. He has just had this dishonest manager take it away from him, seemingly all square.
The master commends the manager. It’s shocking to us. I wonder if it was as shocking to the disciples’ first-century ears. Did they find the incongruities in this story that we do?
But wait, Jesus tacks a moral onto the story: a moral about serving God and money; about not being able to serve both; about where your allegiances lie. That part I can grasp onto! That’s the part that makes perfect sense to me.
We are much more like the dishonest manager than we would like to think. We are shrewd in our dealings making sure that we are safe and secure before thinking about anything else; before even thinking about God perhaps. And that’s when we realize that we’re trying to serve two masters.
Because we try this impossible task of serving two different masters, we get ourselves into trouble. We flit from one to the other; promising one that we’ll be obedient but tied to the 2nd one like a dog tethered out in the backyard. We run the risk of worshiping wealth in our culture, because it is so prevalent. And that’s bound to get in the way of our worshiping of God.
We have come to the time in our church life in which we are considering stewardship. We face budget difficulties in our congregation and faithfully pray that God will help us out…somehow…someway. You just have to look at the back of your bulletin to see our current state of financial affairs. With faith, we draw up budgets and seek out the assistance we need to carry out those budgets.
It has been said that budgets are moral documents. They point out what people think is important, what is seen as essential. We as individuals who make up the congregation are parts of that moral document. And as such, we are the support to those things that we see as important, as essential.
We cannot serve two masters, it’s true. We cannot serve our own wealth while we try to serve God. If increasing our own wealth is the consideration we take into our minds as we decide about stewardship, we are not serving God. That is a truth we have to take into account.
We have many ways to respond to requests for stewardship. We have our talents, our time as well as our financial resources with which we can respond. We cannot survive without members giving of all three of these categories; especially in a small church such as ours. Most of us give whole-heartedly in many ways. We give what we can and prayerfully think about how we might even add to that.
Each of us is important when it comes to this question of stewardship. Each of us must consider what we have and what we can give out of all of God’s gifts to us. We must recognize that we might be trying to serve two masters at one time. One is going to win and one will lose out. Which will it be?
16 September 2007
Luke 15:1-10
I hate to lose things. Of course, being who I am, I lose things…often. Too often. Way too often, I’m searching our apartment for that one important document that I know I put in a safe place which I just can’t remember. Or for a particular item that is the only one that will do what I need to do at the moment.
Of course, I don’t do this on purpose. I don’t hide things from myself deliberately; at least I think I don’t. Now my mother would say, “if you just put things where they belong…” But that’s the problem. Sometimes I forget where something belongs. Or I’ve put something in a logical spot and the spot changes. In short, I am no stranger to losing things.
So I suppose that today’s Gospel reading is made just for me. And those just like me. (And I’m sure there are a few of us around here.) It seems it, doesn’t it? A shepherd losing a sheep? A woman who misplaces one tenth of her wealth? What are these people thinking? Shepherd’s jobs are to keep track of sheep. That’s what they do. And a woman alone losing a coin is catastrophe. Who do these people think they are, losing valuable things like that?
Jesus is telling this parable, remember, to the Pharisees and scribes. They were complaining that Jesus is spending too much time with tax collectors and sinners. Of course, that’s what Jesus did. He spent time with the people on the fringes; those on the margins of their culture; the lost people as it were.
And he uses these same lost people, these marginalized folks of their society, in his parables. For here is a shepherd. Shepherds are the lowest of the low. They have a job that requires them to be out in all weather. They tend their group of sheep 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. They smell and they’re dirty and they just aren’t the type of people you’re supposed to care about.
Or a single woman. A single woman, for crying out loud. Who knows why she’s single or how she became single? There’s a hint that she has some money, but who knows how she got it? Who would care about a single woman in that culture? Or her money, for that matter.
But Jesus uses these outsiders as an example to those who are in the religious power in their society, those Pharisees and scribes. They would prefer, it seems, to ignore those who are not in the midst of religious purity. They don’t want to associate with tax collectors and other sinners, no doubt including shepherds and single women.
But Jesus uses them as an example. And they aren’t even the focus of the story. It’s the lost items which hold our attention. Those items that have been misplaced; or wandered off. Even the lowest of the low care about the lost items; more than the Pharisees and scribes, by inference.
