September 2, 2007 – Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Luke 14:1, 7-14
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Grace and peace to you from God the Creator and the Lord Jesus. Amen.
I bring you greetings this morning from your brothers and sisters in the faith at Advent Lutheran Church in Olathe, a congregation that is grateful to be in partnership with you in the Gospel of our Lord Jesus. I’m especially thankful for the friendship I’ve enjoyed over the years with the pastors who have served you here at Immanuel, most recently Ron Glusenkamp and Brian Maas, and, of course, Roger Gieschen. In fact, it was Pastor Gieschen who served Advent for two years just before Susan Langhauser and I began our ministry there, and we continue to be grateful for his steady and faithful leadership of that church as it prepared for us. And I continue to value highly the friendship and wisdom of your own Carolyn Wilson, one of the finest ministers I know.
I’m especially grateful for the invitation to share with you God’s Word this morning. Let us pray. Gracious God, in the midst of our daily lives, we have stopped to worship. And now we turn to your Word, asking that amid all the changing words of our generation we might hear your eternal Word that does not change. Open hearts and minds this morning, that we might know the things that pertain to life, and to holiness, and to faithfulness – toward you and this world that you love. We ask these things in Jesus’ name. Amen.
The actor Kevin Bacon tells this story on himself. Following the release of his movie “Footloose,” Bacon’s young son came up to him and said, “Dad, that movie was awesome! Especially that part where you were swinging from the rafters in that building! How did you do that?”
“Well,” Bacon said, “that wasn’t actually me. That was a stunt man.”
“What’s a stunt man?”
“Well, that’s a guy who dresses up in my clothes and does stuff I can’t do.”
“Oh. Well, that part in the gym where you twirled around on that bar and landed on your feet, that was cool; how did you do that?”
“That wasn’t really me, either; that was a gymnastics double.”
“What’s a gymnastics double?”
“A guy who dresses up in my clothes and does stuff I can’t do.”
“Oh. Gee, dad, just what did you do in that movie?”
“Well, son,” Bacon said, sheepishly, “I guess I got all the glory.”
What a vivid depiction of grace! God’s grace, that comes to us unearned, undeserved; comes to us not because of what we’ve done but because of who God is. The reality of that grace, and God’s invitation for us to accept it and allow it to shape our living, is at the heart of this Gospel lesson this morning, a lesson that actually begins with a healing. That’s what is omitted from this lesson, did you notice? The Gospel lesson starts at verse 1, then jumps to verse 7. I always get curious when I see an omission like that, and I hope you do too, because sometimes what is left out is important. It certainly is in this case.
Jesus is on his way to have dinner at the home of a religious official, when he encounters a man with the medical condition called dropsy. That’s an ancient term for an abnormal accumulation of fluid throughout the body that results in massive swelling, in bloating. The insidious quality of that condition is that it results in a thirst that is unquenchable. In fact, the more you drink, the thirstier you become. And it doesn’t get better. This man is caught up in an endless spiral that he can’t control; he can’t stop the cycle by his own will. He needs a power external to himself to do for him what he cannot do for himself: save his life. And that’s precisely what Jesus does, as he heals him.
And now Jesus shows up at the dinner party, and he watches as all the guests mill around the table, figuring out where they’re going to sit. This is a significant, very highly charged cultural issue; because where a person was allowed to sit, or assigned to sit, at a banquet like this was a very public announcement of that person’s status, his importance in the community. The closer to the host you were able to sit, the more important you were. Typically, the host would show each of the guests to his seat. You’ve heard that term, ‘putting someone in his place?’ That would be the host’s role. However, if you were feeling particularly bold and proactive, you might pick your own place, in the hope that the seat you chose, and the honor that went with it, might be granted. Jesus watched all of this, and then quoted some ancient wisdom, from Proverbs 25, our First Lesson this morning.
Just like the man with dropsy, who was suffering from an unquenchable thirst, these dinner guests are suffering from an insatiable hunger for human status, for significance. Not content to let the host be the host and trust him to assign them the proper status, they decide to take matters into their own hands.
In a way, it’s just about the oldest story in the book. One way to interpret and apply the story of the Garden of Eden is to see that Adam and Eve didn’t trust God to adequately provide for them in terms of nourishment and wisdom, so they took matters into their own hands. At the Tower of Babel, the people of God did not trust God to provide for them in terms of their identity and their security, so they took matters into their own hands and built a tower that stretched into the heavens in order to, as they put it, “build a name for ourselves.” Sometimes I wonder if the sports arenas that bear the names of big, important people aren’t just modern illustrations of an ancient, unquenchable thirst.
But God calls to another way. Just as Jesus heals the man with dropsy and as Jesus addresses these dinner guests, God calls us away from a life of accumulating and spending, of frantically going and doing, a life of “more,” a life that has “me” at the center; and into a life in which we intentionally let the host be the host, a life in which we draw our significance and our status from who God says we are instead of who our efforts proclaim us to be.
