Gospel of Luke

More Freedom from More Rules

Luke 14:1-14

On one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the sabbath, they were watching him closely. Just then, in front of him, there was a man who had dropsy. And Jesus asked the lawyers and Pharisees, “Is it lawful to cure people on the sabbath, or not?” But they were silent. So Jesus took him and healed him, and sent him away. Then he said to them, “If one of you has a child or an ox that has fallen into a well, will you not immediately pull it out on a sabbath day?” And they could not reply to this.

When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, ‘Give this person your place,’ and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” He said also to the one who had invited him, “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 of the righteous.”


Pastor Mark began his sermon last week with this idea of “telling a better story”, one of a wider mystery and grace than we may be used to. In the reading from last Sunday, Jesus healed a woman bent over for 18 years; and he broke the Sabbath laws to do it. Jesus breaks the Sabbath laws, Pastor Mark noted, in order to give witness to love beyond measure or reason; grace in excess to every expectation. I believe the exact phrasing used was: “To hell with the rules”.

Today’s reading is parallel to last week’s reading and also says “to hell with the rules”, particularly the rules governing ideas of status and honor.

In Luke 14 it is again the Sabbath day and here we find Jesus in the home of a Pharisee for a meal.

Now, this context of a meal is central to the deep meaning of the story, as we will see. Eating is about who is in and who was out.

Table etiquette and seating placement were very important in the ancient world in a way that likely does not fully resonate with us today. Who one ate with, whether one washed before eating, and where one sat at the meal were all social status markers. Hosting and Hospitality, then, was a way a person may gain prestige, and a meal may be expected to involve excessive eating and drinking, which is of course requires financial resources.

To be a guest, was to be acknowledged as a social equal, and we might be able to imagine the mutually reinforcing patterns of honoring between hosting a distinguished guest and being invited to dine by a distinguished host.

Though not as central to our culture, we do still have this link between seating and status.

Maybe some of you have been honored at a dinner, perhaps at your work, where they have invited all the important people in your company and seated you among them. Being seen in the presence of these important people gives you a certain degree of bragging rights among your collogues.

Or in contrast, perhaps some of you have been to a wedding and were assigned to a random table far from the Bride and Groom and thought, “Huh, so I mean so little to them?”, all the while noticing your other friends who are seated very close to the couple.

Or we have all seen one of those high school movies where the new kid accidentally sits at the “cool kids table” and gets mocked mercilessly. How dare this unknown kid presume to sit with us!]

Here, Jesus has been invited to sit with the “cool kids”, with the presidential VP’s, and share a meal at home of a leader of the Pharisees, the [third?] such meal recorded in Luke’s Gospel. This would have been quite a distinguished invitation, though it will be the last invitation as far as the gospel is concerned and we can understand why.

Jesus, for his part, is a pretty ill-mannered guest. He almost immediate breaks the Sabbath laws, in the very home of a teacher and strict keeper of the law!

The timing here on the Sabbath day should again set off little “warning bells” as we hear it – Pastor Mark mentioned last week that if Jesus had healed the woman bent over on a Tuesday, it would have been no less meaningful for her. No less a miracle.

But, by choosing to set her free from her bondage on the Sabbath, a day not only associated with a day of rest but with the Sabbath year of Jubilee, that joyous fiftieth year when all debts are expunged, land lost through debt or hardship returned to their ancestorial families, and Hebrew slaves freed.

The Jubilee legislation in Leviticus is explicitly economic, not merely spiritual. It was intended to ensure that there was no permanent underclass in Israel’s society.

Jesus, by continually linking his healing and teaching ministry to the Sabbath, is signaling that his ministry is liberative, and life giving, in the greatest sense of that term. Like the Jubilee year, Jesus is breaking all of the typical patterns and rules.

So again, as in last week’s reading, Jesus heals a person on the Sabbath, this time a man suffering from dropsy, an ailment related to sever swelling and fluid retention. This act of radical graciousness breaks the accepted rules of behavior, particularly rules governing relations between hosts and guests.

