Living It Down
Sermon
Topsy-Turvy: Living In The Biblical World
Gospel Sermons For Sundays After Pentecost (Middle Third) Cycle C
You worship together with the People of God and it doesn't take long before you notice it: this constant downward pull. The Confession of Sins, with its reminder of "things done and things left undone" jerks you off the heights and sends you tumbling down to the depths. The hymns paint God-pictures in your mind, images of a "God made flesh" who descends from riches to poverty, from victory to defeat, from triumph to suffering, from life to death.
And the stories these People of God tell! In Advent, gentle Mother Mary sings of the powerful yanked down from their thrones. At Christmastime the prophet Isaiah speaks of a "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace" -- but it's a little child! On Good Friday, this little child, now grown-up, dies a horrible death on a cross and speaks the most terrifying words of all: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Even the triumph of Easter is tempered by the fact that the Risen Christ appears with his wounds intact, for goodness' sake; in fact, he is recognized by his wounds!
Now in this long churchly season of "ordinary time," we hear about this downward pull over and over and over again:
? "Many that are first shall be last."
? "Deny yourself and take up your cross and follow me."
? "Whoever exalts himself will be humbled."
When these same People of God lift up heroes for themselves, it can hardly be called "lifting up"! Saint Francis of Assisi went begging naked because he had given his clothes to the poor. Leo Tolstoy, the Russian aristocrat and novelist, gave away his wealth. Mother Teresa cared for the wretched dying and poor of Calcutta and began every day by scrubbing floors.
What is this all about, this constant pull towards the depths? You and I cannot escape the conclusion that it is the very heart of the Gospel.
"Whoever exalts himself will be humbled." That's from our Gospel passage, from Luke's Gospel, where Jesus has already "set his face" toward Jerusalem, moving toward the great humiliation of the cross that waits for him there. But on the way he receives an invitation to a meal at the home of a Pharisee.
Jesus uses the invitation to speak a word of truth about this downward pull, truth that at first hearing sounds an awful lot like etiquette advice which Emily Post or Miss Manners might give. When you are invited to a dinner party, do not seat yourself at the head table, next to the host. Do you realize how embarrassed you would be if the host had to ask you to move down because you were sitting in the spot reserved for someone more distinguished than you? So instead find a chair at the foot of the table, and then it might be that the host will ask you to move up higher.
Of course, Jesus is not giving advice to upwardly mobile socialites. We know that because of his concluding words at the very end of our passage: "You will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous." No, this is eschatalogical talk here, talk about the eschaton, about the most important things, about "last things." In fact, that is the word that Jesus uses to describe the lowest place, the last place, the eschaton: the most important place is the last place.
Oh, no, this is not first-century dinner etiquette for Jews! Jesus' second story, this time one about hosts, makes that perfectly clear. When you are giving a party, don't invite the fancy, schmancy folks who can return the invitation. Instead invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, the folks who couldn't pay you back even if their very lives depended on it!
This, of course, is not the way Blondie runs her cartoon catering service. "This is a very exclusive party," Blondie is told. "Oh? How exclusive will it be?" "Well, if we weren't giving the party ourselves, we wouldn't even be invited!"
So what do we make of Jesus' recommended guest list, these folks who would be on anybody's list of the last, the lowest, and the least? The crippled -- let's see, Jesus healed the crippled, didn't he? The blind -- Jesus opened the eyes of the blind, right? The poor -- those were the ones he blessed!
Do you see? Jesus is the host! He has invited the poor and the crippled and the lame and the blind. And who are they? Them folks is us! We who are the lowest, the last, and the least.
Oh, you're not crippled, you say? How else do you explain your hobbling discipleship, your dragging your feet, your inability to keep up with the Master, who has said to you, "Follow me."
You're not blind? Well, what was it then, this past April, that caused you to "just not see" that significant hunk of income which you chose not to report on IRS Form 1040?
Yes, Jesus has become our host at the dinner party -- but only because he first traveled the way of the guest who sought the lowest place at the dinner table. Jesus could have had the best seat in the house, but instead he chose the lowest, the least, and the last. Paul is the one who tells us that in the magnificent language of the hymn he quotes in his letter to the Philippians: "Christ Jesus, who though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death -- even death on a cross" (2:6-8).
