God Manners
September 2, 2007

 

A sermon by

Lynda Clark

 

 

          It is so good to be back with you this morning and I am looking forward to a wonderful semester working with our youth, our youth advisors and having Laura to mentor me along.  I don’t know about you but the summer flew by for me.  I worked for the Pacific School of Religion summers session, where I got to be “Vanna White” for Bishop John Spong, passing the microphone around as he led lively and thought-provoking discussions regarding his latest book, “Jesus for the Non-Religious.”  I also took a two-week course called Buddhism in America where I learned about the diversity of Buddhist practices, engaged in meditation and chanted sacred texts.  My favorite experience, though, happened after the meditation and chanting, when priests, teachers and students gathered around a low table to share tea, fruit and conversation.  It was over this simple meal that we really began to know one another.  Being at table with one another created an atmosphere of openness, community and welcome.

          The writer of the Gospel of Luke understood the importance of a shared meal and “table talk.”  Throughout this Gospel we find instances of shared meals as a metaphor for what the kin-dom of God is like.  If some eat and some don’t – then the kingdom is not present.  Shared meals among the Christian faithful were a cornerstone of the emerging church’s life together and the real test of whether the church exemplified the kingdom was found in who was invited to the table – and who was not.  And in today’s gospel text Jesus takes guests and hosts to task with parables about humility and inclusion at table.

          Set against the vision of a kingdom of God where everyone is included at the table were the social conventions of Jesus’ day (and truth be told it may not be a whole lot different in our own day).  Meals were important social ceremonies and it was significant where one ate, with whom one ate, whether one washed before eating, and where one sat to eat.  All of these conventions determined one’s social position.  It was part and parcel of the social order that one know one’s place, - one’s proper status in life.

As an example of this hierarchy, Pliny the Younger in one of his letters described the behavior of the host at a banquet where he was the honored guest.  There were three carafes of wine on the table.  This might indicate that there were three kinds of wine so the guests could choose which they liked the best.  But that was not the case.  The first carafe was reserved for Pliny, the guest of honor, and his host – it was the finest of wines and not a drop of it went to anyone else.  The second carafe was a mediocre wine – the equivalent of the boxed wine you can pick up at your local Safeway – and this was for the host’s second tier friends.  And the third carafe was really bad – even lower on the totem pole of wines than Thunderbird – and it was for the servants.

          Banquets such as these, where Pliny was the guest of honor and the one where we find Jesus dining in the home of a Pharisee, were common and Philosophers and teachers were often invited in order to impart their wisdom.  But I have to say, if I were hosting a banquet, I’d think long and hard about inviting Jesus.  He’s not exactly the model guest is he?  Full of advice for guests and hosts, he’s likely to say something outrageous and a total conversation stopper like “For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”  Or, “when you give a banquet invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.”  His wisdom simply did not comport with the social and religious conventions of the day.  And not comporting with them had earned him a reputation as a trouble maker.  And make no mistake, they were watching him – watching him to see if he would observe the Sabbath properly.

          But Jesus had his eyes on THEM – He watched as they guests scrambled to find the best seat in the house , the most prominent, the one of greatest honor – or as close to it as they can get.  There’s a little shoving, a little pushing, a little jockeying for position.  And in response, Jesus tells them “an earthly story with a heavenly meaning” – also known as a parable.  Make no mistake, His words for guests are more than a Miss Manners social etiquette lesson.  He teaches what the seating arrangements will be like in the Kin-dom of Heaven “For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” 

          I think that as much as we may not want to admit it, we all want a little honor now and then.  We may not need public recognition, but it is important to us that someone thinks it’s good when we are around.  And Jesus says that the answer to our desire for honor is humility.  But the concept of humility can be a little challenging.  On the surface it looks as if acting humble and taking the lowest seat is the way to go if you really want to get to the top – and it’s easy for our human ego to take this instruction about humility and turn it into a new strategy for self-exaltation.  Remember Uriah Heep in Charles Dickens’ David Copperfield?  He appeared humble and willing to support his boss in anyway, but underneath his humility and fawning was a plot to take control of his estate.  Or we might think of those who put themselves down ‘”I couldn’t do that, I’m just not that good” or “I’ll just sit here in the corner, don’t mind me.”  And we know exactly what they want us to say in response – but this is a false kind of humility – self-centeredness wearing a disguise.

