Who Even Cares?

[Jesus] told them this parable: “When someone invites you to a feast … take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say, ‘Friend, move up to a better place.’ Then you will be honored in the presence of all the other guests.” – Luke 14:7-11 abridged (NIV) 

One Sunday ages ago, while listening to this scripture, my elderly pew-mate shifted in his seat. Rodney was a wise guy, in every sense of the term, always raising questions the rest of us never thought of, or thought of and suppressed.  

Sometimes he’d toss them towards the pulpit like firecrackers just as the preacher started preaching. Preachers pretended not to hear his growly stage whispering, but it threw more than one of them off. I know. 

Shifting in his seat was the first sign of an impending eruption. Sure enough. “Why,” he rasped as the preacher adjusted the mic, “would Jesus even care about who gets which seat?” 

I’d never wondered that. Suddenly I did. 

Why would Jesus commend self-effacement as a way to get noticed? Why offer up tips for effective social climbing? Is this serious advice or, as one commentary suggests, a jab in the ribs, a sarcastic take-down of tragicomical people (like me) who think scoring a great seat is actually meaningful? 

Is he mocking us? “You want status? Go for it. Any way you want. Debase yourself for it, work yourself raw for it, spend good money for it, cheat or steal for it. Why you would do anything at all for it is beyond me.” 

Rodney couldn’t imagine Jesus caring about dining etiquette, performative humility, or social status. He could imagine Jesus wanting to crash the whole stupid system. And he could care a lot about that. 

Prayer
Jesus, make me not care about me and my status but only about you and your status-crashing love.

About the Author
Mary Luti is a long time seminary educator and pastor, author of Teresa of Avila’s Way and numerous articles, and founding member of The Daughters of Abraham, a national network of interfaith women’s book groups.