Jesus himself is the guest, who has humbled himself to become one of us, to take the last and the lowest seat at the banquet table, to take upon himself our sin, our crippledness, our blindness. Then there is this Great Reversal! The Resurrection! Not only is the Guest invited to "come up higher." The Guest even becomes the Host!
As Paul continues to quote from this hymn: "There God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father."
Jesus is the guest and the host, the victim and the priest, the paschal lamb and the shepherd! These two stories which Jesus told are all about the Great Reversal, and first and foremost, they are stories about Jesus himself, who is the Greatest Reversal of all: the Messiah, the Guest, who comes to suffer and die, only to be exalted in the Resurrection, to be made the Host -- so that you and I can be invited to the Great Banquet in the Kingdom of God!
That is the reason for this downward pull which we read about on almost every page of the New Testament. It is the very heart of the gospel: it is for our salvation.
There is a secular version of this story, one which is quite popular in our day. But the secular version of this story gets it all wrong because it uses the wrong word: self-esteem. That word itself should alert us: self-esteem! The secular version would have us believe that we exalt ourselves! That if we just think the right, good thoughts about ourselves, then everything will be hunky-dory.
Self-esteem is actually impossible. After all, who knows me better than I myself do? Who knows my poverty of spirit, my lameness, my blindness better than I myself do? And I'm supposed to somehow think myself into self-esteem? It can't be done! Self-esteem we give ourselves. Self-esteem is like the Blondie cartoon: self-esteem is to invite myself to a party which I myself am giving.
Honor, on the other hand -- and honor is the word which Jesus uses in his story -- honor is bestowed, given. It's a gift of grace. Jesus is the host of the dinner party, the one who has invited all of us with the gimpy legs and the poor eyesight. Jesus is the one who has spoken the words to each one of us, "Friend, come up higher."
Now the trick is "to live it down." If we are to live out the downward pull of this gospel in our daily lives, then we are to humble ourselves, to become servants, to follow the example of the Crucified One. It is the very essence of the gospel, to live it down.
This is not just practical advice that Jesus gives us here. It is gracious gift! Jesus doesn't just tell us to change; he doesn't just say, "Be humble." No, he first humbled himself. And in his own "humbling to the cross" there is a gracious power which changes us. It is the grace of Jesus Christ which can make us humble, which can help us to "live it down."
____________
This sermon could not have been written without the insights of Karl Barth in his Church Dogmatics, especially IV. 1, "The Way of the Son of God into the Far Country," pp. 188 ff., and III. 4, "Honour," pp. 647 ff.
And the stories these People of God tell! In Advent, gentle Mother Mary sings of the powerful yanked down from their thrones. At Christmastime the prophet Isaiah speaks of a "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace" -- but it's a little child! On Good Friday, this little child, now grown-up, dies a horrible death on a cross and speaks the most terrifying words of all: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Even the triumph of Easter is tempered by the fact that the Risen Christ appears with his wounds intact, for goodness' sake; in fact, he is recognized by his wounds!
Now in this long churchly season of "ordinary time," we hear about this downward pull over and over and over again:
? "Many that are first shall be last."
? "Deny yourself and take up your cross and follow me."
? "Whoever exalts himself will be humbled."
When these same People of God lift up heroes for themselves, it can hardly be called "lifting up"! Saint Francis of Assisi went begging naked because he had given his clothes to the poor. Leo Tolstoy, the Russian aristocrat and novelist, gave away his wealth. Mother Teresa cared for the wretched dying and poor of Calcutta and began every day by scrubbing floors.
What is this all about, this constant pull towards the depths? You and I cannot escape the conclusion that it is the very heart of the Gospel.
"Whoever exalts himself will be humbled." That's from our Gospel passage, from Luke's Gospel, where Jesus has already "set his face" toward Jerusalem, moving toward the great humiliation of the cross that waits for him there. But on the way he receives an invitation to a meal at the home of a Pharisee.
Jesus uses the invitation to speak a word of truth about this downward pull, truth that at first hearing sounds an awful lot like etiquette advice which Emily Post or Miss Manners might give. When you are invited to a dinner party, do not seat yourself at the head table, next to the host. Do you realize how embarrassed you would be if the host had to ask you to move down because you were sitting in the spot reserved for someone more distinguished than you? So instead find a chair at the foot of the table, and then it might be that the host will ask you to move up higher.
