“Discipleship by the Lakeshore:  Invite!  (But Who’s on the Guest List?)”

First Congregational United Church of Christ

July 10, 2011

The Rev. Sharyl B. Peterson

 

Scripture Readings:  Exodus 2: 15c-22; Luke 5: 27-32

 

Last week, we began our July sermon-series on discipleship – and we began it near the lakeshore (at Highline Lake, for those of you who missed it) because Jesus frequently preached and taught and healed near lakeshores.  We talked about the fact that the word “disciple” means “learner” or “pupil.”  So, a “disciple” was a person who attached himself or herself (less often) to a teacher whom he or she respected and admired, and spent as much time as possible learning from that teacher.

            Last week, we remembered that Jesus called people 2,000 years ago – and that some (but perhaps not all) of those calls are described in the Gospel stories.  And we remembered that Jesus continues to call people today – including us – to be his disciples.

            Finally, we noted the reality that discipleship – learning Jesus’ way, and living Jesus’ way – is not an easy thing to do.  Today, we’re going to begin to examine one of the several things that can hold us back, even today, from being Jesus’ disciples.

            You may have noticed that both of our Scripture readings this morning are, in different ways, about invitations.  In the story from Exodus, a stranger named Moses shows up in the land of Midian, and sits down by a well to rest.  As he’s sitting there, a group of young women (who, we learn, are the daughters of the local priest) come to draw water for the flocks of animals that their family own.  Then a group of rough and surly shepherds shows up, and drives away the young women from the well, so they can water their own flocks.  And Moses heroically leaps up, brandishes his staff, and drives the shepherds away.  When the daughters go home, they tell their father what had happened, and their father, rather starchily, says, “what are you doing here, then?  go back and find this fellow, and invite him to come and have dinner with us.” 

            In the Lucan Gospel story , we hear about two invitations.  The first one is from Jesus to a fellow named Levi, who was one of the much-despised (among his own Jewish people) tax-collectors.  Oddly, given this guy’s reputation (and the reputation of tax-collectors in general), Jesus invites him to “follow me.”  It’s hard to think of a good modern parallel that could put this in perspective for us, but you might think about some group of people whom you don’t think much of … or are disdainful of … or even dislike intensely…and imagine Jesus showing up here and now, and inviting one of “those people” to come and be His disciple, leaving you sitting on the bench.  The second invitation in the story comes from Levi himself, who apparently is so happy about Jesus’ invitation to him that Levi decides to throw a big party, “a great banquet” in Jesus’ honor at his (Levi’s) house.

            We’re going to come back to both stories in a minute, but I invite us to pause here for a moment, and think about how invitations “work” in our own day and time.  Imagine, for example, that you decide to throw a party to celebrate your, or your spouse’s or partner’s “special” (think ending-in-zero) birthday.

            After some thought, you decide that since it’s summer, you’ll have an outdoor party, with a barbeque-based menu.  Once you figure out the food and drinks and decorations questions, the next question is, who will you invite?

And as you think about it, the first obvious choices include yours and your significant other’s best friends, just because they’re so much fun to be with.  But … it might also be a good idea to invite your boss George, and a few of your co-workers, just as a friendly sort of gesture … and while you’re at it, maybe invite your honoree’s boss, too.  And of course, Chris and Terry had you over not that long ago, so you kind of “owe” them an invitation … even though you didn’t have all that good a time at their house.  But then you remember that your boss George isn’t speaking to Chris because they got into a big argument about politics when they came to the last office-party.  And on and on it goes … who will you invite, and who will get left off the guest-list?

            But things were not always this complicated when it came to planning gatherings of people.  And it was certainly not this way among our ancestors in faith.

            That passage that we heard this morning from the book of Exodus is just one of many passages in the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) that reveal how important hospitality – warm, accepting invitation of others into one’s home – was to the people of ancient times.  Many of them lived in pretty tough conditions.  Nomads, desert-dwellers, those who lived in the small desert towns understood how utterly dependent they were on each other for survival.  Both social norms, and the very laws said, if a stranger shows up at your door, you must invite him or her in, bathe his/her feet, feed him/her dinner, give him/her a bed at least for that night.  Everyone who showed up at your door, whether relative, friend, or stranger, was to be welcomed warmly and graciously, no matter how poor the host family might be.  In fact, We might almost have taken our current UCC motto from those folks:  “whoever you are, wherever you are on life’s journey, you’re welcome here!”

            Even two or three thousand years later, when the historical time-line puts us in Jesus’ time, there were still strong expectations about hospitality.  And yet, because fewer people were desert dwellers, and more were town-dwellers, the rules were beginning to change – not for Jesus, clearly – but for a whole lot of other folks, many of whom we hear comment on Jesus’ peculiar ideas about this whole issue.

