Prayer: Come Holy Spirit, come.  Take my lips and speak with them.  Take our minds and think with them.  Take our hearts and set them on fire with love for you.  In Christ’s name, we ask it.  Amen

In my days as a youth minister, I would have a “Random Acts of Kindness Night” for the Junior High youth group each year.  We would identify a group of people either in the church or in the larger community that we would do something nice for…something both random and anonymous.  For instance one year, we left flowers on the doorsteps of retired, homebound parishioners from our church with a little anonymous note saying something like “Have a great day” or “God loves you.”  The point of the event was to teach the students about the true nature of hospitality.  I would tell my kids, “We give of ourselves, whether it be our time, talent, or treasure, for the betterment of God’s people.  The joy in a kind act is experienced when the person who receives our hospitality is blessed, not when we are thanked…or when we are appreciated for our thoughtfulness…or even when we receive something in return.  An act of hospitality, at its best, has nothing to do with us at all and everything to do with the person who receives our act of generosity or kindness.” 

Well, I thought the “Random Acts of Kindness Night” was a great teaching moment and very creative if I do say so myself, but, apparently, I wasn’t the first or the only Youth Minister with the idea of having a “Random Acts of Kindness” event for a youth group.  Several years ago I came across an article about a Youth Minister in Athens, Georgia who had the exact same idea.  Her Youth Group decided to do a random act of kindness for the good people at city hall in Athens who work tirelessly as civil servants.  The kids found an old decretive cannon, filled the barrel with candy and left the package inside city hall.  Well, one civil servant found the package “suspicious” and called the police.  The police proceeded to evacuate city hall.  Then, after the building was emptied, the Athens bomb squad removed the package from the building with a robot.  And finally, the authorities used a shotgun to blow up the kind offering of taffy and hard candies.  The youth minister was quoted as saying, “Oh well, I guess it’s the thought that counts.”  I’m really glad that didn’t happen to my youth group.

Jesus’ words tonight have much to teach us about a life of hospitality—that is a life characterized by generosity, humility, kindness, and inclusion—a life that you and I as Christ followers are called to live.

Jesus is seated at a table at a dinner party with the religious and political elite of his day.  For those of us, including myself, who enjoy good food (obviously), good drink, and good companionship around a dinner table, it is encouraging to know that apparently our Lord did as well.  The Gospel’s include many stories about Jesus breaking bread with people from all walks of life.  For Jesus, meals were a time for celebrating—celebrating life and love—friendships and family—all the gracious gifts that come to us from God in heaven.  Moreover, meals for Jesus, just like the meal of bread and wine we will share momentarily at the altar, were a foretaste and promise of our share, (as I said last week) of your share, in the great heavenly dinner party that is to come at the end of this life. 

And, as I said, Jesus shared these precious moments around a dinner table with all sorts and conditions of people.  As in tonight’s lesson, Jesus broke bread with the political and religious elite of his day.  Also Jesus ate with the poor, the underserved, the unloved. 

You see in both Jesus’ day and during the days of the early church, meals were important social ceremonies.  A person’s social standing was determined by where one ate, with whom one ate, and even where one actually sat at the table.  People of different social classes simply would not break bread together.  And, yet, Jesus did, and the same was true in the communities of the early church.   

In the first century church, the celebration of Holy Eucharist or Communion, would have actually been an entire meal.  After hearing the scriptures read (which we just did), listening to a teaching (which you are doing now), and saying prayers (which we will do in a moment) the community of faith would actually have a meal together.  And, during this meal, as they broke bread together and shared wine, they recalled the salvation given to the world in Jesus’ death and resurrection. 

Now, if a first century stranger walked in on one of these early Eucharistic meals, the most striking and probably disturbing feature would be that there were no seats of honor for the socially elite and, and even more problematic, that people from all over the social strata were eating together as equals without discrimination.  The scene would have simply been shocking.  Much like the pictures of black people filling up seats at lunch counters in segregated restaurants during the 50’s and 60’s must have been shocking to many in this country.  This scene would have simply broken all acceptable social distinctions.  It is fair to say that the church has been fighting to tear down the walls of social discrimination since its birth nearly two thousand years ago.  Admittedly, though, there have been some times and places where the church has fought harder than others. 

Nonetheless, for Jesus and the church, at its best, the table was and is a place of welcome, a place of hospitality, a place of generosity and inclusion.  Therefore, the tables in our lives, both in the church, which we call an altar, and the ordinary tables like the plastic ones in the Student Center that we will dine on after this service should be places of welcome and hospitality as well.  Our tables should be an image of the Heavenly kingdom—a place void of the walls that we use to separate people in our world.

Now returning to tonight’s Gospel lesson, remember that I mentioned that Jesus was at table with the political and religious elite of his day.  This meal that Jesus was invited to was really the first-century equivalent of an elite private country club's dining room.  The point of being there was that you had achieved success and social status high enough to get you in the door.  Eating is not the sole purpose of this meal—seeing and being seen is the real driving force behind everyone's attendance.  And, it’s right here, among the socially elite who live with every material comfort that Jesus says, “All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”  Jesus’ message to his fellow guests and his host at the meal is to act hospitably, humbly, generously, kindly without expecting any rewards—at least not at the hands of fellow human beings.  Jesus says in effect “take the seat of least importance,” “identify with the people ignored by society,” “be generous to bless others, not for your own benefit.”

And Jesus’ most shocking piece of advice is to the host of his dinner.  Jesus tells him, “When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or your rich neighbors, in case they might 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.”  You see this particular list of people sat on the lowest wrung of the social ladder—in most cases, they were actually outcasts literally not allowed to live within certain distances of polite society.  Such people were not even legally permitted to go into the Jewish Temple and worship at the altar of God.  Inviting these lowest of the low to a dinner party would not only destroy the status of the host among his "A-list" acquaintances, but it could actually threaten the host’s own chances of being well-received by God.  Associating with "less-than-perfect" people was just not socially or religiously safe. 

But Jesus teaches the absolute opposite.  Jesus denies that God is looking for human perfection—for only those who are healthy and whole and clean and beautiful and rich and powerful.  Jesus stuns his listeners by asserting that the coming kingdom of God will reveal these outcast, these people manipulated and exploited by the powerful, as among God's favorites.  These are the people who will be most exalted in God’s kingdom.  The kingdom of God will bring about a revolutionary reversal.  The very practices of discrimination will be utterly destroyed.  The outcasts will be accepted as equals.

As followers of Jesus Christ, we are called to a life of hospitality—a life of generosity, humility, kindness, and inclusion toward all people.  We are called to cast off the attitudes of superiority created by our class systems so that we can become, in this place, a welcoming community of Christ followers who offer hospitality to all, in particular, to the stranger.  It’s time for the church to learn new table manners, if you will, so that we can bear witness to the kingdom of God in our midst.  And, finally, perhaps this attitude of hospitality can dwell in us, at dinner tonight and each Sunday night, around plastic tables in the student center, following this service.  Amen.       

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