[This message was delivered at Community of the Savior, Rochester, NY, on August 31, 2025, based on Luke 14:1, 7-14. It can also be listened to on the CoS facebook page, but the camera was not working, so it can’t be watched.]
On fall Sundays growing up in Los Angeles, my cousin and I would often leave directly after our church let out, get on a city bus for a dime and go to the Coliseum where the Los Angeles Rams played football. We were ten-twelve year olds, with a few coins on our pockets. Back then, there was an entrance for the cheap seats, farthest from the playing field. The Rams weren’t very good back then (unlike our current Buffalo Bills!), so an adult could buy a ticket for a cheap seat and bring up to five kids in free. Seats weren’t reserved in the east end of the Coliseum; you just found a seat and watched the game from a long ways from the field. Our first task was to identify an adult with one or two kids with him (it was always a man) and ask if we could go in free with him; that was easy. Then began our second task: to find better seats that were unoccupied and make our way to them. It took some skill to get past the ushers without tickets. We became quite good at this, usually walking close to another adult. We sometimes ended up with 50-yard line seats. If the owner of the tickets to those seats came late, we were quick on our feet and always had other empty seats identified, just in case.
It’s a skill I’ve honed over the years, but it is ethically dubious. As an adult, when I would buy tickets for a baseball game, I would buy cheap seats, then begin the game of moving to better seats at about the third inning. Then someone pointed out to me that this activity wasn’t really honest; I had purchased the cheaper seat and I should sit in it. I had just thought of my activity as an extension of the game—and I was good at it. If I saw an empty seat, I thought I could claim it. I believe sanctification is a long journey and I wasn’t very far along then. (And maybe I am not now.)
When I heard that Southwest Airlines had decided to end their open seating plan, I was bummed. I liked the old Southwest way of no assigned seats and no first class. We were all just people grabbing an open seat—and I always tried to get the best seat. And don’t get me going about seating assignments at wedding receptions. Why do I always get assigned to a table in front of a loud speaker where human conversation is impossible?
“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.”
What are they watching for? And who are they to be watching him? Almost certainly they are religious leaders, whether priests, or Pharisees, or Sadducees. Religious leaders back then were both fascinated and frightened by Jesus. He always seemed to be disturbing their carefully ordered world of religious privilege. He didn’t play by their rules. He messed with their understanding of Sabbath. Insofar as religion had become stratified and calcified, he was irreligious if not downright antireligious. And that scares me at times, because people sometimes see me as a religious person, even a religious leader. I don’t like being referred to as a religious person or, especially, a religious leader. I am currently reading a book about the rise of Christian nationalism today, demonstrated in the insurrection at the U. S. Capitol on January 6, 2021. For many of those attacking the Capitol, it was a Christian rally with people singing hymns and praying as they attacked persons and property. It profiles a number of religious leaders in scary ways. I think the most dangerous threat to the health and vitality of the Christian Church today is Christian nationalism and it usually led by religious leaders who know where the best seats are and keep the wrong people from sitting in them.
They are watching Jesus closely as he enters the home of a religious leader for dinner. And he is watching them. What is he seeing? Apparently, they have a system for seating guests. Then places of honor are kept open for the more distinguished guests. We know how that works. When people are perceived as more wealthy, or more physically attractive, or more influential, or more charming, or more celebrated, they tend to get preferential treatment: the best table in the restaurant, the best tee times at the country club, the luxury box at the football game (where Taylor Swift roots for Travis Kelce). Jesus sees how at the dinner hosted by this religious leader, the pecking order is at work. He objects in his customary way, with a simple story from everyday life. He sets it in a wedding reception, where seating assignments can be done in the old pecking order way. Jesus says, “But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place….” That seems counter-intuitive. Who chooses to sit in the lowest place? We naturally want to sit in the better seats, where the action is. I do!
That leads me to some observations about when we gather here. Are we looking to sit with people we know or the ones we don’t know? Do we sit where we know our friends will be? During the passing of the peace, do we share our names and learn some new names? When the service ends, do we rush to those we already know? When I was pastoring, the church I served encouraged people to take the first two minutes after the worship service ended to speak with people we didn’t yet know. I encouraged people not to sit in the same place every Sunday, but to shake it up and sit, at least some of the time, in a different place and meet new friends. It can be daunting to enter a worship space for the first time. Will anyone greet me? Will I know when to stand and when to sit? Will I be welcomed? James addresses this matter in his pithy letter. “If one enters your church wearing an expensive suit, and a street person wearing rags comes in right after that one, and you say to first one, “Sit here; this is the best seat in the house!” and either ignore the street person or say, “Better sit here in the back row,” haven’t you segregated God’s children…?… Isn’t it clear by now that God operates quite differently? God chose the world’s down-and-out as the kingdom’s first citizens, with full rights and privileges.” (James 2 in “The Message.”) The author of Hebrews reminds us that by showing hospitality to strangers we may be welcoming angels without knowing it. (Hebrews 13:2)
Not long ago, the leadership of this congregation developed a paper called “Room at the Table: A Welcoming Posture for Ministry in Today’s World.” It is an excellent statement of intention. It helps us aspire to do better at welcoming the other, but are we acting on it? It concludes, “This welcoming posture is particularly applicable to differences of perspective and experience in matters of human sexuality, immigration, and political alignment…At CoS, on these matters, and many more, there is room at the table for all.” Is there room at the table for all? Are all warmly welcomed to the table of the Lord?
I love the image of the table of welcome, with room at the table for all. I’m picturing room at this table for an Israeli and a Palestinian, for a Ukrainian and a Russian, for a Democrat and a Republican, for all colors of the human family, for all expressions of gender identity, for believer and seeker and struggler and doubter, for religious and irreligious and non-religious, for you and for me. If we can come to the Table of the Lord together, I believe amazing things can happen.
I’m a fan of “On the Road with Steve Hartman” on CBS news. Hartman finds stories that warm my heart and often bring a tear to my eye. Recently he told about Grant Mullen’s ninth birthday party. Mark, Grant’s father, asked Grant to make a list of guests to invite. Grant surprised his father with a list of friends from a rec center in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, where they live. Mark volunteers at this rec center for youth with special needs. Sometimes Mark takes Grant with him and Grant helps with the games. Grant said he wanted to invite all those special friends. When Steve Hartman asked Grant why he invited them, he said, “They don’t get invited to birthdays. Sometimes people don’t get as much love.” So for his ninth birthday party, Grant was the host for his special friends. Hartman’s report didn’t touch on religion. I don’t know if Grant goes to Sunday school or if his family goes to church or synagogue or mosque or nowhere. But that nine-year-old got the point of Jesus’ teaching.
Jesus now speaks to that religious leader directly: “Then he turned to the host. ‘The next time you put on a dinner, don’t just invite your friends and family and rich neighbors, the kind of people who will return the favor. Invite some people who never get invited out, the misfits from the wrong side of the tracks. You’ll be—and experience—a blessing. They won’t be able to return the favor, but the favor will be returned—oh, how it will be returned!—at the resurrection of God’s people.’” (Luke 14:12-14 in “the Message”)
Sailing toward Wisdom 