Of course, Jesus is not giving advice to upwardly mobile socialites. We know that because of his concluding words at the very end of our passage: "You will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous." No, this is eschatalogical talk here, talk about the eschaton, about the most important things, about "last things." In fact, that is the word that Jesus uses to describe the lowest place, the last place, the eschaton: the most important place is the last place.
Oh, no, this is not first-century dinner etiquette for Jews! Jesus' second story, this time one about hosts, makes that perfectly clear. When you are giving a party, don't invite the fancy, schmancy folks who can return the invitation. Instead invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, the folks who couldn't pay you back even if their very lives depended on it!
This, of course, is not the way Blondie runs her cartoon catering service. "This is a very exclusive party," Blondie is told. "Oh? How exclusive will it be?" "Well, if we weren't giving the party ourselves, we wouldn't even be invited!"
So what do we make of Jesus' recommended guest list, these folks who would be on anybody's list of the last, the lowest, and the least? The crippled -- let's see, Jesus healed the crippled, didn't he? The blind -- Jesus opened the eyes of the blind, right? The poor -- those were the ones he blessed!
Do you see? Jesus is the host! He has invited the poor and the crippled and the lame and the blind. And who are they? Them folks is us! We who are the lowest, the last, and the least.
Oh, you're not crippled, you say? How else do you explain your hobbling discipleship, your dragging your feet, your inability to keep up with the Master, who has said to you, "Follow me."
You're not blind? Well, what was it then, this past April, that caused you to "just not see" that significant hunk of income which you chose not to report on IRS Form 1040?
Yes, Jesus has become our host at the dinner party -- but only because he first traveled the way of the guest who sought the lowest place at the dinner table. Jesus could have had the best seat in the house, but instead he chose the lowest, the least, and the last. Paul is the one who tells us that in the magnificent language of the hymn he quotes in his letter to the Philippians: "Christ Jesus, who though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death -- even death on a cross" (2:6-8).
Jesus himself is the guest, who has humbled himself to become one of us, to take the last and the lowest seat at the banquet table, to take upon himself our sin, our crippledness, our blindness. Then there is this Great Reversal! The Resurrection! Not only is the Guest invited to "come up higher." The Guest even becomes the Host!
As Paul continues to quote from this hymn: "There God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father."
Jesus is the guest and the host, the victim and the priest, the paschal lamb and the shepherd! These two stories which Jesus told are all about the Great Reversal, and first and foremost, they are stories about Jesus himself, who is the Greatest Reversal of all: the Messiah, the Guest, who comes to suffer and die, only to be exalted in the Resurrection, to be made the Host -- so that you and I can be invited to the Great Banquet in the Kingdom of God!
That is the reason for this downward pull which we read about on almost every page of the New Testament. It is the very heart of the gospel: it is for our salvation.
There is a secular version of this story, one which is quite popular in our day. But the secular version of this story gets it all wrong because it uses the wrong word: self-esteem. That word itself should alert us: self-esteem! The secular version would have us believe that we exalt ourselves! That if we just think the right, good thoughts about ourselves, then everything will be hunky-dory.
Self-esteem is actually impossible. After all, who knows me better than I myself do? Who knows my poverty of spirit, my lameness, my blindness better than I myself do? And I'm supposed to somehow think myself into self-esteem? It can't be done! Self-esteem we give ourselves. Self-esteem is like the Blondie cartoon: self-esteem is to invite myself to a party which I myself am giving.
Honor, on the other hand -- and honor is the word which Jesus uses in his story -- honor is bestowed, given. It's a gift of grace. Jesus is the host of the dinner party, the one who has invited all of us with the gimpy legs and the poor eyesight. Jesus is the one who has spoken the words to each one of us, "Friend, come up higher."
Now the trick is "to live it down." If we are to live out the downward pull of this gospel in our daily lives, then we are to humble ourselves, to become servants, to follow the example of the Crucified One. It is the very essence of the gospel, to live it down.
This is not just practical advice that Jesus gives us here. It is gracious gift! Jesus doesn't just tell us to change; he doesn't just say, "Be humble." No, he first humbled himself. And in his own "humbling to the cross" there is a gracious power which changes us. It is the grace of Jesus Christ which can make us humble, which can help us to "live it down."
____________
This sermon could not have been written without the insights of Karl Barth in his Church Dogmatics, especially IV. 1, "The Way of the Son of God into the Far Country," pp. 188 ff., and III. 4, "Honour," pp. 647 ff.
