Pentecost 13, Year C, 2001

Trinity Cathedral, Trenton, NJ

Readings: Luke 14:1, 7-14

It's dinner time,
and the guests are settling themselves at the table. One by one
they find a place to sit,
checking out the other guests,
looking to see who else is there,
and then carefully choosing
a seat which will not only give them
interesting conversation partners
and good table service,
but will place them in a position of visibility
and prominence.
They are uniformly well dressed,
sober suits, crisply pressed shirts
and well shined shoes,
and a scattering of elegant older women,
pearls and diamonds at the ready.

And in the end
there is just one seat left, right by the door,
just around the corner from the restrooms.
There's not a lot of point worrying about conversation partners there -
between the clanging of pans in the kitchen
the flushing of the toilets
and the clatter of garbage cans out in the alley,
there's not much chance to hear anything softer than a shout.

It's a familiar scene,
whether at a political convention,
or a celebratory dinner
and nothing
strikes us as unusual.

Until we see the host,
looking a little uncomfortable. He whispers to the man sitting beside him,
the one in the pinstriped suit and paisley tie,
flashing a large gold ring,
who in turn flushes a deep beetroot color.

The slowly
he pushes back his chair, stands up
and begins to walk
towards the back of the room,
the host
just ahead of him.

The empty chair
by the door
has been filled now.
A young guy, in khakis and a t-shirt-
clean enough,
but a little bit scruffy..
Those who had noticed him
had presumed he was a last minute ring-in,
some junior employee or student intern
invited to make up the numbers,
who hadn't had the chance - or perhaps the social finesse -
to get home and change.
He doesn't look
very comfortable.

And it is in his direction
that the host is heading,
with the man in the pinstriped suit
trailing awkwardly
behind him.

Every eye is on them, when the host reaches the young man,
claps him on the shoulder,
and leads him back
to the head of the table,
while the man in the pinstriped suit
humiliated
sits in the recently vacated seat
right there
by the back door.

Jesus said "All who exalt themselves will be humbled,
and all who humble themselves
will be exalted."

Being humble
is not something
we talk about very often, even in church.
Largely, I suspect, because its hard to know what to say.
Even the dictionary struggles - under "humble," it tells us
"not proud or haughty, not arrogant or assertive."
Which tells us what it's not, but not a lot
about what it is.

And perhaps that's why
when Jesus wanted to talk about humility
he told a story.
It's something to do
with not grabbing hold
of the best for yourself,
not thinking too highly of yourself.

But I wonder
how literally
Jesus meant us to take this story.
Did he really mean it to be
an elementary lesson
on Christian etiquette,
or was it something else
altogether?

I would give anything
to have seen Jesus' face that night,
as he sat around the dinner table
with the religious leaders
and their honored guests,
and told this story.
Was he stern
and serious,
speaking words of great weight?
Or was there a flicker
in his eyes, a hint of a smile,
as if this is almost
a joke.

Because no matter how you turn it,
if you take this story
as a simple ethical lesson,
you just can't win.
Because is you take the best place,
you're condemned for your pride,
and banished to the worst,
but
if you know the story, and deliberately choose the worst place,
in the hope of being lifted higher,
then you might as well have taken the best place,
because you still think
you deserve it.
It's pride
either way, and either way
you lose.

So what was Jesus talking about?
Etiquette?
I think not.
I think
he was talking about
the kingdom of God.

The kingdom of God
is something
that Jesus talks about
a lot.
The kingdom of God
is like a mustard seed;
the kingdom of God
is like yeast.
And the kingdom of God
is like a banquet
where all the usual rules of etiquette are suspended.
Important guests
get seated last
and beggars and the poor
are treated as honored guests.
Some people
are too busy to attend,
and others
are so desperately hungry
that they'd be happy
just to get the scraps.
But the invitation
is for everyone. It doesn't matter
whether you're rich or poor,
whether you think you should be sitting at the top table with the host
or by the back door, listening to the kitchen noises.
It doesn't matter, because there's nothing
we have done
or can do
which will earn us an invitation, because
we're all invited.
And once we're there, there will be more than enough food
for everyone,
and we'll no longer care
where it is
we are sitting.
Because we'll be in the presence of God;
Christ himself
will be our host
That's
the kingdom of God.

But the kingdom of God
is not just about
some heavenly banquet
way off in the future.
The kingdom of God
as Jesus explains it
is beginning right now,
here among us.

Because at the same time
as he is talking about that heavenly banquet
Jesus is talking
about life here and now.
The Kingdom of God has come near,
was what John the Baptist had proclaimed,
and with the advent of Jesus
it has arrived.
"When is the kingdom of God coming?"
the Pharisees asked him, not long after he told this story.
And he answered,
"The kingdom of God is among you."

"Your kingdom come"
we pray every week, every day,
"your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven."
On earth as it is in heaven.
What we do
here on earth
is to be a mirror,
a foreshadowing
of that heavenly kingdom,
that heavenly banquet.

And so Jesus follows up
his story
of the humbled guest
with advice
to his host.
"When you give a meal," he said,
"don't invite your friends or your family, or that neighbor you just met who
might be able to get you a good deal,
when you give a meal
drive over to the nursing home
and invite a couple of the folks
who have no family,
go to the train station
and invite someone who looks like they need a good meal,
walk down the block
and invite everyone you see.
They won't be able to repay you
but that's what its all about.
Because you know
there's room for you
in God's kingdom,
there's room for you
at God's banquet.
There's room for you all.

God's kingdom
is among us
as the hungry are fed
and the lifted up
and the humble
are exalted,
as the first
become last
and the last become first,
as the Christ is made known
through the people called by his name,
Christ who came not to be served
but to serve,
and to give his life
as a ransom for many - us included.

We worship
amidst grandeur
and there's a lot of pressure
to live up to it.
We have a particular role to play
in this diocese,
and sometimes that can weigh heavy on us.
Sometimes
it means
that we forget what we are about,
and get busy
trying to sit in the best seat at the table,
just so that everyone knows
how important we are.
It's nice to be successful,
it feels safe to be secure.
But in the end
what really counts
is whether we have been people of faith,
following our Savior,
not to be served, but to serve,
and to give our lives
to bringing about
God's kingdom on earth.
Because if one person is fed,
one person knows hope,
one person discovers love,
then God's kingdom is among us,
and there's room
for us all,
now
and forever.

Raewynne J. Whiteley
2 September 2001