Turning the Tables 8-28-22
Turning the Tables
Proverbs 25:6-7; Luke 14:1, 7-14
Prov 25:6-7
Do not put yourself forward in the king’s presence or stand in the place of the great; for it is better to be told, “Come up here,”
than to be put lower in the presence of a noble. What your eyes have seen
Parable of the Dinner Party Michael Coffey
She entered the party like a caped queen her heels lifting herself up to thinner air almost to where she wanted to be she saw the table spread with boutique finery charcuterie and artisanal cheeses and duck liver pate red and white and bubbling wine for every course she approached the gathering and saw on the far end the old fashioned, the rough handed and wrong spoken the servants and migrants who picked the butter lettuce on the near end and she saw well-labeled suits handbags with leather and metal clasps that look of confidence in the eyes of the highly educated she saw one chair near her with those of her kind she sat and mingled and sipped wine and laughed controllably and knew which fork to use for the appetizer the host came and thanked her for taking the seat at this end and assured her warm-voiced that someday, she too, could join him at the other
Luke 14:1, 7-14
On one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the Sabbath, they were watching him closely. When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, ‘Give this person your place,’ and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” He said also to the one who had invited him, “When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”
Prayer – God of the open table – we gather with you this day, aware that many people in our world are not welcome at a banquet fit for a King. We assume that those who gather with us will appreciate the invitation and may perhaps invite us to join them sometime. Remind us once again, O God that who sits at our table is not about quid pro quo but frequently reflects who is important in our lives. Turning the tables on those who gather can be uncomfortable, yet, at the end of the night, it may just be life-changing. Help us to keep our table open and welcoming this day and every day – amen.
My first reaction to the Gospel lesson this week was a movie memory: a scene from Silence of the Lambs, when Hannibal Lecter (the brilliant Anthony Hopkins) says to Clarice, “quid pro quo” — this for that, something for something. Hannibal has shared with Agent Starling, played by the incredible Jodie Foster, potentially important information about the perpetrator she is trying to catch, Buffalo Bill. But in exchange for clues that might lead to the arrest of this criminal, Hannibal wants to know some rather intimate details about Clarice’s life.
The problem with quid pro quo, one of many, is that it is not as fairly matched as one would assume. That was certainly the case for Clarice — to allow a psychopathic cannibal into the private and personal aspects of your life is not an even level of trade. Clarice gives up much more than the worth of the hints toward the possible apprehension of the serial killer. It is not a flat exchange. And yet, it seems our world is set up to expect an equal swap rate in negotiating relationships.
“One Sabbath, when Jesus went to share a meal in the home of one of the leaders of the Pharisees, they were watching him closely.” I must say that when I see Jesus in action at the homes of the Pharisees, it makes me wonder why they keep inviting him to dinner! Jesus could be a dinner guest who could turn the tables on those present in a blink of an eye – and often did though I imagine the Pharisees expected Jesus to be a little more quid pro quo.
It’s the Sabbath, the holiest day of the week for Jews, a day when groups of religious leaders would often gather together, share a meal, and then study the scriptures and debate religious matters. Sounds enticing doesn’t it. Perhaps that is what Jesus is doing at this Pharisee’s house. They have gathered on a holy day to have a discussion about spiritual matters – and that is sort of what we are doing this Sunday in our church. We are gathering to have a discussion of spiritual things, to deepen our religious convictions, perhaps to debate the finer points of theology, or maybe work on the grounds afterwards.
Our text tells us that the Pharisees are watching Jesus. And here you are in church, watching Jesus and how he behaves at the dinner table. But surprise, Jesus is watching us as well. Watching us jockey for position for the best seats at the table. Jesus watches us and then suggests that we should always make sure that we include those at the table who can’t repay us, who can’t have us over for a swanky dinner party. Jesus was telling us about God’s quid pro quo – turning the tables on what is expected.
Jesus is telling us, “You know that whole quid pro quo thing? That’s not going to fly in the Kingdom of God.” “And why not?” we might ask Jesus. “Well, the problem with quid pro quo mentality is quantification. How do you measure or calculate repayment for love, of mercy?” And the fact that we think we can is a rather striking theological problem. We tend to forget that our beliefs about faith and discipleship are also claims about who we think God is. If we insist that our faith, our salvation, is dependent upon an equal rate of exchange between us and God, then we need to ask ourselves, in what kind of God do we believe? What happens if we don’t measure up? And what makes us think we can assume certain systems to quantify the grace of God? And what makes us think that our faith, our beliefs coincide with what we think is important to God?
If the quid pro quo says that we get what we earn then I would suggest that is a pretty poignant and perilous aspect of faith and life – that a quantification of our work might actually be the result of some sort of equivalency of effort – higher church attendance, thriving programs, more money in the offering plates all equaling assurance of salvation based on what we do. The result of this type of toxic theology is measuring our worth based on models of outside evaluations and expectations rather than our inside and intrinsic incarnational presence. Even worse, we fall victim of a faith that is contractual and transactional rather than based on grace. That type of relationship with God is dependent on a nearsighted notion that God works within the world’s insistence on agreements and bargains, transferences and contingencies, a quid pro quo relationship rather than a relationship made possible by the unmerited, unearned, unwarranted, underserved love of God. Jesus is turning the tables on what we think is expected at his banquet table.
Somehow we have become confused by far too many religious leaders that assert, overtly and or covertly, that faith is a transaction and not a gift. We expect God to move about in our economies that are dependent on proof of worth and jobs well done. We assume God will choose to maintain a relationship with us based on how we perform in our faith journeys. We are not called by God to justify the activity of faith on the same terms as that which society assumes validation and verification. In other words, acts of discipleship are not a means to an end. They are a means towards God’s end of growing the Kingdom of God in our midst here and now.
In our gospel passage this morning, Jesus is less interested in the actual food at the table and more in the composition of the banquet. So, he tells a story about meals and honor. It’s an unusual parable in light of his clear preferences. His story emphasizes two components of the banquet – the selection of seats – or honor; and the invitation list – who is included and who isn’t. In an honor and shame culture, avoiding shame is of the utmost importance. This is not simply embarrassment. Public shame may have tangible implications for the shamed. A family’s bartering practices or marriage proposals can be negatively impacted by a public shaming, if the shame is significant enough.
On the opposite end, public honor – determined, in this story, by the host – may come to those who express public humility. Jesus expresses expectations for hosts. His words are a challenge to the honor system embedded in first century Palestine. To secure one’s place in the system, it was appropriate to invite friends, family, and rich neighbors. Reciprocal requests would ensue, as the public acknowledgement of an honorable person may bring its own reasons. In a public honor and shame society, quid pro quo was essential to measuring up, of fitting in, of being included.
This morning Jesus is inviting us to leave behind the world’s ways of measuring up, of leaving behind the quid pro quo world that has seeped into our faith journeys. Jesus is inviting us to turn the tables on the world and not create a transactional faith where we buy into someone’s expectations on what God wants in exchange for God’s love. This morning Jesus is reminding us that God’s expectation is for transformation and not transaction; God’s expectation is for us to turn the tables on the world in which we live; God’s expectation is that we won’t do it perfect or right every time, but that we keep chipping away at the quid pro quo and allow the gift of grace and faith to transform us into kingdom growers – that is what turning the tables is all about – amen.