Who Comes to the Feast?
Psalm 23; Luke 14:16-24
We’ve made it into the fall, passed September which is a particularly hectic month at Glenview Community Church. The children are settling into their school routines. We’re moving along with the work of the boards and committees. Most people are remembering that on Sunday morning, services are held at 8:30 and 10:30. Usually by this time of the year we would have achieved a rhythm in our autumn life. That rhythm would have allowed us to be aware that just around the corner is Halloween and before you know it we’d be getting ready for the festivities, celebrations, and anxiety of a ramped up holiday season.
We never made it to that autumn rhythm this year. Excessive rain fall wreaked its havoc on many who continue to deal with the aftermath. An historic presidential race keeps our focus away from the changes in the seasons. And a precipitous drop in the stock market adds to an already struggling economy. Instead of thinking about the treats we’ll offer on Halloween, we’re worried about the impact on college and retirement funds. Instead of deciding if we’ll host Thanksgiving, we’re anxious about the mortgage payment and the possibility of foreclosure.
I’m going to ask that we do the nearly impossible and set these very real concerns aside for just a little while so that we might make room for God’s presence in our lives. Our scriptures this morning offer us a glimpse of the faith of ancient Israel and of Jesus’ portrait of the realm of God.
Pray with me. Holy God, in the beauty of this season, we are grateful for your presence. In the chaos of this global market, help us stay focused on what is most important. Calm our anxiety. Open our ears and our hearts and our minds to your word. Amen.
The story Irene/Pam just read in the Gospel of Luke tells us about someone who invited many people to attend a feast at his house. The practice in those days was to invite people in your social circle prior to the event. Those who agreed to attend would receive another communication when the feast was ready. Up to this point in the story, those to whom this parable was told 2000 years ago would be surprised by nothing they heard, including the reasons given for saying no. Tending to new land, new animals, a new spouse were all acceptable reasons to say no. The surprise to first century Jews comes when the host moves past the usual suspects from his social circle and extends an invitation to those who are rarely welcome to such events. When even that doesn’t fill the house, the invitation is extended to those farther outside acceptable standards – outside of social norms, outside of what we expect. The stories that can be attributed to Jesus with the most confidence are those that turn expectation on its head.
The hall is filled. All who come enjoy the bounty of this generous host. Everyone is made to feel like they belong. It reminds me of the welcome we use here at GCC, that United Church of Christ congregations use throughout the country: No matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey, you are welcome here. This is not an invitation only to those who fit a certain demographic. It is an invitation to everyone. In the parable of the feast, those who fit the demographic chose not to come. So the host expanded the invitation list until the hall was filled. If we are to be disciples of Christ, we will do that same thing.
In the book Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations, author Robert Schnase describes what he sees as the first practice of fruitful congregations: radical hospitality. For Schnase, congregations practicing radical hospitality “focus on those outside their congregation with as much passion as they attend to the nurture and growth of those who already belong to the [community] of faith” (p 11). These congregations experience “a genuine love for others who are not yet a part of the faith community, an outward focus, a reaching out to those not yet known, a love that motivates church members to openness and adaptability, a willingness to change behaviors in order to accommodate the needs and receive the talents of newcomers” (p11-12).
Schnase adds, “Churches characterized by Radical Hospitality are not just friendly and courteous, passively receiving visitors warmly. Instead, they exhibit a restlessness because they realize so many people do not have a relationship to a faith community. They sense a calling and responsibility to pray, plan and work to invite others and to help them feel welcome and to support them in their faith journeys. They desire to learn about inviting and welcoming more people and younger people and more diverse people into their congregations” (p21). It sounds to me as if Robert Schnase was familiar with this parable in the Gospel of Luke. Y’all come. Everyone is welcome and warmly received.
One of the many things that I enjoy in Schnase’s description of radical hospitality is this sense that everyone sees themselves as responsible for making sure that others are invited and welcomed warmly. Sure there may be ushers and ambassadors, but everyone is wearing that hat and taking the responsibility seriously. You’ve probably heard the adage “just let George do it.” The committee makes a plan and identifies what needs to be done by when but doesn’t get around to determining who’s going to take responsibility for each step – who’s going to “own” it. There is no George and it never gets done.