This act of generous rule-breaking should help frame our interpretation of the parables Jesus goes onto tell.

After sending the healed man away, Jesus looks around and sees the other guests maneuvering for the best seat.:

To the guests Jesus says, “At a Wedding banquet, do not take the most honored place. Otherwise, you might be shamed and embarrassed if the host asks you to move—if the cool kids mock you mercilessly—Instead, take the lowest place, so that you will be singled out when the host asks for you to move to a better place. For the exalted will be humbled and the humble exalted.”

Now, Jesus is not merely offering shrewd advice about how to gain more honor at table. He is not saying “I see y’all playing the status game, let me tell you how to play it better.” As in last week’s sermon, there is something deeper going on here.

A clue is in his interpretation of the meaning of the parable: “Those who humble themselves will be exalted”. A similar phrase to this had just been used in Luke 13:30. After healing the woman who has been bent over for 18 years, Jesus goes about teaching how to be saved: he concludes his teaching by saying “Then people will come from east and west, from North and south, and will eat in the Kingdom of God. Indeed, some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last.”

In both Luke 13 and Luke 14 we have parables about eating and in both of these parables the humble and the last are the ones who are raised up, the ones who are honored.

Jesus is not offering advice on how to play the status game better, how to get to eat with the cool kids. It is a damming critique of all of their maneuvering and status games. Jesus is, instead, offering a lesson in humility.

Contrary to his fellow guests’ expectations, it is not the one who seeks honor who will find it. Instead, it will be those like the widow who was bent over. It will be those like the man suffering from dropsy whom he just healed in their presence. All of their social striving, to paraphrase Ecclesiastes, is vanity, and a striving after wind. Real honor is found in humility, and humility defines the character of God’s gracious, liberating, and rule-breaking Kingdom.

With this parable, Jesus not only rudely broken the law in another’s house – disregarding established patterns of hospitality and Sabbath keeping – but he has also then critiqued all of his fellow guests. But he is not done!

THEN, Jesus goes onto critique his host’s guest list.

To his host – a leader of the Pharisees, one of the elite – Jesus says, “When you hold a meal, do not invite anyone that is able to repay the invitation, such as rich friends or neighbors – basically, all those who are here with us – Instead, invite those who will be unable to repay you, such as the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind. Then you will be blessed”

Remember that I mentioned that to invite someone to a meal was to acknowledge someone as a social equal, though as the musical chairs of the other guests shows, there were greater and lower degrees of “social equality.”

If hosting was one way to gain social status, then the higher the status of your guests, the more social status you earn. And this social status will be enhanced and solidified when they, in return, host you for a meal. We again have this mutually reinforcing pattern.

Jesus’ parable brings this whole socially exclusionary pattern to a halt. Not only should the distinguished host invite those that are significantly below him in social status, he should do it because it does not benefit him. They are people who will not be able to repay him, that cannot help him play the social status game.

If eating is about who is in and who was out, then – turning all typical social rule of behavior upside-down -- “the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind” (14:13) are definitely in.

If this list seems familiar coming from Jesus’ mouth, it should. It echoes Jesus’ first sermon in his hometown of Nazareth, when he reads from the scroll of Isaiah where it says:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

Because he has anointed me

To bring good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives

And recovery of sight to the blind,

To let the oppressed go free,

To proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor” (4:18-19).

This, he announcing, rolling up the scroll, has been fulfilled in your hearing.

The year of the Lord’s favor another way of referring to this idea of the Sabbath year of Jubilee: the erasing of debts, returning of land, and freeing of Hebrew slaves.

So we here in our reading have Jesus, on another Sabbath, again breaking and critiquing all the rules. And his rule-breaking is in service of the socially undesirable, the economically oppressed, the religiously suspect, the physically burdened.

His Sabbath rule-breaking, bad-guest behavior gives us a glimpse of this wildly inclusive vision of the Kingdom of God.

