The Great Banquet
The Great Banquet
Luke 14:15-24
Of all the things that I’ve missed in the last year, I think that I’ve missed dining with friends the most. Here’s my top three list of meals that I’ve missed…
Number three: Any meal at Hope and David Kracht Maulbetsch’s house. (And I’m not saying this just because Hope is running tech this morning!) Seriously, if you’re ever invited over, accept immediately. They are the kind of people who really love to cook. So, the moment you walk in, the whole house is full of the most amazing aromas. They are comfortable enough cooking that I literally have never seen them go into that agitated state that some cooks move into in crunch time. There is no crunch time because they are doing what they love to do. You make your way to the table. It is set so carefully, usually including lovely flowers. Then, the food just starts coming in waves. Really, if Hope and David invite you over or, against all the odds, if we have an outreach fundraiser again some day and they offer a meal, then say, “Yes!” or bid whatever it takes. You’ll feel so cared for and laugh so hard and you’ll go home thinking, “Now, I don’t ever have to eat again!”
Number Two: Spaghetti night at my friend, Joe’s house. Joe’s mother was 100 percent Irish. His father was 100 percent Italian. That makes for a lot of feelings and a lot of food! When Joe’s mother died and the family was cleaning out her condo, so much of what they found were the table cloths and place settings and seasonal decorations that were the basic things that she used to make everyone who came to her home feel special. Joe is his mother’s son. Italian night begins with an all day simmering of the sauce. There will be no “Ragu” at this table. Tomatoes and sausages and beef and so many spices spend the day simmering. Literally, every time I walk through the house, I start salivating! The only pasta served with that sauce is homemade, with the dough lovingly run through the same hand cranking pasta maker that has been used for generations. Out comes the red check table cloth. On go the candles. Everyone says grace and then the fun begins, usually with Italian music dancing through the house.
Number One: (And I think some version of this might be true for the vast majority of us…) Thanksgiving dinner at my friend, Kathleen’s home. Thirty or forty people come. Rarely does anyone know everyone else, except for Kathleen who invited them all. Furniture is moved out of the house. Tables start to line the rooms. Preparations are made to deep fry the turkeys and the pheasants. Decorations are created by the kids. You arrive at 11:00 a.m., even though the meal won’t be served until 4:00 or 5:00. There are appetizers to taste and people to meet and old friends whom you are dying to see. You pause and take in the delicious aromas and smile. Then, people heap their plates with three kinds of stuffing and mashed potatoes and vegetables and delicious turkey. Amazing conversations unfold. Everything is topped off with every imaginable dessert. Finally, our friend, Conrad, teaches the kids how to shoot the whipped cream straight from the can into their mouths.
It has been a year since I’ve had any of these meals. What is so patently obvious now is that while I do love the food (don’t get me wrong!), I so miss the fellowship, the connections, the laughter, the deep conversations. I miss the moment when you realize that you are completely immersed in that moment. You are with people whom you love. You feel loved. Life, for a little while, is exactly the way it should be—which in my book is the very definition of the kingdom of God.
Of course, not every meal works out this way. Sometimes, you’re just having dinner at your own home—which happens to be food shared with those you love, too. However, these meals are not so much events as they are a part of the basic structure of things. The comfort rests in the predictability and reliability. Other times, dinners can be tense. I remember going out to dinner with dates and feeling pretty nervous about how things were going. I remember landing at dinners when those who were sitting together were on their best behavior because we knew that we didn’t necessarily agree about everything. Everyone knew that they had to be careful. (I was at a dinner one time where one guest corrected the other guest’s grammar and then made a disparaging remark about how “kids these days don’t care about grammar.” Yikes!)
As the 14th chapter of Luke unfolds, Jesus is at one of those uncomfortable dinners. Jesus was invited over to a Pharisee’s house which would have been uncomfortable enough except the owner of this house was one of the top Pharisees. So, most of the guests are going to be specialists in the religious laws. (This would be like going to dinner at “Miss Manners” house!) Jesus and the Pharisees had running battles. They thought Jesus was a little loose when it came to following the law. In fact, he may have been invited to dinner so they could gather more evidence of his law breaking ways.
In the middle of this stuffy, uncomfortable dinner, the least appetizing thing imaginable happens: a man shows up in G. I. distress. (As a pastor, I have a long history of folks in need showing up at the worst possible moments, like when I’m writing a sermon, at which point, I laugh and think, “I hate it when ministry gets in the way of my sermon writing!”) This man’s presence threatens to ruin an otherwise unpleasant meal! Jesus looks the Pharisees in the eye and asks, “Is it lawful to heal on the sabbath?” “I can do something about this man’s distress but I know timing is everything. What do you say?” The Pharisees say nothing. Jesus heals the man.
