Richard Bollman, S.J.
22nd Sunday, Year C, 2007
SCRIPTURE: Sirach 3:17-18, 20, 28-9; Hebrews 13:1-5; Luke 1:7-14
We begin with some sayings from the Wisdom of Sirach,
praising the wisdom of ordinary people.
The descriptors "meek" and "humble"
refer to people who live with the earth, off the earth,
with a grounded feel for life, not sheltered from the hard things.
There are also a few sayings about almsgiving.
These deeply Jewish convictions come up again
in the Letter to the Hebrews,
a passage about neighborly love
extended from the blessed place of a good marriage and home
reaching out to prisoners and the poor,
never hindered by love of money.
And in the Gospel, Jesus chooses a moment
when he’s invited to a fine dinner party,
to remind the important guests not to cling to their importance too much,
and to remind the host that the most important feature of hospitality
is to be inclusive.
All of this makes a kind of perennial sense
especially on a holiday weekend!
22nd SUNDAY, C 2007 "Labor Day in the Kingdom"
Luke sets up a lot of dinner parties in the journey of Jesus.
A book about Luke, called "Dining in the Kingdom of God"
pulls together Jesus’ major concerns that come up
around these table meetings.
The dinners help us understand our Christian calling,
and our relationship with Jesus--
not just the Sunday relationship but our everyday life.
So this table here is enriched by all these other tables.
This is not just the table of the Last Supper,
it’s also the table of Emmaus where the disciples were so reassured
with a burning love and new understanding for the risen Jesus.
It’s the table at the home of Martha and Mary
where we deal with the tension of our roles,
people of contemplation and of action,
and our common discipleship as men and women.
It’s the table at the house of Simeon a few weeks ago where
a sinner is deeply welcome in a moment of new hope and vulnerability.
You can see, it’s both a Sunday table for worship,
and a way of experiencing many parts of life,
always to get aligned with the Reign of God.
What is it to dine in the Kingdom?
Well, here at this table "in the house of a ruler,"
clearly there are some high rollers present
maybe a synagogue official or silk merchant,
and they’re rather directly challenged to realize
we never can just count on status to be our main claim to worth.
We can’t make our own dignity: it has to be given to us by the host.
So our journey is learning to listen to the voice of the host
about how to find our place, our way being together.
So the best place to start is to be grounded, be yourself.
Jesus has this vision of eating together
where you can feel fine and find your place
even if you are a little bit marginal or have doubts about belonging,
or not much status in the community.
Even when you come to this place
and hug the wall, or feel comfortable only in your favorite pew,
whether you’re a front row or side aisle participant,
just keep listening to the host, check out that place of inner invitation:
follow that and trust it. Your involvement will gradually show itself.
And yet, even in this risk and diversity, I belong!
That’s something of the rich image of today’s dinner table,
a world of inclusive mystery and possibility,
not a place of special seats, right or wrong, up or down.
But then there’s this trenchant remark from Jesus:
hey, remember who is not here,
and next time invite them too. The ones who can’t repay.
I try to listen to that.
I know that in our shared outreach efforts here,
and in many of your own jobs and local commitments,
the needs of marginal people are very important to us.
We’re well aware that there’s lots of people
who aren’t with us on any one Sunday.
But it being Labor Day weekend,
I can’t help but think about immigrant workers,
our common national issue
of what to do about welcoming the immigrant,
like the chicken packers, some 130 or so,
who have been arrested in Butler County,
separated off from their jobs and family table, maybe to be deported.
At least, we could dedicate some prayer for them this weekend.
I had a conversation about this in my own kitchen with our cook,
a young man making his way in the Sodhexo world,
probably not paid what he’s worth, by a contract I’m not in charge of.
Maybe there’s some history in his own life of competition
with immigrants, documented or not, who step up to do low-paying jobs.
And he asks, well Father, don’t you think people who work here
should be here legally?
And I said, well yes, we owe it to everybody to help make that happen,
and I left it there, went on in to dinner at my table with the Jesuits here.
But I’ve been thinking of a longer answer to his question,
not sure how it ought to go.
Something like this:
"You know, I’ve got it easy.
I have had to make no effort to be a citizen here,
I’ve been given all this privilege and my white educated background
and my church job: I want for nothing, and I’m not hindered by immigrants.
So I don’t want to lead the charge into other people’s lives
by asking first about legality and documentation.
I think there is a deeper question about human beings’ right
to seek work where it’s available and offered,
and to cherish and to support their parents and their children.
Things that have not been hard for me,
though I come from immigrant families who did pave the way for me,
and who came easily and legally into this country.
I keep thinking that my identity as an American, if not as a Christian too,
ought to provide some room in my imagination to hear a broader story,
and consider how the demands of the law
might need to yield to a greater demand of morality,
or even compassion."
Well, I’m not thinking as a legislator here, and I’m sorry
that our legislators haven’t finished an important job.
But meanwhile, we need to consider all this
from the table of the Kingdom, aligned there.
Jesus teaches about not reaching so hard for your own place,
not pushing your privilege,
and not forgetting the folks who still haven’t come in.
This might help to us to imagine what a good law would look like,
and how to do one or two right things
on behalf of those among us who will not be able to repay.