Jesus talks about these lost items as precious things. Something you leave 99 sheep alone in the fold for; something you turn your house upside down for. Things that make you forget about everything else and seek out.
It’s just grace at its purest. The sheep and the coin aren’t repentant. They don’t even know they’re lost, perhaps. But they’re precious to someone; precious to the point of an all-out search. This coin, that sheep, is longed for by a woman with only 9 other coins; by a shepherd who has a whole flock of other sheep.
Our God, Jesus is telling us, goes to all lengths to seek us out. When we are lost or we are wandering away, God’s grace brings us back and joyfully celebrates at our return.
But I don’t think we’re actually meant to think we’re the lost items in these parables. We may at times be lost and wandering, but when it comes to coins and sheep, we are probably more like the 9 coins or the 99 sheep back in the fold.
So where does that leave us? Remember that Jesus is telling this story to the Pharisees and scribes in response to the charge that he hangs out with sinners too much. We’re more like the Pharisees and scribes of our day than we’d like to think. We’re the keepers of the faith; the ones who are working to preserve our religion as it is. And as such, we need to identify with the seeker of the lost items more than anything else.
We are called to go after the lost: those on the margins and the outcasts of our culture. We are called to be the shepherds and women of our own age, seeking after the lost so we can rejoice in their finding. We are called to be seekers; those who realize that there are those on the margins who need to hear about God’s grace and love.
We are God’s agents, just as those Pharisees and scribes were too; charged with keeping the faith, as it were. And as such, we must heed Jesus’ call to us to join him in being with the tax collectors and sinners of our age.
We have lots of outcasts in our society. Many are lost; too many are on the fringes. We have a predilection to draw boundaries around ourselves and those like us. But Jesus calls us to new ways of being; new ways of acting that include rather than exclude. Jesus calls us to seek out those who are out there and bring them in; including the lost.
Be the seekers our society needs. Be the shepherds who are looking for their sheep one sheep at a time; be the women who turn everything upside down in order to find one coin. And then rejoice. Don’t sit on your laurels, but celebrate. Celebrate with the God who also rejoices with you.
I hate to lose things. Of course, being who I am, I lose things…often. Too often. Way too often, I’m searching our apartment for that one important document that I know I put in a safe place which I just can’t remember. Or for a particular item that is the only one that will do what I need to do at the moment.
Of course, I don’t do this on purpose. I don’t hide things from myself deliberately; at least I think I don’t. Now my mother would say, “if you just put things where they belong…” But that’s the problem. Sometimes I forget where something belongs. Or I’ve put something in a logical spot and the spot changes. In short, I am no stranger to losing things.
So I suppose that today’s Gospel reading is made just for me. And those just like me. (And I’m sure there are a few of us around here.) It seems it, doesn’t it? A shepherd losing a sheep? A woman who misplaces one tenth of her wealth? What are these people thinking? Shepherd’s jobs are to keep track of sheep. That’s what they do. And a woman alone losing a coin is catastrophe. Who do these people think they are, losing valuable things like that?
Jesus is telling this parable, remember, to the Pharisees and scribes. They were complaining that Jesus is spending too much time with tax collectors and sinners. Of course, that’s what Jesus did. He spent time with the people on the fringes; those on the margins of their culture; the lost people as it were.
And he uses these same lost people, these marginalized folks of their society, in his parables. For here is a shepherd. Shepherds are the lowest of the low. They have a job that requires them to be out in all weather. They tend their group of sheep 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. They smell and they’re dirty and they just aren’t the type of people you’re supposed to care about.
Or a single woman. A single woman, for crying out loud. Who knows why she’s single or how she became single? There’s a hint that she has some money, but who knows how she got it? Who would care about a single woman in that culture? Or her money, for that matter.
But Jesus uses these outsiders as an example to those who are in the religious power in their society, those Pharisees and scribes. They would prefer, it seems, to ignore those who are not in the midst of religious purity. They don’t want to associate with tax collectors and other sinners, no doubt including shepherds and single women.
But Jesus uses them as an example. And they aren’t even the focus of the story. It’s the lost items which hold our attention. Those items that have been misplaced; or wandered off. Even the lowest of the low care about the lost items; more than the Pharisees and scribes, by inference.
Jesus talks about these lost items as precious things. Something you leave 99 sheep alone in the fold for; something you turn your house upside down for. Things that make you forget about everything else and seek out.