Next, just to make things a little more uncomfortable (because it turns out that sometimes faithful people—even Jesus—push uncomfortable truths), Jesus starts to critique the seating arrangement. He saw people trying to elbow each other out of the way to get to a better seat. He suggests to the Pharisees—the keepers of the rules—that the rule which they might want to follow would be to put themselves at the lowest place first: “How about a little humility, guys? Oh, and by the way, next time, expand the guest list to include the people who never get invited. You’ll find out just how much joy a meal can bring someone.” Can you feel the tension in the room?
Now, if you’ve ever been at a tense meal and that tension has reached a peak, you know that someone will try to break that tension. The political fight has broken loose and someone says, “How about those Cubs?” The age-old family conflict has crawled out for everyone to see and someone says, “You know, your baby is just the cutest thing that I’ve ever seen!” Or, if all else fails, the host or hostess rises with an uncomfortable smile and says, “Who wants dessert?” And collectively, there is a huge sigh of relief as everyone rejoices at the chance to clear the table.
Even two thousand years ago, someone at that meal had the good sense to break the icy tension: “Blessed is one who will eat bread in the kingdom of God!” At this point, Jesus doubles down on the tension in one of his favorite ways: he offers a parable. “There was a guy who decided to have a huge banquet and he invited all sorts of people.” Jesus had just lectured them about including those who are not usually included. Now, he’s going to tell a story about the same idea.
These great banquets were like the wedding receptions that we might attend. You are invited. You R.S.V.P. You show up. Then, in the case of a modern wedding, the guy rings the chime that signals that it is time to be seated and eat. In the story, the man invites all sorts of people. Then, on the big day, the man sends out his servant to tell everyone that it is time. People have already accepted the invitation. Now, it is time to actually show up.
This is when the excuses start to fly. “I just bought the most amazing piece of land. I need to go check it out. Please accept my regrets.” “I just bought ten oxen. I can’t wait to try them out. Please accept my regrets.” “I just got married. Please accept my regrets.” They are full of excuses. However, the truth is that they could have deferred those concerns. The property isn’t going to disappear. The oxen aren’t going to run off. Last time I checked, married people—even newly married people—do go to dinner. Besides their excuses being flimsy, these people are having rich people’s problems: managing their property; making sure their prized oxen get a good workout; dealing with the challenges of a loving marriage. These ungrateful, self-centered, no shows leave the dinner host seething.
So, he’s left with tables full of food and no one to eat it. Literally, the food is on the table! It’s now or never. So, he sends the servant back out. He sends him out to the bad neighborhoods in town, the places where the poor, the lame, and the blind live. Not surprisingly, these people—who honestly never get invited anywhere—are thrilled. They show up in droves. There’s no time like the present to eat when you’re hungry! However, even though they all show up, the servant announces to his master that there is still plenty of room and plenty of food. So, the servant goes back out again, this time out of the city and into the countryside. He’s beating the weeds down searching for more dinner guests! “Find as many hungry, grateful people as you can. I’m not going to waste a bite of this food on people who won’t show up.”
Now, a lot of discussion about this story concerns the “host” permanently rejecting those who didn’t show up. Here’s the thing, though, these people—who led easy lives—couldn’t really see why a banquet would be a big deal. The host didn’t reject them. They rejected the invitation. The time to show up was now but they said to themselves, “Some other time.” And every one of us knows how easy it is to slip into that perspective. There is an invitation to move from giving God the generic nod, “Okay, I’m with you” to really committing: “I see the need. Now, I’m going to show up. Now, I’m going to be a part of your work.” It’s just so easy to offer up an excuse instead: “Eventually, I’ll deal with that person in need but first, I really need to finish this sermon.” or some equally awful thought.
The people who show up, who join the feast, are the people the world had long ago rejected. They know that life is not about them. They know that they need help because they are hungry—for meaning, for purpose, or maybe they are just plain hungry. The bottom line, though, is that they are ready. There is no time like the present for change when, given the chance, you’d change just about everything about your life: “Count me in!”
The most important thing about this parable, though, the point which a lot of folks seem to skip over, is that there is way more than enough food and way more than enough room for everyone. This is not a story about scarcity. This is about abundance. This is about who is willing to show up, not who will be excluded.
Life can be an incredible feast. God is the host and you are invited. Are you going to show up or make excuses? The food is on the table. The time is now! Come and dine!