Luke 14:1, 7-14

12th Sunday after Pentecost | August 28, 2022 | Luke 14:1, 7-14 | David Brooks |

Once again, as we have experienced over these last few weeks, we are led by Jesus to notice what is contained in ordinary moments—the regular give and take of daily life, things that occupy us all. One of the complaints about Jesus is that he is not particular, he does not conduct his life as someone “special” should or would. This complaint will become an accusation, as those who condemned Jesus to die demand that he come down from the cross so that they might believe. Stop being so ordinary! Do something spectacular, something above and beyond! Be special! No, Jesus is not special—not as the world would like.

Of course, we want to be special. Social commentators have been unpacking for several years now the finding that the children of the Age of the Social Network want, above all, to be famous when they grow up. The most frequent “job” goal today’s children list is being a YouTube celebrity with a million followers. Far from being extreme or something new, such desire may be only the natural consequence of our human wish to be important, to be noticed, to matter. Pliny the Younger, in a letter written roughly at the same time as Luke’s Gospel, complains to a friend about a party he attended where the host carefully partitioned out food and drink to the guests based on their status and relative proximity to the host. The more important the guest, the better the quality of food and wine. This process, claimed Pliny, allowed the host to be both economical in his planned fare (the less worthy guests will eat less of cheaper food and drink) and obligated those treated more sumptuously with the need to return equal hospitality—to treat the host just as special as he has treated his prominent guests. One almost wonders if Pliny was attending the leader of the Pharisees’ dinner!

But the kind of jockeying Jesus observes and describes at the house of the “leader of the Pharisees” is not simply limited to dinner time. Even as our children learn and act on the ironclad rule “you are where and with whom you sit” (the learning of which seems to be the only point of middle school), we subtly move and shift depending on where we think the center of social gravity lies in our adult world.  The gossip that so many congregations must endure arises in part from our need to be special. We wonder why “we” weren’t included or consulted on a decision. We fume that “they” seem to have an important leader’s ear. We grow anxious from learning that an event was planned when we couldn’t attend. We can’t be special if we are not in the know, right? C.S. Lewis, in his essay “The Inner Ring,” warns especially against such thinking, about dividing life in such a way that we always want to be “Inside” where the special people are, rather than on the “Outside” where the people that don’t matter are. To be anxious about who’s in, who’s out and which one you are means, says Lewis, you will likely find yourself saying and doing things which…well, I’ll borrow Lewis’s language here “will turn you into a scoundrel.”

At one level, what Jesus prescribes is sensible: be humble, notice and share with those who cannot repay, don’t worry about where and with whom you sit. But even sensible wisdom can only get you so far. It’s one thing to act with real humility; it’s another to use the façade of humility as a strategy to be seen as special.

No, the only real solution to our situation is for someone who is able to share his true specialness to take notice of us, to come to us, to make us a part of his life. Paul declares in Roman 8

For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. 30And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified.

It is Jesus, the Firstborn, who takes away from us being on the Outside, who brings us close to God the Father, who places within us the Spirit of holiness and makes us shine with his glory. Jesus, who prefers to go to what we would say are ordinary places, and do what we would say are ordinary things, and spend time with what we would say are ordinary people. Us. Jesus—the one in whom all things were made—loves the wonderful ordinary things of this world. He notices. He sees. He delights in you.

You are not special. You are blessed.

Amen.

Pastor Dave Brooks

Pr.Dave.Brooks@zoho.com

Durham, NC USA