Moving On Up – Sermon on Aug 29, 2010
August 29, 2010
Scripture: 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. When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. “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; and 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. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he 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. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” He 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. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”
Sermon: Moving On Up Rev. Doreen Oughton
What a strange Gospel reading today. It comes just about in the middle of Luke’s gospel. Jesus has been healing and teaching and preaching. He’s been challenging the status quo, especially the way the religious leaders are doing things. Yet he hasn’t completely alienated these religious leaders, at least not all of them, at least not yet. In the passage that comes just before this one, some Pharisees even warn him that Herod is fixing to kill him, and maybe he should get out of town. And here he is off to have a Sabbath meal at the home of a Pharisee. He is one of several guests, at least. The host must have considered him to be of a similar social status, or Jesus never would have been invited. Social gatherings, and meals especially, were loaded with meaning in first century Palestine. They sent messages about honor and shame and power and political standing.
And so Jesus’ social standing among the Pharisees must have still been intact, though probably suspect, as we are told by Luke that “they” were watching him closely. Jesus was likewise watching them closely. Were they watching him out of a sense of protection for their own social standing? Were they trying to determine if he was or would become a real mover and shaker, someone it might behoove them to befriend? Or is it even possible that they were trying to learn from him, not just learn more about him? And we can infer that not everyone was watching Jesus. Some were on the lookout for VIP’s at the dinner. Who was more important than who? Jesus observes them moving about, striving to put themselves in a noteworthy place, maneuvering to show their own sense of importance. And then he tells a “parable.” Funny. What he says sounds less like a parable to me than outright advice. And I wonder who he tells it to. Does he pause as he is walking past these VIP seats to share his parable? Or is he preaching to the choir so to speak, joining in a mutual eye roll as he and the other guests at out-lying tables connect around how clever they are to play it this way. And his parable seems directed at helping people maintain their sense of honor, helping them avoid embarrassment and shame. It’s a different way of maneuvering than what is happening at this party he’s at, but, still, it seems to be about the same thing. Ultimately, the goal is to be exalted one way or another. He says that those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.
Luke’s gospel more than any other focuses on this type of reversal. Jesus’ mother Mary, upon her pregnancy, sings to her cousin Elizabeth that God has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. Jesus wants to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. But is that what it’s all about – trading places? Being invited to move up, or even seizing a position of power, deposing those in power now? These might have been the words Jesus spoke, but his death on the cross gives a different message. His death on the cross tells us it’s a whole different game, not one of trading places, of continuing the fight for power over, for prestige and status, for the systems of quid pro quo. How difficult it must have been to try to put the message of the cross into words that the people could understand. I don’t know if it could be done with our limitations in understanding. And so Jesus just kept coming at it with parables, with shocking table-turning statements to get our attention, with words that could really only point to his message rather than lay it out clearly and fully.
So let’s try to unpack this a little more. This reading from Luke, and the other readings suggested in the lectionary have the common thread of issues of pride versus humility. Now this topic is one of those tricky, trying to pick up a snake ones, where if you don’t grab it in the right spot, it will turn and bite you. One of my favorite definitions of humility is having a right-sized sense of self. Now there might be some who will assert that in following Jesus it is best to have no sense of self, it is best to be self-less. Personally, I disagree. I think it is important to be self-sacrificing and self-giving, but you can’t give or sacrifice that which you don’t have. And I think in developing this sense of self it is predictable and understandable that it couldn’t always be right-sized. Just in the maturation process it will be sometimes too big, and sometimes too small. Children with attentive care naturally go through a phase of ego-centricity, believing themselves to be the center of everything. Getting out in the larger world sometimes puts that notion to bed, but not always.
Most of us will be familiar with some of Jesus’ teachings on such ego-centricity. Love your neighbor as yourself; love your enemy; turn the other cheek; if someone tries to take your coat, give him your shirt as well. Forgive seventy times seven times, become one. To be concerned only with yourself, with getting ahead, with your own comfort and pleasure regardless of the consequences to anyone or anything else, well Jesus says that that is not where the kindom lies. God’s beloved community, he says, is among us and between us as well as within us.
So what would be the problem if people gave no thought to themselves, had a very small sense of self? One commentator noted three risks of this mind-set. The first is the risk of sloth. If you believe you are nothing, you may believe you can do nothing, and so you do nothing. The second risk is self- abdication or idolatry. You don’t care for yourself, but turn your well-being over to others, sometimes focusing on another to the point of idolatry, making another person your god. The third risk is of despair, to let go of hope that God is working in your life, calling you to fullness. And it dishonors the inherent worth of a being created out of God’s love.
