Meeting Christ at the Table of Compassion:
A Lenten Sermon
Yall…I don’t know why the folks in Luke’s gospel keep inviting Jesus to their fancy dinners because he is not a good dinner guest.
Especially since he had a habit of making them so incredibly awkward.
In this passage today from the Gospel of Luke, a pharisee has invited Jesus over for a banquet. And as folks are filing in and jostling for the best seats-- Jesus starts doing what he usually does. He starts teaching. And, in typical Jesus fashion, he makes everyone uncomfortable…
This is how I imagine the scene playing out:
Jesus rises from his seat.
He clears his throat
and maybe he taps the side of his glass with a knife to draw their attention
Those less familiar with jesus and his ministry might think he’s about to make a moving speech praising his hosts and thanking them for the hospitality and the delicious spread
But those more familiar with Jesus, start to tense up.
Because they know that something is about to happen
Because something always about to happen around Jesus
And rather than the anticipated toast, Jesus begins giving those around him some advice. He tells them that when they go to a banquet—much like the one they’re currently at--they shouldn’t try to find the best seat in the house.
They shouldn’t try to position themselves at the most socially advantageous spot.
They shouldn’t try to show off their networking skills by sitting with the most influential attendees.
Jesus essentially tells them, “Don’t sit with the high-status folks because if you do just think about how humiliating it would be if you sat there and then were asked to move so someone else could have that spot.” <<cringe>>
Jesus instructs the attendees that they should instead find an average spot. Or maybe even a bad or lowly spot.
A spot next to people who have no social standing.
A spot by folks who can’t add anything impressive to their resumes and LinkedIn profiles.
Because when the host notices you have sat yourself down with the hoi poli—with the common folks—the host will beckon to you to move up to a place of greater esteem. And you will be raised in status in the eyes of everyone around.
This is the point where I kind of feel for the other guests at this dinner party. They’re probably looking around at each other with puzzled faces. Whispering to each other saying “what did he just say?”// is he talking about us?”
Even some of the disciples are probably thinking “Oh my gosh Jesus is so embarrassing! We’re at this fancy dinner and he says that?! How is it possible for the son of man to be such an absolute buzzkill”?
While Jesus’ statement may have definitely been a banquet buzzkill I—for one—am really glad he said it. Like all of Jesus’ teachings, this instruction is incredibly rich and profound. So let’s dig into it.
Now--There are multiple ways to interpret what Jesus is trying to do here. One of these ways is seeing it simply as some very savvy and practical advice. Jesus is giving his own spin on proverbs:
Don’t embarrass yourself in front of important people.
Instead, humble yourself so they can lift you up.
And That way you’ll look really good!!
In other words, Jesus seems to be offering a portion of the first century version of the book How to Win Friends and Influence People.
Maybe! Maybe he is? I mean that definitely could be one interpretation.
But like with most of Jesus’ teachings I suspect there’s more to it than what we see at first glance.
I think there’s more going on here than simply some sensible networking advice.
Instead, I think Christ is calling into question our strivings.
Especially all the energy, time, and attention we give to justifying our importance in the world.
Jesus’ didactic speech made for an uncomfortable dinner party not only because it was not appropriate to the festivities but also because it hit to the quick of the listeners’ hearts.
Jesus understood that we so often see the world like a middle school lunchroom.
Jesus knows that we can see interactions with our neighbors like a minefield.
He knows our hearts are often caught up in the tempestuous winds of worry.
He knows we are haunted by voices of unworthiness and by specters of potential rejection.
Jesus sees this in us and he is filled with compassion because we are harassed and helpless—like sheep without a shepherd
Jesus sees our striving and says, “Hey, there’s another way. A way where you don’t have to try so hard.”
Jesus sees our yearning to be something we’re not and says, “You are already enough.”
He sees our desire to be accepted and loved and known and he says, “Oh my dear, you are accepted and loved and known beyond measure. And I would create the entire universe again just to love you into being.”
Christ sees this in us and offers us another way of being.
a way that doesn’t include a never-ending cycle of comparison
a way that doesn’t include justifying our existence.
a way that doesn’t include trying to critique ourselves into belovedness.
Christ offers us a way of being that embraces who we are and who God has created us to be.
Christ offers A way that embraces wholeness.
A way that embraces acceptance.
Christ offers A way that embraces self-compassion.
It reminds me of a well known poem by Mary Oliver. You may know it. It’s Called The Wild Geese.
Oliver writes:
You do not have to be good
You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
…
This is what Jesus was saying too.
Mary, like Jesus, encourages us stop our striving and twisting of ourselves and live into our inherent belovedness.
With the similarities between Jesus’ words and Mary Oliver’s words in mind, hear the poem again
You do not have to be good
You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
The first week of Lent, I offered the idea that Lent is about connection.
Through the story of the feeding of the five thousand, we saw how Jesus facilitate connection through gift givng.
And in this story, too, Jesus facilitates connection between the guests at the banquet.
Jesus invites them then and us now to connect with themselves.
And Jesus invites us all to lean into their own inherent belatedness.
But not only is this invitation concerned with our perceptions of ourselves, but it’s also concerned with our perception of our neighbor.
Jesus invites the guests to also see the belovedness of our neighbor.
To see those around us as God sees them—as beautifully and wonderfully made.
To see their beautiful, tragic complexities and to love them just as they are.
It’s an invitation for us to connect wholly and deeply and authentically with ourselves and with our neighbors.
Jesus’ invitation is for this Lent—for now--and for every season.
But this invitation also comes with responsibility.
It comes with a responsibility to create those spaces where people have permission to connect with themselves and with others.
A responsibility to create spaces where people feel free to be their authentic selves.
Spaces where we all no longer feel the need to prove ourselves and justify our existance.
Spaces where all of God’s children know the breadth and depth of their belovedness.
This responsibility isn’t simply about spaces, but about us as people too.
We have a responsibility to be a people where others feel free to be their authentic selves
A people who don’t make others feel the need to prove ourselves and justify their existence.
A people where all of God’s children know the breadth and depth of their belovedness.
With God’s help, I know we can be.
So friends I pray that we will accept both Christ’s invitation and its responsibility.
I pray that this lent, we feel more connected—to ourselves and to others.
May this lent be for us a time where we no longer feel the need to justify our existence.
May it be a time where we learn that we do not need to strive and prove ourselves to anyone—but especially to God.