The Guest List

A Sermon for the Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

August 31, 2025

The Rev. Robin Teasley

 

On one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the sabbath, they were watching him closely.

 

When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. "When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, `Give this person your place,' and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, `Friend, move up higher'; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted."

 

He said also to the one who had invited him, "When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may 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. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous."  Luke 14:1,7-14

 

 

When my husband and I drive on Interstate 81 to visit family in St. Louis, it’s like we are in some sort of video game. If you have ever driven this interstate you know how challenging it can be. Paul will never admit to this, but I have figured out that he plays a game called “how many tractor trailer trucks can I pass”. While he drives, I work on my prayer life. 

 

But inevitably we have to stop at a rest stop because of too much diet Coke at lunch, and that’s when we see all those trucks we passed earlier gliding past the rest area, leaving us behind. I will confess that I get some perverse satisfaction out of this and also that I can’t help but point this out. Then we both laugh, get back in the car, and the game starts up again. 

 

What is this need for speed, this need to succeed, whether it is on the interstate or in our daily lives?

 

I wonder if there is not, in all of us, some inner drive to be the best, to excel at something, to win, to be seen as an authority in some area of our lives. I’m not talking about things that are impossible for most of us, such as climbing to the top of Kilimanjaro, winning an Olympic gold medal, or a Nobel Peace Prize. I’m talking about the drive we have to be seen as successful, useful, important, popular, or accepted and respected by others.

 

If we take a moment to think about what’s inside of us that we most long to attain, each of us will find different aspirations. Or, perhaps another way to think about this is to explore what has happened to us in our past, what has wounded us so deeply that we feel a need to prove something. What is it that influences our actions and compels our behavior. What has made us determined to rely on no one but ourselves? What is so important to us that we are willing to harm others, or even ourselves, in our pursuit of it? Finally, what is it in us that is so tempted to admire and follow others who are powerful and command respect, rather than those who are gentle and humble in heart? These are deep thoughts on a late summer Sunday.

 

I love how the scene in today’s Gospel reading opens with a note about how closely Jesus was being watched. He had again broken Judaic law by healing someone on the Sabbath, and the religious authorities were keeping an eye on him. This was the third party, Luke tells us, that the concerned authorities had invited Jesus to attend, so it was no accident that Jesus was there. 

 

Everyone at that banquet had been invited for a reason, because they were somebody, they were favored, they had accomplished important things. Everyone was looking around to see who else was there. 

It’s kind of like when we get an evite to a party and we look to see who else is on the guest list.

 

But the guests were not the only people watchers that day. Jesus was watching them. Jesus was observing how the guests chose the places of honor, seeing the pride and ego which were at work there, noticing that worthiness was being judged, and that there was a lot more exaltation than humility around that table. 

 

Even the host of the banquet did not escape the notice of Jesus. Because everyone in the room had done him a favor and the dinner party was a gesture of thanks, of acknowledgment for their support, and for their respect. It’s fascinating, and also disappointing to me, that this behavior is still alive and well today. 

 

Long ago, in Greco-Roman society, you were seated closer or farther away from the host, according to your status. It was common practice to invite people to parties who could in some way benefit you socially. People expected others to reciprocate or pay back their good deed. In such a social economy it made sense to invite your friends, family, and, of course, rich neighbors and supporters to your party.

 

Jesus has something to say about the guest list. 

 

Jesus tells them a parable that flips over their banquet table. He tells the guests that it is the host who determines the seating arrangement, it is the host who will give them their seat at the table. It is not their pride or ego, it is not their list of accomplishments, it is not their power, wealth, or social status that has earned them an invitation to the banquet. 

 

And then, to further underscore this reversal of cultural norms, Jesus speaks to the host of the banquet. Do not invite your family, friends, and rich neighbors who might further your advancement or increase your popularity. 

 

Jesus is unconcerned about climbing the social ladder. Jesus invites them, and us, to live in an entirely different system, to live in the kingdom of God here on earth. Jesus has an alternative guest list that includes the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind – all of the people who can never repay him. 

Jesus paints a remarkable picture: can you imagine this banquet table, where the ambitious status-seekers sit at the lowest place at the table, and give the places of honor to those typically excluded from such events altogether. Imagine….

 

So, why is this important for us to hear today? Who is on your guest list? Where are you seated at the tables of power? 

 

Who are we inviting to sit at our table at home, at work or school, in our stewardship decisions, at coffee hour after church, in our prayer life? How might the Spirit be inviting us to expand our guest list?

 

What we hear from Jesus, is that in the realm of God there is no hierarchy. No kings, no exclusion or control, or denial of a seat at the table. Jesus has turned over our tables and calls us to follow and do likewise. Not by seeking out the places of honor to be exalted now, nor by sitting at the lowest place in order to be exalted later. 

 

Jesus shows us that being exalted is not the goal at all. The goal is love. Love without ulterior motives or advantage or expectation of return.

 

On this Labor Day weekend, we remember those who have worked on our behalf for the goodness in our lives. And as people of God, we do not expect them to serve us, but rather we invite them to God’s table, where all are welcome to feast at the banquet of love.

 

I’d like to end with an invitation to God’s table for all of us who are imperfect, who have been wounded by those in power, or who have wounded others in our own seeking of control; for all of us who have mistakenly believed that honor and respect are to be commanded, or that humbleness is a sign of weakness and failure; for all of us who fear we are not enough, or that we must win the race by our own efforts. 

 

Jesus teaches otherwise. 

 

Jesus is the host at this table. All the seats at the table are the best seats, whether you drove fast to be here first, or ended up arriving last.

 

Let us pray –

 

This is Christ’s table

It is made ready for those who love him, and for those who want to love him more.

So come, you who have much faith, and you who have little;

You who have been here often, and you who have not been here long;

You who have tried to follow, and you who have failed.

Come, because it is Christ who invites you.

It is his will that those who want him should meet him here.

 

Amen.