Sermon for Luke 14:7-14
September 2nd 2007
Last week I mentioned one of the greatest privileges of being a pastor is the opportunity to preside over Word and Sacrament. The Sacraments are the easy part, because I really do nothing. After all, its God’s work, not mine. But the Word, the Word on the other hand, the interpretation of that Word can be rather difficult, especially coming from the Lutheran tradition.
You see, we use what is called a lectionary, where the readings run in a three year cycle. Each week there is an appointed Old Testament reading, a Psalm, an Epistle (a letter), and finally the gospel reading. The purposes of the lectionary are important. If one were to be a frequent attendee at church then over a three year period one would have the opportunity to hear a good portion of the Bible read out loud.
Also it is a wonderful sign of unity. Our Catholic, Methodist, Episcopal, Presbyterian brothers and sister from all over the world are studying the same texts at the same time.
Finally it forces us to hear not just the warm and fuzzy parts of the Bible, but all the teachings—Law and Gospel. Law that teaches what we are supposed to do and cannot, Gospel—the good news what God has done in Christ Jesus.
This is rather important because it is the Law/the 10 Commandments/the teachings of Christ that must convict us of our sin. We must know deep down beyond a shadow of a doubt that we cannot do what we should. Why? So that the work of Jesus may shine through. Otherwise Christ died for nothing.
Even though we are all sinners, the gospel—the good news is that we are still loved and forgiven—free again to serve. Yet it all starts with the law.
Therefore, one of the hazards of being that frequent attendee at church is there are occasions, rather frequent occasions when we are minding our own business, listening to the beautiful music, hearing the readings, and all of a sudden it seems like the pastor begins to mock us, ridicule, even try and make us feel bad—when all we wanted to do was come to church, do our duty and perhaps feel good about ourselves. Maybe that’s why not many people attend church on a regular basis! Who wants to be abused?
Billy Graham once stated the most difficult task he faced on a weekly basis is putting together a message from the word of God—Law and Gospel—a message that should comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. Martin Luther took it one step further in his struggle of preaching by claiming who am I to stand before you saying this, saying that, I am but a miserable bag of worms. Man, that’s how I feel so many times—a miserable bag of worms.
But when I realize these are Christ words and they apply to me as well as you, then it makes the task a little more bearable. Because any of you who have studied the gospels know that Jesus was serious when it came to life and death.
In today’s text Jesus is on a roll. He’s been invited to a house for dinner, a religious man at that. I love the part where it says, “they were watching him closely. Anyway, Jesus hasn’t been there for long and has probably offended all whom where present. He first heals another person, again on the Sabbath. He launches an attack of the guests for the way they jockey for the best seats at the banquet. And finally he scolds the host for the type of people he invites for the feast.
Jesus was not a candidate for the most popular award in his class. No wonder they nailed him to a tree. We would probably do the same thing today. Because in today’s text Jesus is clearly attacking them/us at a very deep level.
Sure Jesus is trying to teach them/us a valuable lesson when it comes to humility, but it goes even deeper. Jesus is conveying that they/we must, we have no choice, we must accept the “lowest” seat, which in Greek is eschatos, or last things.
The seat we are invite into--the seat which we all must someday sit in—is the seat of our own death. If they/we are not humble in this lifetime we will most definitely be humbled or ashamed in the next. Because our death is our lowest or last state, but over and over again the gospel makes it clear that our death—the death of our sin and the death of ourselves is the only condition our resurrection can take place, in which we will then feast forever at the great banquet.
Remember Jesus is at a dinner party with a bunch of certified, solid brass winner; establishment types who think they have it all figured out. But Jesus as he usually does, he turns things upside down and is basically saying to them/us, “You all think you are successful because you are living this extremely short life at the head of the table, at the top. And if you for one moment think that this is what true living is about, then you will be ashamed.”
“However, if you can accept the fact that part of life is dying, and then trust in your Father’s promises, you will come to learn that true living is about sacrifice for those around you, and then you will someday see my glory at a higher place.”
But there is another side to this gospel filled with law, a side I believe we must all take very seriously.
Jesus is trying to help us out by conveying we need to stop being “Bookkeepers.” That right, Bookkeepers of our lives and especially the lives of others.
In the second part of the gospel Jesus turns to the poor Pharisee who is probably only trying to have a decent Sabbath meal with his friends and says, “When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid.
But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection.
If you have been reading Luke, up to this point Jesus has already been critical of the following items taken from everybody’s list of Favorite Things To Be: Being First, Being Big, Being Important, Being Rich, Being Alive, and now Jesus sort of puts them all together and blast them/blast us for Being Bookkeepers.
But you gotta admit we as the human race are addicted to keeping records and remembering the score. What we call “life” is for the most part, simply a scorecard of checks and balances. What we owe and what is owed to us. Who did what to whom? We become slaves to sorting out Friend/Foe, Rich/Poor, Nice/Naughty, Winners/Losers, and Good/Bad.
And yet, if God has announced anything in Jesus it is that he for one has laid off the bookkeeping department permanently. And so Jesus warns us that we need do the same, because as far as God is concerned that way of doing business is over.
Sure it tough words to hear. That our sacred conviction the only way we feel to keep God happy and our lives in order—is to be ready at any moment to have the books we have kept on ourselves and others be audited for correctness.
It’s sort of like Jesus is saying to them/us here and now, “Listen, you are absolutely obsessed in your bookkeeping lives. You’re so busy keep score and getting your accounts straight that you hardly had time to notice that what you consider the best seat is slowing slipping away. Let go! Thumb your nose at the ledger!
It’s one more thing that can’t save you.”
It’s sort of like Jesus is saying to them/us here and now, “Look, I’m on my way to Jerusalem to die so you can be saved, free for nothing. So what the point of you keeping records on others and on yourselves, when I’m not? I came not to judge the world but save it, and I will not count your record against you, only your faith in what I say—only your faith.
Stop living your life fussing about who owes what to whom. Who did what to whom. Stop doing everything on the basis of credit and debit. Invite those who can’t invite back. Do from the heart, not from the balance sheet.”
Back to my words. Everyone I have ever met is in some shape, form, or fashion is messed up. Including myself. I even will put myself at the top of the list. Therefore in someway we are all crippled, lame, or blind. Yet despite our faults and all our unworthiness, Jesus calls you and I to the banquet table of forgiveness and life everlasting, week after week. We must do the same. Forget about keeping score! We have all fallen short!
In our next hymn that we have sung the past three weeks—maybe it’s a sign—cause I chose this hymn for my first message,
Pastor Chuck chose it for my installation, and David picked it for this week. Maybe we sure take it serious. Because the hymn prays that God will gather all of in—the lost and forsaken—the blind and the lame—the rich and stuck up—the proud and strong.
Take this little line of wisdom with you to work, to school, in your home, so this week you can throw away your record keeping books, for yourselves and for others.
Sure the message my sound a little harsh, but in actuality it is very freeing. Once I can realize that I deserve death and condemnation and yet through Christ I have freely been given life and forgiveness, then I no longer feel I must judge anybody around me. They are in the same boat as I. Now I can focus my efforts on loving God and serving others. After all that’s all that matters. That is where our abundant life comes from.
Because someday very soon, sooner than you would like to think, you and I will be sitting in the last seat—the seat of death. Will you approach the throne of Grace with an account of all you have done? If so—it won’t be near enough.
Or can we stand in the midst of the heavenly feast, humble before a God who has thrown away the books, at your baptism, and simply says to them/us here and now, “Come your name is written in the book of life, not because of what you have or have not done, but because of Christ Jesus and my love for you?” Thanks be to God!
Amen.
