See Every Sibling and Invite Them In

There is a thread of the Kin-dom that runs through all three lessons today.

The Psalm talks about God’s mercy and compassion.

We’re told that good people are generous; they give to the poor, doing justice always and forever.

The reading from Hebrews talks about showing hospitality to strangers and caring for those in prison.

It goes on to say how good works and sharing resources are the sacrifices that please God.

Then, the Gospel has this parable about a wedding party, seats of honor, and the invitation list.

The connection to the Kin-dom is a little less clear so let me give it some historical context.

In first-century Israel, wedding parties were banquets.

A wedding party was a big deal because the majority of first-century Jews—living under the oppression of Roman occupation—were living in poverty.

And eating—a basic necessity—was not always a given.

Hunger was pervasive.

And a banquet was not just a meal; it was an extravagant meal.

And it was a celebration.

So, it’s no wonder that the Kin-dom of God is represented by a banquet.

OK, so we have this thread of the Kin-dom running through all of today’s lessons.

But what good news are we supposed to take away from it?

We know the lesson Jesus has for us in in the form of a parable.

And we know parables are meant to be twisted and turned to reveal their hidden meaning.

So, let’s twist and turn the parable a bit and see if we can make the message clearer.

One of the things that can shed light on the meaning of a parable is to look at it from different perspectives.

Typically, I think we tend to hear this parable from the perspective of the host or perhaps, a guest.

But let’s look at it from the perspective of the uninvited—the ones who are typically overlooked—the ones Jesus said we should invite.

All the people Jesus mentions— “those who are poor or have physical infirmities or are blind”—lived on the margins of society.

If they were not outcasts, they were certainly overlooked.

But Jesus sees them.

And he encourages us to see them too.

And not only see them but invite them in.

Looking at Jesus’ command from the perspective of those who would not typically be invited, we can imagine their feeling of joy.

Joy at being included.

Joy at being able to say “oh, I see—THIS is what the Kin-dom of God is like.”

It’s a place where I am seen.

It’s a place where I am recognized as a child of God.

It’s a place where people know that I also possess the divine image of God.

The other characteristic of first-century banquets is that they were opportunities to improve one’s social standing.

But those who are poor or who have physical infirmities or who are blind, they had nothing to offer in terms of networking, relationship building, or status improvement.

Yes, that’s an awful thing to say.

And that’s a very utilitarian way of looking at people.

But remember that we’re talking about a first-century perspective.

How would have Jesus’ command sounded those people?

Shocking, no doubt.

And again, I imagine there would be joy amongst the marginalized.

Joy at being valued.

Not because of anything they could offer.

But simply because they were included.

Seen as a child of God.

And recognized as possessing the same divine image of God.

You see, the table that Jesus invites us to is a table of grace.

A table of unconditional welcome.

At my internship site, we had a man who was a frequent visitor.

He had some kind of developmental disability.

He was high-functioning but he had a hard time holding down a job.

He couldn’t afford an apartment, so he lived in his car.

He had a membership at the local Planet Fitness so he could shower.

When he came to church, sometimes he sat in the narthex and just listened.

When he did come into the sanctuary, he always sat alone.

He would come to coffee hour to get something to eat but he would usually take it to go.

He never socialized, even though he was greeted by many people and encouraged to join in.

You see, he didn’t feel Jesus’ unconditional welcome.

Not because of anything the congregation did—or didn’t do.

We loved him and cared for him.

The congregation paid for his car insurance, so he didn’t lose his only source of shelter.

We always packed food from coffee hour for him to take away.

I gave him a sub-zero sleeping bag, so he didn’t freeze to death in the winter.

But years of living on the margins—of being overlooked and unseen—made him unable to accept being seen.

Unable to see that we were offering him a glimpse of the Kin-dom.

That we saw him as a child of God and recognized the divine image that we shared with him.

And that is how we know the Kin-dom is near, but it is not yet.

Because try as we did, we could not get him to see it.

The table that Jesus invites us to is also a table of humility.

Jesus says, “what you should do is go and sit in the lowest place”.

In other words, you should assume a position of humility.

Humility was not a first-century virtue—at least not in Greco-Roman society.

Honor was the virtue.

Judaism, on the other hand, valued humility but primarily in the context of humbleness before God.

But Jesus’ teaching goes a step further.

It emphasizes humility.

In today’s Gospel, he says, “For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

And again, in the Beatitudes, he says, “The meek shall inherit the earth”.

Humility was a cornerstone of Jesus’ teaching.

It is a characteristic of The Way—the faith practice of Jesus followers.

As a Franciscan, humility has special meaning for me.

It is related to our vow of obedience.

Humility is a joyful surrender to God’s will.

Humility is a joyful surrender of self-importance.

And that surrender of self-importance is a commitment to the service of others, especially those who are poor.

Humility is also a joyful surrender to being formed by others—to growing in faith with those who we gather around us in community.

I’d like to think that those three things—surrender to God’s will, surrender of self-importance, and surrender of self-importance—is giving oneself up to the Kin-dom—what God has ordained for us.

And it’s important to note that our Franciscan surrender must be joyful because, if it isn’t joyful, it doesn’t count.

¬The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.—and Howard Thurman before him—talked about the “beloved community”.

It’s their term for the Kin-dom on earth.

When talking about his movement, Dr. King said, “Our goal is to create a beloved community, and this will require a qualitative change in our souls as well as a quantitative change in our lives.”

The qualitative change in our souls is the ability to see each other as children of God, each of us—ALL of us—possessing the divine image of God.

And the quantitative changes are that the people who are overlooked become seen and are invited in.

Those who are poor, have physical infirmities, or are blind are valued.

And people like the man who was homeless at my internship site see the value in themselves and can receive love and acceptance from others.

In short, God’s justice—what Jesus calls us to—reigns.

So let us close with a prayer for the Kin-dom:

Good and gracious God:

We are not satisfied with the world as it is.

There is still too little of the Kin-dom.

Show us your light.

Help us to understand that we are all your children and that your image in us makes us more alike than any category we have created for each other.

Guide us to always work for your justice—which is the birthright of every human being.

Make us more loving—the unconditional love that Jesus modeled for us—because only that kind of love can overcome hate.

Make us more forgiving—as you forgive us over and over again.

And, Holy One, keep showing us glimpses of your Kin-dom so we never tire of working towards it.

In Jesus’ blessed name we pray.

Amen.