It’s just grace at its purest. The sheep and the coin aren’t repentant. They don’t even know they’re lost, perhaps. But they’re precious to someone; precious to the point of an all-out search. This coin, that sheep, is longed for by a woman with only 9 other coins; by a shepherd who has a whole flock of other sheep.
Our God, Jesus is telling us, goes to all lengths to seek us out. When we are lost or we are wandering away, God’s grace brings us back and joyfully celebrates at our return.
But I don’t think we’re actually meant to think we’re the lost items in these parables. We may at times be lost and wandering, but when it comes to coins and sheep, we are probably more like the 9 coins or the 99 sheep back in the fold.
So where does that leave us? Remember that Jesus is telling this story to the Pharisees and scribes in response to the charge that he hangs out with sinners too much. We’re more like the Pharisees and scribes of our day than we’d like to think. We’re the keepers of the faith; the ones who are working to preserve our religion as it is. And as such, we need to identify with the seeker of the lost items more than anything else.
We are called to go after the lost: those on the margins and the outcasts of our culture. We are called to be the shepherds and women of our own age, seeking after the lost so we can rejoice in their finding. We are called to be seekers; those who realize that there are those on the margins who need to hear about God’s grace and love.
We are God’s agents, just as those Pharisees and scribes were too; charged with keeping the faith, as it were. And as such, we must heed Jesus’ call to us to join him in being with the tax collectors and sinners of our age.
We have lots of outcasts in our society. Many are lost; too many are on the fringes. We have a predilection to draw boundaries around ourselves and those like us. But Jesus calls us to new ways of being; new ways of acting that include rather than exclude. Jesus calls us to seek out those who are out there and bring them in; including the lost.
Be the seekers our society needs. Be the shepherds who are looking for their sheep one sheep at a time; be the women who turn everything upside down in order to find one coin. And then rejoice. Don’t sit on your laurels, but celebrate. Celebrate with the God who also rejoices with you.
9 September 2007
Philemon 1-21
Don’t you love to get letters? I don’t mean junk mail and bills. I mean real mail: hand-addressed envelopes, a note inside from a loved one, words penned just to you. Of course, with email and the telephone so prominent these days, mail such as that has decreased. Now, I’m the last person who’s going to complain about email, so this sermon isn’t a complaint against modern communication methods. But I must say, there is something about going to the mailbox and finding a letter, a card, a note there that’s addressed to you.
Of course, for most of our human history, written letters were modern communication. For centuries, that’s how people at a distance communicated. Letters conveyed everything from negotiations between kingdoms to people expressing their love for each other. But even letter-writing was a luxury during certain periods of our history. Paper, ink and writing utensils were not as common as they are now. So letters, during these eras, were something extremely special.
And so it was during the first century, c.e. But spreading the message of the gospel of Jesus Christ was fortunately considered important enough. Thus we have a catalog of letters, mostly from Paul, to others about what it means to be Christian.
Today’s letter, which morphed into a book of the Bible, one of my favorite books, in fact, is no different. Corey read it pretty much in its entirety; there’s only a few closing verses missing. Paul wrote his letter to an important person, Philemon, about Onesimus. Onesimus is Philemon’s slave. Slavery was a common condition in the Greco-Roman world. In fact, it probably saved many people from starvation. But don’t get me wrong; for any positives of slavery, the negatives far outweighed them. Oddly, enough, this book, which deals with the slave Onesimus, was used by both sides of the slavery debate in our country’s history. Both pro- and anti-slavery proponents prior to and during the Civil War found it useful in their attempts to move good Christian folks to their side. But that’s getting ahead of my story.
Paul is in prison as he writes this letter. He has come in contact with Onesimus there. We don’t know how or why. Is Onesimus also a prisoner in jail with Paul? Or has he come to visit Paul in prison knowing Paul from Paul’s stopovers at Philemon’s house? Has Onesimus run away from Philemon’s household? We’ll never know the circumstances of their being together. But clearly Paul has a fond admiration of the slave, even going so far as to say Onesimus is his son.
Paul’s letter to Philemon is very personal. It’s a request that Philemon accept Onesimus back as a Christian brother. It’s that simple. There is disagreement among scholars and others though as to whether Paul is asking Philemon to free Onesimus. It’s a tricky thing, either way. But Paul is pointing out that Onesimus, as a fellow Christian, should have a special status with Philemon.
