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“Exalting the Humble”

Sermon by Peter Terpenning
August 29, 2004 
Luke 14:7-14

            In the story from Luke today Jesus has been invited to a dinner party. A formal affair with the Pharisees and they are watching him to see what he will do. It is the Sabbath, and immediately before our current story Jesus has healed another man on the Sabbath, much to the dismay of the gathered guests. The social and religious hierarchy of Jesus’ time was serious business. Who was more important and who was humbled was a rigid order. The Priests were on top at the head of the table, Levites next in line, Pharisees next and then everyone else in descending order. If people sit in the wrong place then everything falls apart.  I have no idea where Jesus would have sat in this hierarchy. As a visiting Rabbi perhaps not too far from the head, but I really don’t know. But we imagine him sitting there with an amused look on his face watching as the guests come in and figure out the seating arrangements.  Finally, he calls out, “Why don’t you try this?” Everyone head for the lowest seat possible and then you host will say in front of everyone, “Friend, come up higher”, which will be very satisfying. This is a good idea, which someone remembered and told to a Gospel writer much later. It teaches a different kind of social order than the world teaches.
            One of the most rigid social orders I ever belonged to was in Junior High. I suppose school is on my mind as my children and everyone else’s head off to different schools. I went to Philamethean Junior High, a large building that when I went there in 1968 looked quite ancient, but may have been fairly new for all I know. The elementary wing was connected and I had spent 4th through 6th grade in that wing and looked with awe and wonder at the “grown up” 7th and 8th graders who occupied the mysterious Junior High wing. I looked up Philomethean. I’m not sure why it never occurred to me to that before, it being such an odd name. All I could find was that there was a Greek character named Philomelides who was a King of Lesbos. He was in the habit of challenging every traveler to wrestle him and killed every opponent until someone; I think Hercules, came along and finished him off. This must be the origin of the name because that was what Junior High was like for me, an innocent traveler, wrestled to the death by Junior High.
            As a 7th grader I was totally intimidated by the building, changing classes, the “old” 8th graders. I had to remember my locker combination, adjust to a bunch of teachers, not just two as I had in 6th. But mostly there were the unwritten rules of the social order. What I wore suddenly became deeply important. Kids were wearing Jeans, which my mother hated, but not just any jeans, regular fit, straight leg jeans. Evidently, bell bottoms hadn’t made it to Chagrin Falls, Ohio, yet. Shirts didn’t seem quite as important and my oxford button downs seemed ok, but what I wore on my legs and feet, (tennis shoes – not dress shoes, God forbid), seemed critical. Another rule was to never go near the girls’ locker room or bathrooms. There were 7th grade places to stand for the bus and to sit in the cafeteria and there were 8th grade places. Beyond that there were the intricate information about certain cliques and where they stood and sat. Where I sat in the lunchroom and with whom was a daily source of struggle and confusion. Suddenly my ability in sports became my defining attribute. My presence in accelerated classes which used to be such of some pride for me became a liability to be hushed up at all costs. Now the reigning boys were those who could walk the length of the gym on their hands while the rest of us, the vast majority, I now realize, struggled and fell on our heads week after week. 7th graders were miserable, little, inexperienced pieces of garbage under the feet of illustrious, knowledgeable, powerful 8th graders. One of my joys now was to have an excuse to walk over to the other half of the building were the tiny, childish 6th graders could look at you with longing and admiration that you were somehow surviving in the Junior High half of the universe. Junior high, and to some extent, High School was an alternating struggle of pride and utter humility for me. The problem was, of course, that the rules were already made when I got there and I didn’t have the sense, as some of my friends seemed to, to ignore them.
            Social order still rules much of our lives in ways we would rather not dwell on. But there is a better way. Jesus goes to supper with a bunch of folks who know the social order and are trying to figure out where Jesus fits. But instead of showing them, he just ignores it and talks about this other order that he seems to think is superior: the Kingdom of God. He tells them to sit at the lowest place and see if someone invites you up. Don’t worry about what you wear, or your status, worry about elevating other people. When you have a party, don’t invite those who will make you look popular and who can repay you, invite the lame and the poor, the unpopular and miserable.
            Jesus didn’t follow the rules. Jesus sat down in the tacky, unpopular part of the lunch table, with those who didn’t have place cards or the right jeans on. The low, left out folks. Worse, he didn’t seem to mind. He was having a great time. Those at the other end look down in confusion to where Jesus is sitting with his rag tag party of hungry people; feasting, singing, telling stories, crying and laughing until tears stream down their faces. And those folks at the top of the social order, the Pharisees and Priests, were wondering, “What is going on at the other end of the table?”
            When dinner is over, the etiquette lesson is done and Jesus rises to go. But the crooked legged, one eyed, dirty crowd around him rise to go along. They are having the time of their lives and they will follow him wherever he goes. Where Jesus is, there is a feast. Life is feast, and Jesus offers us a better way of living. A way where there is room for everybody at the table and nobody cares who sits there and everybody shares in the food. This really is a better way than Philomethean Junior High. It is really is a better way.