Deeper into the dream of God. September 1, 2019 The Rev. Deacon Lawrence J. Elliott

Alright, you people up here in the front, move to the back. I want you to give your seats to my friends. Friends, move up higher. That might be a little humorous for us today, but imagine in real life, then and now.

Pliny the Younger, a Roman who lived from 61 until 100 CE, wrote of a banquet he attended: “Some very elegant dishes were served up to [the host] and a few more; while those which were placed before the rest were cheap and paltry. He apportioned three different sorts of wine; but you are not to suppose it was that the guests might take their choice, on the contrary, that they might not choose at all. You must know that he measures out his friendship according to the degrees of quality.”

So when Jesus speaks of moving up higher, it’s not just for conversation with the host, but for the best food and wine, and to be seen by others. But what does this mean for us?

Imagine for a moment that you’ve been invited to a wedding. It was lovely, and as you move into the banquet room you see it’s very beautifully decorated.

There are name cards at each place and a porter sends you to table 20, in the corner, near the entrance used by the wait staff as they come and go. Great. When the bridal party enters you look for an empty place. You move their name card to your place in the corner and you move up higher, to their place, table 4, right up front. Just as the speeches and toasts are starting, one of the porters comes over and says, “I’m sorry sir, there’s been a mix-up. This place is for Miss Martin, and my seating chart shows your place just over there. Come, I’ll show you. [Pause] You know many of the people in this room and they are all looking at you as though you’re in handcuffs being taken to jail. “For all who exalt themselves will be humbled,” Jesus said.

Imagine again. You’re at your place in the corner, table 20, by the door. The bride and groom are walking about, talking with the guests. They get to you and are genuinely surprised to see you there. They apologize for a mistake which must have been made. They look around but see all the other places are taken. “Why don’t you come and join us at our table. The waiter will get a chair and bring up your plate.” Now all your friends are looking at you differently. Some are jealous and angry while others are happy, aware of your long relationship with the couple. “And those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

When you try to honor yourself, it does not work. Now your honor has been given by the bridal couple. All will see and no one can take it away.

One last imagining. You’re at the same banquet where you’ve been assigned to table 4, right up front. A young woman arrives with a porter who tells her to wait just a moment while he sees what he can do. It seems she has no place to sit. You take your name card and rise from your chair, “Here, take this place.” She protests, but you say, “Really.” You have honored both of you by your humility and willingness to take the lowest place, and you have followed Hebrews, which tell us today, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.”

But Jesus is not yet done with the Pharisee. After this teaching on humility, Jesus continues with a harder teaching for his host, the other Pharisees, and for us: “When you give a banquet,” he says, “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.”

What a teaching! What Jesus suggests is really incredible: invite people—all of whom are ritually unclean—to a banquet hosted by one whose focus in life, whose way to salvation, is to follow the laws of Moses and be clean. “This man is telling me to throw away the law,” he thinks, “and to spend my life unclean, disobedient, and unsaved. I cannot do that. These people will defile me.”

It might be hard for us to understand the significance of ritually clean and unclean to this Pharisee. Maybe it’s like a very fastidious housekeeper who keeps plastic covers on the living room furniture, a room not even the family can use, a person who can hardly stand to have people over—tracking in all that dirt—and now being asked to remove the covers. Maybe it’s like having people for dinner who blow their noses at the table, cough in your face, pick food off the floor and eat it, and who reach into serving bowls with their fingers. To the housekeeper and the dinner host, these people are unclean. They are disgusting and we don’t want to be around them.

As I’ve said, we can’t really know how the Pharisee felt, but the Bible gives us something to work with. The Laws of Moses laid out ritual purity in extensive detail, in Leviticus, chapters 11-21. God spells out what is clean and what is unclean; how something is made unclean, how long it must remain unclean, and how to purify it.

Leviticus 21 gets pretty explicit: “no one who has a blemish, is blind or lame, has a mutilated face or a limb too long, has a broken foot or hand, a hunchback, a dwarf, a man with a blemish in his eyes or an itching disease, scabs or crushed testicles may approach the altar.” And the chapter ends, “So keep my charge… and do not defile yourselves: I am the LORD your God.”

All the people Jesus tells the Pharisees to invite are unclean and to be near them makes the Pharisee unclean. These guests make the house unclean, the dishes the wine goblets, the mat and chairs on which they sat: all unclean. A priest would have to follow the rituals of purification. All would have to be washed and would be unclean until evening. Clay pots would be broken. Examining these purity laws helps us to understand better why the priest and the Levite passed by the beaten man in the parable of the Good Samaritan. There would have been consequences.

We see the poor here in Charlottesville, but not many blind, lame, or crippled. If I set out to invite “the least of these,” my guest list might include: a racist, a homophobe, an anti-Semite, a misogynist, and someone who lives in unending complaining negativity.

Jesus said to invite such people and we could share a meal, but in stony silence? What would we say? I’m certain that all of us would have something to say, something unpleasant, something disagreeable, somehow left unsaid. I can’t think of anything I might say to give insight to the homophobe or the racist. I might simply sit and wait for the meal to end. But that would be a waste, it would not be living the Gospel. If I could let go of my fear and anger and just be able to “be” there, that would be a start. Someone might join me—or I them. No one’s going to have “a come to Jesus moment,” but I can see how the stony silence might change to wordless quiet. There are always possibilities with God.

Can we create community without speech? Of course we can. Can we make change without words? Of course we can. St. Francis knew it, “Preach the Gospel at all times,” he said, “Use words if necessary.”

Wondering what the Pharisee and his unclean guests might talk about, I realized that it wasn’t just the conversation that Jesus was after, it was community. Creation or restoration of community. Each time Jesus healed or revived, community was restored, and this is no different.

In challenging the purity laws we might be tempted to think Jesus is getting rid of some parts of the Law, but that’s not so: He’s changing our relationship to the Law. He’s turning things upside-down. He’s taking us deeper into the dream of God.

A few weeks ago we heard Jesus tell the Pharisees that it’s what comes out of the body that defiles, not what goes in. So today, it’s not the presence of the unclean that defiles, it’s what’s in the mind and heart of the Pharisee that defiles him.

Jesus’s words today reinforce all the times he’s spoken of the first and the last. Giving a banquet for the “unclean” supports Matthew 25 when Jesus said, “to invite the poor, crippled, lame, the blind,” That anyone holding a banquet for those they don’t know are welcoming the stranger who might be an angel.

There is so much learning to take home today. Humility. Be yourself. Why meet Jesus as someone else? Take the lower place. Give your place to one who needs it. Welcome the stranger. It’s what comes out of us that defiles. Throw a party for those you don’t know, who can’t repay you. You will be richer.