            The New Testament shows us that Jesus invited everyone.  Family-members.  Total strangers.  Respected military officers.  Disrespected fishermen.  Well-regarded religious leaders.  Despised tax-collectors.  He invited and welcomed all kinds of ordinary – sometimes clean and well-dressed – sometimes scruffy – sometimes well-known – sometimes disreputable – sometimes outright despicable people – all people and every person was invited and welcomed by Jesus, even those “not-so-nice people” whom the “nice people” wouldn’t associate with.

            Last week, we considered Jesus’ call – his invitation to come and follow Him – to a group of grubby, smelly, sweaty fishermen.  And we reflected on the likely grumbles of the rest of the crowd:  “why did he invite those people?  I mean, really, people like that?  Does he have no standards?”

In today’s Gospel story, Jesus is at it again.  This time, he’s strolling through the town-square, maybe stopping to chat with some of the vendors there for the Farmers’ Market, maybe just enjoying the morning air, when he notices, over on the edge of the square, near the main municipal building, the booth of a tax-collector.  But instead of doing what most people did, which was to get as far away as possible from it, Jesus walks right up to the porch where the tax-collector, a guy named Levi, is sitting, and says to him, “Follow me.”  Come with me.  Eat with me.  Stay with me.  Be my disciple – learn from me.  And just like the fishermen Jesus had called earlier, the story-teller tells us that this fellow Levi “got up, left everything, and followed Jesus.”

            The one thing Levi does that the fishermen didn’t do is throw a party to celebrate.  He decides to put on “a great feast” to honor Jesus.  And because great feasts like this one, in a small village like this one, were public events, everyone showed up.  You might imagine the red carpet at today’s Academy Awards, filled with celebrities, the rich, the famous, the well-dressed, the bling-bedecked, all of Levi’s fellow businessmen who have been invited as guests.  And along the edges of the crowd, just like at the Academy Awards, there were all the gawkers … the unknowns, the obscure, the “nobodies” … all the folks who’d heard about the “big do,” and were coming to get a glimpse of the celebrities – even though they’d never get inside the house themselves.

            And among the group of gawkers who show up are some religious leaders – some Pharisees – who have a conversation (which Luke reports) that goes something like this:  (for readers, this dialogue appears at the end of the sermon manuscript).

Not surprisingly, back then, just as now, people who don’t get invited to the “party” – whether we’re talking a big dinner-party, or the Academy Awards,             or the gathering of the Women’s Fellowship group, or the local Chamber luncheon – tend to get cranky, especially if it’s a party they want to attend, a group they want to be part of.  And so, they whinge and moan, and criticize the host, and the other guests, just like we hear the Pharisees doing here.

Interestingly, in my experience – and I don’t think this is too big a stretch historically or Biblically – sometimes even the “insiders” – the folks who get the invites – complain.  Let’s listen to a couple of the guests at Levi’s party: (dialogue at end of this sermon manuscript).

I’d be willing to bet some of you have been there, and done that too.  You got invited to some special event, and then spent at least part of the evening checking out the other attendees, and wondering aloud what the host was thinking by inviting “people like that.”  When we do that, we line ourselves up with the Pharisees in this story, and quite likely with Levi’s party-guests as well.  We self-righteously (this is not to be confused with the “righteousness” that Jesus teaches about) argue that there are well-established social rules about who should be welcome in a group, and who should not be welcome.  That “nice people” (which is always from the perspective of the speaker, and usually includes only those who meet their expectations and standards) should be welcome.  That “people like us” (again, from the speaker’s perspective) should be welcome.  And that “people like them” (whether “they” are members of a different social class, or ethnic group, or political party, or whatever) should not be invited or welcome.

            What sets Jesus apart – here and everywhere else – is his perspective on things.  Which is God’s perspective on things.  Which so very often is not our perspective on things.

            Jesus doesn’t have any use for social conventions about who the “nice people” are and who the “not-nice people” are.  He doesn’t have any use for rules that define some people as “in” and others as “out.”  Jesus says, in God’s reign – in God’s kin-dom – there shouldn’t be any “us” and “them.”  There is only us.  We are all children of God.

            And so Jesus responds to the Pharisees’ grumbling and criticism, to the party-guests’ mumbles, this way.  He says, Listen up.   “I have not come to call the righteous, but the sinners to repentance.”