It is a tricky balance, a right-sized sense of self. I love the quote from Ben Franklin: “If I ever achieved humility no doubt I would become proud of it.” The gospel story talks about people taking places of honor, of wanting to be noticed, and I wondered if I stand somewhat convicted by this parable. You see I like to be noticed. I thrive on attention. It feels to me like the warmth of the sun beckoning me to stretch towards it and grow. When someone recognizes something true and real about me, it is a gift, it makes me feel closer to them. I only have my own perspective, but this does not feel wrong or destructive or selfish to me. I suspect that everyone needs to be seen and noticed, at least by the people that are important to them. Even the people I know who are more shy, who don’t like to be center-stage, who prefer to be unnoticed in crowds, still want to be seen truly and deeply. They might grow better in the shadows than in the bright light, but they still need nurture and tending. So I think the parable is not told against the need or desire for some attention, but against the hierarchical status seeking.
I wonder if a better definition of humility is having not a right-sized sense of self, but a right-sourced sense of self, an understanding of our value not by other people’s estimation, or even by our own efforts to contribute value to the world, but by virtue of being a child of God. When we truly get this, it doesn’t matter how other people esteem us. It doesn’t matter if we sit in places of honor. It doesn’t matter if we are not working constantly to solve the problems of the world. We trust our worth and value because we trust God’s love. We know it is not limited in quantity, so we don’t have to compete with others for it.
We don’t have to act like we know more, or even really know more than others. We don’t have to earn or prove our worth by working ourselves without rest. We don’t have to solve the world’s problems. In fact, it could be that striving to do so is not right-sourced. Consider Jesus’ teaching on how to be a good guest in terms of mission work. If you go as a visitor to another culture and you seek a place of honor by providing the answers, assuming you know what is best, exalting yourself and your ways, well, destruction will likely prevail as it did with colonialism. But if you go presuming nothing, accepting that you have no privilege in another’s community, have nothing to offer but what is asked of you, and nothing to receive except what is given, this is incarnational ministry. This is how the good news is shared, by turning over to God the how and when of change. We trust God’s ways and timing and resources. Our mission is to show up, to be responsive and open.
I was intrigued to learn that back in the wild west, when stagecoach was the main form of transportation, there was class seating, just like with airlines today. The coaches only held about 6 people, and the actual physical seats were all the same, but you could buy a ticket based on what was expected of you if the coach ran into trouble. If you bought a first-class ticket, nothing was expected of you and you were allowed to stay in the coach no matter what. If you traveled second class, and the coach had trouble, you were expected to get out of the coach while the problem was addressed. Maybe there is a steep incline or a mud bog to deal with. First class person can sit in the coach, second class has to step out and stay out of the way, or maybe walk alongside until the coach was unimpeded. And the third coach person, well, they not only had to get out of the coach when there was a problem, but they also had to join the driver and do whatever had to be done so that the vehicle could either get through the mud or get up the hill. Part of their fare was in sweat equity. When I read this it occurred to me that God always travels third class. God always takes at least partial responsibility for getting things going again when there is a problem. Can you even imagine a god who would stay in the carriage, or a god who would stand aside, disinvested? How about our travel through this world? Are we going first class, hanging out in comfort waiting for the problems to be taken care, our comfort actually impeding the problem resolution? Are we in second class, doing our best to stay out of the way, but contributing nothing positive to keep things moving? Or will we travel with God in third class, taking responsibility, investing ourselves along with the driver. Actually I guess God would be the driver, not a passenger at all.
And what does all this mean for us here at FCC? Who do we invite to join us, whether overtly or with more subtle messages? Do we reach out to people who are like us, who have something to offer so that we are rewarded and paid back? Or do we take Jesus’ suggestion to reach out to those who are different, who are on the fringes, who might cause people to raise an eyebrow about what is going on here? What would that look like anyway? I don’t have answers, but I hope we can keep considering these questions together. One of the things I adore about this place is that I see a whole lot of third class passengers, people who are invested – body, heart and soul – in making this a Good News church. People fixing the leaks, preparing the food, washing the dishes, mowing the lawn, listening with love. So as we seek to grow and stretch, let’s help each other remain right-sourced. This is God’s church, and we are gathered together to help move the kindom along. We can trust God’s timing and resources,joined with our own. May it be so.