Blessedness, the second parable concludes, is to be a blessing to others, especially “others” on the margins, drawing near to those whom society has pushed out. This is one way we participate in the coming of the Kingdom of God, a vision of the year of the Lord’s favor - by physically and monetarily, individually and systemically, inviting in and being changed by those oppressed by racism, sexism, homophobia, nationalism; by freeing those burdened, ground under, forgotten, and rejected by our economy.

True blessedness is being a blessing to others; true honor is found in humility. And true Sabbath, is found in breaking all the rule necessary to allow everyone to eat at the table of the Kingdom of God.

Amen

To Hell With the Rules

Luke 13:10-17

Now [Jesus] was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. Just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” And when he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up and began praising God.

But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the Sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the Sabbath day.”

But the Lord answered him and said, “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the Sabbath day?” When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame; and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing.


I have a new plan for our High School Sunday School this year, which is kind of an extension of what we did last year. Last year, we learned about “Things They Never Taught Me in High School,” so we changed a tire, we tied neck ties, we talked about budgeting our money and managing our time, we tied bows for wrapping gifts and I did my best to connect all of those things to Bible stories, studies and devotions to bring “life and faith together” as we say.

This year’s theme is going to be “Things They Never Taught Me in Sunday School,” and I hope to take some Bible stories to the next level for our young people; to talk with and teach them about the deeper, more grown-up – sometimes even R-rated – meanings behind stories from Scripture that aren’t always appropriate for elementary kids in Sunday School or VBS. We’ll talk about David and Bathsheba differently, and Sodom and Gomorrah, and the Ethiopian Eunuch, too. And we’ll do more with Creation and the Tower of Babel and David and Goliath, too, than even most grown-ups are used to hearing about those stories.

And I’ll keep it PG for worship this morning, but I want to talk about this morning’s miracle differently than we’re used to, too. Of course, so many people, for so many generations, have been drawn to the miracle of this broken woman being made well. Like so many other healing miracles, we are drawn to the magic of what Jesus does for the woman who’d been sick and crippled for so long. And that’s great – and a good and holy thing, for sure. But that healing is only a small part of the story. And not really the point of it all, in the end.

And I believe that’s the case with most – if not all – of Jesus’ miracles, actually. They are less about the hocus pocus, abracadabra of it all than they are about telling a better story… teaching a larger lesson … proclaiming a wider mercy, love, and grace not just because of what Jesus does in those magical moments – but because of how and why and when and where and for whom, in most cases, God does what God does through Jesus.

Think about some of the other miracles of Jesus with me for a minute. We can start right at the beginning, with the virgin birth, for example. The most impressive thing about all of that – the greatest lesson, for my money, isn’t so much about an immaculate conception. The hope of Mary’s motherhood, no matter how it came to be, is about a young woman who had faith enough to say “yes” to God. The power of that story comes from the notion that God would use a poor young girl to do an amazing thing for the sake of the world. It’s about casting the mighty down from their thrones – by way of a poor peasant girl and helpless baby boy – and uplifting the humble in heart.

And think about the miracle of Jesus turning water into wine, at that wedding in Cana. It could have been milk or honey, Pepsi or Bud Light … the substance of it didn’t matter so much. The point was – the lesson to be learned, the good news to be shared – was that there is more than enough to go around and that God always saves the best for last. (So no. I guess it couldn’t have been Bud Light, after all. That stuff is terrible.)

Or what about the miracle of the guy who was born blind but who Jesus helped see again? His friends and neighbors thought he had been born blind because of something he or his parents did to make him deserve that hardship. So when Jesus restores his sight, it wasn’t about the miracle of Lasik surgery in the 1st Century. It was about showing that God doesn’t punish us with sickness or disability. It was about showing, perhaps that, even if you believed his blindness was the result of some sin, God could and would and does delight in undoing that through the power of forgiveness; and that God will go to great lengths to restore someone to their community.

