Trinity Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)

Sermons 

Title: "May God Repay You"

Text: Luke 14: 1, 7-14

Arriving at the house of a prominent Pharisee, Jesus immediately noticed how the guests chose the places of honor. Observing the men reclining on pillows around the room, he was offended to see how they were competing for the place of honor near the host. So, naturally, Jesus launched into a parable – actually, a set of two parallel parables. These parallel parables may seem simple and straightforward on the surface, but like so many of Jesus’ parables, they offer us profound insights into our human condition – especially our lack of hospitality in the face of God’s grace.

The dinner party setting for these parables is not coincidental. In ancient times, meals were important times for social positioning. Who was invited to attend , who sat where and with whom – these marked the relative social status of all who shared bread and meat and wine.

When I was growing up, we children were instructed in proper etiquette about how to behave at a dinner gathering. As a child, I learned instructions like these (originally published in 1940):

At an informal dinner, the hostess leads the women guests into the dining room followed by the host and the men guests. The hostess then tells her guests where to sit. She must always have the seating planned in advance in order to avoid confusion and delay. The host and hostess sit at opposite ends of the table. While customarily the oldest woman sits at the right of the host and the oldest man at the right of the hostess, guests may be placed wherever they will be happiest.

Even today, many of us still follow the tradition of seating the "woman of honor" next to the host, and so on. Even today, these "Instructions" follow the old adage of "age before beauty," while also encouraging hosts to make their guests "happy" (one of our culture’s most important values).

Now, Jesus had something very different in mind when he addressed the guests and the host at the house of the Pharisee. He had some ideas about hospitality that derived from his special understanding about our place in God’s kingdom.

First, Jesus directed himself to the guests. He criticizes those who come in and settle down on the pillows close to the host. Jesus concludes his lesson on dinner etiquette by observing, "For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted."

Here we have another of the many role reversals to be found in Jesus’ teachings. Like so many of his observations, Jesus’ comments about proper etiquette were well-established in Jewish tradition. This particular piece of advice can be found in similar form in Proverbs 25:6-7:

Do not put yourself forward in the king's presence or stand in the place of the great; for it is better to be told, "Come up here," than to be put lower in the presence of a noble.

Jesus’ parabolic remarks confirm that we cannot claim honor among our fellow human beings – much less before God! Honor is a gift that others give to us, not a quality that we can create for ourselves. This would have been especially clear to those first-century listeners to Luke’s Gospel. The Greek word for "honor" (doxa) also conveyed the meaning of "glory" – as in the "glory of God."

Ultimately, we all – the rich and the poor – are guests in God’s kingdom. Humility is thus the appropriate attitude for all those who would follow Jesus’ model for dealing with the inequalities in the human condition. Jesus does not counsel the guests at the Pharisee’s dinner merely to hold themselves back a few places; he challenges them to "sit down at the lowest place." Can’t you just imagine the rush of all the men at the Pharisee’s dinner party to move themselves to the lowest place!

Having confounded the expectations of the guests, Jesus does not spare his host. Far from it. Barely containing himself, Jesus admonishes the Pharisee for inviting his friends and brothers and relatives and rich neighbors. And Jesus goes on to criticize anyone who expects to be "repaid" for inviting the so-called "right" people to a dinner party.

Again, Jesus turns the usual social equation upside down. He challenges the banquet host to "invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and blind." In Jesus’ upside-down view of the kingdom, our blessing comes not from the immediate benefits we may reap from the "right" people who attend our dinner parties. Far from it. Jesus tells us that inviting what our society considers all the "wrong" people is just the ticket! And precisely because these "wrong" people can not reciprocate with their own dinner invitation, we can look forward to a far greater repayment in the future.

When Jesus declares that "you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous," he is leaving no doubt that a time of mutual hospitality – that is, the sharing of bread and meat and wine at a dinner banquet – is too important to be used for our individual advantage. In the end, the host who can bring himself to break with existing social conventions will be repaid with righteousness. Ultimately, it is not our peers, nor those whom we would emulate, who bring us honor and glory. According to Jesus’ worldview, such a blessing comes only from God, but is manifested through the least likely among us – the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.

Now, I want to take these parables about dinner parties and hospitality and put them into a different, more contemporary, and more personal light. To do this, I ask you to accompany me once again to the Mexican community of Tzintzuntzan, where I have been doing fieldwork as a social anthropologist for some 35 years. In this community of about 3,500 residents, many of the people are very poor – living far below the poverty levels found among the poorest people here in Dallas or Oak Cliff. For all of the sixty years of our research project in Tzintzuntzan, they have helped us to understand the local culture, its social arrangements, religious practices, and role in the global economic system. For decades, they have shared their priceless wisdom with us in ways that we could never repay. They have invited us into their homes and into their lives. Without them, we still would be clueless strangers on the outside looking in, instead of feeling as if we are among family and friends.

During my last trip to the community, during the first week of August, I had the chance to visit two of our oldest friends. Faustino (age 88) and Pachita (age 75) are pottery-makers by trade, and have been all their lives. Far from being retired, they still work each day – to the extent that they can, given their increasing array of medical problems.

When I visited with them three weeks ago, they graciously answered my questions about their work, their family, and the community at large – even though they have been answering these same questions for decades! When we got to the point of saying our goodbyes, I left them an envelope with some money in it. Sometimes, as was true this August, I am delivering the money on behalf of my mentor, Prof. George Foster (now 90 years old himself); sometimes it comes from my own funds. Regardless of its source, I always say something like, "This is to help with your grandchildren’s educational expenses" or "This is to help out with your medicines." And they always reply, "Que Dios se lo pague." – which translates "May God repay you." According to the cultural practices of the people of Tzintzuntzan, this declaration is an admission that the recipients are unable to repay the gift. So, the burden of repayment is passed on to God, the one who always can be trusted to repay obligations.

This cultural practice of invoking God’s presence in interpersonal relations is not a way of avoiding indebtedness. On the contrary, the debt is translated to a higher level. What might have been just a short-term economic debt becomes a life-long social commitment. To invoke God is to change our human relationships into holy relationships.

When Faustino and Pachita offer their heart-felt, "Que Dios se lo pague," it reflects a profound understanding that what we have in life – whether riches or poverty – depends not so much on our own merits, but upon God’s grace. This is not just the fatalism of impoverished peasants. This is witness to a faith that, in the end, God is in charge of our lives. This is a commitment to Jesus’ upside-down view of human relationships and human hospitality.

Can we Americans, who are so caught up in special-interest lobbying efforts, learn to stop pondering our interpersonal quid pro quo and kickbacks – and let God enter into our social calculus? Can we Americans, who have so much stuff and so little time, come to appreciate that we should be grateful guests in God’s kingdom? Can we Americans, who as a nation are the greatest debtors in the history of the world, enter into a new awareness of God’s grace?

Perhaps, we just need to place our relationships onto God’s table. Perhaps, we just need to abandon modern economic theories and return to Jesus’ first-century view of hospitality. Perhaps, we just need to offer the simple but powerful blessing, "May God repay you." Amen.

© 2004 Van Kemper (e-mail: rkemper@trinitypresdallas.org)