“Invitations Galore”�

Luke 14:1,7-14�

One time when Jesus went for a Sabbath meal with one of the top leaders of the Pharisees, all the guests had their eyes on him, watching his every move. �

He went on to tell a story to the guests around the table. Noticing how each had tried to elbow into the place of honor, he said, “When someone invites you to dinner, don't take the place of honor. Somebody more important than you might have been invited by the host. Then he'll come and call out in front of everybody, 'You're in the wrong place. The place of honor belongs to this man.' Red-faced, you'll have to make your way to the very last table, the only place left. �

“When you're invited to dinner, go and sit at the last place. Then when the host comes he may very well say, 'Friend, come up to the front.' That will give the dinner guests something to talk about! What I'm saying is, if you walk around with your nose in the air, you're going to end up flat on your face. But if you're content to be simply yourself, you will become more than yourself.”�

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.”�

Perhaps you have heard the old story of the man who was walking across a bridge one day, and he saw a man standing on the edge, about to jump off. Immediately he ran over and said "Stop! Don't do it!"�

"Why shouldn't I?" he said.�

"Well,” the first man said, “there's so much to live for!"�

"Like what?" "Well ... are you religious or atheist?"�

"Religious." "Me too! Are you Christian or Jewish?"�

"Christian." "Me too! Are you Catholic or Protestant?"�

"Protestant." "Me too! Are you Episcopalian or Baptist?"�

"Baptist." "Wow! Me too! Are you Baptist Church of God or Baptist Church of the Lord?"�

"Baptist Church of God." "Me too! Are you Original Baptist Church of God, or are you Reformed Baptist Church of God?"�

"Reformed Baptist Church of God!" "Me too! Are you Reformed Baptist Church of

God, reformation of 1879, or Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1915?"�

"Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1915!"�

To which the first one said, "Die, heretic scum!" and he pushed him off.�

This was written from the Baptist perspective, but it could just as well have used Presbyterian. After all, you can, today, choose from the EPC (the Evangelical Presbyterian Church), the PCA (the Presbyterian Church in America), the CPC (the Cumberland

Presbyterian Church), the Orthodox Presbyterian Church or our very own PC(USA) (the Presbyterian Church (USA)). There are more.�

If you take a gander at some of the discussions in our denomination on a hot topic, you might find that there are too many of us that would be too willing to give those on the other side of the debate a little shove on that bridge.�

A quick survey of our history shows that we, as Christians, are all too willing to divide over issues, and divide, and divide again. Too often, an invitation of welcome is accompanied by fine print that says “YOU WILL BE WELCOME IF YOU BECOME JUST LIKE US.”�

It is a legacy of which we cannot be proud, and yet a legacy from which we cannot hide. Our willingness to divide and separate is rooted of what our theological heritage calls our tendency toward idolatry, where we idolize our own ideas and perspectives and become more attached to them than to God.�

It should be said that we can see this play out not only in our own faith. There are Orthodox, Conservative, and Reformed varieties of Judaism, and we are learning more and more about the divide between Sunni and Shi'a.�

Yet, here we sit, on Sunday morning. We got out of bed, we got dressed, and took the time and effort to come to this building, to gather at this time and join with those around you for a service of worship. Says so right on your bulletin. If religion, if Christianity, if

Presbyterianism is so divisive and has a checkered past, why is it that we have come together you and I this morning?�

Can I venture a short answer? It's because we were invited. If there is nothing else we learn from the gospel story, it is that Jesus is all about inviting, inviting people into the banquet, the party of God's realm. This is what our story is about today.�

In today's gospel, Jesus goes to supper with some church people. That's what the Pharisees were, after all. The church people of the day are trying to figure him out and decide where he fits in, if indeed he does fit in. They think probably not, the more that they see and hear about all the gauche, out of bounds actions and teachings of this Rabbi. They watch him very closely. But instead of trying to make polite conversation and fit in, Jesus has the gall to watch them. The more that he says, the more he does, the more sure they become that they don't want him at their table.�

In the ancient world, seating arrangements, parties, and Sabbath meals shared with others were an important in the delicate web of social relations. Parties were not just opportunities to have fun, but were tightly regulated affairs. Where you sat at a party was an advertisement of where you stood in the social structure. One's honor and place in society could be either enhanced…or ruined with who gathered at the table and where they sat. And when you gave an invitation, one was expected in return.�

That's why the rich and powerful did not invite the poor and the powerless, because they couldn't be seen sharing a meal together. It would endanger their place in society. “Besides, the poor can't afford to invite us back, so they would only be embarrassed and ashamed,” went the rationale, so it generally wasn't done.�

If invitations went out to everyone, and people eat at the wrong place, and the social fabric begins to unravel, then there's no telling what else will fall apart. Many of you remember the civil rights struggle at the lunch counters of the south, where civil rights activists dared to proclaim that all had the right to eat at the same counter, regardless of the color of their skin. The table at which Jesus sat, like that struggle, was not about the peanut butter sandwich or the blue plate special, it was about justice and equality.�

You see, Jesus was not just offering some useful party strategy. He was inviting those who sat around the table to look a little deeper. He is not really interested in seating arrangements at dinner parties, or at making it on to exclusive guest lists. He's telling us a parable about how to live our lives.�

In this story, and with everything that he says and does, Jesus is proclaiming that God is the sort of dinner host who, when the inviting starts, doesn't know when to quit. God just keeps on inviting and inviting and inviting any who will come.�

The good news is that the invitations come, and they come to us not due to our own efforts, or merits, or wealth, or social status, or our ability to be the life of the party. Invitations to the banquet come only as a result of God's great love and as God's free gift. Tickets to God's dinner party cannot be earned; they cannot be purchased. The invitation comes as a free gift of grace, and there are invitations galore.�

Can you see the invitations flying from his hands? At this table we are reminded that he handed them out to his last breath, and with his last breath. The invitation is for you. You are welcome here at this table.�

Jesus also came to stuff invitations into the hands of his disciples. That's what this story is about. He is teaching them about inviting, and who to invite, and about not limiting the invitations to those who look, act, and believe within bounds that we determine. Keep inviting, he says.�

I hope that you see this building campaign in light of this story. I hope that you come to understand the first service in light of this story. These things are meant to embody our vision of inviting as many as we can to this table. The ministry of this church is about proclaiming good news for you and for all who need to hear it.�

It was a warm June Sunday, at St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Richmond, VA. The sermon was preached by Dr. Charles Minnigerode, the rector. Through most of the service there was no indication that anything unusual might happen. Colonel T.L. Broun had come to Richmond on business and was in the congregation. “When minister was ready to administer the holy communion,” he wrote, “a Negro in the church arose and advanced to the communion table. He was tall, well dressed, and black. It was a great surprise and shock.” The congregation froze; those what had been ready to go forward and kneel at the altar rail remained in their pews. The preacher was visibly embarrassed. Here was the south's worst nightmare. There was a section in the gallery that was reserved for blacks, and if they wanted to receive communion, they could come forward after all of the whites had taken the sacrament and returned to their pews. But this man, this dark skinned man came forward to the front of the church as if he were a social equal. Three months before, if he had dared to do this, he would have been hustled from the church, jailed for disturbing the peace, and quite possibly flogged. Now in a city under federal occupation, the black man knelt at the altar rail while the congregation remained transfixed in their pews and the minister stood dumbfounded.�

But one white worshipper broke the tense moment. Slowly he walked forward. In his usual dignified and self-possessed manner, he made his way to the altar and not far from the other man, knelt down to partake of the body and blood of Christ. That man was General Robert E. Lee.�

Lee, a paroled prisoner, defeated, exhausted by a long and unsuccessful campaign, along with an anonymous man who dared to defy the social, religious, and political chains that bound him, this surprising pair of believers issued a fresh invitation to the good news of the gospel.�

This is the good news that you are welcome here at this table.�

As you leave this place, remember that you take with you a stack of invitations.

Spread the good news. There's a party going on, and God has rolled out the red carpet for all.�
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September 2, 2007

Rev. Paul Heins

First Presbyterian Church

Logan, Utah