          The word humility is confused, too with the word humiliated.  Some people can never put themselves forward, never stand up for themselves – not out of humility but because they have lost or never had a sense that they were worthwhile in their own right.  People who have been abused or put down when they are growing up often lose the ability to see themselves in any positive God-given way.  If you find it hard to believe in yourself it is hard to take a place in the world that is rightfully yours.    It is no accident that those with the least power in our society -  children, women, the poor, same-gender loving people -   are the ones who’ve had the virtue of humility preached at them most consistently.  But convincing someone not to get ideas about yourself that exceed your so-called “station in life” is not Christian humility and does no one any good.

          Humility, though is not just a matter of how we regard ourselves.  It is also a matter of how we see others and how we treat them.  One of my favorite modern-day theologians, Frederick Buechener puts it this way:  “Humility is often confused with saying you’re not much of a bridge player when you know perfectly well you are.  Conscious or otherwise, this kind of humility is a form of gamesmanship.  If you really aren’t much of a bridge player, you’re apt to be rather proud of yourself for admitting it so humbly.  This kind of humility is a form of low comedy.  True humility doesn’t consist of thinking ill of yourself but of not thinking of yourself much differently from the way you’d be apt to think of anybody else.  It is the capacity for being no more and no less pleased when you play your own hand well than when your opponents do.”

          Approaching life with humility sets us free to give up our self-seeking status and place our life in the hands of God.  As we let go of our need for prominence, our reputation that limits us to who we invite to the party, or our popularity at the sake of walking away from those who might embarrass us, we forfeit control and let the God who created us and who loves us put us where we belong.  

          Jesus does not limit his instructions to the squabbling guests – he turns his attention to the host’s guest list and proclaims that those the host would most like to invite – friends, brothers and sisters, relatives, rich neighbors should be and instead welcome the outcasts -  the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.  Jesus dismantles the earthly power structures that require pay-back for deeds done and invitations given.  Jesus is calling for kin-dom behavior where those with neither property nor place in society are invited to dine.  Caring for the poor and disabled is central to the Christian faith, but Jesus is asking for something different, something more here – he is saying invite them in, share a meal – this is true hospitality and inclusion.  This is not a hand-out but a hands on “come on in and sit down” – with the host and guests breaking bread together. 

          “When you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind” – and aren’t we all at times poor in spirit, emotionally crippled, lame in our excuses or blind to the spirit of God.  We yearn to be invited to the table, to experience unconditional acceptance and God’s grace.  I recently found such a table in a most unexpected place.

          I took a class last winter taught by Pastor Yvette Flunder at the City of Refuge Church, United Church of Christ, in the heart of San Francisco’s Tenderloin district.  It is a community of faith that has opened its doors to some of the most marginalized people in our society today - the poor, the homeless, gay, lesbian, bi-sexual and transgendered.  It provides a number of outreach services including an AIDS clinic, sobriety support groups, and food distribution every Saturday morning.  One evening our class was invited to share a simple meal of chili and biscuits at a homeless shelter for women and those who identify as women. Some had recently been released from prison, some were struggling with addictions, and others had come from the street seeking temporary shelter.  We arrived and made our way to a basement cafeteria.  And as we ate, Bishop Flunder invited the women to pray for us.  A young woman stood up and began to sing “Amazing Grace” calling us to join with her.  When she finished, another woman, confined to a wheel chair, needing hip replacement surgery, but unable to obtain medical treatment began to pray for God’s anointing on our ministries, encouraging us to practice the love of God in all that we would do.  Then others began to call out their own prayers, asking for strength and hope in their journey of recovery.  As the room began to quiet, one of the women asked for prayers for her son who was lost to drugs and the street – she had not been able to find him or had contact with him for several months. In the midst of her homelessness and her own struggle with addiction, her first prayers were for her son.  I started to cry for, as some of you know, I too have a son who has been caught in the trap of drugs, homelessness and mental illness. And all week I had been walking past the street people of San Francisco, caught in that same trap. My son had been on my heart ceaselessly, but I hadn’t had the courage to share the story, and my spirit had been sinking daily.  This mother’s prayer for her son enabled me to speak a prayer for my son, as well.  She and I embraced one another and promised to pray for each other and our sons.  I have prayed for our two sons many times since that night and by God’s grace and a good sponsor, my son has found some peace and nine months of sobriety.  I continue to pray for the same for her and her son.

          I remain humbled by my evening with the women in the shelter.  The outcasts and cast offs of our modern day society taught those of us most likely to be in the position of host, a lesson in what it really means to sit at table with one another.  God’s love and grace comes to us in unexpected ways when we can let go of our fears, our jockeying for position, and sit down at table with one another and allow the doors of our hearts to open wide.