            Now on the face of it, that statement sounds a little judgmental on Jesus part, and certainly not very welcoming.  But it’s important to know that another way of translating that last phrase, “to repentance,” is “to the kingdom.”  “To the kingdom of God.”  I haven’t come to call all those folks who are already doing God’s will – already living the way God calls you to – the kinds of folks that you all seem to think you are – into God’s kingdom.  I’ve come to invite all those folks who are broken … who are struggling … who are living lives that put them “outside the pale,” or “on the other side of the tracks.”  Because in God’s kin-dom, Jesus reminds us all, everyone is welcome.  Everyone is on the guest-list.

            It’s important to remember that Jesus was not some kind of naïve chump, who had no idea what the current social standards were, nor any idea that he was leaving himself wide-open to criticism.  We know that Jesus was a realist.  (The Gospels make that clear.)  We know that Jesus lived in a culture that was deeply divided.  Between the Romans and the ordinary citizens.  Between Jews and Gentiles.  Between businesspeople and farmworkers.  Between men and women.  And so on and so on.  Jesus lived in a culture that was grounded in a shame-and-honor system more pervasive and foundational than we can begin to understand, a culture in which “honor (was) more important than gold, and public shame (was) one of the worst things that could happen to anyone[1].”

            Yet in the face of that system, knowing full well there would be heck to pay for it, Jesus taught a radically different message.  He named as insiders – as welcome, honored guests – those the wider culture called shameful.  He talked about the kingdom of God – the reign of God – the community who had learned to love each other the same way God loves each of us.  He spread the table that was set for everyone, where everyone was invited – called – encouraged to come and sit down and feast together.  As UCC pastor and theologian Robin Meyers puts it, “The kingdom of God is not a press conference, or a resolution, or a short course in how to be eloquently indignant.  It is a table, laden with grace, at which the social maps are all redrawn.  The guest list comes straight out of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest[2].”

            And Jesus calls us – invites us – implores us – two thousand years later – to do the same thing.  And if we are going to get really serious about being Jesus’ disciples, we have to embrace (not just nod in agreement with, but embrace in words and actions) Jesus’ teachings about mercy … about humility … about creating shalom … about radical hospitality.

            In our time, as in Jesus’ time, it’s all too easy to think or say, “well, no thanks, we’re not really interested; we’d really rather be with our kind of people.”  Or to ask, in horror, “what would my friends think if I included people like that?”  “what will the neighbors think if we welcome people like those?”  “If our church was to publicly declare itself Open & Affirming … or a Just Peace church … or as Accessible 2 All … what would other congregations in this community think?”  And so, we chicken out.  We worry more about what other people might think than about what Jesus might think … than what the Bible makes pretty clear God does think about this whole matter.

But when our fear … our worries about our social standing … or whatever starts to get in the way of radical hospitality, we need to remember:  in God’s kingdom, everyone is invited and welcome … at Christ’s table, everyone is invited and welcome … so, shouldn’t we – as would-be disciples – be just as gracious, just as generous, just as open-hearted – in the invitations we have to offer?  Shouldn’t our guest-lists include everyone?  Amen.

 

The Pharisees’ Conversation

 

Pastor Sharyl:  Josiah and Azor are both Pharisees in good standing in the faith community in the vicinity of Galilee where Jesus taught and travelled a good deal.  Because a “great feast” in a Galilean village was a public affair, people who weren’t invited (like these Pharisees) still gathered around the edges of the party to watch the goings-on.

 

Josiah: Can you believe this crowd?  It looks like the entire Chamber of Commerce is here!  To say nothing of all their “best buddies”!  Azor:  Well, everyone says that Levi puts on a pretty good spread.  He ought to, given the amount he makes in the biz!  I’ll tell ya, some days, I think I’ve gone into the wrong profession.  If I was a tax-collector instead of a Pharisee, I could afford a big fancy house like this one too.  Fancy pottery everywhere!  The finest, whitest linens on the tables.  To say nothing of all these servants!

 

Josiah: That kitchen’s smelling pretty good, too.  I suppose he’ll put on a spread to match the décor, won’t he?  Just like a tax-collector, showing off his wealth like that!  Of course, not being “official invited guests,” we won’t get a bit of it!  Azor:  Yeah, well, I don’t like the company any better than I like his high-falutin’ ways.  Every one of these scumbags here is either a tax-collector, or a toll collector, or a government official, or some other kind of thief – all of them cheating and stealing every dime they can from the honest, hard-working citizens.

 

Josiah: Makes you wonder a little about this Jesus, fellow, doesn’t it?  I mean, I’ve heard he’s a little “different” in his thinking and in his ways – Azor:(interrupts) yeah, I’ve heard he hangs out with hookers, and thieves, and drunks, and all kinds of people that the Good Book makes it completely clear none of us should associate with.  Especially anyone going around calling himself a “rabbi,” for Heaven’s sake!

