Nourishment, connection, and joy (a sermon on Luke 14:1, 7-14)

A few years ago I presided at an interment at the Cemetery of the Alleghenies, and then was invited to join the family for a meal just down the road from here, at Juniper Grill. As the cars arrived and folks walked into the back room of the restaurant, I hung back a little, waiting to see where everyone would sit. There were no place cards, and I didn’t know the family well, so I wasn’t sure what spot might be best for me. It didn’t seem right to take up a place at the table with the spouse and children of the deceased, and I also didn’t want to impose on friends or relatives who might be engrossed in their own conversations. I eventually put my glass of lemonade down on a table toward the back, but when the flow of people into the room slowed down and no one joined me, a table of aunts and uncles waved me over. They were so friendly and welcoming. The meal was delicious (may I evangelize for a moment about the skillet cornbread??) and the conversation warm and enjoyable.


Photo by Hitesh Dewasi on Unsplash

So many of the stories of the Bible take place around meals. There’s Abram and Sarai welcoming visitors for an abundant picnic in the shade of the trees, and the first Passover meal on the evening of the tenth plague in Egypt, and Elijah and the widow sharing bread made with what seemed like the last bit of flour and oil. There’s Jesus, inviting himself to dinner at Zacchaeus’s house; the parable of the prodigal son, where the overjoyed father calls for the fatted calf to be prepared and a feast spread; the miraculous feeding of 5,000 with five small loaves and two fish. There’s Jesus, sharing one last supper with his dear friends; the early church, sharing a potluck dinner and making sure there’s enough for everyone, bringing leftovers to those stuck at home; and, finally, visions in Revelation of the marriage feast of the Lamb.

Over meals, bodies are nourished, community is built, relationships are strengthened, and stories are shared. The hospitality shown around a meal can communicate welcome, inclusion, or celebration much more fully than words alone can do. And in addition to providing nourishment, the food shared around the table often serves a reminder of God’s provision and God’s faithfulness.

Not all of the meals in Scripture are friendly ones, however. There are arguments about what food is allowed to be served, and disagreements about what guests ought to be invited. There are raucous banquets that get out of hand (with fatal results), and meals with so much going on below the surface. As today’s Gospel reading opens, I can feel the tension mounting – so much could go wrong! It’s the Sabbath, for one, and we hear right off the bat that the religious leaders are watching Jesus closely. Jesus is apparently watching all the guests closely, too, and he notices how they come into the room and choose a seat. In response to what he sees, Jesus lays out two scenarios – one for the guests, and one for the host.

For the guests, Jesus gives what feels like common-sense advice through the words of a parable about guests at a wedding banquet. If you walk in to a party thinking you’re the most important person in the room, you may be surprised and embarrassed when someone more distinguished is given your seat, and you have to make the walk of shame to lowest seat, the one that’s still open because no one wanted it. Yes, if honor is what you’re after, you’re better off finding a lower place to start and waiting for your host to come and say, “Friend, move up higher.”

For the host, Jesus gives advice that stands in contrast to their current social reality. In that time, honor was currency. Favors were exchanged, points were tallied, and things like dinner invitations meant a chance to boost your standing on the list of who’s-who. But Jesus’s words here completely subvert that system. When you spend time and money to throw a party, Jesus says, don’t invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors. Instead, invite the people you have no reason to impress. Invite the people who have no way to pay you back, who neither expect nor deserve an invitation, who won’t raise your status one bit (and who may instead lower it). And in doing so, Jesus says, you will be blessed.

What is the blessing? Jesus talks about how those who do this will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous. But, I think it’s also more than that, and sooner than that. As we see throughout the meals found in Scripture, the blessing for here and now is God’s abundance. When honor is abundant, we don’t need to jockey for position. When food is abundant, we don’t need to argue over scraps. When grace is abundant, we can settle in and enjoy the meal for what it is – not an obligation to fulfill, or points to tally, but a chance for nourishment, and connection, and joy.

The good news today is that Jesus, our abundant meal and our gracious host, calls us to join him at the table of grace. He has indeed invited people who cannot repay him, and has given each of us a place of honor. We bring our burdens and questions, our jealousy and humility, our grief and our joy, and we settle in to feast. At this table, we receive forgiveness and mercy and new life. At this table, we are connected to the saints of all times and places. At this table, we share in a foretaste of the great feast to come. All are welcome here. You are welcome here. Come, and find nourishment, connection, and joy. Come, and find Jesus.



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