[Pentecost+15] invite those who cannot repay you

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 [Jesus] closely.

When [Jesus] noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, [Jesus] 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, [the 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. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted."

Jesus said also to the one who had invited [Jesus], "When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your [siblings] 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."

Luke 14:1, 7-14 (NRSV, alt.)

Beloved, what spoke to you in this passage?

When Reebee preached on Sunday, she said that in the Kin(g)dom of God, there are no pecking orders, no hierarchy -- "all of us have general admission seating at this banquet -- we are all here on grace."

This seems to me a bit of an ironic message to take from this passage, the first half of which seems to be Jesus saying, "Here's how to game the system so you look the best in front of everyone." I know it's supposed to be about cultivating humility (and certainly the people who put together the Sunday lectionary seemed to have as their themes: nay on pride, yay on hospitality), but that's not how it feels to me.

Someone at Bible study pointed out that Jesus is eating at the house of a Pharisee -- and is being watched closely. The Pharisees were religious authorities, experts in the law, and Jesus is frequently criticizing them for their sense of self-importance (things I learned in prooftexting for this blogpost: the Woes of the Pharisees is a thing).

Jesus knows the Pharisees want to look good in front of everyone -- and that they think they deserve the places of honor. (See also the parable of the Pharisee and the publican in Luke 18:9-14.) So perhaps Jesus is starting with something they value, a system they understand, and using it as a way in to the radical re-ordering of God's Way. (We wondered at Bible study whether there's a contemporary equivalent to this tiered seating with status implications -- all the examples I could think of were ones where people pay extra money for better seats -- so if people have ideas, please let me know.)

Even if the Pharisees only fake humility, is there value to checking one's ego at least visibly? Does behaving as if something is true eventually lead to it actually being true? And I hasten to add that I know some of us have been conditioned to lower ourselves to an unhealthy degree, and that's not what God's asking for either. Our former Minister of Outreach and Evangelism, Laura Ruth, used to talk about being right-sized with God -- we are called to be neither greater nor lesser than the particular, unique, bright, brilliant, beloved, children God created each one of us to be.

Jesus is frequently talking about how intentions matter, not just actions (e.g., lusting in one's heart -- Matthew 5:27-28) and explicitly critiques the Pharisees for this -- in the evocative language: "You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead and everything unclean" (Matthew 23:27). So for all that this "advice" feels to me like an exhortation to gaming the system, I think that when read within the context of Jesus' teachings, the statement here that "all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted" includes the way we exalt and humble ourselves in our hearts.

In our discussion, someone mentioned the story of Jesus washing the disciple's feet. I also thought of the story in which Jesus asks, "who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves?" (Luke 22:27a). Hearing that question, I, primed with certain ideas about Jesus, always expect the answer to be "the one who serves" -- but Jesus says, "Is it not the one who is at the table? But I am among you as one who serves" (Luke 22:27b).

Jesus rejects the ways that the world orders and values things -- and reminds us of God's alternative Way.

Someone mentioned that this story of moving people's seats around feels much like the (uncomfortable) reward/punishment model of Hell from last week, and I think that's a fair critique. However, as someone committed to wrenching Good News even out of really difficult passages, I'm sympathetic to the reading that Jesus is using our context to reach us, to point to something different by using the framework of the familiar.

Jesus said also to the one who had invited [Jesus], "When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your [siblings] 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."

Luke 14:12-14

Sunday afternoon, I posted to facebook: "I understand that the poor and the disabled are disempowered by society in many ways, but I still wince every time we fail to trouble the assertion (Luke 14:13-14) that they are incapable of repaying hospitality."

At Bible study on Tuesday, someone shared the comment that Jesus' statement assumes that the disabled etc. aren't already your e.g. relatives. This Othering points to a problem inherent in the Welcome model -- it assumes that those we desire (perhaps somewhat self-congratulatorily) to welcome aren't already present among us, that there is a clear Us and Them. And, of course, as the previous critique brings up, it places Us as hosts of the banquet, as those who have something to give/share. (Reebee's encouragement to hear this story as both the host and the unexpected guest may be helpful here -- to remind us that we are all guests by grace at Christ's table, that all the good gifts we have ultimately originate from God's generosity and not from our own merits.)

That said... For all that Jesus is often concerned for the most vulnerable, I don't think that this piece of advice is aimed at the aid of particular populations so much as it is an exhortation to be generous, to not give with expectation of return.

In talking about the practice of inviting those who can't repay, someone mentioned the Monday night suppers that are hosted here in this building. I commented that yes we practice this in various ways as organizations/institutions, but how often do we do it as individuals? To which someone brought up the obvious counter that it isn't necessarily safe for us to just invite strangers into our homes. I recalled one of our previous Bible study conversations about how to respond to people on the street who ask us for money, and I mentioned the practice that some people have of offering to buy that person some food -- and to sit with them for a meal. No, not everyone's going to take us up on that offer (and some introverts like me might experience it more as a burdensome condition of the gift than a generous expansion of the gift), but it is one way to live out our call to genuine relationship, to not be detached dispensers of "charity" but to truly encounter Christ in the Other.

On The Hardest Question this week, Lauren Winner said:

For many of us in the grocery store, it is relatives—non-cooking spouses, and most especially children—who do not invite us back. Perhaps our children and spouses are not in the category of the poor or the sick (though of course they might be), but there is a still a reality that day-in, day-out one is cooking for them – cooking for people who may well never host you, for people who may never thank you. You are cooking for them night after night, these relatives who are in fact your nearest neighbors, and who sometimes feel like your most intrusive guests. Those people who are at your table most often, but who are also – maddeningly? blessedly?—exempt from the normal guest-host code that would imply a return invitation.

Perhaps one way we can obey Jesus' commandment doesn't even require opening up our tables but merely our hearts -- to let go of some of our expectations of reciprocity, to let go of the mental scorecard of who "owes" us what.

And as someone pointed out in Bible study, this calculus isn't limited to a desire for repayment -- how many times have any of us aimed to ingratiate ourselves with someone with the primary goal of benefiting ourselves in some way beyond enjoyment of that particular person's companionship?

So, Beloved, what speaks to you in this passage?

In what ways do you feel Jesus pushing you out of your comfort zone?

Is the reminder that God's abundant banquet is open to all, even those who cannot repay it (who, if God is the host, are all of us), comforting?

Do the attempts to make these passages Good News satisfy you?

(As always, you're invited to comment anonymously/pseudonymously if you prefer.)