Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost; 28 August 2022; Proper 17C (RCL); Jeremiah 2:4-13; Psalm 81:1, 10-16; Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16; Luke 14:1, 7-14.
It’s too bad we leave out the verse we do in the reading from Hebrews — they make it clear just how much this reading has to do with food. The reference to entertaining angels unaware is almost certainly to Abraham and Sarah, who entertained three angels at the oaks of Mamre. The last sentence — Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God — makes reference to the Old Testament injunction to invite the widow, the orphan, the alien, and the Levite — those who would otherwise have not access to meat — to the sacrificial meal.
Jesus’ saying to his host makes the same point — invite those who cannot repay you. At the resurrection of the just, they in their turn will invite you. This begins to make sense of the Beatitudes: How honorable are you poor, for yours is the kingdom of heaven. For Luke, this was not some future state of affairs, but present reality.
We love to make sandwiches for the poor, or to serve in a soup line. But interacting with those we serve makes us uncomfortable. We might have to hear their story. No one wants charity; it is demeaning. To receive anything, especially prepared food, with no expectation of return (essentially at arm’s length) says to the recipient, “You have nothing I value to return to me.” That’s a pretty high cost for eating. And it lets the preparers and servers off the hook of making any real change.
Those soup kitchens at which the preparers eat with the guests force a reassessment of reality. We might actually hear someone’s story, and in doing so, receive a great trust. And that story, or conversation, might change our understanding of how things work. It at least opens us up to acknowledging the humanity and personhood of the other. That’s a costly gift.
The first part of Jesus’ saying, about choosing the lowest seat, is just good wisdom advice. It’s the advice to his host that turns things upside down, and does so in a way that simply recalls the instructions of Torah which we have managed to set aside. The instructions about not harvesting a field or a vineyard to its edges, leaving gleanings for the poor, and inviting the marginal to the sacrificial meal, simply point out that we have not been living the requirements of righteousness all along.