(Meditation for Gayton Road Christian Church's Worship on August 4, 2019, Proper 13)
This Table Is a Trap
Tables are all over the gospel of
Luke. More often than not, they’re
where we find Jesus. And they’re
where others find acceptance, forgiveness, healing, and transformation. It’s no surprise that on more than one
occasion, Jesus uses the table as a metaphor for the kingdom of God.
But today the table is a
trap. Previously Jesus has dined
twice with Pharisees. At the last
meal, he upsets his hosts. He rebukes
them for following the letter of the law while disregarding its spirit. He tells them that the life they are
living is a sort of death. They’re
missing out on the stuff that matters.
It’s not a surprise when Luke tells us that at the end of the meal, the
Pharisees become hostile toward Jesus and begin to lie in wait for him, to
catch him in something he might say (11:53-54).
That forewarning brings us to
today’s meal, which happens at “the house of a leader of the Pharisees.” Today the table is a trap.
Seated around Jesus are a host of
lawyers and Pharisees and then a person who sticks out like a sore thumb: the
man with dropsy. Dropsy here
refers to the condition in which a person’s thirst is never satisfied. As a result of excessive drinking, the
body commonly becomes swollen.
Religious folks in Jesus’ day would have considered dropsy the result of
sin. They would have disdained
such a person. They would likely
have considered him both ritually and morally impure. So it is a real surprise that this distinguished gathering
of religious leaders have invited him to their table.
But then, that’s all part of the
plan. Because today the table is a
trap.
It is the sabbath, the day of
rest. Rumor is that Jesus does not
always observe the sabbath. Not
long before this gathering, he had infuriated a synagogue leader by healing a
crippled woman on the sabbath.
What disrespect for God and God’s day of rest, the synagogue leader had
exclaimed; could he not have healed her on any of the other six days of the
week?
And thus the trap. This group of religious leaders wants
to see this sacrilege with their own eyes. They want to expose Jesus for the lawless troublemaker that
he really is.
But the opposite happens. Jesus exposes them—for their heartlessness. In silence, he heals the man with
dropsy and sends him away. (This table, after all, is not truly a
place of welcome to the afflicted man.
It was merely a stage and he merely a prop.) Then Jesus asks a rhetorical question that reveals the
hearts of his critics. They would
help one of their animals on the sabbath, would they not? Why not one of their fellow men?
Jesus Turns the Tables
And so it is that this table,
which begins as a trap, has now become a tutorial for what tables look like in
the kingdom of God. Jesus has
turned the tables, so to speak. Jesus
transforms the table from a place of power and exclusion to a place of grace
and welcome.
In the ancient world, tables were
effectively a social boundary.
Rich people ate with rich people.
Poor people ate with poor people.
Honorable people ate with honorable people. Sinners ate with sinners. Religious folks kept this boundary better than most. There kept all sorts of rules, spoken
and unspoken. They kept rules of
ritual cleanliness, moral purity, and social standing. And these rules kept tables divided.
What you did not do in the
ancient world was mix different groups of people at the table. Instead individuals could try to climb
the ladder. In other words, if you
wanted to sit at the top tables, if you wanted to have a seat of honor, you had
to earn it. You had to rub the
right shoulders, you had to keep up a certain appearance, you had to say and do
the things that would give you honor.
This is what Jesus is talking about when he tells the parable of taking a
seat at a banquet. Everyone, he
says, is trying to exalt themselves.
But the game is rigged.
You’ll never be satisfied.
In the end, you’re always humbled.
So Jesus advocates the opposite
tack. Humble yourself at
tables. More specifically, when
you give a lunch or dinner of your own, don’t invite your friends or family,
which is to say, don’t invite people in your own group. That just preserves the status
quo. It is a never-ending cycle,
wherein I invite my friends, my friends return the favor and invite me, and so
on. The kingdom of God will never
arrive that way.
Instead invite the folks who
cannot repay you, Jesus urges. Invite
the down-and-outs, the excluded, the folks who have fallen on hard times. Why? They will be lifted up, and so you will you.
The Homogenous Unit Principle
It is a glimpse of the kingdom: rich
and poor, sinners and saints, sitting together at the table.
I imagine it’s an ideal that many
of us appreciate. It’s something
to which we could easily say, “Amen.”
When I first read this story, I struggled to connect it to our
experience. After all, we do not
practice the same exclusionary tactics that the Pharisees and religious leaders
of Jesus’ day did. (Although I
should hasten to add that not all Pharisees looked the same. In the story right before today’s
story, a group of Pharisees warns Jesus that Herod wants to kill him.)
We do not set up a “you must be
this tall” yardstick at our sanctuary door to exclude persons on the basis of
social status or religion or nationality.
We do not put barriers around the table, for we recognize it is the
Lord’s table and thus bears his invitation, not ours. The challenge for the church is not, “How do we stop being
exclusive?”
For the church the challenge is a
little less obvious. We don’t
actively exclude. It’s just that churches
tend to clump together in groups that look the same. In fact, this reflects what used to be a principle of church
planting: “the homogenous unit” principle. It was basically the idea that it’s easier for folks to
become Christians if there are fewer social barriers for them to cross, such as
class, race, or language. Martin
Luther King, Jr., once observed the homogenous unit principle in action when he
declared that 11 o’clock on Sunday is the most segregated hour in our
nation. His insight addressed more
than race. Studies suggest that
churches also segregate along lines of wealth and education. In short, we tend to worship with
people who are like us.
Just Think of a Table
But this is the opposite of what
Jesus advocates. While the world
feels most comfortable in socially reciprocal relationships—it operates more or
less on the “homogenous unit” principle—Jesus envisions a kingdom that is
socially topsy-turvy. He anticipates a banquet where social reciprocity is not
what unites us, but instead radical grace and welcome. What unites a Jesus table is the belief
that everyone is blessed and beloved by God and belongs at the table. So a Jesus table is filled with folks
from all different backgrounds, rich and poor, saints and sinners, a hodgepodge
that transcends the rule of social reciprocity.
The challenge for us, then, is how
can we begin to see the church as more than just a gathering of familiar faces,
more than a gathering of old friends? How can we begin to see the church not as
a gathering meant for us, but a gathering meant for others, especially those
who are hurting?
I don’t think it’s a complete
coincidence that Jesus issues this challenge with the image of a table.
How can we imagine a church with
more than just the same old faces?
Just think of a table, Jesus
says.
You’ve heard me dream about
tables before. Today’s scripture rekindles
the dream. A growing number of our
neighbors, many of them the needful whom Jesus describes, would not darken the
door of a church. Maybe they feel
they would be out of place. Maybe
they have other reasons.
But what about a table? Would they say no to food? Would they say no to being embraced, no
strings attached? Would they say
no to stories of hope, songs of joy, people who cared for them and prayed for
them? Would they say no to a table? (I recently heard a Mexican-American
pastor put it this way: To build trust, “you need a table with food on it and
you need a lot of time.”[1])
It’s a far cry from a traditional
worship service. But it’s not far
at all from Jesus, who is the good news that our neighbors may need to
hear. I hope you’ll humor me this
dream and perhaps consider it yourself as the church continues to reflect on
its calling and purpose in the world today.
Prayer
Dear Christ,
Who welcomes us
As brothers and sisters
Just as we are,
Whose love
Draws us into
Who we are becoming:
May we as your body
In turn show your welcome and grace
To those outside our circle,
Especially the needful.
Amen.
[1] Bekah McNeel, “Latino
Immigrants Are Evangelizing America,” https://www.christianitytoday.com/news/2019/july/hispanic-church-planting-survey-immigration-evangelism.html,
accessed July 29, 2019.
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