As I said, slavery was very common during this time. It was accepted as an economic fact of life. But there were roots of differences in the Jewish community, as Paul would have known. There were evidently rules that a Jew could not have another Jewish slave for life. There were conditions under which a Jewish slave would have to be released into freedom.
But in the Greco-Roman world, there were no such prohibitions. People, rich people, had slaves. It was a fact of life. Paul’s request, if indeed he was requesting that Philemon release Onesimus, was first of all rooted in Jewish law and secondly an odd request in the Roman world. But he made it nonetheless.
It may have been a bit of a surprise to Philemon when he read the letter. Is Paul meddling? Is he going where he shouldn’t go? Of course, Paul wouldn’t think so, because this is a matter of faith; of faith in Jesus Christ. Paul famously writes elsewhere that there is no more slave or free but all are equal under Jesus Christ. But to Philemon, a church leader, it created at the least undoubtedly some discomfort.
Because here was slavery, the status quo, on one hand,. And on the other hand was this new Christian way of being that may have been calling Philemon to a doing things a different way. Philemon was caught between two worlds; the old Roman way of being and the really new Christian behaviors, still a world that was being explored. Philemon probably never gave a thought about owning slaves until Paul’s letter arrived in his 1st century mailbox. Paul’s letter put a new perspective on everything in his world. The blinders came off and Philemon had to look anew at how things were done.
What in our culture might come under the same scrutiny if we stopped and looked at it through the lenses of our Christian faith? What might change if we actually took our faith completely seriously and applied it to our culture? What letter is going to arrive in our spiritual mailboxes that will change the way we look at things?
The place of women in the church and in our culture is one such example. Some of us believe that the Bible calls us to new understandings of the equality of the sexes. Now it’s not much of an issue for us in our congregation, perhaps. But there are plenty of congregations and entire denominations which still struggle with this issue. We’ve been called to pull off the blinders of sexism and recognize that women and men are equal under Jesus Christ. Just as Philemon was called to do with slavery in the person of Onesimus.
Perhaps we can count the struggle for the rights of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgendered people in this. Perhaps that’s something we have cultural blinders on and can’t see what we are called to do. It’s more difficult, for sure, but is it possible that Jesus Christ, through our Christian faith, is calling for a new way of being that explodes cultural understanding? Is it possible that the marriage issue, allowing people of the same gender who love each other to marry one another, is an issue for which our cultural blinders need to come off and we need to come to an new understanding of?
What other issues might we be blinded to? Of course, we can’t tell, because we are blinded by our culture. But what we have to be observant for are those letters—letters of and from our faith—that will guide us away from our culture and into a new faithful way of understanding. Once those letters arrive, in whatever form they might come, we must pay attention to them and heed them as if they were from Jesus himself.
Don’t you love to get mail—real letters that are for you—just for you? Watch for epistles of love that change the way you act, the way you behave. Watch for signs that the blinders need to come off and that the new is about to begin. Check your mailboxes.
Don’t you love to get letters? I don’t mean junk mail and bills. I mean real mail: hand-addressed envelopes, a note inside from a loved one, words penned just to you. Of course, with email and the telephone so prominent these days, mail such as that has decreased. Now, I’m the last person who’s going to complain about email, so this sermon isn’t a complaint against modern communication methods. But I must say, there is something about going to the mailbox and finding a letter, a card, a note there that’s addressed to you.
Of course, for most of our human history, written letters were modern communication. For centuries, that’s how people at a distance communicated. Letters conveyed everything from negotiations between kingdoms to people expressing their love for each other. But even letter-writing was a luxury during certain periods of our history. Paper, ink and writing utensils were not as common as they are now. So letters, during these eras, were something extremely special.
And so it was during the first century, c.e. But spreading the message of the gospel of Jesus Christ was fortunately considered important enough. Thus we have a catalog of letters, mostly from Paul, to others about what it means to be Christian.
Today’s letter, which morphed into a book of the Bible, one of my favorite books, in fact, is no different. Corey read it pretty much in its entirety; there’s only a few closing verses missing. Paul wrote his letter to an important person, Philemon, about Onesimus. Onesimus is Philemon’s slave. Slavery was a common condition in the Greco-Roman world. In fact, it probably saved many people from starvation. But don’t get me wrong; for any positives of slavery, the negatives far outweighed them. Oddly, enough, this book, which deals with the slave Onesimus, was used by both sides of the slavery debate in our country’s history. Both pro- and anti-slavery proponents prior to and during the Civil War found it useful in their attempts to move good Christian folks to their side. But that’s getting ahead of my story.
