The single biggest similarity between our lives, and the lives of Jesus and his contemporaries, is the giving of dinner parties. The clothes we wear and the homes we live in are quite different from those of ancient Judaea. The ways we earn our livings, the food we eat, the medical care and the educational systems, are all vastly different. But the practice of inviting friends, family and colleagues to our homes for a specially prepared dinner, was common in the ancient world, and is still common today. How many of you have been the host, or the guest, at a dinner party?

Not only have most of us participated in dinner parties; we are aware of several formats, depending on what kind of party it is. A summer dinner party might take place outdoors, with chairs and tables scattered around the patio and garden; while a Thanksgiving dinner would be indoors and more formal. When I go to a dinner at a convention, I see the leaders of the event seated at a head table; after the dessert is served, there is often a keynote address or a musical entertainment. Likewise at a wedding dinner there are assigned seats, and there is a formal sequence of events, beginning with a receiving line, followed by a toast to the bride, the first dance, and the cutting of the cake. When we are invited to a dinner party we expect that we may be introduced to people we have never met before, so we come not quite knowing what the conversations, or the meal, will be like. Despite that uncertainty, we generally feel honored to be invited, and look forward to the event.

At the time when Jesus was in Jerusalem, there would have been two formats for a dinner party, and both are relevant to our Gospel reading today. The first, of course, was the Passover meal, at which the Jews remembered their covenant with God, celebrated their release from captivity, and looked forward to the coming of Messiah. The patriarch would preside over the meal, with his extended family gathered around. There was, and is, a traditional sequence of four cups of blessing, the recitation of the Exodus story, the serving of the same food of bitter herbs, unleavened bread, and roast lamb that was originally eaten, the singing of the Dayenu, and so forth. The whole family was included, and children learned from a young age the exact sequence of events at a Passover dinner.

The second format for a dinner party, comes from the Hellenistic culture of ancient Greece and Rome, which may not have been known in the villages of Galilee, but was certainly known in Jerusalem. The symposium was a formal banquet with an established structure, used by political, social and religious groups, as well as wealthy individuals. When the guests arrived, they would be greeted by servants, who would escort them to their assigned place to recline on a couch around a central table. The servant would wash the feet of the guest, and the host would only appear when all had arrived. The guests, all men, were placed according to their status, with the most important guest at the right hand of the host. After the meal, there was often a serious discussion of a philosophical or ethical issue, while the drinking of wine continued. Plato’s Symposium is an account of such a dinner party.

Our reading, from the Gospel of Luke, sounds more like a symposium than a Passover meal, though it probably has elements of both. The first verse tells us several important things: that the party took place on the Sabbath, that the host was a leader of the Pharisees, and that everyone was curious about Jesus, “watching him closely”. Because the guests were choosing their own places, as close to the host as possible, the party did not follow the format of a symposium exactly. It does appear that the host had invited other prominent Pharisees, with the intention of presiding over a debate with Jesus, as at a symposium.

And the reason I’ve given you this long explanation about dinner parties, is that the dinner party is THE primary image of the Kingdom of God. Whether we are remembering the meal prepared by Sarah and Abraham for the three angels by the Oaks of Mamre, or the Passover meal in Egypt, or the prophecy in Isaiah 25, of a feast of rich food to which all nations are invited, the Kingdom of God is often depicted as a feast or banquet at which everyone is happy, satisfied, and at peace with one another.

Therefore the criticism Jesus made, of those guests who chose places of honor for themselves, is much more than a breach of the protocol, the table manners. And it is even more than the sin of pride--although pride may be a plausible explanation. Here and elsewhere, Jesus was criticizing all the human hierarchies we create. Give up those distinctions between free people and slaves, between the righteous and sinners, between men and women, between adults and children, between the healthy and the disabled, between the rich and the poor. In his words, and even more in his behavior, Jesus was saying to us: God does not make those distinctions. God does not even distinguish between Jews and Gentiles. So give up your desire for a higher place at the table, and opt out of that whole system of status, by choosing a lower place. Imagine, if you can, the stunned silence that would have followed those words.

Then Jesus went on to a greater breach of etiquette, by criticizing his host for inviting his friends, brothers, relatives and rich neighbors . . . Just at this moment, we might ask ourselves whom we> invite to our dinner party. My guest list has always included friends and relatives, and occasionally an out-of-town visitor. But Jesus rejected this normal practice of inviting people we know and like, in favor of inviting “the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind, because> they cannot repay you”. In these words, Jesus recognized that invitations to dinner parties are often an exchange of favors. But God does not call us to an exchange of favors, either with one another, or with God-self. We may believe that the offerings we give to God, along with our good behavior, earn us a place at that heavenly banquet, but here Jesus said an emphatic NO to such thoughts. Jesus lifts up for us an entirely new perspective, and recommends to us, the choice he was making on a daily basis. I have a name for it, which he did not use: spiritual detachment. To be detached, is to be indifferent to one’s place at the table. To be detached means to let go of any feelings of being better than anyone else, and even to let go of being a greater sinner than anyone else. To be spiritually detached means to let go of my natural human desire to receive credit for my accomplishments, even if those accomplishments fulfill the commandments.

In the records we have of the teaching of Jesus, he rarely used abstract words, such as spiritual detachment. He preferred to tell parables, such as today’s parable about the wedding guest who was asked to move to a lower place. I actually saw that happen three weeks ago! Jesus preferred to use concrete examples, such as the mustard seed that grows into a large bush. He preferred to demonstrate his teaching by choosing to dine with presumed sinners, and with women, and probably with children and slaves as well. He hoped that his disciples would understand this spiritual principle, even if they could not articulate it clearly.

There is a lot of evidence that they did understand it. From the very beginning the followers of Jesus have included the poor in their meals and in their fellowship. The author of the letter to the Hebrews clearly understood it, because he urged his readers to welcome strangers, to care for prisoners, and to keep their lives free of the love of money. The thread connecting the welcome of strangers, the choice of a lower place at a banquet, and freedom from the love of money, is spiritual detachment or non-possessiveness.

Perhaps a question has occurred to you, about how this detachment fits together with the commandment to love your neighbor as yourself? Love and care are forms of attachment; so is Jesus asking us to be detached from friends and family in order to be attached to the poor and the outcast? No, I don’t think so. I think he was making a point about our internal attitudes and expectations. Spiritual detachment means letting-go of the whole process of judging and evaluating others, of seeking a return for the care I give, whether that return be a dinner at your house, or credit in the eyes of our community, or a feeling of righteousness. If anything, Jesus calls us to increase our love and attachments, but to do so indiscriminately, extravagently. Care for the stranger as much as you care for the relative. Invite to dinner both your friends AND those who cannot repay you. Try not to think about whether you are making points with people, or with God.

The difficulty we all face, is learning how to care; and not to care at the same time. The only suggestion I have for how to do this, is to practice caring for people who are not your family and friends. Bring a food offering to church, which we will pass on to the needy. Volunteer at Our Daily Bread, which needs servers, dishwashers, and people to pick up food from Trader Joe’s right now. When Rich Randolph stands up to ask for volunteers for the Rotating Shelter, you might say to yourself, “Yes, I’d love to be a greeter and really welcome these strangers to St. Thomas”. Or you might say, “I could make my best Beef Bourguignon and my favorite chocolate cake for our shelter guests”. Following Jesus means letting go of our attachment to exchanges of favors, letting go of our desire to be approved of by others. Humble yourself, not in order to be exalted later, but in order to sit in that lower place, where you will be with Jesus. Walk with the Master, who first let go of his divinity in order to become human, and then he let go of his desire for his ministry to be accepted, and finally he let go of his very life.