That’s the kind of life we see reflected in the Letter to the Hebrews, our Second Lesson this morning, a life of quiet, steady, everyday faithfulness. That’s the kind of life God designed us for, because that’s the kind of life that gives life.
I recently had a conversation with a friend of mine, an Episcopal priest working in Germany. He told me a story about his bishop. (Apparently, bishops in the Episcopal tradition have quite a bit more clout that do those in our Lutheran tradition; Episcopal bishops can close congregations, open congregations, transfer priests at will.) One particular congregation was in tremendous turmoil. It seems that two factions had arisen in the church, and the conflict between them had become so polarizing that they couldn’t even speak with one another anymore. The conflict? What color to repaint the sanctuary.
That wasn’t the real conflict, of course. The real conflict was about power, about influence, about control, about who was in charge. Church fights are always about those things. Not here at Immanuel, of course! Heavens, no! No, I’m talking about those “other” churches.
The situation had become so impossible that they finally called in the bishop to mediate. They agreed that whatever the bishop decided, they would abide by his ruling. So they gathered one evening, and the bishop sat down and listened patiently as each group offered its perspective. When they were finished, everyone looked to the bishop for his solution.
The bishop rose, thanked everyone for sharing their opinion and position, and ended with this: “Here’s my decision: This congregation has 90 days to raise $100,000 for mission or I’m closing the place.” And he walked out.
Stunned silence!
But sure enough; in 90 days, that congregation raised $100,000 for mission. And today that church is the most mission-focused, mission-oriented, mission-driven church in the entire archdiocese. And now it’s no longer because they have to in order to stay open; now it’s because they’ve experienced how life-giving it is to shift emphasis from internal to external, from focusing on their wants and needs and ideas and preferences to focusing on this world that God loves.
That’s the point Jesus is making in the second part of this lesson, when he turns his attention to the man who invited all the guests. Look, he says, when you throw a party like this, don’t invite the same old crowd. You invite them, they invite you; and you do it even though you might not like them or enjoy their company. You do it just to maintain the social pecking order. But that’s not God’s agenda. Instead, when you throw a party like this, invite the people I hang out with, invite the people no one invites because no one wants. If you do that – if you extend yourself to them – that’s grace, and God will honor it, because grace is God’s agenda.
I’m a fan of the Irish band U2, so I was intrigued to learn that the lead singer for the group, Bono, was the keynote speaker at the National Prayer Breakfast at the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C., last year. It was a huge affair: President Bush was there, members of the Cabinet, all sorts of foreign dignitaries.
Bono has been most visible as a proponent of the One Campaign, the campaign to persuade the United States to contribute 1 percent of the national budget toward eliminating poverty in Africa. He spent most of his remarks outlining the One Campaign; but then, toward the end, he gave a fascinating insight into his own conversion, his transformation from being a religious bystander to being a Christian activist. Here is what he said:
“A number of years ago, I met a wise man who changed my life. In countless ways, large and small, I was always seeking the Lord’s blessing. I was saying, you know, I have a new song, look after it … I have a family, please look after them… I have this crazy idea, please bring it to pass.
“And this wise man said: Stop.
“He said, Stop asking God to bless what you’re doing. Instead, get involved in what God is doing – because that’s already blessed.”
What wise and faithful counsel, for any Christian individual or congregation: Stop asking God to bless what you’re doing, and get involved in what God is doing, because that’s already blessed.
And what is God up to? It’s no mystery. In the Hebrew Bible, God tells us plainly through the prophet Micah: What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God? Jesus puts it a little differently in the Gospel of Luke when he says, Welcome the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame. Jesus came among us announcing the Kingdom of God, and promising us that the more we live as if that kingdom were real, the more real it becomes.
This is not easy to do. Easy to talk about, not easy to do. The prospect of actually doing what Jesus said – of going beyond thinking that these are wonderful words and someone really ought to go and put them into practice – is frightening. The prospect of actually doing what Jesus said makes us hug our loved ones a little tighter, double-check our locks at night. Because we know that actually doing what Jesus said might not be safe, and we love our safety, we love our security.
And God knows that. We are all works in progress, God continuing to shape us according to his will for us. That’s why God continues to come to us as he does.
It’s a real privilege to be with you this morning, and to share Holy Communion with you. I say that because you are all very able, accomplished people. You have your successes and accomplishments, all that you have earned and cling to. But when you come forward for Communion, your hands will be empty.
You will loosen your grip on all that you have accumulated and accomplished; you will loosen your grip on who you say you and on who others say you are, whatever that might be; and you will hold out your empty hands to receive that which you cannot achieve on your own: the gift of grace that is Jesus Christ, who gives life everlasting.
And as God gives you the gift of his Son, he also gives you the strength and the power to serve others; and to remember that, truly, your life is the answer to someone’s prayer.
So, with open hands and open hearts, let the host be the host. Receive the gift, receive the blessing and the power. And then serve, as you continue to be served.
Amen.