Schnase’s description is the polar opposite of that scenario. In his example the plan is made, and people have agreed to be responsible for each step, and yet everyone sees themselves as key players in this commitment to radical hospitality. Imagine what we’d look like here at GCC if everyone was actively inviting and welcoming others to the church. It would look like Christmas and Easter every Sunday. GCC would look like it did last Sunday at the 10:30 service when so many children were involved in leading worship. What a joy.
Another thing that strikes me about Schnase’s description is that it is clear once a person joins the faith community they become part of the radical welcome. It’s as if they walk into the church and then turn around to greet the next person through the door. The image I have of this is the reverse of the dominoes falling down. Instead of falling down, they all stand up. Each person is aware of the power they have to make a positive difference in the life of this faith community.
This afternoon, we will be meeting with 10 to 12 adults (with 10 or 11 children) to talk about membership at Glenview Community Church. They will be received next Sunday at the 10:30 service. I can see it now. They are received during the service, walk out to the narthex to be welcomed individually, and then they turn right around and form the receiving line for the next class of new members. What a great image. This would certainly be radical hospitality at its finest.
In the parable of the feast, the invitations have been sent to all corners of the community and beyond. The feast has been prepared; the table is set; the doors are thrown open. When you walk through the door, if you walk through the door, who are you in this story? Are you the host who has orchestrated this whole thing only to be turned down by your friends? Are you one of the slaves doing your master’s bidding? Were you on the initial list and turned down the invitation? Perhaps you were on the second list and find yourself surprised by the invitation, not to mention a little worried about what to expect. Maybe you weren’t even on the second list but were dragged in from beyond the corners of the community. You’re more than surprised. You’re probably at least a little anxious about the customs in this strange place and not sure it’s safe for you to enter.
No matter what, you are somebody in this drama. You have a role to play. And you bring your anger, surprise, anxiety, frustration, delight, and hunger to the table with you. You don’t really have a choice. There may be a place to check your hat and coat, but there typically isn’t a place to check your feelings and experiences leading up to this event. This is all part of the feast, whether we intend it or not. Who we are, all of who we are, is at the table with everyone else, with all of everyone else. We need to make room for all of this.
There is a lesson we can learn from Pilgrim Youth Fellowship, the high school program that Elizabeth Ciccolini directs here at GCC. When the youth gather, they take some time to share the highs and lows of their week. That helps them connect with one another. It also makes explicit the feelings and concerns that each person carries with them. Taking time to do this helps the rest of the time go more smoothly. Such awareness enhances the experiences of all the youth and the adults who work with them.
The hall is filled. You’ve found your place at the table. You’ve taken time to greet those around you and shared with each other the highs and lows of the past week. You can smell the food and you’re feeling hungry. There’s one more thing. Where does faith fit in this feast?
We have at least part of the answer in our reading from the Hebrew Scripture. Psalm 23 is such a well known psalm. The image of the shepherd was used in talking about gods and kings in the ancient Middle East. It is a comforting image. It also expresses a very present faith that God is always with us, regardless of the challenges that face us.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside still waters;
He restores my soul.
He leads me in right paths
For his name’s sake.
God is present in the psalmist’s life. There is no doubt. Just as God is present in our lives today.
Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I fear no evil;
For you are with me;
Your rod and your staff --
They comfort me.
It doesn’t matter what is going on in our life, God will care for us. That does not mean that God is a puppeteer, pulling strings to make things go our way. It doesn’t mean that God is going to take a hand in our presidential election or advise on the economy. It does mean that when we open ourselves to God’s presence in our lives, we will find comfort and we will be able to comfort others.
And now to the feast.
You prepare a table before me
In the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil;
My cup overflows,
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life,
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord
My whole life long.
Even now, with my enemies all around me, God has prepared a feast for me. Not only that, God has anointed my head with oil and quenched my thirst.
If we open ourselves to that palpable sense of faith, knowing that God is always with us, no matter what, then we are ready for this feast. We are ready to enter the dining hall with all our fears and anxieties and expectations and gifts. We are ready to share in this feast with everyone else who comes to the table. There is room for all of us. There is room for all of all of us. And there is certainly room for our faith. Amen.
Let us be in silent prayer as we reflect on our role at the feast.