Paul is in prison as he writes this letter. He has come in contact with Onesimus there. We don’t know how or why. Is Onesimus also a prisoner in jail with Paul? Or has he come to visit Paul in prison knowing Paul from Paul’s stopovers at Philemon’s house? Has Onesimus run away from Philemon’s household? We’ll never know the circumstances of their being together. But clearly Paul has a fond admiration of the slave, even going so far as to say Onesimus is his son.
Paul’s letter to Philemon is very personal. It’s a request that Philemon accept Onesimus back as a Christian brother. It’s that simple. There is disagreement among scholars and others though as to whether Paul is asking Philemon to free Onesimus. It’s a tricky thing, either way. But Paul is pointing out that Onesimus, as a fellow Christian, should have a special status with Philemon.
As I said, slavery was very common during this time. It was accepted as an economic fact of life. But there were roots of differences in the Jewish community, as Paul would have known. There were evidently rules that a Jew could not have another Jewish slave for life. There were conditions under which a Jewish slave would have to be released into freedom.
But in the Greco-Roman world, there were no such prohibitions. People, rich people, had slaves. It was a fact of life. Paul’s request, if indeed he was requesting that Philemon release Onesimus, was first of all rooted in Jewish law and secondly an odd request in the Roman world. But he made it nonetheless.
It may have been a bit of a surprise to Philemon when he read the letter. Is Paul meddling? Is he going where he shouldn’t go? Of course, Paul wouldn’t think so, because this is a matter of faith; of faith in Jesus Christ. Paul famously writes elsewhere that there is no more slave or free but all are equal under Jesus Christ. But to Philemon, a church leader, it created at the least undoubtedly some discomfort.
Because here was slavery, the status quo, on one hand,. And on the other hand was this new Christian way of being that may have been calling Philemon to a doing things a different way. Philemon was caught between two worlds; the old Roman way of being and the really new Christian behaviors, still a world that was being explored. Philemon probably never gave a thought about owning slaves until Paul’s letter arrived in his 1st century mailbox. Paul’s letter put a new perspective on everything in his world. The blinders came off and Philemon had to look anew at how things were done.
What in our culture might come under the same scrutiny if we stopped and looked at it through the lenses of our Christian faith? What might change if we actually took our faith completely seriously and applied it to our culture? What letter is going to arrive in our spiritual mailboxes that will change the way we look at things?
The place of women in the church and in our culture is one such example. Some of us believe that the Bible calls us to new understandings of the equality of the sexes. Now it’s not much of an issue for us in our congregation, perhaps. But there are plenty of congregations and entire denominations which still struggle with this issue. We’ve been called to pull off the blinders of sexism and recognize that women and men are equal under Jesus Christ. Just as Philemon was called to do with slavery in the person of Onesimus.
Perhaps we can count the struggle for the rights of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgendered people in this. Perhaps that’s something we have cultural blinders on and can’t see what we are called to do. It’s more difficult, for sure, but is it possible that Jesus Christ, through our Christian faith, is calling for a new way of being that explodes cultural understanding? Is it possible that the marriage issue, allowing people of the same gender who love each other to marry one another, is an issue for which our cultural blinders need to come off and we need to come to an new understanding of?
What other issues might we be blinded to? Of course, we can’t tell, because we are blinded by our culture. But what we have to be observant for are those letters—letters of and from our faith—that will guide us away from our culture and into a new faithful way of understanding. Once those letters arrive, in whatever form they might come, we must pay attention to them and heed them as if they were from Jesus himself.
Don’t you love to get mail—real letters that are for you—just for you? Watch for epistles of love that change the way you act, the way you behave. Watch for signs that the blinders need to come off and that the new is about to begin. Check your mailboxes.