 

Josiah: Not only that, my brother’s oldest boy, the one who works with his dad at the tannery, said he’d heard from his friend Josh’s father that this Jesus is preaching all kinds of crazy stuff too.  Josh’s dad was over by the lake last week, visiting his sister and her family, and they all went down to the lakeshore to hear this Jesus preach one day.  Azor:            What kind of crazy stuff is he saying? 

 

Josiah: Stuff like, “when you give a party, don’t just invite rich people, because they can invite you back.  Invite the poor, and the lame, and the blind … “  Azor:  Invite people like that to sit down with you at dinner!  What a crock!  Is this Jesus guy nuts?  The laws make it very clear that we may be obliged to help take care of people like that, we sure as shootin’ aren’t meant to socialize with them.

 

Josiah: And that’s not all.  He’s telling the crowds that they’re supposed to (sneering voice) “love their enemies,” and that (sneering) “you’re supposed to be peacemakers … you’re supposed to be humble.”  Azor:  I wonder which enemies he has in mind?  The government?  Big business?  The liberals?  The fundies?  There’re plenty to choose from.  And what kind of ridiculous nonsense is that, be peacemakers?  Be humble?  The Lord Most High has blessed us, and we should be proud of who we are, and what we are!  No wonder this rabbi hangs out with rabble like this crowd tonight!

 

Josiah:    Makes you wonder what kind of standards this Jesus has, if he has any. 

Azor:  Looks to me from this crowd that he doesn’t have any.  Just look at those “disciples” of his, eating hors d’oevres and swilling wine like there’s no tomorrow.

Josiah: Even if Jesus doesn’t have any standards, you’d think his followers would!  I know Matthew’s and Andrew’s father, and he’s a hard-working guy who gives generously to the Temple funds.  They were raised better than this!  Azor:  Well, as upholders of the law, I think it’s up to you and me to go have a talk with them.  Maybe we can make them see the error of their ways.

Josiah:             Maybe they can even get Jesus to mend his ways…Azor:  Amen to that, brother!

The Conversation of the Insiders at the Party (Levi’s friends)

 

Elihu and Aram are good friends of Levi, the tax collector (or perhaps toll-collector … we don’t really know for sure).  Both are delighted to be invited to the big party Levi is throwing at his house.  As they stand around before the dinner starts, drinking a nice glass of wine, munching on olives and figs, this conversation ensues:

 

Elihu:  Shalom, Aram, how are you tonight?  Aram:  Shalom to you, Elihu; I was wondering if you’d be here tonight.  It’s good to see you.

 

Elihu:  You’re certainly looking well.  How’s business?  Aram:  Well, it’s certainly looking up.  I “talked” the local magistrate (if you know what I mean (smirk, smirk) into widening my tax-territory a little, and the new part includes a couple of really dumb donkey-sellers.  They don’t have any idea what I’m talking about when I start telling them about Schedule A and Schedule 4RIP, and how much taxes they owe.

 

Elihu:  I hear you there.  The people I collect from are mostly small business-people, and they’re a little more savvy about the tax-laws, so it’s harder to cheat them.  But (smirk) I generally do okay, anyway!  Aram:  Say, have you heard who the guest of honor is tonight?  I just got the invitation from a messenger, and forgot to ask.  But Levi’s food is always good, so I figured it would be worth coming, if only for the dinner.

 

Elihu:  You are never going to believe this.  It’s a guy named Jesus – some hick travelling rabbi from out in the boonies somewhere.  Aram:  A rabbi!  You have to be kidding!  As devious and rotten as Levi is, he’d never invite a rabbi to his house!  It’d be too easy for a rabbi, with all his learning, to figure out that Levi’s got a lot more money than he should, and put two and two together.

 

Elihu:  Maybe so, but that’s what I heard… a rabbi.  The one they’ve been telling all the stories about.  The guy they said does miracles.  Aram:  Maybe Levi needs a miracle, if business is bad, and the rabbi’s going to help him out!

 

Elihu:  Look, you aren’t going to believe this either, but someone said that Levi’s getting out of the business to go follow this guy Jesus.  Aram:  No way!

Elihu:  Way!  I heard it from my cousin, who heard it from his wife, whose neighbor was at the town-square the other day, when this Jesus showed up, and started talking with Levi, and invited him to join his group of disciples.  Aram:  Man!  What is Levi thinking, inviting a guy like that to our party?  If Levi really has gone over to the dark side, maybe other people’ll follow his example.  This Jesus character could be a really bad influence!

 

Elihu:  Yeah, before I accept a party invitation next time, I’m going to be choosier about who else has been invited.

Aram:  Me, too!  I don’t want to spend my time hanging out with a bunch of ignorant travelling yokels who are trying to “change my ways.”