When Jesus walked on water, he wasn’t proposing a new Olympic sport, he was showing us something about faith. When he calmed the storm, he wasn’t concerned about the weather, he was revealing the power of God’s peace in the presence of our fear. When he cleansed the leper it wasn’t about better skin-care it was about God’s love for the outcast and the outsider among us.

Do you see what I mean? As much as we love a good miracle story, the magic of it is rarely the point. And today’s episode, in the synagogue is no different.

It’s great that this woman who’d been hunched over, crippled, for nearly two decades was “up-and-at ‘em” again without the help of a chiropractor, don’t get me wrong. But in light of what we know about the kind of things Jesus can do, this isn’t the most impressive thing about that day. What we’re supposed to pay attention to – what matters most about all of this in the first place – is that it happened on the Sabbath. The Lord’s day. The established day of rest and for worship.

What I mean is, it wouldn’t have meant as much – this story wouldn’t have made the news – had the woman done what the leader of the synagogue suggested and come back for her healing the next day, right? It would have been great. It would have been no less miraculous had Jesus commanded this woman to stand up for the first time in 18 years on a Tuesday. But, again, the miracle – the healing, itself – is barely the point.

So, miracle, schmiracle. Our faith can’t be just about the miracle or else all we’re left with is the hopeless reality that we can’t do what Jesus does and that Jesus doesn’t do what he can for everyone, in every way we would like. So there must be something more than the miracle here.

And the “more” … Jesus’ greater point and larger purpose … is to heal and to comfort and to share love and offer grace at all costs. In excess of every expectation. At the expense of every rule. Breaking the rule about working or healing or whatever on the Sabbath is Jesus’ larger mission – and our greatest hope – this time around.

The point is that the only rule that matters to Jesus is the one about loving God and loving our neighbor and living in any way and every way possible that brings that love to bear upon the world – so to Hell with the rules. Literally. To Hell with the rules. Let the rules – and laws and limited expectations of those in power – be banished to the outer darkness. Let those rules be subject to whatever weeping and gnashing of teeth it takes to dismember them.

Which is something I can sink my own teeth into and something I can wrap my brain around. That’s something each of us can do something about, too – breaking the rules, I mean – that keep God’s love from being shared in as many ways, with as many people as we can manage.

When someone tells you you can’t or shouldn’t love someone because…

When your own score-keeping, rule-abiding heart tells you you shouldn’t forgive someone because or unless or until they…

When your own fear tries to convince you you shouldn’t be that generous…

When society tells you you shouldn’t extend mercy because…

When your own history and experience tell you you should or shouldn’t, or can or can’t because “that’s not the way you’ve ever done it before”…

In the face of whatever rules or expectations that threaten to limit what God can accomplish by grace – for you and through you – Jesus gets up in the synagogue on the Sabbath day and breaks the rules. He breaks the law so that we can see just how brave and bold and beyond reason God’s love means to be. And how beyond the rules we are called to be, just the same.

Because we can’t heal every disease, but we can love one another through the sickness and struggle and sadness of them all – and that’s a miracle.

We can’t change the weather, but we can trust God’s presence, and we can be the presence of God for someone, when the storms of life in this world show up – and that can be magical.

We can’t undo every sin, or change every sinner, but we can accept and offer forgiveness – and that’s nothing to sneeze at.

We can’t walk on water, but we can extend a hand to an outcast or an outsider and welcome them in – and that will work wonders in the lives of God’s people.

Because the greatest miracle of all – Jesus’ resurrection from the dead – shows just how far God is willing to go to break every rule for our sake. And the miracle of that isn’t just something we wait for on the other side of heaven. In a world full of so many rules, too much fear, and so much sadness – all of which try to convince us otherwise – we are set free from all sorts of bondage, like the woman in today’s Gospel, to live in the miracle that is new life and second chances and amazing grace, every day, for all people, in Jesus’ name.

Amen