Worship is at the heart of who we are.

Sermon for the 12th Sunday after Pentecost

Text: Luke 14:1, 7–14

Grace and peace to you from Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior, Amen.

I don’t know about you, but I grew up in a family where meals mattered. In the small town of Ryan, my mom wore a whistle around her neck. She could step outside, blow it, and we had ten minutes to get home. That whistle carried across town, and if we didn’t show up, my mom knew exactly which house to call. And let me tell you -you didn’t want that to happen.

Looking back, those meals weren’t just about food. They were about the stories of the day, the emotions we carried, jokes that made my mom laugh so hard milk came out of her nose. They were about connection, slowing down, being intentional with one another—my siblings and parents meeting in the middle of whatever the day had held.

We even had assigned seats, whether we realized it or not. Around our round table—always covered in a bright tablecloth - my parents sat opposite each other. On either side of Dad were Joe, the oldest, and me. On either side of Mom were Bruce, my brother just a year and a half younger, and my sister Katrina. I’m convinced the arrangement was intentional. Bruce and I, both middle kids, needed to be kept apart because we were experts at riling each other up. Joe, next to Dad, didn’t need much attention, while Katrina, the youngest, needed a little extra beside Mom. I love the memories of what was shared around that table.

Maybe you have a specific spot at your tables too. And if not, perhaps you’ve been assigned a seat, in a lunchroom, a classroom, at a wedding - maybe you have a certain pew you like to sit in each week. We all know that seating arrangements can say more about relationships than the actual words we exchange at times.

And that’s exactly what’s happening in today’s Gospel. Jesus is at the home of a Pharisee in our text - who is a well respected religious leader - and they are sharing a Sabbath meal.

Now meals in first-century Palestine were never just about eating. They were about status, 2 honor, and where you fit in the social hierarchy. Anthropologists say the table was a kind of “map of power.” To sit close to the host was to be important. To be pushed to the margins was to be shamed. Luke tells us, in our text today, that the Pharisees were “watching Jesus closely.” The Greek word there is paratēreō, which literally means “to watch like a hawk, to spy on.”

They’re not curious, they’re suspicious. They’re trying to catch Jesus stepping out of line. And what does Jesus do? He turns their watchful gaze back on them. He notices how the guests scramble for the best seats, and he tells a parable.

For us to really grasp the depth of this text, we have remember that in the ancient world, honor was everything. It was your reputation, your social currency, the very measure of your worth in the community. To lose honor - through shame - was devastating. Families, support systems, jobs, everything - depended on honor. That’s why Jesus’ story hits so hard for those who are gathered together listening.

Jesus says, “Don’t grab the best seat. Don’t assume you belong at the head of the table. Because if you do, and the host tells you to move, you’ll be humiliated.” The Greek word here for “disgrace” is aischynē - which isn’t just embarrassment, it carries the meaning of a deep social shame.

But then Jesus flips it, he says instead: “Take the lowest seat. Choose humility. And then maybe the host will lift you up and say, ‘Friend, move higher.’”

Jesus here isn’t simply giving social advice….he isn’t just teaching etiquette for dinner parties. Jesus is teaching us about the kingdom of God. That “All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

And this line is so central to Luke’s Gospel. If we look back to the very beginning of Luke’s narrative, to Jesus’ birth, we hear Mary’s song - the Magnificat - where she sings: “God has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly.” Right from the start, 3 we are told that the Kingdom of God has a very different economy than the world we know. In Mary’s words we hear that, as Jesus enters the world as a vulnerable baby, God’s Kingdom is breaking in—overturning human systems of power and redefining what true kingship and divine rule look like.

And here in our text, that means the ones scrambling to be first will be last. The ones overlooked will be honored.

But Jesus doesn’t stop there. He doesn’t just challenge the guests. He challenges the host as well. “When you throw a banquet,” he says, “don’t invite the people who can pay you back. Don’t just gather your friends, family, or wealthy neighbors. Invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.”

Now, in Jewish law, those categories- the poor, the lame, the blind- were often excluded from full participation in society, including in temple worship. They were seen as outsiders, ritually impure and unclean, less than whole. But Jesus is saying: in God’s banquet, in God’s Kingdom, they are the honored guests.

And as Jesus is saying this to those gathered around him, he uses a specific word for “repay” and that is antapodidōmi - which is literally translated “to give back in return.” Jesus warns against building relationships only on reciprocity. Kingdom relationships aren’t transactional. Never transactional. They’re rooted in grace. Because God’s love isn’t a quid pro quo - it’s a gift. But let’s be honest - we still hope for a certain seat - a certain place. We still measure ourselves against others. We angle for recognition. We want to be near power, to be seen as important.

But Jesus calls us to something different. He calls us to step back, to choose humility - to 4 make space for others. He calls us to examine who’s at our tables - literally and figuratively. Who gets invited? Who is left out? Who do we overlook because they can’t pay us back?

And here’s the thing: humility and hospitality are not just moral values. They’re the shape of God’s kingdom. When we choose humility, we mirror Christ himself, who “emptied himself, taking the form of a servant.” When we extend hospitality to those who can’t repay us, we mirror God’s grace, which we can never repay.

There are plenty of congregations where people are allowed to join and even tithe, but not fully participate because they are LGBTQIA+, because they don’t speak English fluently, because they are women. But let’s be clear: that isn’t true welcome. That isn’t the radical hospitality of Christ. That’s conditional acceptance, not the full embrace of God’s kingdom. We are called - in every aspect of our lives and our community - to welcome others as Christ has welcomed us.

That, that is the kind of banquet Jesus is talking about. A table - where all belong, fully as themselves.

Friends, I know this is not always easy - especially in our personal lives. Choosing the lowest seat, opening our tables to those who can’t repay us - it’s countercultural. It goes against every instinct to protect our status and our comfort. But that is what the kingdom of God looks like.

And the thing is - theres a promise in it: “You will be blessed,” Jesus says, “because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.” The blessing isn’t in earthly recognition. It isn’t money, or status, or comfort.

The blessing is in knowing that when we humble ourselves, when we make room for others, we find ourselves sitting at Christ’s table. And at that table, there is always enough, and there is always room for more. So may we feast with joy - and may we open wide the invitation so that others may feast there too. Amen.

- Pastor Minna Bothwell