2 September 2007
Luke 14:1, 7-14
The theme, this past July, of the General Assembly of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), was “Share the Feast.” Picking up on that theme, the Gay/Lesbian and Affirming Disciples Alliance (GLAD) selected their own theme of “Jesus’ Diner.” “Jesus’ Diner—Always Open, All God’s Children Served” was the slogan. Of course, the GLAD booth didn’t serve any meals but the theme was carried through. “Jesus Diner” reminded us that Jesus would serve anyone. No need for those “We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone” signs that you see everywhere. No indeed not. Jesus is not going to exclude anyone from his diner. That’s what we believe at least.
And it’s supported by today’s gospel lesson from Luke. Jesus gives some etiquette lessons in our reading today; some thoughts about how to behave when you’re both a guest and a host at a dinner. Jesus knows that things are really awry when it comes to meals in his time and works to set that aright.
The scriptures are full of meals and rules about eating. Jesus’ proclamations just add to them. From the wandering Israelites receiving manna in the desert, to the Jewish dietary laws, to Jesus’ many meals described in the gospels, to what we call the Last Supper through to the urging of Paul to share meals with the poor in the epistles, we find food throughout the Bible. It’s clearly an important topic. And Jesus just adds to that importance today.
Jesus is invited to a meal with a leader of the Pharisees in today’s passage. And he was being watched closely as they already had it in for him, it seems. He got to the meal and saw the guests all jockeying for positions of honor at the table. Jesus told them that It’s better to aim low, sitting at a position of less honor and be brought up than aim high and be shot down. Jesus turns this into a life lesson at the end by saying, “for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
As he was giving these instructions to the guests, no doubt the host was there glad that he had escaped notice and wasn’t included in Jesus’ teachings this day. But then Jesus turned to him and gave out a lesson that is for all hosts. Don’t make your meals a cause for return and repayment. Don’t invite over people who will repay you in kind for your meals. Instead invite in “the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.” In other words, invite people who don’t have the ability to repay you. Invite in those whose resources are less than yours. Don’t do it necessarily as an act of charity, but because you will be repaid at the resurrection, according to Jesus.
Do we take this hosting advice seriously today? I know in our household, we do so little hosting, that when we do, repayment is the last thing on our minds. But we don’t exactly go out to Haight Street and invite in the homeless who throng that thoroughfare. I doubt most of us would do so either though.
But I’m actually more concerned about another time of hosting. What about that meal that is served here every week, week after week? We don’t technically host it, but we certainly control the guest list to this meal. Of course, I’m talking about the meal in which we’re about to partake: the holy meal that sums up everything about eating that’s in the Bible; communion; the lord’s supper; the eucharist.
What does our communion meal look like? Is it set up for those who can repay us? Or do we invite in those who don’t have the resources to return in kind to us? We proclaim that we celebrate an open table; anyone can participate in this meal with us. Nothing will bar someone who wishes to sup with us; not economic status, nor class, nor race, nor age, nor gender, nor sexual orientation, nor physical ability, nor mental capacity nor anything else. Nothing, we proclaim is a bar to this table.
That’s all well and good but do we actually invite others to dine with us? Do we actually take the time to say to someone who may have been rejected elsewhere, “Come, dine with us at this holy meal.”? “Come to this meal, where you will find God’s love and Jesus’ companionship.” Are we open and invitational when it comes to others, not like ourselves perhaps?
A few weeks ago, when our visioning committee met, we spoke of being a bridge; a bridge between the haves and have-nots of this community, of the peninsula. We could see ourselves reaching out on both sides: to those without resources who have great need and to those who have those very resources that others lack.
We have to be more than just open to others joining us. We have to be an invitational church. We have to go out and bid people in. We have to find those who don’t know how hungry they are for this meal and request their presence in our midst.
And we do so not expecting repayment. We aren’t called to do so to swell our worship attendance, a reason I very well could be guilty of wanting. We aren’t called to do so so our budget will balance. We aren’t called to do so for any earthly reason. But we are called to do so for heavenly reasons.
Because Jesus himself invites those we might pass by to this meal. We are called to ask others who aren’t like us to come to this holy repast as Jesus’ voice. We must do so because it is Jesus’ meal and we are merely the conduits through which the invitation is expressed.
We are given opportunities to know God’s love and welcome acceptance each and every week. We can’t keep it to ourselves. We must invite others to know this love and acceptance. It is our call. It is our responsibility.
We have to be “Jesus’ Diner—Always open, All God’s Children Served.”
