In the movie Dinner for Schmucks, a group of executives compete to see who can find the strangest, most idiotic person. They invite their new companions to dinner and spend the evening making fun of them.
It’s a perverted twist on Jesus’ table instructions. Jesus said to invite the poor, the lame, the outcast to dinner but for nobler reasons. They were to be the guests of honor. In the great banquet of God, the ones who receive the best seats and the choicest treatment are the people usually overlooked or purposely excluded.
Of course, that idea flies in the face of conventional wisdom. Our habit is to pay special attention to the influential, the person with money to grease the palm. Dignitaries sit at the head table at our banquets. Only invited guests are welcome. We measure our place in society by the parties we attend and the company we keep. How’s that saying go? “Everyone wants to be in the back of the church, the front of the bus and the center of attention.”
Things have changed very little since Jesus’ day. Back then, the same sort of table rules applied, but they were even stricter. Everyone who was anyone jockeyed for the places of honor. To be seated farther than another from the host was an insult. And the Pharisees weren’t the only ones fretting over such things. Even Jesus’ disciples argued about who would sit on his left and on his right in God’s kingdom.
But there was another issue to contend with. In ancient Jewish culture, the classes didn’t mingle. Religious leaders like the Pharisees wouldn’t have broken bread with sinners, the poor, or the disabled. They believed such people contaminated them. They sat at the top of society’s hierarchy, separate and protected. In order to preserve their holiness, the Pharisees kept a formal distance from the infectious power of the less deserving.
So you can imagine the controversy Jesus stirred at that dinner party. He comes off as rude, a guest who has the nerve to criticize the hospitality of his host. Not only did he find fault with the seating arrangements, but he thought the guest list was incomplete as well. Why grab the best places when someone more important might show up? Why invite your family and friends when so many people never get invited anywhere? Jesus could be a wet blanket, the kind of guy who brings a pleasant evening to a screeching halt.
Yet even in our discomfort, we have to admit he’s right. We struggle to be hospitable, to accept people as Jesus accepted them. The early church took his intentions so literally that it created seating charts for worship services. They indicated who should sit where and why. The most radical part of the plan allowed for late arrivals: "If a poor person comes into the assembly, and there are no seats available, the bishop must give up his seat and let the poor person sit there." The bishop relinquish his seat? That would be like inviting the guest to occupy the pulpit or preside at the communion table. The entire focus of the service would shift to the poor person. And maybe that’s what Jesus had in mind all along.
But it’s not easy being hospitable. We have only to watch the news or read the papers for evidence of that. Relations between whites and blacks still remain tense after years of civil rights efforts. Worries about anchor babies and illegal immigration make us resentful of Hispanics. The looming 9/11 anniversary stokes the fires of suspicion toward Muslims. In our own communities, the faltering economy has taken its toll. Almost every day a person in need comes by the church, exhausting our resources and challenging our patience. Hospitality demands effort.
Jesus knew that. He doesn’t expect us to welcome people because we like them; we’re to welcome them because they need a place to belong. By eating with all sorts of individuals, Jesus showed God’s inclusive nature. No one is omitted. Everyone has a place at the table. Jesus sets himself at odds with a culture that keeps some people out and other people in. In one episode of his comic strip, Dennis the Menace says, “Mrs. Wilson gives you a cookie because she's nice, not because you're nice." The same can be said of God.
I heard of a woman who seemed inspired by Jesus’ attitude. She was engaged to be married. The couple had reserved an expensive hotel for their reception. It would feature delicious food served on the finest china, a band for dancing, the whole works. The price tag was $30,000. But then the groom got cold feet and called off the wedding. Needless to say, the bride was furious! When she tried to cancel the reception, she was told, “You signed a contract. You can either give up the money or go ahead and have a party.”
After some thought, the woman decided to go ahead with the plans. But instead of inviting her friends, she sent word to the homeless shelters and city missions. She’d been homeless once herself, so opening the party to others in that situation seemed the perfect solution. A crowd of outcasts and poor enjoyed a fabulous meal and an evening of dancing. The bride did, however, make one change to the menu. In honor the groom, she served boneless chicken.
Before this service ends, we will gather about the Lord’s table. As part of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), we are quick to point out that communion is open to all Christians, not just members of this congregation. That’s one of the hallmarks of our tradition, a practice we feel exemplifies the generous, open way of Christ. But how open are we really? Aren’t there some with whom we’d rather not worship? We find it difficult enough to sit at table with certain people we know let alone strangers. If we’re honest, we may think twice before sharing the bread and cup. God’s hospitality may obligate us to more than we bargained for.
Guess who’s coming to dinner? The poor, the lame, the blind, the downtrodden, the outcast. When Jesus throws a party, even you’re invited.
