Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16; Luke 14:1, 7-14
Jesus is a man after my own heart. He is always eating and telling stories! There are many accounts of Jesus sharing meals with others throughout the gospels, especially in Luke, and today’s reading is no exception. In fact, this meal is a really interesting foreshadowing of the Last Supper, with Jesus exploring the idea of honour versus humility in the context of hospitality. When we think ahead to his own action of tying a towel around his waist and washing the disciples’ dirty feet on Maundy Thursday, we remember the shock and discomfort of the disciples, horrified that Jesus was doing such a lowly thing. Perhaps they weren’t listening too closely when Jesus speaks at today’s dinner. But I bet he caused a few blushes of embarrassment, after watching people come in and position themselves in the best seats, then delivering this rebuke by way of a parable. And it's a key characteristic of Jesus’ ministry that he teaches through telling stories.
I have always loved stories. I was an avid reader as a child, and remember borrowing bagfuls of books from other people then spending hours and hours getting lost in the pages of other worlds. It is also endlessly fascinating to me that we are all the main characters in our own stories, that we each see the world from our own very unique perspective, shaped by our circumstances and experiences. And stories have power. Jesus knows this. He uses parables that weave into the everyday life of those who heard them, he is constantly pointing to the connections that can be made between normal life and God, shaping how we see things, opening windows into the divine through such mundane stuff as sparrows, trees, or sitting at a table. If Jesus was here now, I’m sure he’d be telling us parables about something as contemporary as smartphones or cars or different types of barbeque. Because stories help us to see the world in different ways. They introduce new angles, or cause us to think about things previously unconsidered.
I remember being fascinated by a couple of books in particular when I was growing up. There was one where a girl wanted to find a way to bring sunshine into the house where her grandmother was confined, and the grandmother told her that she brought the sunshine in with her hair and her smile. Then there was a book about the Huguenots (French Protestants who were violently persecuted), and one of the characters was described with their face glowing, shining with the love of God and steadfast faith in the face of adversity. These stories shaped me quite profoundly I think. They inspired me to want to be like the characters. Perhaps some of you can remember books or tales that have inspired you over the years as well.
Jesus knows very well the power that stories and parables can have, and the importance of connecting God with our everyday experiences. We are all telling stories ourselves all the time, stories of how our day was, of things we’ve been doing, of our families or friends. To be human is to live a web of stories. So at this dinner in today’s gospel reading, when people are grabbing the best seats and trying to look good, Jesus tells a parable of the importance of humility. He is planting a seed of thought, and encouraging that seed to grow into changed behaviour.
This idea that a thought or idea can translate into action is one that we perhaps don’t pay enough attention to, but it really does work! How many of you can think of a little aphorism in our everyday language that perhaps your parents or grandparents would say to you - ‘treat others how you would like to be treated’, ‘put others before yourself’, ‘pride goes before a fall’, and so on. One of my mum’s favourites was ‘if you don’t have anything kind or helpful to say, don’t say anything at all’. And these little phrases really do seep into you over the years. It’s said that you need to tell people something seven times for them to really take it in, and I think I must have heard that one seven hundred times at least!
So Jesus is telling stories, all these parables, creating all these moments of encouraging reflection on how we behave and think. He watches his fellow diners, jostling each other for status, taking what they can for themselves and trying to appear impressive, and he suggests to them that there is a better way. He advocates for humility in a world that scorns it. And not much has changed there!
We are still, more than 2000 years later, perpetually exalting ourselves. We make ourselves look as good as possible on our resumes, on our college applications, on our facebook pages. When we tell others the story of ourselves, we naturally talk about our successes and achievements, the things we are proud of, or that give us status or earn us money. We want to present our best selves, even to the point of straying into presenting an untrue image at times. Don’t we all do it - we share the photos of the good times and fun things, but feel embarrassed or ashamed to admit when we are having a hard time, when things have gone wrong, or if we need help. And we’re so impressed by the appearance of keeping it all together, or having status! We automatically ascribe awe to people who are well educated or hold certain positions in society. But how often do we resist the urge to want to be noticed, to be the person of significance in a room? Or when was the last time you noticed someone’s humility?
So Jesus tells stories, and shows us in his actions, that humility is to be aspired to, that it is beautiful and full of potential. I think one of the great gifts of humility is that it opens up space for us to notice and appreciate others. If we are willing to step back, it allows us to see the skills and gifts of others. If we take the time to build up someone else, to create space for them to flourish and grow instead of putting ourselves into that space, we are building the kingdom of God. Humility can be beautiful, because it opens our arms and eyes to look beyond ourselves and our anxieties, and can allow someone else to blossom and thrive. It’s that first sentence in our reading from the letter to the Hebrews, ‘Let mutual love continue’. While I’m not saying that we should keep our skills or passions hidden away, sometimes mutual love might mean that you take a back seat and let someone else shine. Sometimes humility is the most important thing.
Humility also prompts us to find our contentment and security in the simple fact of being a beloved child of God, rather than seeking contentment or security in our status, but that is a whole other sermon and y’all would start throwing things if I preached for half an hour…
But humility is fundamental for Jesus, in his storytelling of parables and in his actions. When it comes to washing feet, taking the lowest position, being a servant to others, tending to the needs and wellbeing of all those around him, Jesus is always willing to be the lowest and least, and in so doing, he lives the story of the love of God poured upon us. Now, after watching Snow White and Cinderella as a child, sweeping the floor will always have a strangely romantic quality for me! But in all seriousness, there is joy to be found in the humblest of tasks if we do it with hearts of love. Because this is the seed Jesus plants in our hearts with today’s parable, and with his embodiment of the parable when he later washes dirty feet. Godself came to live among us, but rather than taking the honour for himself, Jesus showed God’s love, the overwhelming love of the divine, to us, through humble service. This is the story Jesus told, and invites us to join in the retelling.
So I encourage you today to be emboldened by the power of storytelling. Stories have the power to change action, to change the teller and listener alike. Stories shape who we are, and inspire us to grow. So go forth and tell your story, the stories of how God is in your life, of how you bring God into the world, tell the stories of your faith, of your miracles, of your God-incidences. Tell your story of what Jesus means to you, and how you try to live in his footsteps. And may we together tell the story of the beauty of humility in love.
Amen.
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