The theme, this past July, of the General Assembly of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), was “Share the Feast.” Picking up on that theme, the Gay/Lesbian and Affirming Disciples Alliance (GLAD) selected their own theme of “Jesus’ Diner.” “Jesus’ Diner—Always Open, All God’s Children Served” was the slogan. Of course, the GLAD booth didn’t serve any meals but the theme was carried through. “Jesus Diner” reminded us that Jesus would serve anyone. No need for those “We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone” signs that you see everywhere. No indeed not. Jesus is not going to exclude anyone from his diner. That’s what we believe at least.
And it’s supported by today’s gospel lesson from Luke. Jesus gives some etiquette lessons in our reading today; some thoughts about how to behave when you’re both a guest and a host at a dinner. Jesus knows that things are really awry when it comes to meals in his time and works to set that aright.
The scriptures are full of meals and rules about eating. Jesus’ proclamations just add to them. From the wandering Israelites receiving manna in the desert, to the Jewish dietary laws, to Jesus’ many meals described in the gospels, to what we call the Last Supper through to the urging of Paul to share meals with the poor in the epistles, we find food throughout the Bible. It’s clearly an important topic. And Jesus just adds to that importance today.
Jesus is invited to a meal with a leader of the Pharisees in today’s passage. And he was being watched closely as they already had it in for him, it seems. He got to the meal and saw the guests all jockeying for positions of honor at the table. Jesus told them that It’s better to aim low, sitting at a position of less honor and be brought up than aim high and be shot down. Jesus turns this into a life lesson at the end by saying, “for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
As he was giving these instructions to the guests, no doubt the host was there glad that he had escaped notice and wasn’t included in Jesus’ teachings this day. But then Jesus turned to him and gave out a lesson that is for all hosts. Don’t make your meals a cause for return and repayment. Don’t invite over people who will repay you in kind for your meals. Instead invite in “the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.” In other words, invite people who don’t have the ability to repay you. Invite in those whose resources are less than yours. Don’t do it necessarily as an act of charity, but because you will be repaid at the resurrection, according to Jesus.
Do we take this hosting advice seriously today? I know in our household, we do so little hosting, that when we do, repayment is the last thing on our minds. But we don’t exactly go out to Haight Street and invite in the homeless who throng that thoroughfare. I doubt most of us would do so either though.
But I’m actually more concerned about another time of hosting. What about that meal that is served here every week, week after week? We don’t technically host it, but we certainly control the guest list to this meal. Of course, I’m talking about the meal in which we’re about to partake: the holy meal that sums up everything about eating that’s in the Bible; communion; the lord’s supper; the eucharist.
What does our communion meal look like? Is it set up for those who can repay us? Or do we invite in those who don’t have the resources to return in kind to us? We proclaim that we celebrate an open table; anyone can participate in this meal with us. Nothing will bar someone who wishes to sup with us; not economic status, nor class, nor race, nor age, nor gender, nor sexual orientation, nor physical ability, nor mental capacity nor anything else. Nothing, we proclaim is a bar to this table.
That’s all well and good but do we actually invite others to dine with us? Do we actually take the time to say to someone who may have been rejected elsewhere, “Come, dine with us at this holy meal.”? “Come to this meal, where you will find God’s love and Jesus’ companionship.” Are we open and invitational when it comes to others, not like ourselves perhaps?
A few weeks ago, when our visioning committee met, we spoke of being a bridge; a bridge between the haves and have-nots of this community, of the peninsula. We could see ourselves reaching out on both sides: to those without resources who have great need and to those who have those very resources that others lack.
We have to be more than just open to others joining us. We have to be an invitational church. We have to go out and bid people in. We have to find those who don’t know how hungry they are for this meal and request their presence in our midst.
And we do so not expecting repayment. We aren’t called to do so to swell our worship attendance, a reason I very well could be guilty of wanting. We aren’t called to do so so our budget will balance. We aren’t called to do so for any earthly reason. But we are called to do so for heavenly reasons.
Because Jesus himself invites those we might pass by to this meal. We are called to ask others who aren’t like us to come to this holy repast as Jesus’ voice. We must do so because it is Jesus’ meal and we are merely the conduits through which the invitation is expressed.
We are given opportunities to know God’s love and welcome acceptance each and every week. We can’t keep it to ourselves. We must invite others to know this love and acceptance. It is our call. It is our responsibility.
We have to be “Jesus’ Diner—Always open, All God’s Children Served.”
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